#'do you think she struggles with her mental health?'
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[Image Text 1: “I wish to reiterate her message, grim though it may be: There is no salvation awaiting us in a glorified past that does not exist. If we are to advocate for our humanity, our legibility, and our liberty, it will be as a part of something new, something unprecedented, something we do not as yet have names for. You do not want the ‘veneration’ that the holy men of my culture reserve for us.” /End Image Text 1]
[Image Text 2: “Most reprehensible, however, are the attempts to paint any desires for solidarity between hijras and transsexuals as ‘Western imperialism’, or to enshrine their degendering as a valiant ‘decolonial’ effort to preserve non-Western cultures in all their bloodstained glory. As a disowned daughter of this culture, I wish to state in no uncertain terms:
“If a culture’s preservation depends on the violation and degendering of and denial of dignity to my sisters, then it should join every other extant regime that thrives on injustice, upon the ash-heap.” /End Image Text 2]
[Image Text 3: “...marginalization. Sex is not quite as binary as advertised, because the heterosexual regime has always regarded people as one of human, broodmare, or freak. If you are not a person with autonomy, then you are a vessel for those who are … and if you cannot even be that, then you are a waste of flesh, something to be fucked, killed, or both.
“The butch derided and beaten as a delusional ‘he-she’, the tranny who can be endlessly violated, and even the woman who merely refuses to have children, are bound by this commonality. If we cannot participate in reproduction, we must be fixed … or disposed of.”
[Image Text 4: “On that note, we ought to touch upon one of the most sinister omissions regarding this book, tucked away in endnotes on page 166. In the fourth numbered endnote there, Nanda suggests a slew of texts critiquing the ‘cultural construction of transsexualism by the medical and mental health professions’. Among them is Raymond (1979)—The Transsexual Empire.
“The foundational text of anthropological third-sexing of the hijra affirmatively cites the most famous transmisogynist in existence, laundering her bilious, fervent hatred of transsexuals into the annals of the queer academy.” /End Image Text 4]
[Image Text 5: “The Enlightened West, in all its wisdom, already has a Third Sex: the tranny.” /Image Text 5]
[Image Text 6: “(Trans)misogyny is not a cultural value worth preserving. The development of a cross-cultural transsexual and transfeminist consciousness, rooted in the recognition of how our identities and struggles are similarly shaped, is not imperialism. It is a struggle for liberation, one that queer academia is heinously eager to oppose, and one whose proponents shall no longer be spoken over.” /End Image Text 6]
[Image Text 7: “...reverted to appease that selfsame elite). I do not know how to explain to learned academics that sexual objectification and reproductive exploitation were not innovations that the West pioneered, nor do I know how to explain that historical record of ‘asceticism’, of hijra being prescribed a livelihood of begging for alms at ceremonies, is not ‘reverence’ or an ‘institutionalized gender-role’, but marginalization.” /End Image 7]
[Image Text 8: “#oh i didn’t realise this was a recent post.. read it like yesterday when someone linked it elsewhere #gotta say as another desi tgirl. thank you so much for writing this #i was vaguely aware of most of what was touched but i didn’t really the origins of most of it or how to discuss a lot of it #proceeded to go through the rest of your theory [on transmisogyny and lesbophobia] #your writing is wonderfully lucid and i love how you present concepts #the prose feels fantastic to try digest; even if a but dense for me at times #saved” /End Image Text 8]
[Image Text 9: “#as i read i started thinking the author being critiqued sounded more like ‘being nb is more queer than being binary trans: terf edition’ #and then BAM turns out she cited the terf bible just to remove all doubt #misogyny #and transmisogyny but mostly misogyny (in the form of ‘women who can’t bear children are worthless and that’s what transfems are ergo…’)” /End Image Text 9]
The Third Sex
After months of research and painstakingly connecting the threads of transmisogyny theory, queer activism, and field-wide epistemic injustice, I would like to present "The Third Sex": my treatise on a third-world transfeminism.
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We'll help you through it [Ingrid engen x mapi lèon x r]
Contains : mention of depression
A/n : this a repost of my fics, my request are open
Least to say that you we're struggling life sucking every single one of your motion to keep living it felt like you lost all hope in your self you didn't know what it was but your mental health decline took a toll on you.
Every day felt like a struggle to be alive and keep on breathing. but thanks to your amazing girlfriends who were able to notice what was wrong with you.
It all started with when they had to leave a lot for away machetes you get that it was apart of their job but sometimes you felt lonely and jealous about what the two could be doing without it.
You doing what you do best overthink the whole situation but nevertheless you were able to push back.
You stopped answering there calls and texts whenever they sent in one. Just wachting the phone ring away without trying to pick it up.
Feeling worthless and unimportant as life would have been better if you just stopped living you thought to yourself.
But you never get close to doing it. It's been weeks since you last saw them as you've been ignored them.
You had a new routine now wake up work sleep and eat. And well repeat totally ignoring your other aspect of life.
Mapi and Ingrid had obviously noticed the pattern in your behavior and decided to vist you as soon has they could.
"Ingrid you think all this is enough". Mapi asked Ingrid showing her comfort bag that they brought for you filled with your favorite snacks to everything that you like.
three different brands of your favorite chocolate, huge ass blankets you wanted to get but didn't they had it your favorite movies had it makeup,dresses, accessories they had it all but mapi over here was still worrying that it wasn't enough.
"Mapi it enough or maybe to much". Ingrid questioned.
"Let's just go". she said to her girlfriend
They finally got your place with the spare key and weren't really expecting to see you in the condition that you were in.
With just one look at you it was quite obvious that you weren't getting enough sleep nor eating enough.
They both immediately dropped the things they had rushing to your side. It hurt them to see you this way like you were waiting on death.
Ingrid was the first to speak up. "Baby I'm so sorry we haven't been there for you".
"Nothing is your fault I'm particularly to blame".
"No don't say that about yourself".she told you
Mapi on the other hand didn't know what to say so she just pulled you three into a hug. you all stayed like that for a while before Ingrid started cleaning.
the whole place and convinced you to go take a bath so you could feel more relaxed. mapi was changing your bedsheets and placing the things that they got you.
By the time that you were out your places was looking better than it was before.
Ingrid made you a bowl of spicy soup putting it down and helping you with your hair and clothes on. You ate what Ingrid had prepare with mapi feeding you and not missing a single drop.
After that they both convinced you to leave the house for some fresh air. And that what you did getting in the car mapi first went back to there place to pick up bagheera to join you guys.
Having bagheera join you guys on the beach was perfect the cat being there made you perceived and calm. It wouldn't have been your normal couples walk if mapi didn't start talking you and Ingrida ears off.
Something that you missed even though she could go on for hours she was recently yapping about. how patri and pina were quite obvious about each other but to afraid to confess and how she was going to play cupid.
Let's to say you felt happy and a little better all you need was come comfort and love from you girls which they understood.
#Ingrid x mapi x reader#ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader#Ingrid engen fanfic#ingrid engen imagine#mapi leon#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon x ingrid engen#mapi leon x y/n#ingrid engen#woso fic#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso soccer#woso imagines#woso fluff#woso blurbs#woso one shot#woso oneshot#woso#woso community#mapi leon imagine#barcelona femeni x reader#barca femini x reader#barca femeni#norwnt x reader#pinkyqily fics#woso appreciation
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First of all thank you SO MUCH for being a safe space to be critical of the new arcane season. I wanted to love it. I really really did. But there’s just too much I can’t look past. It’s nice to have a blog I can scroll through where everyone is in a similar boat.
The more I think about it the more I take issue with the concept behind episode 7. Don’t get me wrong from a stand-alone perspective it’s the best episode in the new season and had my favorite moments. But the more I think about the more it feels…icky. I’m absolutely not opposed to seeing a well adjusted Powder I love Jinx and her tragedy is the hardest hitting part of the show for me. That said, season 1 gave me the impression that powder was always going to grow up “bad” due to the circumstances she was born into.
Even from the beginning, we see she experiences psychosis, and likely other unnamed mental conditions (I resonate most with the idea of her having bpd.) OBLIGATORY mental illness OBVIOUSLY does not make you a bad person—I deal with a lot of them myself—but Powder was growing up in a situation where the world was against her. She was in a triggering environment that exacerbated her mental health issues. In my opinion, Powder’s tragedy was about how the situation she was born into took a vulnerable young girl, chewed her up, and spit her out as a “monster.”
Then we get episode 7 where… everything is ok?? Don’t get me started on the peace between zaun and piltover its ridiculous and that’s all been said. The scenes on the bridge especially irk me WHY are people so freely traveling between the two cities what happened to the classism WHERE IS THE SOCIOECONOMIC INEQUALITY??
To return to Powder, I get what they were going for. I do. I personally have OCD that only flares up when my mental health is bad and is mostly unnoticeable otherwise. I get that one episode isn’t much time to explore things, but I take issue that after LOSING HER SISTER powder would just? Be okay??? Well adjusted?? Maybe I’m biased. One of my favorite things about Jinx are her struggles with mental health—it hits close to home. It hurts to see Arcane mostly drop that in the second season. Does au!Powder have psychosis episodes? Does she ever hallucinate Vi? What about her abandonment issues? It feels so cheap to me to say actually if Powder had never accidentally blown up her family she would have been completely healthy and fine actually—her path to becoming Jinx always always had a societal problem at the root of it.
And maybe you’ll say well powder has a better support system so of course she’s doing fine and I can almost accept that… except for the apparent peace between piltover and zaun?? ARCANE WHERE IS THE SOCIOECONOMIC INEQUALITY YOU CANNOT TELL ME YOU FORGOT? She’s not facing the same kind of discrimination and hardship that main universe Jinx experienced and that made her story so compelling. Now again, one episode isn’t much to explore and perhaps she has issues bubbling under the surface, but it feels strange to completely drop that part of her character in favor of everyone is happy and fine and alive (except vi fuck you vi).
Tldr; Jinx’s story stood out to me as a tragedy about how a bad environment can exacerbate already present mental health issues. She was ALWAYS doomed—she did not have the kind of support and care she needed. Jinx’s problem was never that ooooooog trauma (and silco’s parenting) made her evil. Jinx’s problem is that the world simply doesn’t give a fuck about her and throws her to the wolves. You can remove the trauma from the Powder, but you can’t ever forget that she’s living on the underside of Piltover’s boot.
I can see what they were going for with well-adjusted powder and don’t get me wrong I LOVED her she was so cute. But in combination with some of the other uhhh decisions this season made it just feels like a cop out. Her issues with mental health are nonexistent and yay piltover doesn’t hate poor people anymore, isnt that great? If I could change even one thing I’d give her a little psychosis episode in the scene where Ekko questions her about VI’s death—tying her back to Jinx and causing Ekko to break down the boundaries even more between his mental schema of Powder vs Jinx.
Also don’t even get me started on how I’ve seen some people in the fandom respond. I’ve already seen “awwww ekko should’ve gotten to keep sane!jinx” which. HELLO???
Np~ I am glad to share people's thoughts with the world!! It's nice to read similar thoughts and opinions to your own.
Yeah T.T I enjoyed the p so much, but it was still riddled with the same issues that plagued the rest of the season. The largest is definitely the fact that none of the kids had proper childhoods because the system they live under doesn't allow them peace. You are so right on Powder's episodes - when Ekko started pressuring her and she told him to get out before she does something she'll regret, I legit thought we were about to witness one. She had the body language and the tone of someone who IS about to go off, but then she... Just didn't... Add to that the unrealistic economic situation, which I've already ranted about, and you remove the two unshakeable factors which contributed to Jinx' downfall. Once again the writers are forgetting that the characters didn't start having issues in s1e1, but were suffering long before the show started.
The point of the episode is sort of Dynasties and Dystopia 2: Electric Boogaloo, in that it's dedicated to Ekko's mental separation between Powder and Jinx breaking down. But where in the first instance the breaking came from a really organic place - him realizing mid-battle she remembers their childhood friendship as well as he does - this time it's much simpler. Like. Of COURSE he would start caring for her again if he met her under the most perfect circumstances, where loving her is super duper easy. Letting Powder exhibit her "Jinx"ish tendencies more often would have been a much more interesting situation. I did appreciate the ones she'd had - creating a Vi doll, treating her like she's still alive - but it could have gone even further imo.
As for those saying he should have gotten to keep her as Powder... No what. The point of the episode was that the Powder he'd met made him miss the Jinx he'd known. He wasn't tempted to stay in the perfect world (akhem Heimerdinger akhem) because none of those people could understand him. It's the reason he trusted Vi despite her suspicious return to the Undercity - he can't help but feel connected to those who went through the same trauma he had back then. And that's my fav aspect of why he still cares about Jinx - for the longest time, the two of them were the only survivors of THEIR Undercity. She chose Silco, but she was still the only one who could understand his pain, even across enemy lines. I missed this in s2, too. He said he'd given up on the Undercity becoming a better place, which is bs, he absolutely never did. The only thing he'd given up was her!! SO the speech really should have been about that, and the alienation he'd felt.
In short, I don't really think the episode should have had a "perfect" AU to show Ekko a lesson. It would have been much more interesting to keep it realistic. But oh well, I suppose that's just the chorus of s2
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generally speaking I like my coworkers but periodically they say things that make me want to Hit them with a Stick
#'do you think she struggles with her mental health?'#'everyone struggles with their mental health it's about how you -' 'IT'S ABOUT HOW YOU COPE WITH IT' 'exactly!!!'#kind of shit that provokes violence and hatred within me#girl everyone does not struggle with their mental health to the same fucking degree and you fucking know it#I was eleven years old lying down on roads to see if I would care enough to move if a car came#don't you dare act like it's even close to the same thing. like some people just aren't on their grind enough#like they aren't Applying Themselves and trying Mindfulness and Excercising#I will kill you in cold blood#to be clear they weren't talking about me or anything#but that type of statement is. ahh. yikes
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Can y'all just be you know normal Marina Thompson for like 5 seconds? Because christ, the sheer Misogynoir that some of you spread about her character is insane and you don't even realise it.
#marina thompson#bridgerton netflix#bridgerton spoilers#bridgerton#amanda & oliver are her babies#she's not a surrogate she's their mother#can y'all not root so loudly for her to literally kill herself so discount mr rochester can get with eloise#& so that Eloise will lose her personality and end up in a relationship that is her literal nightmare scenario#i see people wanting eloise to end the season writing to discount mr rochester because the pen lw reveal will probably impact marina#and quote unquote be what pushes her to the edge#and that is beyond vile#of course marina will have a reaction she has every right to but to actively want her to harm herself#so that discount mr rochester can be reinserted into the plot? fuck no that's absolutely vile#if you are going to write about a character struggling with mental health issues do so respectfully or don't do it all#because you'll do far more harm otherwise#if Eloise does write to anyone i hope its to Marina#i don't think we'll see marina again but i want her alive and happy off screen#my heart is still rooting for theo & Eloise but I'm enjoying Cressida & Eloise atm#but so long as her endgame is a happy one that she deserves and not discount mr rochester I'll be happy#ruby barker#<- she deserves the absolute world
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a lot of the talk about Bushnell is reminding me of my "the "mentally ill" have their right to violence revoked" thing again
like. When you're deemed mentally ill, suddenly you must stress how you are more likely to be a victim of violence than a perpetrator to be deemed as human. Because any violence you commit, as a crazy person, is bad. It cannot carry rationale, because you are crazy. If I, as an autistic person, hit someone who was hurting me and got in legal trouble, I can be referred to as just "crazy" instead of as a victim responding to an aggressor. It's an underdiscussed area of dehumanization.
And that's before we talk about intersectionality, and before we talk about how this factors into the idea of ODD, and the "violent" responses patients have to doctors (including those who simply aren't white, and those forced on meds that hurt them, and those resisting sexual assault, and-).
But this is not just interpersonally political, it is political at scale. Black men were targeted by schizophrenia diagnoses during the Civil Rights era (and this is also around when schizophrenia became a "scary" illness). The crazy cannot have valid political criticisms, as a movement (remember that being "crazy" is a vector of oppression abd marginalization) or as individuals in other movements.
Ive seen both the sentiment of "oh Aaron is gonna be slandered as crazy" and exactly what the sentiment warns of- "we can't valorize suicide from the mentally ill". And the first isn't wrong, because society at large does view the "crazy" as lacking political agency, but it's lacking.
Bushnell had been trying very hard to get out of his military contract without being imprisoned at best, while witnessing genocide and knowing he was complicit. He may not have had clinical depression normally, but that would inspire a mental rational response of situational depression (and yes, mental health issues can be a rational response to horrible circumstances). Further, I know of instances of self immolation that WERE done by people who did have long standing mental health issues and were done to protest the treatment they'd experienced that caused them and that resulted from their existence. Mental illness and divergence from the norm is more complicated than just "these people are incapable of rationality, they are incapable of political thought, and they are incapable of agency".
#cipher talk#Aaron Bushnell#Ask to tag#Self immolation#Suicide tw#I'm thinking about how like. Chloe Sagal did what she did to protest how she was treated as a mentally ill trans woman and highlighted#Her mental illness and struggle with homelessness primarily. And it WAS a political protest#The only really. Sensible thing I've seen on this about how it was a suicide was 1) someone pointing out some people may relapse in#Response to this WITHOUT delegitimizing his actions and sharing helpline sources#And 2) another person pointing out it'd be absurd to accuse hunger strikers of promoting eating disorders#Like. You know what I think soldiers who are complicit in genocide probably DO develop mental health problems#And I see the idea that they do used in some pretty batshit ways recently!#But so- so fucking what#Resistance fighters and genocide victims have mental health issues too#Why is it for soldiers ignored or used to dehumanize victims until of the soldiers turns is gun away from them?#What's next am I gonna watch people delegitimize the actions of Palestinian resistance and the Bielskis and fucking#Unistʼotʼen as the actions of people who 'just have mental health issues' and therefore can't be political?#We also have the similar protests of Black people (two in the last 6 months) being swept aside
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so fucking annoying having a “common” disorder sometimes i’m sick of being fucking dismissed
#marzivents#<- preemptive bc i’m bitter abt it#i made a joke abt trying to get every accomodation for my anxiety that i can#and my own mother. who HAS THE SAME FUCKING ILLNESS. compared me to fucking eric cartman????#for making a silly about my mental illness? and saying ‘i have anxiety so u need to be nice to me’ for a LAUGH????#like 1- i’m not fucking lying when i say i need extra help for my anxiety shit#and 2- do not compare me to a fucking south park character because he faked an anxiety disorder for a couple of episodes#like fuck you. what the fuck is wrong with you#‘half the world has anxiety marley’ 1- not true like statistically 2- while anxiety is relatively common that doesn’t mean i don’t need#extra help because of it???? hello????? what the shit#and EVERY time i try to say something about how it makes me feel she pulls the experience card and patronizes me!!!#i get it i’m 18 i don’t know everything. but i fucking know myself!!!#sometimes i just feel like my family thinks i’m looking for excuses to feel bad. which is so FRUSTRATING#because EVERY DAY of my life i am trying to improve and make my mindset healthier and work hard to be the best happiest me i can be#it’s just that sometimes doing my best is feeding myself and brushing my teeth#it bugs me so much coming from her because i know she has it too#like. i know you had to spend the first 30 years of your life denying your mental health to get out of hell#but i don’t. your whole goal in life was to make sure that your kids didn’t have to do that to succeed#so when i tell you i’m struggling or dare to crack a fucking joke about it once in awhile#why is it that suddenly i’m the bad guy or trying to make myself a victim#can i just need fucking help??? in peace??? does it have to be a whole fucking thing#like sorry do i not deserve it? am i not sick enough? god#and this is all IGNORING the fact that it is highly likely i have something else too#i’ve had depressive episodes since middle school. i have many adhd symptoms#fuck man! maybe ur kid who’s been an expert at masking since fucking elementary school is going through a bit more than they look to be!#almost like it’s a subconscious impulse for them to look better than they feel!#and i’m not even doing that bad right now!#i’m super burnt out but i’m coping really well! i’m getting shit done i’m working hard i’m still taking care of myself!!#i’ve managed to still laugh and love and feel joy despite despite despite#and all i want is some goddamn recognition once in a while. i am so SICK of being overlooked. fuck
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i just went out with my friend and it went better than i thought it would because i don’t talk to her often - until right at the VERY end when we walked past this girl and she whispered to me ‘omg i know her…’ so i asked how and she explained how they go to the same college and she has autism and has meltdowns that are apparently ‘really funny’ and ‘like a 2 year old.’ she said she and my ex-friend has to hold back laughing at her having a meltdown and yeah… i’m going to send her a few texts about autism etc so if she has the heart to do it she can learn and be better, but i’m not going to talk to her again after that, i’m so annoyed.
#i said to her that’s really horrible and i do that exact same thing she’s struggling and etc etc#and she just went haha no but you don’t understand how bad it is#i just spilled my heart out to her about my mental health and stuff#and then she said that…#to a neurodiverse person…#and thought i was going to laugh?#tw ableism#im so pissed what was she thinking and why does she think that’s okay#she just went silent and i was sticking up for the girl like how did she think that’s okay#im so annoyed with her i can’t deal with ittttt#bleh#the things she described is literally the same exact things that i do#WHAT WAS SHE THINKINGGGGG?????!!!!!
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the fact that almost every single close female person in my life has has dealt with (chronic) health conditions that impacted or are impacting their daily lives...
#star stumbles#focusing a bit on women's health for my literary essay#which i kind of ended up thinking about when joyce carol oates asked 'why do women choose pain'#and like the hysterical woman and all that#and this is in my family and outside of it#just found out today that my best friend (or former best friend; childhood best friend) found out recently that her hormones are essentially#messed up and she could be infertile#and she's like 18#and even the few girls i've met and ended up chatting with in college are like...going through it but casually#my coworker has crazy health problems#my other childhood friend has been having crazy physical and mental health issues#my friends who don't have physical health issues are mentally in the gutter#and then there's me who is not struggling but being impacted by stupid stuff#and like health issues cause health anxiety which worsen health issues or at least the ability to deal with them#but you have to deal with them. everybody is dealing with them.#doctors will be like there's nothing clearly wrong so just fix your lifestyle#which yeah. has been working great (and sometimes it did but also like.#just because you found a solution that works doesn't mean the problem was never valid/never existed or won't come back#which is something i had to remind myself of#like just because you can deal with it now does not mean you did not suffer and struggle due to it earlier in life#and that it did not magically disappear. your health is valid
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damn, s i o u x e r z was one of my earliest tumblr follows-- she's a thin, conventionally attractive, white (or at least white passing) woman, which made her a big hit with the tumblr gays, & there was a period of time when her pics were everywhere, like the Alex Evens of tumblr lesbians-- so its a bummer to have to unfollow her after all this time, but since she's decided to become a cowardly piece of shit & throw her lot in with the r*dfems, she won't be missed.
so psa for any cryptkeepers like myself who followed her back then & haven't been paying attention to her since she came back.
#jesus christ its been a terrible week for realizing people i thought were cool have had their brains rotted by RFs#a former small streamer i used to like named comrade bubbles went down the earth mama to terf pipeline#nothing of value is lost in regards to either of these people though so good fucking riddance#im being annoying with her user name and the term r*df*m bc these losers have no life & term search & i have no desire to interact w them#ive been reading her blog for over a decade & know she's been through some real awful shit but there is no excuse for this#grief & mental health struggles dont turn you into a bigot. seek a therapist u loser#normally would not be so flippant about healthcare but she was reposting some vile shit so she should be lucky that i dont tell her to khs#the comrade bubbles situation is really sad bc her posting indicates shes not fully indoctrinated yet#& could potentially be saved but none of her queer mutuals seem to have noticed & if a rando like myself were the one to confront her it#would likely backfire & push her further into their clutches#all i could think to do is mark her with SE & hope that someone notices & is confused enough to look into who shes been paling around with#at first i thought she was accidentally interacting with them but then i went to her likes... & the truth is always revealed in the likes:(
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Some actual mental health advice and raising of mental health awareness.
...because "you're the only one who has the power to lift that rock off your chest [by forgiving your abuser]" is a dangerous sentence.
#amanda tapping#also if you don't know what this post has to do with Amanda#that sentence is from her#incited by the companion#was she thinking about actual abusers when she said that?#maybe not#but this is supposed to be a project about mental health#guess who struggles with mental health#people who have been abused#people with PTSD and cPTSD
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the soul coins as a metaphor for performance enhancing drugs / stimulants is sooooo good i keep thinking about it and how i wish there as more done with it.
#bat rambles#also with karlach's rage issues#and then like#her “drug” is consuming the souls of others#to be clear i don't think it was *well* done but it was there and i still think it was handled mostly ok#like zariel is the one who got karlach on them so karlach could perform better against harder opponents in the blood war#and now karlach LIKES the rush it gives her#and she clearly is uncertain abt it bc she kind of stammers and comes off as nervous when she brings it up to the player character#and then later you have to hear the stories of the people hurt by karlach's consumption of the coins#but like it's also tied up in the fact that the soul coins are the souls of DESPERATE PEOPLE who would do anything to escape their situatio#including selling their souls to be used as currency in the hells#bc that afterlife is better than the hell they're living in life#and people with drug issues tend to have *other* things going on#like they do like the drug and how it makes them feel#and don't get me wrong people can have perfectly happy lives and struggle with addiction#but generally people with addiction problems have something else going on#like self-medicating bc of being unable to get mental health or physical health help#or they're in a rough situation that they cannot get out of so the drugs are a reprieve from that#i'm now rambling lmao but yeah i've been thinking about this
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It is my new life purpose to add the most questionable song choices to the Jackie section of my oni playlist. Hey at least one of them is a rabbit universe Jackie song so I have sort of an excuse, but spoilers it's not keep your head up so uhhhhh lol
#rat rambles#oni posting#baby days is the rabbit universe one to be clear#oh and the other two are indeed abt canon jackie but in my typical 5d chess sorta way where it's from an incredibly biased pov#smth smth jackie constantly self sabotaging and being oh so shocked when it causes her mental health to spiral and trying to justify it to#herself while also trying to burry it under even more work and isolation that just makes everything even worse#also shes divorced and sad abt it even though shes the one who has been pushing olivia away even pre divorce#and she has absolutely no plans on stopping she is both holding onto hopes of olivia turning around while also actively pushing her away#also kinda unrelated but I keep thinking back to scrapped jackie and olivia#and how fascinating it is that good ol jodi was honestly kind of shitty#well ok olivia is also shitty in many ways but the original divorce™ scene was soooo much worse of a look than the current one#long story short the two started a business immediately after jodi graduated that jackie especially was super excited abt#jackie was also anxious abt it though since she was struggling to get her phd and felt she had to rely on jodi to be taken seriously#but they quickly ran into money issues which eventually lead to jodi leaving after she was given an offer to join a large project#which youd think its like ah I see a conflict between friendship and dreams#which isnt wrong per say but oh my god did jodi fuck up her wording so bad like holy shit#she was all like I think this project would be a better use of my phd than continuing to do this#which Im not saying that feeling that way is bad per say but when your like best friend who you know has issues with personal worth and has#been putting a lot of effort and presumably money into this business that you suggested founding its maybe not the best idea to say#straight to her face that you think this is a waste of your time and abilities even if you probably think youre putting it nicely#thats whats so fascinating to me abt old jackie is that to me shes borderline genuinely sympathetic#which is why I love the idea of her having similar character traits still but in a less justified environment#like I am still in shock that so many of my jackie headcanons actually held water like even my ppl didn't take jackie's ideas seriously#and that being a bonding factor for olivia and jackie was smth that actually existed in the original concepts for the two#again Im glad they were scrapped for a multitude of reasons but its so vindicating that I was actually onto smth#Ive talked abt how I think its good they got scrapped because of the importance of oni's narrative being patchy and vague#but also I am so glad they scrapped pretty much all of jackie's actively sympathetic elements even if I still like sympathising with her#I know I complain abt us not seeing enough of jackie's perspective of things outside of her immediate research but thats mostly on the#grounds that it makes olivia and jackie's old friendship feel too trapped in the implied realm#I want jackie to feel like theres more to her life but I dont want said things to feel like a part of the plot if that makes sense
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#love when I have a breakdown and then someone informs me that bc my breakdown made them feel bad i was being manipulative#like sorry that my mental health sucks#sorry that im such a manipulative bitch i guess#oh wow my suicidal ideation is fucking horrible this week yes its absolutely about you#like wtf#shes always thought that im manipulating her somehow#she never believes that im actually struggling#no matter what it is she thinks that im doing it just to spite#im just so fucking depressed rn#lowkey wanna stop existing#lowkey wanna relapse#its been a year and im fucking struggling rn
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Life is just crazy lately. I have so much to say about so many things but most of them either aren’t worth saying or I just don’t have the time to discuss.
I really really hope that things get better again soon, because life is just real fucked up currently.
But I hope that once things have settled again a bit that I can focus on me and work on me and meeting the goals I have for myself and setting new ones.
And I’ve decided I’m DEFINITELY gunna go on a cruise as soon as I’m financially able to. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do ever since I was promised it by my ex’s mother and it fell through because she decided to do drugs and murder someone instead ���� (true story, she’s on an episode of snapped)
So I’m gunna get my shit together (hopefully once everything else in my life settles) and get myself a nice cruise.
#me#personal#mental health#struggles#life is stressful#sorry for the influx of posts about life#but as I said in my other post my therapists husband died so I been without a therapist#and she’s gunna be gone till at least the 18th maybe longer#also been so broke cuz of everything with mom that I haven’t had much weed to help me through#thank god for friends though#trying to make new ones irl#and so far there’s at least one girl who’s been super nice to me#and her husbands pretty cool too#soooo hopefully everything stays good there#still stressed and not ok#but she really helped today and she’s super chill so that’s good#didn’t think there was many good people left in this town lol#imma shut up now#since no one wants to read all this lmao#unless you do#then cool 👋 hello#wanna be friends?#🤣
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Why Didn’t You Tell Me?
it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?
warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink
wc: 8.8k 🤗
i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!
Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.
Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.
It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.
All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.
He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.
The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.
Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.
Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.
Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.
Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.
Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.
Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.
“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”
“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”
Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”
She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”
For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.
“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”
She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“
You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”
Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.
“Make sure he eats!”
The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.
You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.
“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”
There’s no response.
“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”
Again, nothing.
You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.
You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.
“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”
You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.
“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”
You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.
There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.
“Spencer,” you call out to him.
You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.
Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.
His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.
You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”
You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.
You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”
You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.
He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.
“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”
His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.
You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.
Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”
He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.
His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.
You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.
“It’s not fine dining.”
He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.
“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”
You smile at his recollection.
“It helped you then.”
The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.
“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”
He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.
He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.
You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.
“Please stay.”
That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.
“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”
He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”
Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.
He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.
Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”
Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.
~
When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.
Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.
That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.
The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.
The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.
“Y/n…”
You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.
“Hi, Derek.”
“What are you doing, mamas?”
You sigh, “What do you mean?”
You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.
“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”
Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”
“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”
He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.
“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”
“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”
“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”
“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”
There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”
You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.
You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.
The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.
“Spencer?”
He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”
“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”
He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.
“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.
“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
A ringing echos in your ears.
“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”
Wrong thing to say.
“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”
He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.
“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”
He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”
You’ve never heard him sound so angry.
“Spencer-“
“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”
The ringing in your ears is louder.
“Spencer, please. Just-“
“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”
This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.
His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.
~
You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.
Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.
You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.
You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.
You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.
Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.
“I’m back if that’s okay.”
He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.
“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”
You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”
It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.
“Alright, conference room in five.”
Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.
~
The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.
In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.
Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.
“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”
You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”
“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”
“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”
Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.
“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”
Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.
~
The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.
You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.
The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.
“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.
“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.
There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”
It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.
Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”
You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.
Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.
“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”
That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.
Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.
The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.
You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.
“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”
~
The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.
The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.
Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.
He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.
His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”
You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.
Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”
He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”
You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.
“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”
He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”
He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.
“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”
“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”
He’s silent for a long minute.
“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”
Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.
“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”
There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.
“I uh, I don’t really know.”
“That's not fair, Spence.”
You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.
You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”
“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.
“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”
“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”
You smile sadly as you get up to leave.
“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”
You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.
~
Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.
Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.
Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.
JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.
Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.
“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”
You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”
“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”
“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.
“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”
You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.
“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”
Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”
You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”
The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.
“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”
JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”
“What?”
After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”
Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”
You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.
“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”
“Stop being cryptic.”
Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”
“No. That's not true.”
You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.
“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”
It's JJ’s turn to talk now.
“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”
Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”
Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”
“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”
“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”
You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”
Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.
“Y/n?”
JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.
“Just go talk to him.”
You nod mutely, and you get up.
~
Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.
This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.
“Y/n?”
His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.
“What are you doing here?”
You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”
He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”
You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.
“Do you love me?”
That is not what you wanted to say.
His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”
“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”
He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.
“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”
Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.
“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”
He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”
He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”
You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.
His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.
His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”
You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.
“Oh, Y/n.”
“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”
You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.
“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”
“And Maeve?”
“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”
“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”
This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.
This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.
Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”
His reply is instant, “You.”
From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.
You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.
His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”
“Please.”
His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.
After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”
It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.
He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.
“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”
You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.
“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”
“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”
“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”
“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”
It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.
“I love you, too. God, so much.”
With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.
“Do you have a condom?”
“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”
“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”
You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”
He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.
He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.
“Spencer, please.”
You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.
“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.
“Harder. Please, harder.”
He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.
After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.
He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.
He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.
Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”
It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.
That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.
You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.
“Will you let me clean you up?”
You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.
Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.
~
The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.
How did it go????
You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.
-
all done! yay!!!
i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.
this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#fic rec#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfiction#fanfiction#friends to lovers#friends to enemies to lovers#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic rec
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