#another day in the death of america

[ijustkindalikebooks]

From Another Day In The Death Of America by Gary Younge.

[hummussexual]

Phil Collins - Another Day In Paradise (Official Music Video)

[sreegs]

I reblogged it earlier but I'm glad the Something Awful Forums 9/11 thread was archived because it's an incredibly important slice of internet history. For the record I think 9/11 was thousands of personal tragedies for the direct victims of the attacks but one big national farce that led to America's ongoing slide into fascism, and the nationalism and remembrance around it is a joke especially in the wake of the same amount of deaths every fucking day in the US during the height of coronavirus.

Nevertheless I think it's important that if you do not remember because you were too young or just didn't exist on Sept 11, 2001 to read the Something Awful 9/11 forums to get an idea of what the internet was like at the moment when America changed to 24 hour news cycles and renewed hyper-nationalism not seen since WWII.

This all happened before Twitter, Facebook, before Discord. Before smart phones. Before most people had cell phones. When a lot of people still had dial-up internet, even. Some people in the thread were relying on radio because internet and TV weren't keeping up.

It was a live event of internet denizens reacting to the biggest national event (and among the biggest international events) of the past 25 years. It was also a slice of what the internet was like at the turn of the millennium. Not only that, but people accurately calling out who was responsible, and what would result before the attacks even finished.

Keep in mind that the links that follow contain images of the event, lots of Islamophobia, people calling for the Middle East to be nuked, people blaming Palestine, casual racist and homophobic language (this was Something Awful after all), etc etc. They preserved the first 17 pages which spanned about 24 hours during the events. It's the origin of the "WATCH BUSH START A FUCKING WAR" screenshot.

Links under the fold. I've also annotated the pages with notes regarding the timeline and any posts of interest. Note the thread was preserved in Pacific Time even though the page says times are Eastern. That's incorrect. Post timestamps are 3 hours behind Eastern Time, which is the time zone where the attacks occurred:

Page 1 - Note the first post was edited to include images of the second attack. The thread started after the first plane hit. Second plane hitting the WTC happens here too.

Page 2 - Poster accurately calling out Bin Laden was responsible at 9:14 AM EST

Page 3 - "WATCH BUSH START A FUCKING WAR"

Page 4

Page 5 - First official acknowledgement it was a terrorist attack.

Page 6 - Pentagon hit

Page 7

Page 8

Page 9 - Commercial flights grounded by FAA (Federal Aviation Administration)

Page 10 - First mention of towers collapsing at end of page

Page 11 - More reactions to collapse of first tower. People thinking it was a bomb or yet another plane. Rumors about a fourth plane just missing the White House (these are false and predate the actual 4th plane crash by minutes)

Page 12

Page 13 - By this point there's just rampant speculation about more bombs at the WTC, the US Capitol building being hit, etc (all false). Remember this is all just people reacting to TV news and radio and the rumor mill via phone, AIM, IRC, and maybe text messages.

Page 14 - By this point internet news sites are overwhelmed

Page 15 - Second tower collapses. First acknowledgement of the fourth plane that crashed in PA.

Page 16 - There's an abrupt time jump in the threads, I think it was the result of admins pruning the activity or the SA forums going down. This page starts on 9/12 even though it is page 16. American flag signatures and ribbons start appearing.

Page 17

[fellthemarvelous]

Deny. Defend. Depose.

It is clear to those of us that live in America, the only people we truly have on our side are ourselves. The ruling class has made it clear we don't matter to them.

Luigi Mangione was arrested and happened to have every single piece of evidence on him that law enforcement was looking for, including the parts for the ghost gun, inside his backpack (that he also got rid of in Central Park containing the Monopoly money???). Either he was trying to get caught or that evidence was planted. And when he was being forcefully pushed into the jail, he hollered back to the press about "injustice" and "being an insult to the intelligence of American citizens and our lived experiences."

The people have now turned against corporate America and the CEOs and billionaires are fucking terrified. Nothing the news stations are saying to us are changing our minds. The American people have finally united over this issue and there is no going back for us. Whoever did kill Brian Thompson (and theories abound on the game The Adjuster is playing because no one plays Monopoly alone) exposed the very real divide that exists between every day citizens and the extremely wealthy. Things were easier for them to control when they were able to divide us, but now that we are aware of how uncertain our future is in America and seeing just how little we matter to the people who take our money, we have realized that we have more in common with each other than the people who control every aspect of our lives. We are waking up.

There isn't one person in this country who hasn't been a victim to the predatory scam that is private health insurance. Medical debt is the leading cause of bankruptcy in America, and many of us are one ambulance ride or hospital stay away from homelessness. We all know people who have died because the insurance company denied them the treatment they needed or waited until it was too late for an approval of a medical claim to matter anymore.

Recently, I decided to be tested for autism and ADHD. Not life-threatening or anything, but my life is still in shambles and I want to know if I'm going untreated for something else. Before being tested though, I was informed that the insurance company (Aetna) has said that they were going to cover the full cost of the testing I was having (which was six hours of testing by the way). She even made sure several times that they were, in fact, going to cover it in full and they said yes.

The same day that Brian Thompson, CEO of another horrible healthcare company, was murdered in broad daylight, I received a call from that doctor's office with the woman telling me that Aetna was now telling her they never agreed to cover my testing and that they are going to bill me for $1600 (where the hell am I supposed to get that?) and she is fighting them, but considering our lives don't matter to the people who tell us what healthcare we are and are not allowed to receive, I don't think they will feel compelled to change their minds because they are bloodsucking parasites who only care about lining their pockets while I don't even have $6 lying around, let alone $1600!!

Corporate America leeches off our taxes. They take and take and take and we see nothing in return. They raise prices on insurance coverage and then deny us the very coverage that we pay for. They poison our food, price gouge our poisoned food, and then force us to pay for the treatment we get when the food makes us sick. Corporate America profits off of our hard work, our taxes, our health, our lives, our deaths.

I don't know if this will reach a larger audience or not, but I wanted to talk about it on Tumblr because this platform seems to be a crossroads for every type of creative soul. I initially brought up this idea on TikTok earlier, but I want to see if it can get traction in other places as well since I have fewer than 3,000 followers on TikTok (and I have seen a small few express interest in my idea in the hours since I posted the video.)

We're busy being lectured by politicians and the news media because while they are clutching their pearls at what happened to Brian Thompson, the rest of us do not give one single flying fuck about what happened to him. As CEO of a for-profit health insurance company, he signed off on denied claims and death for those of us who struggle to make it from one day to the next. The sicker you are, the poorer you are, the more they force you to struggle and pay. The love to deny coverage because regardless of whether we live or die, they already have the money we are forced to pay them.

I don't condone murder at all, but I also don't care that he was murdered because he was guilty of murdering so many more people in this country through legal means because it's profitable. The CEOs are scared and there are wanted posters with their names and faces popping up in places. Every CEO of every healthcare company is guilty of murdering Americans and they continue to go unpunished for it because "it's just business".

So (if you've read this far) all of this previous rambling is to say that I keep thinking about how I want to make an impression. I want to continue upsetting the billionaires and the CEOs because corporate America is full of murderers who are legally allowed to decide whether we live or die based on which outcome will give them more money.

I have thought about the idea of creating a wall/constructing a wall somewhere as an art piece or something (making a statement) that will somehow honor the memory of people who died because insurance denied them care.

I know I definitely want it to say something along the lines of "In memory of those murdered by for-profit healthcare systems in corporate America". Something blatant. Loud. Something they are forced to look at every single day. Somehow. The wall could have images of those who are gone, or names of the person who died with the name of the insurance company responsible for their death underneath. Just something to make it clear that we see them for what they are. Something to avenge those who were sacrificed so billionaires and CEOS and shareholders could brag about record profits. Something that shows the whole world that American citizens are waking up to who the real monsters are.

The Adjuster (whoever he is or is not) has fanned the flames of revolution in America. He managed to unite us in a way I can't even recall before. It's not over. We know what happened to Brian Thompson was just the beginning, and corporate America only just now realized how much we actually hate them. A single shooter has sparked an awakening in America that is starting to snowball into something much bigger.

So if there is anyone out there who might be interested in collaborating on something like this, please let me know. I know we are all tired and demoralized and we have no money. I want to make a statement though, and I love doing that through art or writing. Collaborating with other people who have been through this same shit will also probably help us unite even more.

This is a watershed moment in American history.

In the words of Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight,

"There is a future for us. One where we're all free. But it's up to us to make it happen."

[wheelscomedyandmore]

You Might Not Ever Guess

Captain Kangaroo passed away on January 23, 2004 as age 76 , which is odd, because he always looked to be 76. (DOB: 6/27/27 ) His death reminded me of the following story.

Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery . His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer:

I always liked Lee Marvin, but didn't know the extent of his Corps experiences.

In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions.

Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor

If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery.

Dialog from "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson": His guest was Lee Marvin Johnny said, "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima ..and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."

"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the bottom and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi. Bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew... We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. That dumb guy actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by, with mortar rounds landing everywhere and he stood there as the main target of gunfire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life.

That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?' Well Bob.. if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"

Johnny, I'm not lying, Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.

The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan. You and the world know him as Captain Kangaroo."

On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth.

But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat-proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long-sleeved sweater on TV, to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. He was a master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat.

After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid away the tattoos and his past life and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm.

America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did; they quietly go about their day-to-day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.

Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst.

Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened.

Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.

Send this on will you please? Nothing will happen to you if you don't, but it will tell what a "real" HERO is made of.

[friskyfreddie2024]

America: You Fucked Up

You could have chosen Hope. You chose Hate.

You could have chosen Empathy. You chose Enmity.

You could have chosen a New Beginning. You chose the Nazi.

We could have finally been rid of this cancer on American democracy. He could have been banished to obscurity, remembered only as the worst president in American history, and finally held responsible for his numerous crimes.

The ignorant, racist, misogynistic, white supremacist, pathologicial liar is now going back to the White House. He is a convicted felon, an admitted sexual predator, a total fraud, and a demented old man. He belongs in prison.

What did you do?

You ignored that the U.S. economy is the strongest in the world, that inflation is at its lowest level in four years, that unemployment is at its lowest level in three years. You believed the lies about how terrible the economy is. I knew better.

You forgot about his 30,000+ lies while he was in office. I remember.

You forgot about his complete mismanagement and ignorance over COVID, resulting in the deaths of over one million Americans. I remember.

You forgot about the saber rattling over military exercises in the pacific, when Kim Jong Un threatened us with nuclear missiles, causing us to fear whether we'd see another day. I remember.

You forgot about waking up every morning dreading to hear the latest abomination he tweeted. I remember.

You forgot about "very fine people on both sides." I remember.

You forgot about "only the best people" like Betsy DeVos, Rick Perry, Tom Price, Scott Pruitt, Steve Mnuchin, and many others who were given cabinet positions despite having zero qualifications for the job. I remember.

You forgot that 40 of his former cabinet members and dozens of former generals and officials refused to support him, saying he was "unfit to serve." I remember.

You forgot about January 6, "fight like hell". I remember.

You forgot that when he was told that his vice president was secured because the rioters wanted to kill him, he said, "So what?" I remember

You forgot about The Big Lie, "Release the Kraken" and 60+ failed attempts to overturn the election in the courts. I remember.

You forgot about "I just need you to find 11,780 votes." I remember.

You forgot about "They're eating the cats! They're eating the dogs!" I remember.

What now?

When a woman suffering an ectopic pregnancy dies because she doesn't have access to medical care, that's on you.

When they take away your neighbor, your co-worker, your friend, and deport them, that's on you.

When a woman is forced to suffer the agony of carrying her rapist's baby to term, that's on you.

When a transgender kid harms themselves because they can't get the medical care they need, that's on you.

When your middle-class taxes GO UP, while billionaires get even more tax breaks, that's on you.

When schoolchildren are killed by an assault rifle in a mass shooting, that's on you.

When children grow up ignorant because you banned books and dictated how history is taught, that's on you.

When Grandma can no longer afford a comfortable life because the Social Security she paid into all her working life, and provided income on which she now depends, has been cut, that's on you.

When violence against Jews, Asians, Hispanics rises again, that's on you.

When prices on the goods you buy skyrocket due to tariffs, that's on you.

When Ukraine, deprived of our support, is overrun by Russia, that's on you.

When the U.S. is the laughing stock of the world (as we were 2016-2020), that's on you.

What should you have done?

You should have exercised critical thinking skills, recognized the thousands of lies you were being told, recalled that his administration had four years to live up to his promises and failed at all of them. You should have realized that he is a profoundly stupid individual who doesn't give a shit about you or your family or anything except himself.

You had the last nine years to see that, and you still fell for his bullshit.

[gingerswagfreckles]

It's become extremely obvious over the past 15 months that the only reason much of the Western world ever basically agreed that the Holocaust was bad and was willing to teach about it is because for a brief period of time, Jews and gentiles in most of Europe + America had a common enemy in the Nazis. But this acknowledgement of Nazi antisemitism was only ever the same kind of acknowledgement of antisemitism that we get right now, where people are only willing to acknowledge the antisemitism of the people they already had a completely separate reason to dislike or fear. Antisemitism in this worldview is just a tool, a secondary accusation one can lodge at someone who is already for different reasons an enemy. It is never acknowledged as a form of bigotry in and of itself, that exists on its own and not as a follow up to another "more serious" form of oppression or bigotry against gentiles.

Obviously any Holocaust education we do get in Europe and the US has very much been the result efforts by Jews and our allies in a practical sense, but it is undeniable that there was a brief 70 or so year period where the white Western consciousness found it valuable (or at least politically convenient) to recognize antisemitism as wrong and the Holocaust as horrific. As true, original-brand Nazism fades, though, we see opposition to antisemitism and the Holocaust becoming less and less valuable to the white Western identity, as actual threat of Nazi occupation fades to historical memory. Newer, rebranded neo-Nazis and leftist Hamas supporters pose little to no threat to white Western gentiles. And thus, we see now not only a growing acceptance of antisemitism, but also a growing hostility towards the idea that we should study or condemn the Holocaust as anything particularly terrible. The Holocaust no longer represents a way for gentiles to additionally condemn an ideology that also threatened them, that also killed their families, that also resulted in their own countries and communities being occupied or destroyed by foreign fascist governments. It no longer represents to them an ideology that is in any way a threat to their own safety or way of life.

This is why we see such a massive rise in Holocaust denial among Gen Z, and, even more broadly than overt Holocaust denial, the rejection of the idea that the Holocaust should be particularly studied or condemned. More and more, we see people "questioning" the "propaganda" of The Jews Crying Victim All The Time, we see young people wondering why they are so cruelly forced to acknowledge on very rare occasion the suffering that the Jewish people went through in their own homes and towns. Often this is framed not only as intellectual bravery but moral bravery, as if this new generation rejecting Holocaust education is somehow fighting back against the unfair valuing of Jewish tragedy above gentile tragedy. What they don't understand, of course, and what many Jews up until now didn't understand either, is that no one ever valued the Holocaust because it WAS a uniquely horrific event in history, because it WAS the first and only industrialized genocide that gassed millions to death on a scale we can only pray the world will never see again, because it WAS only 70 years ago and is still a living part of the history of many Western countries. No. The Holocaust was only ever given the acknowledgement it was because it represented, at one time, an ideological threat that also included gentiles, though less overtly than it targeted Jews.

That ideological threat against Jews has not gone anywhere, and is in fact is seeing a new glory day dawning with the rise of fascism worldwide and the normalization/glorification of antisemitism on the left. But this new form of antisemitic hatred, be it neo-Nazism or support for Hamas, does not represent a threat to white Western gentiles, their way of life, or the integrity of their governments. And so we as we see the decoupling of the Holocaust from something that also incidentally threatens gentiles, we see standing against the Holocaust and antisemitism as a symbol of white Western identity disappearing as fast as it came.

[khorazir]

“Do you think I should release them? The danger has passed, and they have been tied up like this for over an hour now.”

“Oh, I don’t know, mate. They’ve stopped arguing a while ago, and now they’re just staring at each other. Give them another half an hour, and they’ll start kissing.”

“Kissing?”

“Sure. Look at them. Totally gone for one another, but too stupid or set in their ways to realise it. Guess they’re gonna need all the help they can get. Unlike us.”

“Unlike us?”

“Yeah. Took you a trip to America to figure things out, and me a couple of months after that.”

“After about thirty-five years of quasi courtship, you mean?”

“Yeah. Brills, innit?”

***

“Sherlock, are they still there?”

“Yes, and not even trying to hide. They probably think we can’t see them.”

“I’m still somewhat shocked that we can. But then, given that we’ve both had near-death experiences at some point in our lives ... Anyway, anything you can do about this ... thing tying us together?”

“As I’ve told you before, John, no, I can’t. It’s clearly magical, a binding spell of some sort.”

“There must be a way to break it.”

“Aren’t you happy that we’re returned to our traditional way to spend Christmas Eve?”

“What ‘traditional way’? Being tied up together in some God-forsaken place?”

“Exactly. Wouldn’t be Christmas without it, would it now?”

“Haha, yes, guess not. And those two chaps over there are ... what? The ghosts of Christmas Past and ... Christmas Even Longer Past come to haunt us?”

“Perhaps. We could ask them to undo the spell. I’m rather convinced it was cast by the Edwardian schoolboy.”

“Oh, right. Actually ... you know what, Sherlock?”

“Hm?”

“We also could ... you know ... wait a little. Because it’s tradition.”

“I was hoping you would say that, John.”

_____

This is for @paynelandpromptfest Day 1

It’s also this year’s Christmas Card. Those who have been following me for a while know the drill: if you would like to be sent one, please DM me and do a little charitable thing in and for your community. Previous card motifs (and accompanying ficlets) can be found here:

1. Fairylights (2019, ficlet)

2. Reindeers (2020, ficlet)

3. Spice (2021, ficlet)

4. Bridge (2022, ficlet)

5. Cold (2023, ficlet)

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Ooo hi! Can I please request an (everyone lives au + Endgame never happened au) Avenger!Bucky X wife!reader where they got married right before Bucky went off to war, and when Bucky fell off that train (and she thought he had died), she didn’t even get the time to mourn because Hydra abducted her and brought her to where they were holding Bucky so that they would have leverage against him. They keep her under cryo the entire time Bucky was the Winner Soldier, so that alongside brainwashing him, they threatened his wife if he stepped out of line. Now present day, Bucky has joined the Avengers and they manage to find and recuse Y/n from Hydra after so long.

Ugh imagine how emotional it’d be for Bucky and Steve to see her again, and the team would make her feel safe and at home! And Bucky would be there every step of the way helping her adjust to one, being out of cryo after almost a century, and two, being in the 21st century!

You Came Back For Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Wife!Reader, Husband/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: After finding out his wife had been abducted by HYDRA when Bucky was the Winter Soldier, Bucky is now an Avenger and goes back to rescue you with the help of Steve and the Avengers.

Warnings: Fluff, language, abduction, HYDRA, trauma, nightmares, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵 I love how beautifully you described this and I had fun writing it!🥰

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks and nightmares. I used Google translate for the Russian translations.

Translations: Give her the serum - Дайте ей сыворотку

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

1943

“We just got married a couple days ago. Do you have to leave so soon?” You asked with a pout.

“I know and I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers. “Look at the bright side, I’ll be home before you know it.” He says, kissing you sweetly and passionately.

———

1945

“Bucky died?” You asked, making sure you heard Steve right.

“Yes.” Steve answers. “I tried reaching for him, but the handle he was holding on to gave out before I could get to him and he fell off of the train.” He explains.

That whole day, you tried to process the death of your husband. “Bucky is never coming home.” is the only thing being echoed in your head. That night, you laid in bed, staring at Bucky’s side of the bed with tears stained on your cheeks. Before you could even react, a hand with a white cloth was put on your mouth. You tried your best to fight off whoever was behind you, but you grew weak the more you inhaled the chloroform and you soon passed out.

SIBERIA - HYDRA BASE

Your eyes fluttered open. You groaned, squinting your eyes to adjust to the light. You looked around the room, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. This isn’t yours and Bucky’s house. It was some kind of lab.

“What the hell…” You mumbled to yourself.

You went to stand up, but couldn’t. Your arms and legs were strapped to the chair you were sitting in. You yanked at the restrains to get loose, but it was no use. The restraints were too tight for you to get free. You jumped at the sound of the door opening. You looked up, seeing a man in a suit and another man in a white lab coat.

“Good to see you awake, Mrs. Barnes.” The man in the suit says.

“Where am I? Who are you?” You asked.

“My name is Arnim Zola and you’re in HYDRA’s base in Siberia.” Zola tells you. “You are our newest addition. You’re going to help out perfectly with our Winter Soldier program.” He explains. “Дайте ей сыворотку.” He tells the man in the lab coat.

The man in the lab coat approached you with an IV that had some kind of suspicious liquid in it. You began to panic. You yanked at the restrains to get free, but it still didn’t work.

“This might burn.” The man in the lab coat said with a Russian accent.

You yelped when the needle pricked your skin. Thats when the pain and trauma began.

———

“Get the woman.” Zola says to an HYDRA agent.

The HYDRA agent nodded and went to the cell they kept you in. You jumped at the sound of the door opening. You scooted back as far as you could on the bed. The agent approached you, grabbing your arm with a bruising grip and yanked you up from the bed. He put handcuffs on you so you didn’t try to do anything. He held onto the chain of the handcuffs and lead you to where the lab. There was a man with a metal arm and long hair sitting in a chair. He’s the Winter Soldier.

There was something about the long haired man that looked familiar. His eye color, hair color, height, and facial structure was the same as your dead husband’s. That’s when it hit you. You gasped with wide eyes. The Winter Soldier is your husband Bucky.

“Bucky!” You say loudly.

The Winter Soldier furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you.

“Bucky, it’s me Y/N. Your doll.” You tell him.

“Y/N… doll…” The Winter Soldier mumbles to himself.

His eyes widened. The woman in front of him is his wife.

“Oh my god…” He mumbles completely speechless. “Y/N!” Bucky says.

You smiled, happy to hear him say your name. Bucky went to stand up, but two HYDRA agents pushed him back in the chair. You tried to run towards him, but you were yanked backwards causing you to fall down.

“Here’s what’s going to happen…” Zola began, standing in between you and Bucky. “Soldat, I see you recognize your pretty little wife.” He said. “She’s going to be perfect leverage against you. If you overstep in any way, your wife gets it.” He explains. “Meaning, you’ll witness your wife get beaten right in front of you if you don’t do as we say.” He adds. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to your wife.” He says.

Zola cleared his throat at the HYDRA agent standing behind you. He nodded and yanked you up from the floor. He then put a gun to the back of your head. Tears were streaming down your face at this point and your heart was pounding so hard that you thought it was going to burst through your chest. Bucky’s eyes widened in horror and his heart began to pound in fear.

“Do you understand, Soldat?” Zola asks.

Bucky didn’t answer. He continued to stare at you. That’s when he got smacked across his face by a HYDRA agent standing next to him.

“Leave my husband alone!” You shouted.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you heard the gun cock. You honestly thought you were going to die right then and there.

“Do you understand?” Zola repeats. “I’m sure you don’t want anything to happen to your precious doll.” He says.

“Yes, I understand.” Bucky finally answers.

“Good.” Zola said. “Wipe his memory and you’re going to watch as your husband forgets every single memory he has of you.” He says, turning to you before walking away.

You watched as one HYDRA agent pushed Bucky back in the chair and strapped his arms down to the arms of the chair. Another one put a mouth guard in his mouth and something on his head. The first HYDRA agent pushed buttons on a machine to turn it on. That’s when they began to wipe Bucky’s memory. The screams of pain coming from your husband broke your heart. You wanted it to stop.

“Stop it!” You screamed. “You’re hurting him!” You screamed again.

A yelp left your lips when the HYDRA agent standing behind you hit you with the handle of the gun, knocking you out. Blood trickle down your forehead from the gash the gun handle gave you.

“Take her to the cryogenic chamber and freeze her.” Zola tells the HYDRA agent.

The HYDRA agent nodded and drug you to the room where the cryogenic chambers are. You got out in one and they froze you in it like the other Super Soldiers. They wrote your name down on a label and stuck it to the chamber you’re in.

PRESENT DAY - AVENGERS COMPOUND

Now that Bucky has escaped HYDRA. He managed to find Steve and reunite with him. He also joined the Avengers. Bucky was beyond relieved that he doesn’t have to endure anymore torture from HYDRA. One thing does bother him… leaving you behind. He didn’t intentionally leave you behind. He wanted to find Steve and come up with a plan to rescue you. Bucky gets little to no sleep, knowing you’re still at that HYDRA base in Siberia.

Bucky managed to escape all of the HYDRA agents and ran out of the base into the cold. He came to a stop a few feet from the entrance and turned around, staring at the open doors.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet doll. I promise I’ll come back to rescue you.” Bucky says to himself, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Bucky was tossing and turning in his sleep due to the nightmare. He was mumbling “I’m sorry, doll.”and “I’ll come back for you.” in his sleep, a thin layer of sweat covering his face. Due to Steve’s enhanced hearing and his room being next to Bucky’s room, he went to check on his best friend. Steve opened Bucky’s bedroom door, closing it behind him. He approached Bucky’s bed and gently shook him awake.

“Buck, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Steve murmurs softly.

“Y/N!” Bucky gasps loudly, sitting up quickly.

Steve took a couple steps back, giving Bucky some space. He turned on the light. Bucky squinted his eyes to adjust to the light. He was breathing heavily. Sweat and tears covered his face.

“You had that nightmare again didn’t you?” Steve says.

Bucky exhales shakily and nods his head yes. He leaned his back against the headboard, rubbing his hands over his face and running his fingers through his long brown hair. Bucky’s eyes were red from crying. Steve sat down on the side of the bed next to Bucky.

“We’ll rescue her. I promise.” Steve says, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky gave him a soft smile. Later on that morning, Bucky, Steve, and the Avengers were in the conference room discussing the plan Bucky came up with to rescue you from the HYDRA base in Siberia.

“Can I say something?” Tony asks.

“Yes.” Bucky says.

“When we do go to the base to rescue your wife, what if she’s not there?” He asks.

“She’s there. I know she’s there. I seen her.” He claims. “I’m not giving up hope on my wife. I need to rescue her. I made a promise.” He says.

Tears brimmed Bucky’s eyes. Steve stood up from his chair, gently ushering Bucky out of the conference room and took him to the lounge room.

“You need to take a break.” Steve tells Bucky.

“I can’t, Steve! Y/N needs my help!” Bucky exclaims.

“I know you want to help her. I want to help her to. You can’t help her if you down take a breath.” He says.

Bucky knows Steve’s right. He sat down on the couch, breaking down in tears. It broke Steve’s heart to see his best friend so brokenhearted. He sat down next to him and comforted him the best he could.

“I miss her.” Bucky cries, his voice cracking.

“I do too.” Steve whispers.

Bucky’s crying died down after a few minutes. He sniffled and wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He then took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

“I’m in charge for this rescue mission.” Bucky says.

“You should be. It’s your plan and your wife.” Steve says.

The next day, Bucky, Steve, and the Avengers suited up and got in the quinjet, making their way to the HYDRA base you’re being kept at. Bucky couldn’t stay still the whole flight. He was pacing back and forth in the quinjet and tugging at his hair.

“I’m on my way, doll.” Bucky kept repeating to himself.

Steve approached Bucky, standing a few feet away from.

“Buck?” Steve catches Bucky’s attention. “We’re about 15 minutes out from the base.” He informs him.

Bucky nodded and went to the weapons area of the quinjet, loading his gun and putting it in the holster on his tactical pants, along with his knife. Steve got his shield and put it on his back. Everyone else got their weapons ready as well.

When they arrived at the base, everyone got off of the quinjet and walked to the base. Bucky stopped a few feet away from the entrance, staring at the door. His breathing became uneven.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Buck. You got this.” Steve says, patting Bucky’s back.

Bucky took a deep breath before approaching the door. He broke the lock off with his metal hand and opened it with Steve’s help. Everyone entered the base. Everyone split up into twos, going to the areas of the base they were assigned. Bucky is with Steve, Sam is with Wanda, Tony is with Bruce, Clint is with Natasha, and Peter is with Thor.

“Do you know where she is in here?” Steve whispers.

“No, but I heard them talking about it many times.” Bucky answers. “If she’s not in any of the cells, then she’s somewhere else in here.” He says.

Bucky and Steve checked the cell you were in before you got put in the cryogenic chamber. The door had a label with your name on it. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat when he seen it. He then kicked the door down. Him and Steve entered the cell, looking everywhere in there, but you were in there.

“She’s not in here, Buck.” Steve says.

“She’s not in the med bay.” Natasha informs through the ear pieces.

“She’s not in any of the storage rooms.” Peter informs.

“She’s not in the labs.” Sam informs.

“She’s not in the weapons room.” Tony informs.

Bucky’s eyes teared up and he crouched down, putting his face in his hands.

“Buck…” Steve murmurs softly.

“N-No! She’s here somewhere! I know it!” Bucky says.

While Bucky was having his moment and trying to figure out where else you could be in the base, a HYDRA agent was walking by and seen the door broken down to the cell.

“What are you guys doing here?” The HYDRA agent asks, putting his hand on his gun.

Bucky stood up and approached him, knocking the gun out of his hand and slammed the agent against the wall.

“Where the hell is my wife?!” Bucky growls.

“Care to be more specific?” The HYDRA agent says.

“Y/N Barnes. Where is she?” He asks.

“Oh, her?” The agent chuckles. “Why would I tell you that?” He says.

Bucky took his gun out of his hostler and shot the HYDRA agent in his foot. The agent cried out in pain.

“Tell me where my wife is!” Bucky growls, putting the gun against the side of the agents head.

“She’s in the cryogenic chamber room.” He finally tells him.

Bucky threw the HYDRA agent to the floor and ran to the cryogenic chamber room with Steve following closely behind him.

“Which chamber is Y/N in?” Steve asks, looking at all of the cryos.

“This one.” Bucky says, walking to the one with your name on it.

Bucky looked inside of the cryo. He felt relieved when he seen you. He just needs to figure out how to get you out of it.

“There’s a button or something that opens it.” Bucky says.

Bucky and Steve looked everywhere for the button, finding it on the side of the cryo. He pushed it and it opened slowly.

“Help me get here out of this.” Bucky says.

Steve helped Bucky unstrap you from the cryo. Bucky gently eased you out of it, holding you against his body. He checked for your pulse. Bucky felt even more relieved when he felt it. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet.

“We found her. Go back to the quinjet.” Steve informs everyone.

The flight back to the compound, Bucky held you close to him and whispered “You’re safe now.” over and over to you. Steve, on the other hand, was in shock. He can’t believe you’re alive. What he does know is that he’s happy to see you and he’s glad you’re ok.

When everyone got back to the compound, Bucky immediately took you to the med bay and got you checked out. The doctors told Bucky everything is fine with you and you’ll wake up soon. Bucky didn’t leave your side for a second and neither did Steve.

“What did they do to her?” Steve asks.

“They abducted her after they got their hands on me and put the serum in her.” Bucky tells him. “They also used her as leverage against me.” He adds.

“Leverage? What do you mean they used her as leverage against you?” Steve asks.

“They umm…” Bucky paused to clear his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, remembering that day quite well.

“I’m sure you don’t anything to happen to your wife.” Zola’s words echoed in Bucky’s mind.

“If I didn’t do what they wanted, they were going to beat her.” He finally says.

“Oh my god. That’s horrible.” Steve says.

Steve looks at you with a soft expression on his face. He furrowed when he seen a scar on your forehead.

“How did she get this scar?” Steve asks, gently tracing the small length of the scar with his thumb.

“She told them to leave me alone and to stop hurting me so a HYDRA agent knocked her out with a handle of a gun when they were wiping my memory.” Bucky tells him.

“Oh my god.” Steve whispers.

Bucky winces at the memory of it, squeezing his eyes shut and tears spilling from his eyes.

“This is all my fault.” Bucky whispers, his voice cracking.

“This is not your fault, Buck. You couldn’t have known HYDRA was gonna get their hands on Y/N after you fell off the train.” Steve says.

“I could’ve done something.” He says.

“You did do something. You went back to rescue her.” He says softly.

You heard two voices as you started to come to your senses. You stirred a bit before opening your eyes, squinting them to adjust to the light in the room.

“Buck, she’s awake.” Steve says.

Bucky looked at you and almost jumped out of his chair to lean closer to you.

“Y/N, doll, can you hear me?” Bucky asks softly.

You thought you were hallucinating at first when you heard your husband’s voice. You turned your head towards the sound of your husband’s voice. You weren’t hallucinating. Your husband is sitting by your bedside.

“J-James?” You asked hoarsely.

“Yes, doll. It’s James.” Bucky confirms.

“I-I missed you.” You murmured, your voice cracking.

“I missed you too, babydoll.” He says softly.

Bucky reached a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it. Steve couldn’t help but let a couple tears spill from his eyes at the sight of his two best friends being reunited with each other.

“Steve is here too.” Bucky points at Steve.

“Stevie?” You asked, turning your head towards him.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve says softly.

You reached a hand out towards him. Steve put his hand in yours, smiling at you.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“I missed you too.” He whispers back.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, confused about where you are. It’s not the HYDRA base. This place is so much nicer than the HYDRA base.

“Where- Where am I?” You asked, looking from Steve to your husband.

“You’re in the med bay in the Avengers compound.” Bucky tells you.

“Avengers?” You asked.

“They’re the hero’s who helped me rescue you. Steve helped too.” He says.

Your eyes teased up when Bucky said him, Steve, and the Avengers rescued you.

“You came back for me?” You asked in a whisper.

“Of course I did, doll. I will never leave you behind. Never again. I promise.” He says softly.

As you adjust to lift in the 21st century with your husband, you thought it would be difficult, but it wasn’t. Bucky and Steve helped you adjust to the 21st century, along with the Avengers. Everyone has been so very helpful to you, especially Bucky. Wanda and Natasha gave you clothes that belong to them for you to wear. You quickly became friends with the Avengers. It also took you a while to get used to living in the Avengers compound.

You were tossing and turning in your sleep. You were having a reoccurring nightmare from what you witnessed in HYDRA.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” echoed in your mind.

Bucky felt you moving and mumbling next to him. He turned on the bedside lamp and turned to face you. Your eyebrows were furrowed and a sweating a little bit.

“Doll?” Bucky whispers, gently shaking you. “Doll?” He whispers again. “Doll, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He whispers.

You gasped loudly and sat up, breathing heavily and tried to gather your surroundings. You looked around the room, quickly realizing that you’re in Bucky’s bedroom in the Avengers compound, not the HYDRA base. Bucky put a hand on your back, rubbing in circles. You leaned into his touch.

“You’re ok now. You’re safe.” Bucky whispers.

You took a deep breath and nodded, closing your eyes.

“I’m going to get you something to drink, ok?” He says softly.

You quickly grabbed Bucky’s arms before he stood up, holding it with a tight grip.

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” He coos in a whisper.

You whimpered, staring in his blue eyes with your teary eyes. It broke Bucky’s heart to see you like this. He leaned towards you, kissing your forehead.

“Do you want to go to the kitchen with me?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes. Bucky stood up, holding his right hand out to you. You put your hand in his and stood up. Bucky led you to the kitchen, holding your hand the whole time. He set you up at the table and got you something to drink. Steve walked in the kitchen for something to drink a moment later, seeing you and Bucky in there.

“You two are up late.” Steve breaks the silence in the kitchen.

You stood up from the table and went over to Steve, hugging him tightly. Steve immediately hugged you back.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” He asks.

You shook your head no. Steve looked at Bucky.

“She had a nightmare.” Bucky tells him.

Steve sat you back at the table before taking a seat next to you. Bucky sat in the chair on the other side of you. He put a glass of water in front of you. You tapped your fingers against the glass, staring at the water in the cup.

“Do you want to tell us what the nightmare was about?” Bucky asks softly.

“It’s always the same nightmare.” You mumbled. “HYDRA hurting you.” You say, tearing up.

“Oh, doll…” He whispers, pulling you close to him, kissing the side of your head. “They can’t hurt us anymore.” He murmurs.

Steve put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You turned your head towards Steve, laying your head against Bucky’s chest.

“I can’t imagine what you two went through, but none of that should’ve happened to you guys.” Steve says sympathetically.

You gave Steve a soft smile. You turned to Bucky, leaning up to kiss his lips softly. You then reached a hand out to hold Steve’s hand.

“I love you guys.” You say softly.

“We love you too.” They say in unison.

“You love me more, right?” Bucky jokingly says, making you giggle.

It warmed Bucky’s heart to hear you giggle. It warmed Steve’s heart too. It made both Super Soldiers smile.

“You know I do, sweetie.” You smiled up at your husband.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[emmedoesntdomath]

we are too close to election day to be having these debates, so- a recap of the most asked questions in this race.

did harris do monumentally good things as vp? no, of course not. vps have very little power in real change. did trump do monumentally good things as president? debatable. better question. did trump do things so monumentally good that they outweighed the harm he did? no.

is harris cringey? does she make you roll your eyes? likely. is donald trump in any state to be president, now or eight years ago? absolutely not.

will harris totally fix the economy? maybe. probably not. will trump totally fix the economy? maybe. probably not. and yet, one of their economic plans is backed by 23 different nobel prize winners. hint- it’s not donald trump’s.

did harris really send thousands of black men to jail in her time as a prosecutor? no. the number was an overexaggeration promoted by right-wing media. was trump really convicted of 34 criminal charges? yes, with another 54 possible charges spanning in three different civil and criminal, state and federal cases looming on the horizon.

will harris fully return the rights overturned in roe v. wade? not likely. she can’t totally overrule the supreme court like that. will trump? no. in fact, he will just make things worse, and make no attempts to prevent the worst of the bans, or the resulting deaths.

is harris a spectacular public speaker? not really. is trump? not a day in his life. yes, the media doctors videos and speeches from both of them. there is still a clearly better speaker.

is tim walz truly god’s gift to america? considering that he’s a politician, doubtful. is jd vance better? nope.

will harris properly disavow israel? no, probably not. she will simply call for a ceasefire. if you think donald trump will do anything but supply israel with more arms power, you’re kidding yourself. it will be a switch from complacent to genocide to allying with it. no matter how bad you think it is already, I promise it will get worse.

harris is not perfect. not by a long shot. but here’s the thing- if she wins, you can vote her out in another four years. if trump does, you may not get the chance. now is not the time to be a moderate, or bipartisan. it is a wonderful sentiment, truly, but if we do not all vote together you will not get the opportunity again. vote for your friends. vote for your family. vote for your children. vote for the people who never got the chance, who never will. if some of us go down, we all do.

[avelera]

Re-watched Captain America: Winter Soldier and First Avenger (in that order lol) and hey guys

Remember that time Steve woke up in New York City 70 years later and panicked, thinking he was in HYDRA hands and haha, actually it turns out, he kind of was??

Also remember that bit where he found out in the most deadpan way possible (thanks Nick) that everyone he had ever known and loved was dead or aged to to the point of death in the blink of an eye, and no one ever actually like, gave him a moment's sympathy for the fact his entire world ended in a split-second of self-sacrifice that ended up just being one battle in a war that never ended?

Remember when he found out that the only person left who loved him, Peggy, only occasionally remembered him in moments of lucidity haha and then it turned out that the only other person who still lived and who loved him, Bucky, also only remembered him in moment's of lucidity?? Good times, good fucking times, I'm an emotional wreck about it

And one last thing, because I will never ever fucking ever let this grudge go, remember that time Tony fucking Stark who I mostly love but in the context of Steve Rogers specifically I want to tear him to shreds, decided to have beef with a literal traumatized 20-something year old war veteran whose entire world just dissolved into nothing in the 70 years he was on ice, and Tony fucking Stark decided to pick a fight with this guy and rag on him 24/7, despite being in his 40s himself and completely comfortable, stable, and with insane levels of wealth and privilege, because his fucking dad who has been dead for decades apparently loved this guy more, something that would have bewildered Steve who like, barely knew Howard outside of work, and that Steve had fucking nothing to do with Howard's neglect of his son because it all happened while he was unconscious?

Don't even get me started on Civil War, we will be here all day in how these supposedly equal sides weren't even slightly equal in morality or logic at all, but I will die on the hill of Tony fucking Stark was being a Grade A fucking asshole for his stupid man-child fight he picked with Steve Rogers when you actually objectively view Steve's life story as a human being instead of a symbol that he was literally forced to be

Whew. Ok. I'm ok now.

...

AND ANOTHER THING...!

[helloliriels]

A MASTERLIST of this years FANDOM TRUMPS HATE 2024 works for our community: BBC Sherlock, Johnlock, and Mystrade! a.k.a. things I wanna check out (and don't wanna lose track of!)

🌹 Unremarkable by discordantwords for Podfixx :: It's an unremarkable day. John has a date. Sherlock has a case. And Mycroft & Rosie have just been shoved into the boot of a car.

🌹 Open Line by anyawen for sherlockian4ever :: Greg & Mycroft have front row seats to a spat between Sherlock and John.

🌹 There's Nothing in the Rulebook by avalanching_effect for bluebellofbakerstreet :: In which Lestrade rolls with the punches, Sherlock's body betrays him, and John is completely normal :)

🌹 Mimetidae by avalanching_effect for 796116311389 :: Magic has to make everything so complicated, doesn't it?

🌹Another Fortnight Lost in America by Biana_Amberly_Vacker for Silvergirl :: Sherlock gets offered a New York City vacation by a wealthy client. John thinks he's hiding something more, though.

🌹 The Disappointed Optimist's Guide to Sharing a Flat with a Madman by Calais_Reno for LHR_etc :: John Watson has a bit of luck when he meets Victor Trevor. Taking over his lease.

🌹 You Don't Live Here Anymore by elwinglyre for Jim88 :: Sherlock leaves 221b because he can’t bring himself to live there alone without John. Post-S4 Mary death.

🌹 In the Arms of the Ocean by standbygo for Silvergirl :: Sherlock and John are gifted an Atlantic cruise. Will either one of them finally get their heads out of the sand?

🌹 John Watsons Big Adventure by mydogwatson for Silvergirl :: There is a wedding in his future, but John Watson wants to have an adventure first. He gets his wish, but will he survive it?

🌹 The Part of You that Stays by holmesian_love & Accident for helloliriels :: Sherlock comes home a broken man and after serving as John’s best man, seemingly has a mental breakdown.

🌹 Cover for The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat [Art] by bluebellofbakerstreet for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: inspired by the fic. also

🌹 [Podfic] The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by semperfiona_podfic for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: a podfic audio recording of the fic!

🌹Show Me Your Flaws by holmesianlove for Lock_John_Silver :: A talented stranger crosses his path and suddenly life isn’t boring. But how can John win over someone like that, when he's so flawed?

🌹A Minor Detail by meetinginsamarra for Katiegee444 :: Sherlock has found the perfect flatmate for sharing 221b Baker Street. If only there were not that minor detail in the small print of the lease ...

🌹Wasteland, Baby by LoloLolly for ShakespearelovedLadyMacbeth :: Things hadn’t felt right in 221B since John and Rosie moved back in. If only Sherlock knew it was about to get worse ...

🌹Scheherazade of the Thrift Shop by standbygo for thegildedbee :: Sherlock, cut off by Scotland Yard and desperate for something to do, decides to try deducing in a thrift shop.

🌹 Meet Ugly by jrow for 72reasons :: One encounter with a gorgeous madman is a good story. Twice is crazy coincidence. Three times might just be fate.

🌹 Cover for The Murder of Major Sayer [Art] by bluebellofbakerstreet for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: inspired by the fic

🌹 The Mile High Club by elwinglyre for Silvergirl :: All they wanted was to get married without a fuss. Sherlock has more on his mind.

🌹 Johnlock on Holiday [Banner Edit] by a-victorian-girl for Silvergirl :: for the collection of FTH 2024 fics Silver prompted!

🌹 A Magical Holiday by PipMer for Silvergirl :: He had wanted to wait until after the new year, but it seems John needs a pick-me-up.

🌹 Never Trust to General Impressions [Cover Art] by helloliriels for thetimemoves :: a.k.a. Never Judge A Book By Its Cover (unless its cover is smexy)

🌹 What if John never disposed of the gun he shot the cabbie with? by safedistancefrombeingsmart for khorazir :: a story told in GIFs.

🌹 Shadows of the Fallen Oak by sherlockian4ever for luckettey :: Rosie Watson is kidnapped by a vengeful criminal from Sherlock's past. Their rescue mission tests their bond and reaffirms their love.

🌹 Always a Soldier by Lock_John_Silver for Silvergirl :: Mycroft arrives at Baker Street with disturbing news Sherlock can’t ignore.

🌹 The Cavern by elwinglyre for Katiegee444 :: Sherlock doesn’t believe in magic, he believes in making rock & roll history. His best chance is with John's band.

🌹 Full of Life and Full of Love by anyawen for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: She watches over them. Still.

🌹 Bloods Tracks & Love Attacks by topsyturvy_turtley for Katiegee444 :: Six people enter a chairlift at the bottom of the mountain. Only five arrive at the top. All of them dead. Casefic.

🌹 Confirmation Bias by thalialunacy for Silvergirl :: A casefic featuring Harry Watson, knights, con men, and body farms.

🌹 Fan Edits for The Secret Writer by emilycare for Lock_John_Silver :: This is a collection of edits inspired by the story.

🌹 The Pillar Upon Which England Rests [Art] by khorazir for thetimemoves :: based on the fic by discordantwords.

🌹 36 Views of London by helloliriels for thegildedbee :: A patchwork image of John & Sherlock’s London, as seen through their eyes.

🌹 and back again by anyawen for helloliriels :: a book familiar and meaningful to both men offers guidance and hope.

🌹 Take My Hand by her_ladyships_soap for Mouse9 :: A tale of closeness, moving fwd, and finding comfort in unexpected places.

🌹 Minuit te va si bienby fireandhoney a translation for ChrisCalledMeSweetie

🌹 The Case of the Missing Patty-Pan by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for chainedtothemirror :: When Mrs. Hudson invites Sherlock to tea, his own cleverness gets him in trouble. Fortunately, Dr. Watson is eager to come to his rescue.

🌹 Every Song Reminds Me of You by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for alexxphoenix42 :: Music hath charms to help John acknowledge his feelings for Sherlock.

🌹 The Campari by CorvidCordelia for Silvergirl :: Technically, it’s a forced vacation for Sherlock, but when wouldn’t it be?

🌹 Sleeping Irene by Khorazir for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: Cover for the wonderful fairy tale inspired fic

🌹 Pretty in (A Frankly Alarming Shade of) Pink by helloliriels for thetimemoves :: a Rock Out edit prompt from 80's album.

🌹 Every Song Reminds Me of You [Cover Edit] by a-victorian-girl for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: for the fic of the same name!

🌹 What If I'm Not? [GIF] set by safedistancefrombeingsmart for helloliriels :: Johnlock :: for the fic of the same name.

🌹 No Going Home by emilycare for 13Monkton :: When Sherlock dies ... What if instead of John moving on, they both realized what they meant to one another when he returns?

🌹 Through The Rain by Snowfilly1 for Raechem :: A missing person from John’s past sends Mycroft and Greg on an investigation to Dartmoor.

🌹 Where It Is Always 1670 by Iwantthatcoat for khorazir :: Sherlock and John go on a diplomatic mission away from the heart of London to a little village called Adamczycha. The year is 1670.

🌹 The Red-Headed League by JRow for bluebellofbakerstreet :: Can Sherlock figure out what Rosie's teacher is involved in? And can he prevent the inevitable, namely Ms. Shea falling in love with John?

🌹 FTH2024 Artwork for A Case of You by Silvergirl by DemonicAngeling for Silvergirl :: Inspired by the fic

🌹 The Missing Half by aquileaofthelonelymountain for reveling_in_mayhem :: It was a fancy box of chocolates, the kind you didn’t get in supermarkets ... “So”, Greg said cheerfully, “you’ve got a secret admirer, then?”

🌹 Momentary by BlueMoononTheRise for StellaCartography :: Greg Lestrade has just been diagnosed with cancer. Unable to come to terms with the reality, he decides to go on a trans-Canada roadtrip.

🌹 The Beginning of Always by mydogwatson for thegildedbee :: John Watson wants to be a doctor. Sherlock Holmes wants to be a consulting detective. Most of all, they both want to be loved.

🌹 Handbook for Unrequited Love by Bluebuell33 for holmesianlove :: Life was one cruel joke after another for John. Mary lied and left him. Sherlock wanted nothing to do with him. How had his life ended up here?

🌹 John Watson and the Tale of the Bloody Finger by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for PatPrecieux :: A childhood tale comes back to haunt John.

🌹 An Ounce of Cure by BakerTumblings for safedistancefrombeingsmart :: When John needs elective surgery, Sherlock isn't at all thrilled about it. And when it doesn't go as planned. John finds himself fighting for his life.

🌹 Life finds a way. by Bluebuell33 for felinefemme :: Anthea convinces newly retired Mycroft that he needs a pet for his quiet cottage life. He comes home with more then a new cat. <3

🌹 The Rescuing by BakerTumblings for Podfixx :: Sherlock, off in Serbia, has been captured and severely injured. Mycroft recruits John to aid with freeing him and then overseeing his recovery.

🌹 A Gentleman's Agreement by Peanitbear for Enterthetadpole :: Sherlock is an alpha that doesn't want an omega. John is an omega that doesn't want an alpha.

🌹 Cover for My Pictures of You by bluebellofbakerstreet for 72reasons :: inspired by the fic.

🌹 The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for PatPrecieux :: A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson. Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

🌹 The Light Gets In by Raina_at for Besotted08 :: John comes back to Baker Street on a rainy Wednesday in January. He wants to feel whole again. Maybe that’s not achievable. But fuck, he wants to try.

Posting here, as not all of them yet appear in the FTH 2024 collection on Ao3, but I knew they existed! *whew*. Please let me know if I missed any???

Glad to see I wasnt the only procrasti-writer this year! (my first year offering fic) and so proud of those of you who made it to the finish line and HOLY mother of fandom those of you that wrote more than one!!! (bowing lowly to the floor). Writing for FTH made me more in love with those of you who do this every year. It's a brilliant challenge and all for charity!

[vague-humanoid]

n childhood, I was taught the importance of seeing Black faces in government positions and political power. At school, I learned how integral specific Black political leaders were to the Black Revolution—especially during the Reconstruction era and the Civil Rights Movement. I understood from a young age that the presence of Black faces in political institutions was necessary for community advancement. 

I still remember learning about Hiram Revels, who in 1870 became the first Black elected official to serve in Congress. This was shortly after slavery was abolished, and Revels’ presence in U.S. politics was a watershed moment for Black American communities. 

Our presence in these institutions that sought to exclude us did indeed make a difference. Now, even after witnessing the election of a Black president in 2008 and seeing more and more Black people in spaces of political power and privilege, I’m not so sure.

When Barack Obama became president in 2008, I remember the joy felt across my community and this understanding that if a Black person could reach the highest level of power in the U.S., change had certainly come.   

That was the beginning of a harsh reality check for me. What good is Black political representation in a system meant to maintain the subjugation of marginalized people? What positive change does that representation bring when people with Black faces are complicit in the same oppression and violence that continue to devastate communities like ours?

Communities like Gaza, whose devastation we continue to see every day.

The death toll in Gaza is more than 37,000, and the U.S. has repeatedly vetoed a life-saving ceasefire for the Palestinian people and voted against the effort to recognize Palestinian statehood. 

The U.S. has left Palestine and its people in the path of fire and destruction. The world has watched the U.S. ambassadors for the United Nations silently raise their hands to veto ceasefire resolutions. Their silence speaks volumes.

U.N. ambassadors Linda Thomas-Greenfield and Robert A. Wood are Black Americans in high-ranking government positions, two Black Americans who ostensibly represent our ability to overcome a history of slavery, genocide, and racism, the relics of which continue to plague our communities today. They are two Black Americans choosing to subject another group of oppressed people to genocide and displacement, not so different from what our ancestors faced when they were stolen from their lands, slaughtered, and enslaved. 

Before you assume otherwise, let me say that I do understand nuance. Yes, Ambassadors Thomas-Greenfield and Wood do carry out Washington’s decisions, and they do not act on their own behalf; they are the voice of the U.S. government. But for me, the question remains: Why are you there? As Black Americans, why are you choosing to work as conduits for colonization, imperialism, and genocide? What does this do for Black people in America right now? Because existing in places of power and privilege does not inherently equate to uplifting and serving the Black community. 

Another example is White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre. The daughter of Haitian immigrants, Jean-Pierre is the first Black and openly gay woman to hold her role in the White House. She is a Black woman I once looked up to—until I began to pay close attention to the way she speaks of Israel’s war on Gaza. 

In one press conference, Jean-Pierre could not even acknowledge why Palestinian, Muslim, and Arab organizations rejected meetings with President Joe Biden. I’ve watched Jean-Pierre dismiss journalists’ questions regarding the safety and protection of Palestinians in Gaza. Of course, Jean-Pierre is the White House’s mouthpiece, and we do not know her thoughts on the genocide in Palestine. But again, I ask: Why is she there? What is she willing to co-sign to have proximity to power? What personal excuses are used to justify being complicit in oppression not so different from what our own people face?

How many times will we exempt Black political figures from accountability while holding up their representation as some sort of community good? Do we not realize the harm this does when we uplift Black leaders who merely act as conduits for white supremacy? As a Black woman, I find this hard to accept. 

more at link

[maaarine]

r/TwoXChromosomes: Every date I’ve had this month has attempted to choke me when we make out

—

Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Kate Manne, 2017)

"Often incorrectly called “choking,” non-fatal manual strangulation is inherently dangerous.

It can lead to death hours, days, even weeks afterward due to complications from the brain being deprived of oxygen.

It also causes injuries to the throat that may not leave a mark (Snyder 2015).

If you don’t know how to examine a victim’s throat, what to look for in her eyes (red spots, called “petechiae”), and the right questions to ask, it may seem no harm has come of it (Turkel 2008).

The matter will often go no further. She may not seek medical treatment. The incident will be “shrouded in silence” (Dotson 2011, 244).

Sometimes, she won’t wake up the next morning, or some morning hence.

Moreover, victims of a non-fatal attack of this kind have also been found to be some seven times more likely to become the victim of an attempted homicide by the same perpetrator (Strack, McClane, and Hawley 2001).

Yet many states in America do not have a specific statute making strangulation a crime (relegating it to a simple assault; typically a misdemeanor) (Turkel 2008).

Strangulation is a prevalent form of intimate partner violence, in addition to sometimes taking place within other family relationships.

It doesn’t appear to be limited to certain geographical areas; its existence tends to be confirmed wherever data are available. (…)

Another point to note: strangulation is torture.

Researchers draw a comparison between strangulation and waterboarding, both in how it feels—painful, terrifying—and its subsequent social meaning.

It is characterized as a demonstration of authority and domination (Sorenson, Joshi, and Sivitz 2014).

As such, together with its gendered nature, it is a type of action paradigmatic of misogyny, according to the account of it I develop in these pages.

Also characteristic is the indifference or ignorance surrounding the practice, as well as the fact that many of its victims will minimize—or may, as I’ll go on to discuss shortly, be gaslit (Abramson 2014; McKinnon 2017)."

[burningembers91]

Body Talk - Seong Gi-Hun x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up Piece to:

Back Alley Bar Help Wanted

Synopsis: A night celebrating turns to something more when your hidden feelings finally bubble to the surface.

It was quiet in the bar tonight, Mondays usually were. You were grateful for the respite; glad you could use the time to cram some more for your exam. You weren’t sure how you’d made it to the end of your first year of university, but somehow you were on track to come top of your class. You’d managed to juggle studies while working two jobs and had stayed semi-sane in the process. You knew Seong Gi-Hun was to thank for that, always there to help if you were struggling, always making sure you had a smile on your face. He was next to you now, quizzing you using the flash cards you’d spent hours making the night before. He’d become a different person in the last few months, had transformed before your eyes. Gone was the man who drank himself to death each night, who barely remembered to shower and eat. Gi-Hun now made sure his hair was always styled, made sure he was always wearing a nice shirt when he saw you. He’d been sober for nearly nine months, and had started going to the gym. A steady job at a warehouse meant he had money to pay rent, and he was saving up for a plane ticket to visit his daughter in America.

You’d been good for each other, pushing the other to be the best versions of themselves, always support one another when times got tough. You were looking forward to a break from university, looking forward to a summer free of deadlines and exams. Sure, you still had to work two jobs to afford your rent and schooling expenses, but you were looking forward to a little more free time. Gi-Hun had promised you a day trip to Busan, a chance for the two of you to get away, even for a short time. Your friendship had blossomed since that evening in your apartment, and you found that you spent most days with him. You felt his absence when he wasn’t around, feeling like something was missing. Gi-Hun had begun to feel the same. You’d saved him from himself, had thrown him a lifeline when he felt like giving up. you’d been good for him, and his feelings for you had grown over the last few months. Both of you were tiptoeing around the chemistry between you, too afraid to spoil the friendship in case the other didn’t feel the same.

“I think I need to stop,” you sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. “My brain is mush and if I study anymore my head might actually explode.” “Just remember to relax tomorrow,” he smiled, “you know all the answers.” He’d learned that you had a habit of getting in your own head, of doubting yourself when things got tough. You were the smartest person he knew, and he wished you’d give yourself more credit.

He helped you close up the bar, driving you home before saying goodnight. Every evening, he found it harder to leave you, harder to watch you climb the steps to your apartment. He wanted to pull you back into his arms; to kiss you and tell you how much you meant to him. he wanted to make love to you on the sofa you’d spent so many nights studying on, wanted to hear you moan his name. he hated leaving you, hated returning to his empty apartment. He still struggled to sleep most nights, and his thoughts were filled with you on the nights he lay awake.

Gi-Hun couldn’t stop checking his phone the next day, constantly stopping to see if you’d had your results back. You were sitting your exam at 9am and had been up texting him since 5am. He wanted to take you out tonight, wanted to buy you dinner and have a proper celebration. He had no doubt you’d pass, but he still couldn’t help but feel nervous for you. you’d worked so hard to get where you were, and the desperation in your face was evident. He was on break when you called him, your voice shrill. “I passed!” You squealed breathlessly. “I actually passed!” “Amazing!” Gi-Hun couldn’t hide the joy he felt, his smile spreading wide. “Let me take you out tonight. We’ll celebrate properly.” He wanted tonight to be special for you, he wanted you to let your hair down and celebrate the fact you were one year closer to your dream.

That night, Gi-Hun arrived to collect you from your apartment. He’d gone and bought a shirt especially, the crisp white material paired with his favourite jeans. He was speechless when you stepped outside, clad in a burgundy off the shoulder dress. He always thought you looked beautiful, but tonight you’d left him speechless. “What do you think?” you asked, giving him a twirl on the sidewalk as he stood open mouthed. “Very nice,” he finally managed to breath. “Just… wow.” You bit back a smile, enjoying the effect you were having on him. You’d picked this dress especially, knowing it showed off your figure.

You spent the evening in a cozy restaurant, feeling lighter than you had done in months. Gi-Hun couldn’t take his eyes off you, every moment he spent with you only affirming how much he cared for you. You were breathtaking in that dress, and his found his mind wandering, imagining how it would feel to kiss you, how it would feel to peel the dress from your body. You noticed him staring, noticed the way his eyes wondered your frame; the dress was having the desired effect.

You walked home slowly, neither of you wanting to part. Your hands brushed against each other a few times, sparks igniting deep within the pit of your stomach at the slightest of touches. “Do you want to come up?” you asked him when you arrived back your apartment. The chemistry between you was electric, the air almost crackling. You wondered if he could feel it too, wondered if his heart was racing as much as yours was. “Yes,” he answered, swallowing hard as you led him up the stairs. He’d been to your apartment dozens of times but tonight felt different. The tension was palpable, his heart beating so hard in his chest he was scared you might hear it.

Unlocking your door, you headed inside, the two of you standing in your hallway, neither one of you sure what to do next. Gi-Hun could see the steady rise and fall of your chest, could see the hunger in your eyes as looked up at him. “Kiss me,” you whispered, unable to resist him anymore. You needed a release, needed to feel his lips on yours, his hands on your body.

Gi-Hun kissed you gently, his hands caressing the contours of your waist, snaking up your back to the nape of your neck. He heard you moan appreciatively against him, felt your hands trail up his arms and across his shoulders. He allowed himself to be led to your bedroom, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt as you went. He could feel his aching cock pressing against the tight fabric of his jeans, could feel the deep ache in the pit of his stomach as you guided his hands towards the zip of your dress. He was shaking as he helped you remove your clothes, the sight of your body setting his senses on fire. He pulled you into him, his hands exploring the delicate curve of your breasts, his fingers gently pinching your nipples as you moaned softly against his touch.

“I need to taste you,” he growled, pushing you down into your mattress as he slid your underwear down over your thighs. You were already soaking wet for him as his fingers explored you, his thumb tracing light circles over your clit. you bucked your hips, your eyes rolling back as his tongue replaced his fingers, tracing slow, delicious patterns against you. you had so much pent-up stress, and Gi-Hun was dying to release it. His tongue and fingers worked together, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. You tasted like heaven, your tight wet walls gripping his digits as you came for him with a shuddering sob.

You were so desperate for him, so needy as you pulled his lips down to meet yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, could feel his urgency for you in his kisses. You helped him remove his jeans, pushing him down against the mattress. You’d spent so many sleepless nights wondering what he would feel like to be with Gi-Hun, but nothing could match up to reality.

You cried out in unison as you lowered yourself onto him, his hands tightly gripping your hips as you moved against him. you were so wet for him, so tight and Gi-Hun found himself dangerously close to losing control already. You were so beautiful as you fucked him, your moans so loud and unabashed as your bodies moved in perfect sync. He directed your hand down to your clit, watching you pleasure yourself as you rode him. you were so confident, so sure of yourself and Gi-Hun was desperate to see more of this side of you. You could feel him getting close, could feel his thighs shaking as he neared the edge. His eyes were glued to you, to the way your index finger circled your clit, the way your head lolled back as you took every inch of him inside your tight core. He couldn’t hold anymore, a shuddering groan reverberating off the walls as he came, spilling every last drop of himself inside of you.

He stayed with you that night, tangled up in your sheets as you explored each other. There would be time to talk tomorrow, time to figure out what this was between you. In the morning, Gi-Hun would use words to tell you how you made him feel, but tonight, tonight he would let his body do all the talking.

[awordsmith]

where you came from 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you receive a letter detailing the death of your grandfather, head back to your hometown, and wonder if you ever should have left.

katcember

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s8 category: angst to fluff (comfort) content warnings: proofed! not much sad angst (more sad angst if that makes any sense), death of a family member/funeral, reader's hometown is in Europe (purely for aesthetic), more plot than spencer (kind of idk) reid with warmth word count: 11.2k a/n: this was my one of my first ideas when first posting on tumblr so i really do hope you enjoy it! there are a few words not in english, but sometimes when writing in english it's easier to say something in another language because english can be really...corny sometimes...anyway ily cari !!

The loops and curves connecting the words in that elegant font you grew up learning stuck in the back of your mind like a non-removable tumor. You could feel it. You had a time limit–but not to live. Two days. In two days you would go back to Europe, back to a continent you had thought you’d left behind years ago, a place you had thought you held no attachment to… no emotion.

Maybe, though, it was the fact that you had been gone so long, had not once gone to visit in all your time in America, and now–now your time had run out–or rather, another, no longer invisible hourglass had lost the last of its sand and someone had flipped it again, setting a new timeline in motion.

Your grandpa, your beloved nonno*–oh how you just couldn’t believe it. 

It had hit you so suddenly, your mother normally sent you letters, you didn’t mind her old ways, she was raised by the man who taught you cursive and calligraphy–with craft you thought ancient, and technology was still rather new, and she wasn’t one to conform to change.

You sighed, shifting in your seat as Hotch and the rest of the team gave the profile. The lights were too bright; you stared at the floor, one leg crossed over the other, and your arms folded. You tried keeping your focus. Yes, you were dealing with your own problems, and yes, you had just gotten the letter yesterday, but these children needed you now–and if you couldn’t be at your best with a personal issue weighing on your shoulders, could you even call yourself an FBI agent?

Emily had just left the team a month ago and her replacement wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t Emily. You desperately needed your friend right now, your soul sister. She could tell you what to do and how to handle things like this, she’s been doing this a lot longer than you, has more experience–and she understood you, at least where family matters were concerned.

“You okay?” Spencer whispered as the officers went back to their desks or collected in groups–some even leaving–probably to talk about the best course of action. This guy was going to strike again, every indication of it was there on the board.

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling your stomach growl.

He furrowed his brows, “when’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhm,” you stood, rubbing your wrist, “I’m not sure, but I’m fine, really,” you gave him a tight smile walking over to the board, “We know he’s targeting school busses on their drop off, he’s insecure about something, his physical strength? That’s the only reason he’d subdue the bus driver in a blitz attack.”

Spencer called your name–almost as a whine–and you paused. “Look,” he said, “I don’t think the rest of the team’s noticed, so if you eat, I won’t say anything…”

You frowned, rubbing an eye, “fine.”

You’d think a look of triumph came over him, but you’d be wrong. He looked resigned, but not indifferent, it was more of a soft relief. Spencer had no idea what you were going through, you hadn’t told anyone–and you weren’t really planning on it. You liked to keep your personal life separate from work as much as possible, that’s one of the reasons you and Emily had clicked so well–you were nearly identical in that department, and, well, you both could agree Clyde was a little bit of an ass. You’d never worked directly with her during her Interpol days, but when she left, Clyde became your team lead, and–well, actually, that’s, pretty self-explanatory.

A few years in, you were able to transfer to the BAU, you’d performed considerably well and Clyde had recommended and vouched for you and–well, Emily knew Clyde, okay perhaps your connections helped a little, but was it really your connections or your skill because without your skill, you wouldn’t have been recommended now would you have?

Regardless, you had known how massive the opportunity was, which is why you’d said yes without a second thought. You joined the team two years ago, when Emily had shown no sign of leaving. You sighed, rubbing your hands together, they were sweaty and you felt sick, maybe you should try eating something.

“Alright,” you affirmed again, “come on you’re driving.”

You threw the keys that had been lying on the table next to the board at Spencer, he’d been close to Emily too, you assumed they still spoke sometimes when they got the chance as you did with her. Your mutual bond was probably–at least you considered it the most probable–reason for why you grew so close in such a short amount of time.

You were close in age, too, which you assumed added to the comfort.

Spencer took you to the closest fast food and you ate in the car devouring each bite. He asked for coffee and “real” sugar on the side, and then he sat there and watched you eat, and when you were finished he drove you back to the police station. 

The case took you to Santa Monica, California. Penelope had ushered you all into the room as soon as you’d got into the office this morning, honestly, you were expecting it, and with the hurriedness she had, you knew it couldn’t be anywhere near good–though you considered none of the cases you received “good”, this one involved children, and it seemed they were the prime target, but what you couldn’t figure out was why.

He didn’t kill all the children–in fact, in both cases, the unsub only killed three kids; it seemed as if he was targeting specific children, but they all came from relatively different backgrounds, and both schools–when considering the environment and looking at it from a geographical perspective–weren’t at all in near-to-similar neighborhoods. Even the two kids that were killed on the same bus had no connection, they weren’t friends, the witnesses said the boys stayed away from each other unintentionally, they just never seemed to cross paths and it just did not make sense.

You wanted–no needed–to figure this out, for the next potential victims–but the team had no clue as to which school he’d hit next. For this reason, Penelope was emailing schools at the masses to keep them on high alert.

“He’s targeting school buses,” you said, taking a sip of your water. “Not schools…” Spencer nodded and you asked, “Why?”

“Perhaps something happened to him on a school bus?”

“It’s important,” you agreed, “but wouldn’t that make him–like–fifteen?”

“No,” Spencer shook his head, “a fifteen-year-old wouldn’t have this much time, he’d have been caught by now.”

“The survivors say he wore a mask, he called the students by name–”

“But not their name–maybe he’s living in a delusion?” Spencer’s speaking sped up, “maybe he’s not fifteen but he’s reliving his teenage days. Maybe he was bullied and now he wants revenge?”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain going after high school kids now. Why not just go after the people his anger is directed toward?”

“Because he can’t? Maybe they’re substitutes?”

“We need to tell the others.”

Spencer nodded, you rushed out of the car and into the police station, catching Morgan, Hotch, and JJ leaning over a phone, talking to Penelope. You explained your theory and funnily enough, Penelope had just found school records that supported it. Each victim had been suspended within the past year, accused of bullying or inflicting some type of physical or mental pain on another student.

Complaints about the victims were filed by students, so now you knew your unsub had access to all this information, the question was what title did someone need in order to garner this details.

“That has to be how he’s choosing his victims,” Morgan said.

Hotch thought for a second, then nodded, “All alright, call Rossi and Blake, tell them to get here, Penelope, are you still on?”

“Running and ready, sir,” she confirmed, “All alright, give me a list of the next potential targets, all kids who have been suspended or complained about in the last year due to bullying, narrow the search to males, fifteen older.”

“Sir, do you want me to narrow the search between the two schools?”

“No,” Hotch sighed, looking each of you in your eyes, “I want the entire city–”

“Hotch–” 

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but Hotch cut him off, “you really want to sit around waiting for another body?”

Everyone went silent and Spencer’s eyes flitted to you for a moment, almost as in reassurance.

“He’s right, Hotch,” you stepped forward, trying to push away all thoughts of what was to be expected of you in two days.

“You,” Hotch narrowed his eyes as if just now suspecting something was up with you. 

A silent staring contest ensued, though it was quickly broken when an officer burst into your makeshift bullpen. “Another body was discovered.” Your heart sunk and you glanced to Spencer for comfort, his eyes drifting to yours for the same thing.

It always just seemed a little bit more painful when children were involved. Your stomach lurched and you felt sick, wanting to throw up the food you’d just eaten. You just wanted this all to be over so you could focus on your family issues. It might have been selfish, but wasn’t that your right? You couldn’t think about this right now, you needed to find this guy before he murdered another innocent kid.

“Give Garcia the geographical point and have her narrow the search.”

Hotch directed at Spencer, turning to JJ, “Stay here, help him and Rossi figure out what career our unsub might have. Morgan go Blake to check out the new crime scene, and,” he turned to you, “Come with me.”

You turned to Spencer one last time, not wanting to leave him. You were always together, working together, that is. Hotch never split you up so you thought there must be a reason for it now, but why, well, you couldn’t know for certain. You shook your head and followed him out the door. He seemed to wait for you with pause, his expression unreadable, almost like he was analyzing you. You tilted your head in warning and he finally relented.

“Let’s go.”

From that point forward, there wasn’t really much of a struggle, it just sucked you had been called in so late, and that another kid had died before you caught the guy. Four kids in total, three crime scenes. The ride back on the jet was tense.

Everyone seemed to need their own space whenever you dealt with a case like this, you, well, you’d play with Spencer’s hair, if you were really tired, he’d let you lean against his shoulder or use his lap as a pillow and sleep. This time, though, you were restless and you couldn’t find the need to sleep anywhere. You knew you probably should,but…it was just too much.

You couldn’t stay seated, you paced back and forth, your mind fleeting from the case to the letter you’d received yesterday. You’d brought it with you and you hesitated only for a second before pulling it from your bag and sitting in one of the empty rows. You could feel eyes on you, though they were trying to pretend they weren’t looking.

You wanted to say you could see them, say you weren’t in need of monitoring, but you were the youngest on the team, and despite your closeness, with Emily particularly, they all cared for you, which is why when JJ slid into the seat across from you you resisted rolling your eyes.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of… not yourself.”

“I’m fine, JJ, thanks.” You returned your eyes to your mother’s letter.

“You sure?” she asked, “is it your mother? Has something happened?”

She motioned toward the letter. They’d gotten accustomed to seeing you read over the renaissance looking artifacts throughout the day. That wasn’t the unusual part, no JJ was talking about how you weren’t attached to Spencer’s hip, how you avoided them all almost the entire day, and how you had been so focused on the case as if you were trying to make something else dissappear.

“We’re all here for you, you know.” She reached her hand out, rubbing her thumb over it.

“Yeah,” Morgan motioned for JJ to scoot over, “we’re a family, you know.”

“Aww, I wish I was there,” Penelope said from the other side of Morgan’s phone. You wanted to scoff, but a sad smile pressed to your mouth instead. They were cornering you as if they’d planned it.

Your eyes flitter over toward Rossi and Hotch who were pretending not to listen and Blake, who was evidently really not, then they landed on Spencer’s who stood suddenly from his normal spot in the front of the jet and began walking toward you. “See, even pretty boy’s upset.”

“I am not upset,” Spencer scoffed, sliding into the seat next to you. But then he held your gaze as if trying to communicate with his eyes, “but we are here for you, you know I’m always here, and…I’m sure if you called, Emily would be too.”

You took a breath, and when it came out it was shuddering, and that was the first time crying had crossed your mind. So, you said–first in general, “My grandfather just passed, I’m supposed to leave in two days for his funeral.” You let them take it in, then, “I need time off, Hotch.”

A snort came from Rossi and the team frowned at him, but you smiled, why was he so unserious all the time? You rolled your eyes, but then Penelope spoke up from the phone in Morgan’s pocket, “if you need someone to go with you, I’d be willing.”

Your eyes swelled at her offer and you opened your mouth to say ‘Really?’ but Spencer said, “I’d go too–you know, if you wanted that is,” before you could open your mouth.

“Thank you,” you nodded, “I’d like that…and you know…it wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you came as well,” your admission scared you, what were you doing? This is the exactly the opposite response Emily would have given, but maybe you weren’t as strong as Emily, and maybe…maybe that was okay.

“When are we leaving again?” Rossi sighed, pulling out his phone, “I’ll have to check my schedule.” And with that you let loose a snort, appreciating the kindness of your team.

“Jack, Will, and Henry are welcome to come as well.” You said, “And that girlfriend of yours, Hotch,” you added, “I think I’d be able to brave my family again if I had the Guardians of the Galaxy with me.”

“What about Strauss?” JJ suddenly asked, “What are we gonna tell her?”

“Oh you let me worry about her,” Blake smiled, though you had been sure she wasn’t even listening.

“You’re from Europe right?”

You huffed a sigh, “Yes, Rossi, I’m sure we’re not cousins.”

A few chuckled as Rossi responded with a nod and a smug grin,  “Just checking.”

You claimed the window seat, forcing Spencer to sit in the middle, though you had to climb over him multiple times to use the bathroom, you didn’t care, and neither did he…much. You thought you’d be able to sleep, but just like on the jet, you found yourself restless, and Spencer, well, he couldn’t help but ask.

The first question was simple, “how do you feel about going home?”

You laughed, a bitter expression framing your face, “I don’t know.” You were lying, though he wasn’t sure if you knew that fact yourself as you seemed genuine. The only way he knew for sure your response wasn’t what your subconscious truly thought was was by the way your lips pressed together right before you spoke, that was your tell.

He didn't know if you knew you did it, but he’d caught on to it pretty quickly when you’d first met, it had been something small, but he remembered it as clearly as if it were playing out right now in front of him. It had to do with your favorite food. Morgan had said he’d overheard you talking to Emily about how you wanted a certain order from this new restaurant because it tasted like the one you had back home, and to surprise you, he had brought it in one day and set it on your desk, brimming with energy to see your reaction.

You were confused at first, but when you saw him, you’d grinned, prying to box open, then your eyebrows had shot up and he’d asked you if it was your favorite food. You’d pressed your lips together and nodded, grimacing with the first bite, “I love it, thank you.”

Later on, he’d smacked Morgan for the first time upside the head, running away quickly after, Morgan had chased him for some time until Hotch had told them to stop acting like, “idiots,” and thst, “Jack acthas better self control than you two most days.”

“Do you have any pets at home?” He asked, watching you stretch out your arms above your head, deflating against your seat.

You smiled, “I used to have a dog, but she died before I left for university.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really mine, but my sister’s.”

He nodded, it was early morning, everyone had gotten up way before they’d wanted to, except him. He was ready to go a bit too early, and when he’d picked you up at your apartment, it seemed as if you hadn’t slept much either.

“Hey, Spencer?” You suddenly whispered.

“Yeah?” He stared down at you as you began to move, causing him to shift until his body aligned with yours and your back hit his chest.

“Do you want to hear a boring story?” He quirked a brow, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. To the normal eye, you seemed incredibly close, strangely close–a couple kind of close, but to the team and between the two of you, it was more like the relationship Penelope and Dereck had, although instead of heaty words, it was comforting gestures like this, that, and you were always attached at the hip, you were partners with each other before anyone else, work partners that is.

“What’s a boring story?” He asked and you didn’t know if he was trying to be poetic, but it brought a smile to your face.

“My grandfather,” you focussed your eyes on the window, finding warmth in being pressed against him, his arms acting as a blanket that wrapped around you. “He was old in age, I mean, I knew that even when I was a kid, but there were times,” you shook your head recalling the moments in your mind.

Spencer kept quiet, listening intently as he rubbed circles on the exposed inner corner of your elbow.

“He would take me on adventures and back then, he seemed so young, so exceptionally immortal. It was otherworldly,” your voice got quieter as you continued, “I don’t know how to face him,” you sighed–God it seemed like all you could do for the past 45 hours was sigh.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me about the adventures.”

You paused, turning your head slightly to see him, you’d done this countless times, but for some reason, it seemed more pertinent now. More….significant, “my grandad,” you murmured, “he was my captain. That was the game. We’d go to the pier sometimes, or the forest, and he’d always have these elaborate scavenger hunts set up in advance. He really–” you blinked and breathed, “...he was really good at things like that.”

“Setting up games?” Spencer asked incredulously, but you knew it was good-natured, meant to bring the smile that had so evidently fallen off back to your face.

“At crafting and cultivating imagination.”

“Ah,” Spencer nodded, “yeah how did I miss that?”

You smacked is chest playfully.

“How do you feel about seeing your family, how long has it been?”

You gazed out the window again, there was low chatter around the plain, it was dark, the lights were off, and most people were asleep. You pondered briefly about why Spencer was still up and deigned to ask him when sunlight shone through the window, blinding you momentarily. It wasn’t a lot nor was it as bright as you were used to, and it was quickly hidden behind the clouds once more, but you smiled at it anyway.

“A new beginning,” you raised your hand, blocking the slight sunlight that filtered in now and then, not really sure what you meant.

Spencer chuckled, reaching out to grab your wris. He held it, waving it around as if you were casting a non-verbal spell.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he whispered, “but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will,” you replied as easily as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “You always are.”

And again, for a moment, you pondered why that was, why Spencer always seemed to be the only person–other than Emily–who was always there for you when you needed someone, why he was the only person you wanted there when things went wrong. 

It was a question that had bubbled up over the last month since Emily had left. You’d begun to lean on him a lot more, yes, but you could very well just have as easily called Emily. Spencer wasn’t lying, you knew she would pick up no matter what, but oddly, you found you didn't want to call her because–you already had the person you needed with you. And he would always be there, even if you stopped working together, Spencer would always be there.

You were sure you could call him in the middle of the night and he’d come running. But why would you want to? You shook the dangerous thought away. 

“It’s sunrise,” he said, pulling your attention back to the window. Slowly, he brought your hand to once again rest on your stomach.

“We still have about 5 hours,” you sighed, noting the time.

He leaned back, shifting in his seat, “Then we better get comfortable.”

You wondered what you’d do first when you landed, would you have so much jet lag you wouldn’t be able to see your family for some time? Would you be able to sleep? Finally? Where would your grandpa be? Probably at the funeral home. Would other family members be traveling into the city for the funeral? If they were they’d have to stay at the main house, there wewould be no other space available in the others.

You were only staying three days, and if Stauss called you in early, you’d have no choice, but to leave before that. You were able to solve one more case before you left, though you had still strained for sleep, everyone else seemed to be a little overly excited. Blake stayed to help other teams, she was new and you weren’t that close, though she didn’t seem to mind.

She was like Rossi in that department, unable to take days away from work as she ran on catching these guys. But for you, and everyone else on the team, you were sure, you couldn’t wait for your days off.

They were the closest thing you got to normalcy, that and time with Spencer outside of work, it was time in your world, one where bad guys didn’t exist, one where you could escape into the realities of a Charlotte Bontë novel, one your grandpa had gifted you before you could remember a life without it.

You wanted to thank Spencer, but you didn’t know how. You wanted to thank everyone, really, but Spencer most of all, and instead of thinking about why, of letting it plague your thoughts, you leaned further into him, rubbed your face into his soft sweater vest, and closed your eyes.

Penelope threw her head back as she grabbed her suitcase, “where to now?” Spencer pushed her sunhat out of the way. She was in for a rude awakening, it was winter in Europe, and though most people were on holiday, that only meant the airports would be extra lively.

“First, let’s make sure we have everyone.” You began counting of heads, narrowing your eyes, “where’s Hotch?”

“We’re here!” Jack came running, Hotch sprinting after him. It was not too odd a sight, for you to see Hotch in dad mode, he normally had that look on when Spencer did something stupid or Penelope said too much on speaker–but this, oh this was gold.

Rossi snapped a photo with an old camera he’d brought along, chuckling when Hotch glared at him. “Alright,” you nodded, noting Hotch’s girlfriend slowly filling the space beside him. “Now, my immediate family isn’t that big, but the rest of the family does live in the same town, so you’ve all been assigned housemates.”

“Housemates?” JJ raised a brow.

“I’ll,” you checked the time, “explain on the train, come on.”

You were honestly surprised everyone had come, you’d invited them because you truly had thought them being here would lessen the pain, but to think that they all wanted to be here for you as well, even Rossi had come–and he hated taking vacation time. Though, the most surprising had to be the fact that Blake had actually succeeded in getting Straus to let you all come.

You stayed together, it was easy for some, though others kept getting sidetracked. You stopped a few times to look at a few shops and monuments, though you kept explaining to Penelope she’d have more than enough time later to go on her mini explorations.

You supposed it was normal though, that was how you were your first time in America–your first time in any new country or state, really. Most everyone had never been to Europe, even for you it felt like stepping into a storybook. You hadn’t been home in so long, it was like a lost memory.

Though afternoon, the day was getting dark already, and people were milling about, readying for Christmas–your heart lurched, and though you tried not thinking about him too much, you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandfather had been alone during his passing, what were his last words? His last thoughts? Rainclouds not only drew to the sky but your mind as well.

You felt more than guilty, that was the only way you could describe the horrid emotion twisting in your gut ever since you’d received the letter. You hadn’t seen your parents–your sister–face to face in a long time. It was part of the guilt of moving to America without giving them a heads up and for leaving when you knew they wanted you to stay.

Your older sister had stayed, why couldn’t you have? There really was no explanation other than you just couldn’t. It felt small, suffocating. You loved your hometown, but eventually, you knew there had to be something more out there, something more calling your name, and the longer you stayed, the more you buried that feeling, the less motivated to do anything you got.

So, you saved up during your uni days and took the first position in America you’d found, which is how you ended up at Interpol, climbing the ranks slowly but surely and eventually working with Clyde.

You reached the train station, the cool weather making everything around you a tint of blue. The benches that sat in front of the train tracks were taken up by Jack, Henry, and Will, who’d been carrying a ton of baby supplies. You paused, checked your watch again, nodded, and turned your face toward everyone again, “Alright people, here’s the plan. My family knows you're coming, one of the reasons they were okay with it is because we own a few properties and can house you all, hence your housemates, or if you prefer, hosts.” You glanced at JJ, “You, Will, and Henry will be staying with my sister and her husband. She has two kids so she’s used to the noise.”

You had thought about letting Hotch stay with your sister, but that would have just been too weird. No, instead you’d paired Hotch up with one of your cousins, who was married, but had no kids. Jack was older, no longer in diapers, and had a controlled temper, so it seemed perfect.

You relayed this information and moved on, “Penelope and Morgan, you’re staying with my aunt and uncle on my dad’s side, trust me, you’ll be thanking me–and Rossi, you’re with my aunt an uncle on my mom’s side Is that everyone then?” You looked around, nodding.

“Hang on,” Rossi held up a hand, “I don’t like the way you said that last part.”

“That’s everyone then?” You ignored him, “All alright, the train should be here–” You cut off your sentence as the train pulled into the station, “...right on time.”

 Waiting your turn to step onto the train as people made their way off, you felt around in your pocket for the letter one last time, sighing in relief when you it was still there. You grabbed your suitcase and began pulling it aboard the train when Spencer grabbed your arm and held you back. You glanced at everyone else boarding the train, making sure you had time before turning back, “Uhm,” he frowned, looking awkward, “where am I staying?”

“Hmm?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your watch again, “with me and my parents.” You said it so simply, as if it were an afterthought–as if it was so incredibly obvious that you didn’t think you had to mention it.

“Oh,” he didn’t know how to feel, he was a little embarrassed, but there was something else…sick? He didn’t know, but it made him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Come on,” you latched your hand onto his wrist and yanked him onto the train, “before it leaves without us.”

You honestly wanted to go straight to your parent's house, but you knew you had to introduce your co-workers/friends to your family so when you left it wasn’t so weird, though the only one who complained was Rossi, you couldn’t blame him, but at the same time you found it funny. He swore up and down you had put him in this position on purpose and he didn’t find it funny–“Not one bit,” he’d said right before you left him in his room. “I’ll get you back for this,” he’d warned.

Once you’d left JJ, Will, and Henry at your sisters–she hadn’t been home, thank God, as you didn’t think you could face her just yet–you and Spencer hailed a cab and had all but drifted off to sleep during the ride to your childhood home. Your mom had been the firstborn, so she’d gotten the main house, though your grandparents never left. They had kind acted as your second parents growing up and you were incredibly close, especially you and your grandfather…and now he was gone. You bit the inner corner of your cheek, feeling like you wanted to cry but just couldn’t find the comfort to do so.

Spencer noticed, of course, that you were leaning on him, and had been the entire cab ride. When the it came to a stop in front of a large, three-story Victorian house, he hesitated before shaking you awake. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew what to do, but this wasn’t his house and this was the first time he was going to meet your parents, though it excited him, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

You were like–his platonic soulmate, nothing had ever happened between you two and just because you were going to be sleeping in the same house, probably a few feet apart, didn’t mean anything was going to start now. Morgan slept at Penelope’s all the time and though Spencer always suspected they were more, nothing had ever happened, which meant it was possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends–and yet, here is was, palms sweating, mind running, mouth drying as he walked up the trail leading to the front door of your parent’s house.

A knock, and hushed whispers, and then the door opened, your mother standing in the doorway with a bright smile on her face. She called your name and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You wondered if your grandpa was at the funeral home still, if he was cold, which was a stupid thought, he couldn’t feel anything, he was gone, no longer here roaming the earth, telling his outdated jokes and taking you on secret journey’s, and you were no longer that little girl who laughed at his outdated jokes and believed in the magic of his secret journeys.

When you pulled away your mother, with her now thinning, grayed hair pulled into a tight ponytail and the wrinkles lining her frail face–said, “Oh, let me get a look at you.” 

She took a step back and that’s when your father came into view, “Dad,” you smiled, the feeling almost overwhelming.

He pulled you into another hug, and just when you didn’t know if you could handle seeing one more relative you hadn’t seen in ages, your grandmother shouted from somewhere on the first floor, “Is that her? Is she here?”

Your heart seized itself and you took a step back, unknowingly stepping into Spencer’s personal space. You turned to apologize, but your grandmother had already wobbled in on her two dainty legs, as quickly as she could have if in her prime. Her old crone eyes narrowed, “nice of you to grace us with your presence.” She sprinkled salt on the floor as she glowered.

“Mom,” your mother groaned.

“What?” She crossed her arms and turned her head as if she had things better to do than welcome the granddaughter–who’d left everything behind–back into her life.

“It’s fine, Mom,” you reassured as your father went to close the door behind you’d walked in, Spencer gled to your back.

Your grandmother stomped out of the room in old lady fashion. “How are you dear? Have you been getting my letters?”

You cringed, “Yes,” though you never sent one back, you did always text a message, thanking your mom for writing you, she’d only heart it, though, which left you wondering if maybe you should’ve picked up a pen and paper. “I keep them all secure in a drawer.”

She nodded, a placid smile falling to her lips, “Well, you must be tired and–” she glanced at you, then at Spencer, then at your father and held his gaze for a moment before returning her eyes to you, “who’s your…”

“Oh, this is Spencer,” you patted his chest as if that was explanation enough.

Your mother nodded, not really sure how to take it, she turned to Spencer, hoping he’d offer a little more information, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer stared at her hand, contemplating and you were just about to say something about it when he reached out and shook it. Slack-jawed, you eyed him suspiciously, turning away in a huff. When you’d first met him, he’d refused to shake your hand, sure he had come a long way since then, but it still annoyed you for some reason.

“Come, let me show you your rooms.”

Your mother led you up the starcase than faded into a small stairwell, leading up to the second floor. The wood was old mahogany, though you weren’t paying much attention to it. At the end of the left hall was another staircase that led to the third floor, but even half awake you knew it was probably locked. It always had been. 

You recognized the wallpaper, a deep, forest green and you half wondered if the wallpaper in your bedroom had changed, if it had been converted into a guest bedroom. Your mother gave Spencer the guest room down the hall. You waved goonight to him before heading into your room. He paused his eyes taking in your childhood home.

It was so incredibly different from his, but it also felt…small. You were this giant, bubble of energy and a quiet town in Europe just dind’t seem to add up to your personality. He sighed and pulled open the door, you weren’t a few steps away like he had hoped, but you were close enough. He stopped himself–this was completely bizarre, even for him. This was more up–well, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t up his alley.

Tired, you’d turned in for the night, though your eyes caught on all the things you’d left behind, you told yourself you’d look at it in the morning. You were glad everyone was here supporting you, you were especially glad to have Spencer–were glad he came, but then of course he came, that was just the kind of person he was.

You turned off the lamp on the bedside table, burying your face in the sheets, finding yourself still unable to cry, but whispering, “You would have liked him a lot, nonno*.” Which was madness, firstly, why did it matter if you grandfather would have liked Spencer or not. Secondly, your grandfather was gone, and the whole reason you were here was because of that fact. Maybe you just couldn’t accept it yet and that’s why you were thinking all these weird thoughts, why you couldn't cry.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t dream; to face tomorrow, you would just need sleep. Sleep and a lot of quiet.

You cracked open one eye, light trickling in through the curtains though it wasn’t bright. You left your door ajar as you headed toward the bathroom. There was soft chatter on the first floor, and you were sure your grandmother and parents were awake. The faint aroma of coffee wafted through the air and you wondered if Spencer was up too.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out as he stepped out of the bathroom just as you went to open the door. His hair was wet and he was wearing a white collared shirt under a brown sweater vest. He smiled when he saw you, though your eyes were drawn to the water dripping down his forehead. He was holding a towel, you assumed to try and dry it, though it looked if he hadn’t had much success.

“Morning.” You murmured.

“Good morning,” he echoed, stepping out of the way. “You’re parents said I could,” he motioned behind him, pressing his lips together when you raised a brow. He nodded, “hurry? I am kind of nervous.”

You snorted and shook your head, “sure thing, piccolo*.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you, feeling an airy sensation float through your body as you began pulling your clothes off.

Half an hour later, you found Spencer in his room still trying to dry his hair. “You should just let it air dry.” You voiced, tucking a lock of your own wet hair behind your ear.

He looked up when you opened the door, sighing, and setting the hand towel to the side. His hair was nearly dry, though he was trying to get the wet bits in the back. 

You huffed, climbing on the bed and sitting behind him on your knees, “let me see it.” You began massaging the now-damp towel into his hair, trying to use the little dry parts it still had left. He chuckled, jerking his head slightly when the towel rubbed a sensitive spot. You smirked, “that tickle?”

He huffed another laugh, “stop,” he called your name in warning, “I’m serious.”

You laughed, running the towel teasingly up and down his neck. He jerked and eventually jumped up, pushing you backward on accident. He launched a tickle attack, fingers jabbing at your sides, your neck, under your arms, and when you thought he couldn’t get any worse, he sought your feet, your sockless feet.

“Okay!” You snorted, “Okay, you win!”

“What?” He asked, staring down at you with triumph.

“Oh, don’t be an ass.” 

He grinned playfully, but relented, “Alright, come on, your parents probably want to see you.”

You huffed a sigh and threw your head back, the pillows coming to its rescue as you let your hands come to rest on your stomach, “do we have to?” His grin eased into a gentle smile and you gave in, jumping up, “Yeah, fine.” 

You headed downstairs, passing picture frames from past relatives. There were so many ancient trinkets that your generations had left behind, Spencer said it was like walking through time, and it honestly was. Not just because the house was built in the middle 1800s, but because everything from the wallpaper to the furniture, and right down to the people still living in it–had that reminiscent aura about them.

“Nice of you to join us.” Your grandmother said as you walked in, “And who’s this, a boyfriend?”

Your mother sent hers a warning glare before turning back to you, “good morning, please sit,” she motioned toward the breakfast table.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Spencer said taking the seat beside you, “again.”

Your mother laughed and waved a hand, “There is no need for formalities, but I do want to thank you for coming.” She glanced at you momentarily, but you avoided her eyes. You knew you would eventually have to speak to everyone again, but you weren’t ready for that yet.

“So, how long have you been dating my daughter?” Your father asked. You would have choked on the tea had you drunk any prior. Your eyes widened instead and you turned to Spencer apologetically, but he didn’t seem at all fazed, “we’re just friends.”

His smile seemed content, but your grandmother scoffed. You turned to her, almost already fed up with the little attitude that’d been present since your arrival. You knew she had always preferred the company of your sister, and she detested you for leaving without a word–not to her, but to your grandfather.

You frowned, wanting to ask about it, but you couldn’t find words that would bring the least amount of sadness to the room. 

“Are you going out today?” Your father changed the subject, turning toward Spencer. He seemed to catch on to the fact that you were uncomfortable, so he directed all his questions at your beloved pretty boy.

Spencer answered them with ease–to which you knew you’d be in debt. An hour went by and Penelope was blowing up the team group chat, asking when you were meeting up. Eventually, you knew you’d have to take her around town and to be honest, you could use a little distraction from the looming presence of being around the rest of your family when they got in this afternoon.

“When will you be back?” Your mother asked

“Not sure,” you replied, more clipped than you meant for it to be.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Spencer reassured, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” your grandmother poked her head out of nowhere.

You shot her a glare and said, “Is this your way of seeing me off?”

Shocked by your reply, she tutted and jerked her head away, with closed eyes and crossed arms. You rolled your eyes, whispering, “see you later,” in the softest voice you could manage.

“That was…”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around yourself, “tell me about it.”

“So…your grandmother…”

“She hates me because I left, deep down they all do.” You frowned, but no tears came, they seemed to evade you.

Spencer pressed his lips together, normally he had the perfect response for anything you said, but you never spoke about your family. You were always sure to draw a boundary, you were very much like Emily in that sense, or at least he thought so.

You took a cab to the pier, agreeing to meet at the beach seemed simple. There were a few people, mostly locals though, your hometown wasn’t a place tourists normally visited. The main reason this town was able to survive was because a lot of the residents were wealthy, and that wealth stayed in the family and–well, the families stayed here.

“Woah,” Penelope yelped at the fourth store you stopped in, “we have to look around,” she said, eye-widening. Jack and Henry were milling about together, looking at little trinkets. You recognized the shop, it was an antique toy store–your grandfather had bought all your gifts over the years from this one in particular, some were secondhand, but they were sentimental to you and you had taken a few with you when you’d moved to America. 

“Babygirl, calm down.” Morgan laughed, following her down an aisle.

“How’s everyone settling in?” You asked, turning to Rossi when he huffed and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” You leaned in, grinning.

Spencer pulled you back just as Rossi glared and called you a sadist. “We’re doing fine, your sister is nice.” JJ smiled, “she was asking about you,” she paused, waiting to see if it was an alright topic of conversation. When she realized you were waiting patiently for her to continue, she did, “she said she was sorry for not being home when you dropped us off. She wanted to catch up.”

You took a breath, your cheeks seemingly hot in the cold weather. “I know it’s not my place,” Will started, catching your eyes, “...but I…I think you should talk to her…”

You frowned at him, contemplating, then you nodded, sigh slipping past your lips, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh!” Penelope shouted, “Gelato, my phone says there’s a gelato place right around the corner!” 

You noticed Morgan walking up behind her when a laugh–though it sounded more like a croak–rang through your ears. “Your phone would be correct,” an old woman rounded the counter, short as could be. Her eyes bounced from face to face, settling on yours, “I told your old wench of a grandmother you’d come back. Were it for anything it’d be for him.” She sighed, “Come here, let me have a spin, my God how long has it been?”

You wanted to say eight years, but you neglected that subject and instead focussed your memory on figuring out who this woman was. 

“Hmm,” she hummed after a moment, taking a step back, her arms so incredibly bony they looked as if they might snap with the slightest pressure. Her pallor was somewhat tanned, and there were a few black spots up and down her exposed skin.

“You’re nonna’s old classmate.” It clicked, she was always stopping by the house in your earlier days, and she’d sometimes sit on the wraparound porch, sipping wine with your grandmother.

“Did you forget me already capretta*?” She chuckled as if she’d made a joke.

The rest of your group had deemed the conversation not there’s to listen in on, so they’d taken to wandering around the shop, the only one who stayed–partially because he wanted to and partially because you’d grabbed his wrist when he had tried walking away–was Spencer.

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” you murmured, “you shouldn’t call me that.”

“Oh, you’ll always be capretta* to me, you and all the others.” She smiled, her beady eyes watching you for a moment, as if expecting you to do something brash. Eventually, she said, “his funeral is tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah,” saying it brought out a wave of pain. Your mouth felt heavy and your stomach dropped to your feet.

She nodded, “have you decided what you’re going to say?”

You shook your head, “I won’t be speaking.”

She paused, disappointment flashing across her face, “well, I’m sorry to hear that.” You pressed your lips together and began turning away, ready to get out of this uncomfortable situation, but she wasn’t finished, “you know, I’m sure he’s happy you’re here.”

Spencer watched you close your eyes, take a deep, shuddering breath, and open them carefully. He watched them gloss over and without thinking about it, snaked a hand behind your back, as if holding you to this earth would help you in some way, unbeknownst to him, it did. His touch grounded you, and you thought, another debt to be owed.

“You’re amante*,” she said right before you walked back outside.

“He’s not my–” you waved your hands but your your words faltered as she shook a cloth at you, a knowing smile adorning her face.

“Maybe not yet, capretta*.”

You sighed, yanking Spencer outside. “What did she say?” He asked as if he couldn’t use damned context clues.

“Nothing,” you responded, but Rossi raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands when you shot him a look, your eyes flashing in warning. 

The other’s finally joined you outside and you spent a few more hours acting as a tour guide. When you deemed it time to go home, you told everyone to be ready in formal attire around 8, the rest of your family would be coming in, staying at the main house as it was the last place that still had room, and a small party would ensue. Everyone only came together for weddings and funerals so they tended to make the most of it.

You weren’t really looking forward to seeing the rest of your cousins, hell you could barely face your immediate family, extended seemed a little too much too soon.

You thought about hiding up in your room, you hadn't had much time to take it in yet and you thought it might help.

Relatives started arriving around 7:30. Spencer had wandered down to your room and knocked, though you could hear the hesitation in it. “Come in,” you said, sitting up.

He walked through, shutting the door softly behind him. “So this is where I find all your secrets.” He chirped, an easy smile settling on his face as joined you on the bed, leaning back. “It’s pink,” he noted.

“Hey,” you said, “the wallpaper came with the room.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes catching on a few blankets stacked neatly on a shelf linear your bed, ��are those your baby blankets?”

“No,” you laid back down, the lamp at your side dimming slightly. “I think I stole those from my sister.”

He smiled, “I wonder what it’s like to have a sibling.”

You smiled, recalling all the idiotic fights you’d get into, how your parents would send you two to your room until you, “learned to love each other”. “She’s older by a few years,” your voice carried through the silent room, though it was lively on the first floor. You suddenly remembered you had a third, but you couldn’t recall a single memory of you being allowed there as is had always been locked.

“Do you want to talk about her?” He asked after a while.

You debated, on one hand, it might be good practice for when you spoke to her, on the other hand, what would you even say? You had no idea how she’d been these past eight years, what her life was like. What could you say and so you said, “ask me about her.”

He hummed for a moment, falling on, “why’d you steal the blankets?”

Your lips pressed together and you tried piecing together an accurate depiction of the event. “Well, she’d got them on a trip with our grandmother. My grandfather and I had been on an adventure, I think we were in the forest, I can’t remember,” you sat up and pushed yourself off the bed, walking over to the dresser and bending down to the shelf that held the blankets.

Spencer sat up, letting his eyes follow you, he felt warm, not anxious. Though his mind was working slowly, he found he didn’t mind. You seemed to calm everything down for him, it was a sense of comfort he hadn’t known he’d needed until you came into his life, and his headaches from before had slowly ceased the closer the two of you got.

“This one,” you held up, “was originally hers.” You brought it to him as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed, his feet sprawled around you. You didn’t think twice before stepping in between him, but you had never done that before and it caught him off guard. You had never been in such proximity when you were both wide awake, and you certainly had never faced each other like this.

Nevertheless, he didn’t mind–in fact, he was finding it increasingly obvious that he preferred you to be as close to him as possible. He ran a hand over the smooth ruffles of the white blanket. It was pleaded with light pink embroidery. “You should give it to your daughter.” He heard himself say, though his throat went dry right after. 

“You think so?” You found yourself wanting to be closer to him–as if I’m not close enough, you scolded yourself.

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, and gosh–it looked like he wanted you, and gosh–you felt your heartbeat speed up.

Your body moved on its own, stepping forward, loving the way his legs close together to entrap you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dropping the blanket down beside him. You lifted your knees onto either side of his waist and sat in his lap, his arms snaking around your hips. “Hi,” you murmured, a nervous–almost hesitant–expression falling over your features.

His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes, but he managed to force out a, “hi.”

You bit your lip and it drew his gaze instantly, you could feel his heart palpitate in his chest, almost as fast as yours. His eye fluttered close and his head fell back when you ran your hands through his hair. You didn’t know what you were doing, you told yourself multiple times, unsure of why this was happening–now of all times, oh your sweet nonno! Forgive me, you pleaded.

You angled your head forward, ready to do the one thing you’d knew your subconscious had been wanting for God knew how long, but then a knock sounded on the door and Spencer’s eyes opened once again.

“Who–” you cleared your throat, “who is it?”

“Uhm,” a nervous chuckle came from the other side of the door, “it..it’s me.” Your sister. You cursed, glanced at Spencer, then with an apologetic look, unraveled yourself from his embrace.

You walked toward the door, trying to fix your nettled clothing in the process. You took a breath and paused, then opened the door. Your sister stood there, tall, lean, and elegant, as you remembered her to be. “Hi,” she smiled, tilting her head.

You smiled back, trying your best to not give away what had just been going on–what the actual hell was just going on? You wanted to contemplate it more, wanted to ask yourself what the hell you thought you were doing–but refrained from doing so in the moment.

“Can…can I come in?”

You tensed, your eyes darting behind you and Spencer stood, throwing you an understanding glance. Your sister took a step back as he left the room, eyes following him as he disappeared somewhere down the hall. You swallowed and shifted out of the doorway, “come in.”

She raised an eyebrow but kept quiet upon you lifting a hand. 

“How have you been?” She asked once you shut the door. 

You thought about your answer, settling for, “good,” because you had been good, you had been very good, up until you got that letter.

“That’s good,” she responded, looking around the room, smiling, “you know, mom kept it just the way you had it when you left.”

You nodded, yes, you had noticed that, but you weren’t sure how you felt about it just yet.

“What’s this?” She walked toward your bed, where Spencer had been not a minute ago. She picked up the dainty blanket and sat down, steering clear of the part that had been undoubltey rumpled by Spencer. “Oh,” she said as if just recalling, “it’s the blanket I gave you.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, you distinctly remember you stealing it from your room and hiding it when she had come asking if you’d seen it.

She laughed, apparently recalling the same thing, “I knew you had it back then,” which came as a surprise to you. She bit back a smile as she began folding it again, “nonna told me to let you keep it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “did she?”

“Yep,” your sister popped the ‘p’.

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“What?” She asked, setting the blanket aside.

“She’s become batty.”

Your sister’s eyebrows rose, “how do you mean?”

“She’s been nothing but brutal to me,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

Your sister’s eye crinkled like she was about to laugh, “wow,” she said instead, “you’ve been gone so long you must have forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” You scoffed.

“That’s how she’s always been,” your sister shook her head, mumbling your name and something else incoherent before turning to look back up at you, “I hope you visit again, that this isn’t some one off thing.”

You pulled away, your walls instantly going back up and your sister sighed, clearly noting the mask of an expression. “You always did that when you were a kid, you know.”

“Did what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Fold into yourself,” she waved her hands, “I don’t know how else to explain it.” She huffed, “you know, we really miss you, everyone. My kids,” she started, tears thrreatening to break loose, “you nieces and nephews–they don’t even know you.”

You looked down and for a second you weren’t sure what she was talking about, but then you remembered that yes–you were a zia*, your sister had children, three of them, and you hadn’t met them once.

Guilt wrapped itself around you like a veil, “I’m sorry,” you heard yourself saying, your face contorting as if you wanted to cry, wanted to express how remorseful you felt, but didn’t know how to.

“You’re just like her,” she threw her head back as a few tears ran down her cheek, “I think that’s why you were closer to Nonno*. You and Nonna* are too alike, you’re both so damn stubborn.” She huffed a laugh and for a moment, a sliver of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“I think love my best friend,” you found yourself admitting, maybe it was your way of trying to reach out, to tell your sister you were still you.

“That guy that was just here?” She grinned at you, “yeah, the family has been talking about it, Nonna* said to expect a wedding within the next year.”

Your face fell, embarrassment taking over, “what? Why? That old bat!” You scoffed, standing, “I can’t believe her, I’ve only been here–what? Two days? If that? That crazy old woman,” you marched toward the door, “Well?” You called to your sister, “are you going to back me up or what?”

She stared at you for a moment and then slowly, but surely, an calm smile crept onto her face, but her eyes were ones of storybook villains,“yeah, sure.”

The day started gloomy, though when you met Spencer in the hall, it became just a little less than that. You weren’t feeling like yourself, though you weren’t actually sure what self you were referring to. 

JJ had messaged the group chat that she’d be late because Henry had an accident right before they set off to leave. You thought about messaging your sister, but it felt weird, you weren’t used to initiating conversation with your family, so you didn’t, although you did plan to speak before the funeral.

You wore simple black attire, as did everyone else and you caught yourself holding onto Spencer’s hand tighter than usual, almost as if he’d leave you too, and you couldn’t have that. Your heart studded in your chest once you saw the coffin, it was closed, of course. It had been open for the hearing, but that had occured before you’d landed.

You couldn’t move forward. You told the others to go on and after making sure you were okay, they did, “but you’re not allowed to go,” you’d whispered, almost to yourself.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, whispering back, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your family gathered around the casket and the sacerdote* stepped forward, reading off a few of the retellings your grandmother had no doubt written down with the help of your parents. You noted a few other, non-related spectators, probably friends.

A few of his favorite songs were played and then your mother said a few words, followed by your grandmother, and finally your sister. “Are you okay?” Spencer pulled you closer by your arm.

You pressed your lips together, watching the coffin being lowered into the grave. “I don’t know…” and when you swallowed, you found your throat dry and for the first time since the letter, you not only found yourself wanting to cry, you found it was almost within reach.

The ceremony ended and relatives began dropping dirt into the grave, you thought to say one last prayer before leaving, but you didn’t want anyone to see you. You turned to Spencer and let go of his hand, “I just…” you turned away, pressing your lips together as you eyed the fresh grave.

He smiled sadly, but he nodded; he always seemed to be able to understand you no matter how silent or how loud you were. Maybe that’s why you loved him, you couldn’t be sure. There were so many things you loved about him–gosh you loved him. The revelation was like a wish from a birthday candle being answered.

You stepped away and Spencer watched as you pushed through the crowd. Hotch and the others surrounded him, questioning stares ever-present. “We should give her some time,” he said after seeing you hesitate, then sit near the makeshift headstone.

“What’s she doing?” Penelope frowned, watching you shift in your spot on the wet grass.

“Saying goodbye,” Spencer was the only one to respond–he was also the last one to retreat.

You didn’t know how to begin, you hadn’t spoken to him in eight years. You were scared that he was angry at you, but then again, you knew that couldn’t be the case, yes you knew he was gone, but what if his spirit was still here? What if he couldn’t move on because he had unfinished business and it was your fault?

You stopped yourself, since when did you believe in superstition? That was your parents…and Rossi; not you.

You sighed, running your hand through the grass, deciding to start as if he were still there, trying not to sound too guilty.

Nonno, you began, I–I’m sorry, you shook your head, I know, I know I should have visited. I know– a single tear fell down your cheek and you paused to wipe it away, shocked by your own emotions. “Forgive me,” you whispered.

“You sound like a crazy person,” you jerked your head to the side, eyes landing on your grandmother.

You huffed, eyes narrowing as you sniffled and wiped another tear that had fallen. “You’re one to talk.”

Your grandmother shifted, as if uncomfortable, and then she moved forward, more brittle than you had noticed the first time. “I’m not going to sit down,” she said after a moment, “don’t let my looks full you, I’m not how I once was.” She grunted as she stood beside you.

“Yeah, well, your looks aren’t fooling anyone, so.”

“Ouch,” she laughed, but it sounded like a wenches cackle. “Oh nipotina*,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a complacent smile making its way onto her wrinkled face.

You sat in silence, comfortable or not, you were glad she had stopped talking, you didn’t know what to say to her. In your opinion, you had never really gotten along with your grandmother, this wasn’t reconnecting with your parents or sisters or even your zia* and zio*, this was…new territory altogether.

You frowned, “listen, child,” and you did, you perked up, you could listen to her talk, that would be easy, you just hoped she didn't expect a response. “Your grandfather loved you, he never stopped talking about you.” You smiled, but then it faltered. You had abandoned him, hadn’t even deigned to visit because of how guilty you’d felt…

“He knew,” you whispered, heart racing. 

You heard your grandmother sigh. “I thought as much,” she frowned, staring at her husband's grave as if she could bring him back by will alone. 

“You did?” You hadn’t left without saying goodbye, not to him at least, that was one thing everyone had gotten wrong, your grandmother knowing had never occurred to you because you were sure your grandfather kept it a secret. Why else would the entire family have blown up when they’d realized you had left? When they’d realized it was too late to stop or convince you otherwise–because by the time everyone else had found out, you were halfway across the North Atlantic already.

“I always thought it was strange how he never said anything about it.” A grim smile tugged her at her red-painted lips.

“Nonna*, did I make the right decision?” You asked, surprising even yourself.

She sighed and you thought she might say ‘I can’t tell you if it was right or wrong’ or something a normal grandmother would say, but your grandmother wasn’t normal, she was an old bat, probably the same one you’d turn into at her age and she said, “You’re damned right you were wrong.”

Your mouth dropped, taken aback, and then you burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you tried wiping your tears, “oh you’re such an old bat,” you sighed.

“I knew you always called me that behind my back,” she harumphed, jerking her head away and crossing her arms like a child.

“Oh come now, Nonna*,” you stood and reached out the touch her shoulder.

She huffed and dropped her arms, eyes darting around your face in what seemed to be concern. “You were wrong for not telling the rest of us, you had your parents worried sick, and your sister too.” Her frown deepened, “even me.”

You nodded, “I know, but nonna*,” you sighed, wanting to explain yourself, but she held up a hand. You raised a brow, almost saying huh, so that’s where I get it from, out loud.

“Your grandfather always said you were meant for something greater, that your heart wouldn’t allow you to stay in this town the way ours allowed the rest of us.

“No, no nipotina*, you were not wrong for leaving. This town, this family? Yes, you come from here, but there,” she nodded her head toward your co-workers, (or friends, you were honestly still deciding), “with them, that is where you belong now.”

You smiled, finding acceptance in her answer.

“And your friend,” she rolled her eyes when she said it, “well, I expect the wedding to be here.”

You huffed a laugh before turning, catching Specner’s eye, and when he waved your heart swelled. “We’ll see,” you started walking away.

Your grandmother trailed after you, throwing her hands up and shouting, “incovalato*! You insolent child!”

a/n: ahhh i can't wait to write my next fic because i already know waht it is. i don't want to give spoilers, but just know you're going to see dad!spencer !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody