#lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people
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elodieunderglass · 2 days ago
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reading chapter 9 right now and just wanted to say 1) fuck yeah i love a lore dump gimme gimme 2) the concept of thain as it is in Weasel Heart has helped keep me going since October, when my life took a massive blow but I had to remain a support for others. "Thain" and the concept of the road let me recontextualize the way I handle grief and pain, and gave me a way to feel like it was a strength and not a failing. thank you for that. and also for Bee.
Hey, sorry you’re going through it, and thank you so much for reaching out. No matter what words we put around them, we have always needed people with a lot of the wild Road in them, and we always will. There are lots of ways to be strong and many of them are yet to be discovered! Thank you for holding the dark year 🖤
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trans-axolotl · 8 months ago
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content note: discussion of suicide.
this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.
when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.
there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.
as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.
i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.
i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.
there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.
i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.
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Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]
(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)
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kennyomegasweave · 2 months ago
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Reese watching the concert really got me right in my heart. Obviously the show has dealt with Neil's grief more because he's one of two main characters, but Reese lost Matt too and then had to spend all these years desperately holding a shattered Neil together.
So for him to see Neil finally performing again? I just felt a lot for him in that moment.
This show is fucking nailing grief in a way I haven't seen since Make Our Days Count and I'm so glad to have it.
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fatehbaz · 8 months ago
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#thinking of dinosaurs and troodontids were my favorite dinosaurs as a child#when younger i had a real full troodontid tooth fossil that meant a lot to me#for a time we lived within a few kilometers of hadrosaur sites and troodontid sites#while wider general area had many sites of recovery for the big celebrities like tyrannosaur and multiple dromaeosaurs#at that time troodontids were kinda infamous for i think the depiction in some childrens field guides and dino books#which depicted like a fantasy speculative humanoid troodontid based on 1980s model at Canadian Museum of Nature in ottawa#anyway would visit a small local paleo center a lot and woman in her 70s or 80s ran the counter of their center and rock shop#one day she asked me what my fave dino was and i said troodon so she pulled out the tooth and just gifted it to me#in little black case size of ring box with padding and transparent plastic viewing cover kinda like laminate for displaying a trading card#tooth got stolen from out my vehicle while giving some people a ride while at university before i got too poor for tuition#later during first year of pandemic owner of my storage unit died and new property owners threw away everything i ever owned#i was homeless anyway lost job due to early pandemic closures and had to allocate any money to insulin and other prescrip meds#but wouldve found a way to save my things if the new owners had contacted me#they threw out photoalbums y backpacking gear y books y musical instruments y clothes y artwork y camera y all family keepsakes#and all childhood treasures like souvenirs and gifts and school awards and writing portfolios and all the little memories#which i was always sentimental about as child#from earliest age my room looked like a natural history museum with plants and maps and library of field guides#and rocks and field trip keepsakes and all kinds of little animal figurines and mother had painted room in forest greens and browns#to feel like a forest and among the succulent plants and a globe sat the troodon tooth#parents passed when i was a child#never near any family and were always moving never got to settle into proper stable place then father passed after long sad illness#and mother put in so much effort but she passed few years later and i could not take care of myself or my remaining material possessions#and so im still quite hurt having nothing whatsoever remaining of my childhood or school friends or mother or life generally#and when trying to process grief my thoughts often come back to the troodontid tooth as a focal point a distillation of what was lost#even when young i knew it was advised not to become too connected to material physical possessions#but still there are some small little trinkets in our lives that seem to hold so much meaning and i tortured myself for losing that tooth#thinking about troodon reminds me of childhood
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lemongogo · 3 months ago
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#feeling so silly lawwlll walking in circles#i thnk im feeling a special type of way ..#i know i keep going on ab the samw bs and how crazy gf YEAAH UEAH WE GET IT#but i thnk in doing so im like revisiting parts of myself and writing more and i think im jst being sentimental#sooo sentimental .. so saccharine ..#everyone has been rly nice ab my art LIKE SOOOOO NICE RECENTLY#and imean people always have like im very lucky and grateful 2 be able to feel like i can share my hobby .. ^__^#but i thjnk like . to take smth that is so representational of my like . art goals and wants from a young age#ouuyyyyuuuuuyyfff T__T ooiujjjjjj#I DONT KNWWW i dont know . i dont know what im saying but i feel like i just need 2 talk abd be like hey this is so reaffirming .needs 2#i think like . bc my life turned out soo different than i imagined ive been dealing w like . a lot of hopelessness and feeling soo stuck and#stagnant and idk bad things and in a way i think like . coming back 2 something years later and being able to see progress in such a physica#physical way and to feel like more at ease and more like myself than i ever have is rly crazy and making me think long and hard abt stuff#and its all of these like . reflections im dealing w that r then padded by like some of the nicest comments and tags itslike#head in my hands /pos . grief but like ij a way happy grief#INFEEL SOOO RIDICULOUS its ridiculous it rly is IHAHAHAHAHAHA#i think its bc im turning 25 soon and thats the age i told myself id never live past iykwim which ks like crazy to drop on tmblrdotcom#but there r so many emotions tied 2 that and i think this is just one of the things^ stupid fanart ^ that makes me rly happy idk#do you know what i mean . like i feel so goofy saying it but its genuinely the connection i rly appreciate and means a lot 2 me#i feel like my ‘thank yous/i appreciate it/ means a lot’ grow tired but its soo fr every time i swear#kicking rocks or watever . i wish i cld extend my gratitude but anyways . thanks 4 reading this far if u have#ughg man and i think of the friends ive made thru this blog specifically nd my eyes r burning#sorp.. guys i love u all thank u.
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writhe · 10 months ago
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i want to be more open to anything and everything and i’m scared
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ninkaku · 3 months ago
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i could talk all day about mori's treatment of dazai and the way he abused his power over him but i'd rather talk about the ways in which he is still doing it, despite dazai having left the mafia. as we know, dazai left the mafia under oda's instruction, a promise he made to his dying friend in which he said he would become a good person, and be on the side that saves people. oda said, the sides make no difference to you, so he knows for a fact that dazai has no reason to do these things, when good and evil are mere concepts for him and not something he feels drawn to either way. a take i've seen often and one that i quite like is not only did mori have oda killed for the mafia's own personal gain (the deal struck so that they could operate under legal means), but it falls back on mori grooming dazai to one day take his seat. up until this point, dazai has never had anything worth protecting, has never lost anything, has never grieved anything and never experienced the emotional call to despair.
odasaku's death and thus dazai's push into the light, which ends up being with the ada, is the final piece that mori needed to solidify that dazai would one day be able to take his place. they talk about it, dazai says you were afraid of me, weren't you? and in more ways than one, the statement is true. mori had always known that he would and always wanted for dazai to surpass him, but the husk that dazai had become by never wanting anything, never protecting anything scared him if dazai was to dispose of him and assume his seat, because although dazai is a genius, he was callous and didn't value anything. he wouldn't value the mafia like mori does, he wouldn't protect yokohama like mori does. during the guild arc, mori says if dazai was still my right-hand man, the guild would stand no chance. dazai inside of the mafia and outside of it exists as a powerful adversary to whomever he stands against, and i think this is one of many reasons why the ada and the port mafia exist somewhat in tandem. the port mafia and the ada overstep their boundaries from time to time with each other, but the truth lies in mori knowing that dazai could ruin them if he intended to.
in something of a tldr mori aims to push dazai out of the mafia just as much as he intends to keep him within it. he needs dazai to experience loss, needs him to experience what it feels like to protect something, what it feels like to want to protect something. the fact that after dazai left, mori has not replaced his seat as an executive. has not replaced dazai as his right-hand with someone else, continuously offers him his position back means he fully intends to have him back under his wing again, someday. means he fully expects, once dazai has experienced what he needs him to, that he will take over his position, and he will drive dazai back to him. yosano and dazai serve as two prizes that mori currently does not have on his mantle, and in the deal struck with the president of the agency, those are the two he is most likely to pluck out of their ranks to put right back into his own.
#abuse /#like we don't need to talk about how yes - dazai explains he exposed HIMSELF to violence and death and gore in order to feel#but who was the first person to expose him to these things? who was the person that implicated him in a murder labelled a death by illness?#“you will be my witness” - that night mori signed dazai's name on a contract dazai had no clue he had even drawn#mori made a fifteen year old boy the head of the port mafia's guerrilla squad ...#dazai was a child that needed guidance and he got the WRONG kind .. and im actually tired of people calling mori and dazai father/son#in a serious sense ... or in a GOOD sense. in a lot of ways you can pin that kind of DYNAMIC and not RELATIONSHIP on them#in the way a father raises his children to one day take over his own legacy. in the way a father moulds his children in his own image#in the way a father takes away the things his child loves most to punish him. to teach him a lesson.#mori wanted dazai to experience loss and grief and wanted to push him out of the mafia so that he would come back stronger#there are so many instances in which mori could have had dazai killed after he left and joined the ada and he didnt#dazai is an OPPONENT ... he is IN THE WAY if he isn't with the port mafia and so it serves that mori has and#HAS ALWAYS HAD more planned for him than this.#also like haha WEEIIRRRDDD that mori is allowed to take one member of the ada and he sends chuuya to mersault to .. some would say#to collect dazai. take it as a favour owed. your boss said i could have you AND the port mafia just saved your life.#and if not you - WHO? (if people survive this post arc) like WHO ELSE? is fit for the mafia?#dazai is self sacrificing. and it serves the GOOD side of him to go back. so that someone else doesn't have to suffer it.#anyway ramble over sorry everyone :p
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xcziel · 2 months ago
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#if i'm quiet it's bc i'm still processing#i haven't reached the acceptance point pointvand i can't be glib or funny about it#i keep just starting to full-on sob#like a lot of it is selfish - comparatively i'm better off than many and not much will change right away#but i'm old. i'm not super sure i'll make it another 4 years like i just have this feeling i won't#and i'm crying for the loss of what we could have had as much as for all of those who will die#it's almost worse that there was a clear way forward that we took in a better timeline#i'm crying because there's proof that so much of this country is evil and stupid and arrogant and apathetic#huge swathes of it are not but we have to admit that there are a lot of the others#it really is grief for the united states of america that existed and it's selfish and not helpful and i can't stop it yet#today someone i work with really ssid to me 'y'all really think trump is gonna send people to your house and take you away'#and i said he told us he would - he said he would specifically target immigrants and received the reply#'well yeah of course - the illegals ...'#so many folks are already setting their sights on the next fight and ready to roll up their sleeves and keep pushing#and i just can't stop crying#palestine is gone. the supreme court is locked for the rest of my life. who knows if there will ever even be another election#maybe that was the last one. maybe that was the last one women will be able to vote in. who knows.#i remember this feeling from when my parents died but i'm not any better dealing with it now than i was then
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not-gray-politics · 9 months ago
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can we also talk about how without fail all of these arguments are almost always weaponized against minority creators representing themselves in their media. It does not escape me that every time the internet bandwagons on hating something and calling the writing and art direction bad, the creator is a queer person writing queer characters, a woman writing for other women and girls, a poc writing for other poc, or a combination of the three. Everyone acts like that's not the "REAL reason" they hate that piece of media, but after the 50th time, I think we can all see right through it. When I see someone jumping onto a hate bandwagon, I always want to ask.. Did you even watch/play/read it? Or did you just listen to someone else's opinions on it and make them your own? If you did experience the media yourself, did you go into it having already formed a bad opinion of it? In getting involved with the online discourse around it, did you listen to ANY positive opinions on it, or do you just block out/send hate to anyone who enjoys it because it makes you feel morally superior? Think about it. Seriously, whoever's reading this, go reflect on that. Think about the piece of media YOU specifically don't like and ask yourself these questions. Dig into it.
You want more minority representation in media but if they have flaws its problematic and if theyre perfect theyre a patronizing mary sue. If they crack under the pressure of the conflict the author thinks that minority is weak and if they overcome the adversity they must be a neoliberal bootlicker who thinks real world bigotry is a matter of personal attitude. You want minority characters but if theyre a villain its violently problematic and if theyre the protagonist then we circle back to the very first sentence. If theyre a side character theyre being sidelined and the author is once again bigoted, and don't you know that every single minority character death is unilaterally bigoted, without exception? You want more minority characters but if their identity is a big part of their personality or struggles then they're problematic and if their identity has nothing to do with their personality or struggles then the author is tokenizing that identity for clout. You want more minority characters but every time theres a minority character who doesnt have every single experience that you have then you tell the author to kill themselves on twitter. You wonder why not even minority authors will write minority characters.
I would ask you to read Catch-22, but you'd just call the military base problematic.
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t00thpasteface · 1 month ago
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webfishing is such a breath of fresh air honestly. i feel like every vaguely "cozy" title wants to be minecraft or animal crossing or stardew valley, but the bloat of all the obligatory timesink systems has been smothering the joy of the low-stakes open-ended lollygagging. i can never just hang out in games like that, because everything is locked behind so many layers of heirloom mechanics included purely for trendiness (via blind imitation of the big name games) and not because they actually improve the gamefeel or streamline the gameplay loop. i can't just play ten minutes of a game like that because those ten minutes are gonna damage my tools/armor or run down a timer or use up a crafting resource or some other chain reaction of unfun grinding garbage.
meanwhile, webfishing has no crafting, no survival, no item breakage, no stamina meter, no food meter, no jumpscares... the physics-defying out-of-bounds void area doesn't beat you over the head with the creepypasta shlock and mostly just exists as a fun convenient hangout spot to catch basically every fish in... and best of all there's insane griefing potential (meowing/barking, punching people into the water to drown them, playing guitar badly, drawing stupid shit all over the ground at spawn) yet zero consequences for actually getting griefed. if someone drowns you it literally does not affect you for longer than like five seconds.
also you can buy scratch offs and get drunk. i really appreciate that. i dislike the way a lot of cozy games seem to be stuck in a kid friendly tone owing to their origins in E and E10+ games/websites, only ever vaguely referring to adult topics, even while being marketed heavily towards nostalgic adults who grew up on the original ds or played a lot of neopets. just because i want a simple gameplay style doesn't mean i want to be babied; i want the simplicity because i'm an adult with realass adult responsibilities and don't have time/energy to grind, not because i'm still mentally ten years old and blanche at mature topics. and so i really appreciate the way webfishing will scratch that itch for "wild world if it was just fishing and able sisters" while also letting you have bloodshot eyes, wear a hat that says "i love peeing", and then blow all your money on beer and scratch offs. like honestly truly who else is doing it like webfishing
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bestfluteninja · 11 months ago
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i am so loved. i am so so loved.
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fionnaskyborn · 1 year ago
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and TODAY ON "Songs Fionna can't listen to without them fucking her up immensely and remind her why she doesn't listen to them very often every time she listens to them", we have:
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#logs#every time i'm like oh this song gets me in my feels i should listen to it and every time i end up hurting#something something proof of being alive yeah yeah but i really can't handle it#big shouts to trocadero for making songs that fuck me up every time i listen to them#i mean nothing comes close to contact in terms of how much a trocadero song fucks me up but you gotta admit‚ and i wonder where you are /#and i wonder what you wore / and i'm lost inside a bar / and i'm drunk inside a war / and i wonder where you are is also terrific#okay i'm gonna go cry about the tragedy of making a hyperspecific space opera that holds so much meaning and discusses so many things from#grief through moving on through learning how to live after having spent a significant portion of your life without any kind of autonomy#through reunions and learning how to talk with someone you haven't seen in nineteen years to‚ ultimately‚ having hope no matter what gets#thrown your way and that is ultimately about giving people happiness and closure but that loses a lot of its value by fitting into very#specific niches due to its nature as a work of fiction based on two works created by other people and having the centerpieces be not people#i have managed to come up with and whose stories i've written#but rather pre-existing persons that are mindchildren of a completely different individual#the worst part is that the story simply wouldn't work with different characters or using a different story as a basis. what i have created‚#what i WANT to create is‚ by all standards that count... perfect. the story /works/ /because/ of the characters involved. but the overlap#between the people who enjoy the story the characters are derived from AND the story that serves as the setting is so comically small that#it's all but impossible to find an audience to whom the story would mean as much as it means to me. and there are a few people out there‚#sure enough. but i am terrified to reach out because this is so personal to me. i'd love to share this story with people but spilling my#entrails out and having people turn away dissatisfied with what they see or saying it's ''not for them'' hurts me more than almost anything#else in this world. call me a coward‚ but my soul's aged too fast‚ and i'm tired‚ and i can't bear that risk.#one day‚ though... someone will listen.#black blank blah-blah-blah
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literallyjusttoa · 3 months ago
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I have fully reworked and redesigned my Apollo timeline!! These designs are meant to depict Apollo from 2591 B.C.E all the way to 392 C.E., so a good 2,983 years of life lol. A lot of things have changed from my first and second versions of this timeline (which you can see here and here if you're interested) so I'm just gonna rewrite the whole things here for y'all to read and enjoy! (Also disclaimer as always I am not a mythology expert, and I am taking some liberties with dates and time periods so sorry if anything seems off!)
Baby: 2591 B.C.E
Apollo is born. That's pretty much all that happens here.
Fighting Python/Exile: 2591-2582 B.C.E.
Right after being born, Apollo goes off to fight Python. After this, he is exiled from Olympus for nine years due to his crime of committing murder. During those nine years, he spends most of his time as either a shepherd or a traveling musician, and observes mortals and their ways of life a lot.
Pre-First Punishment: 2582-2300 B.C.E.
After his exile, Apollo is allowed to ascend to Olympus. He takes on a form that is extremely similar to the mortals he's been living amongst for the past nine years. As the youngest member of the Olympian Council, Apollo is slightly naive, but desperate to prove himself to the rest of his family. Myths that occur during this time: 1. Apollo finds and mentors Chiron 2. Artemis and Apollo successfully convince their father to release Prometheus from his punishment. 3. Periphas, a king of Attica and priest of Apollo, was so beloved by his people that they honored him above Zeus. This angered Zeus, and he sword he would strike Periphas down and burn his home to the ground. However, Apollo begged Zeus to spare Periphas' life, and Zeus acquiesced. Instead, Zeus turned Periphas into an eagle, the same eagle that now rests on the top of his sacred sceptre.
Post-First Punishment (Troy): 2300-1250 B.C.E.
Back from his time as a mortal, Apollo is now the patron god of the city of Troy. He is extremely attached to his people, and has taken on a lot of their fashions and customs. He is a bit more reserved on Olympus because of the punishment, but he is still young and sure of himself, and is often one of the most active gods on the council. Myths that occur during this time: 1. Hermes is born. 2. The music duel with Marsyas occurs, and he is flayn. 3. Lots of cities are founded on the west coast of Ionia (Modern day Türkiye), many with myths surrounding Apollo. The city of Miletus was founded and named after a son of Apollo. Klazomenai claimed Apollo as their principal god. The city of Colophon becomes the seat of the Oracle of Apollo Clarius, and one of his sons, named Mopsus, lives there. Erythraea is also connected to Apollo's oracle, as it is the birthplace of Herophile. Once you add Troy to the mix, it seems as if Apollo just did a tour of Ionia and set up a bunch of towns along the way, which I think is pretty cool. 4. The seven against Thebes make their march to restore Polynices, Oedipus' son, to the throne. One of the seven, Amphiaraus, was a seer and favored by Apollo (and sometimes his son!). Amphiaraus was fated to die in battle, but Apollo found multiple ways to stretch out his final moments. He redirected attacks so that Amphiaraus was not harmed, and when the man's charioteer was killed, Apollo took the reins himself. When Amphiaraus finally passed on, Apollo wept over his corpse and let him be consumed by the earth, creating an Oracle at that spot.
Asclepius: 1250-1210 B.C.E.
Asclepius is born and Apollo keeps the same look throughout his entire life! Apollo doesn't have much to do with it, but the Argonauts set sail during this time.
Stealing the bolt/Killing the Cyclops: 1210 B.C.E.
This design only lasts a couple of weeks. In his grief, Apollo loses himself.
Second Punishment 1210 B.C.E
Apollo is given to Admetus as a servant for several months. The punishment doesn't last long, but Apollo's time with Admetus is essential in his journey to heal from Asclepius' death.
Trojan War: 1194-1184 B.C.E.
The Trojan War breaks out less than 20 years after Asclepius' death, bringing ruins and carnage with it. Apollo fulfills his duty as the patron god of the city, and viciously protects Troy from the attacks of other Olympians.
Post-Trojan: 1184-940 B.C.E.
The war was lost, and Troy was sacked. In the time following this, Apollo distances himself from mortals, desperate to escape the pain and grief of the last 70 years. This period of his life ends with the myth of Daphne. Myths that occur during this time: 1. Dionysus is born 2. Apollo saves Hemithea and her sister Parthenos and makes them immortal. 3. Apollo's oldest known temple is built in Thebes.
Daphne and Hyacinthus 940-776 B.C.E.
After the death of Daphne, Apollo is devastated. While he had been avoiding the mortal realm before, now he became increasingly uncomfortable on Olympus. He stayed in the mortal realm often, building up his reputation and setting up his popularity in Ancient Greece proper, which was just breaking out of the Dark Ages. Near the end of this period, he loves and loses Hyacinthus. Myths that occur during this time: 1. The cult of Apollo from Crete brings his worship to Delphi officially, and his temple is built at the site. 2. Apollo's music duel with Pan occurs.
“Main” Apollo 776-500 B.C.E.
Starting with the first Olympic games, This period is defined by glory and worship. Apollo's popularity in Greece increases exponentially, and this is only added to once he takes the reins of the sun chariot. He meddles in mortal affairs often during this time, growing into the persona we see of him today. Myths that occur during this time: 1. Niobe's kids are killed 2. Apollo falls in love with Cyrene, and gives her a city. 3. Tarquin purchases the Sibylline books. Sometime before this, Apollo curses the Sibyl of Cumae. 4. The Pythagorean cult is established, a group that religiously followed the teachings of Pythagoras. Alongside this, they mainly worshiped Apollo at Delphi. They used math to break down music, and believed "the universe as a whole was composed of harmony and numbers". 5. Phorbas, who is either a savage king of Elis or a giant, preys on travelers on the pilgrimage to Delphi. To put a stop to this, Apollo challenges the man to a boxing match, and kills him during the fight. Another Phorbas, this one hailing from Rhodes, is often confounded with this one. Apollo dated the second Phorbas, so I bet this was very confusing for a lot of poor Greeks. 6. The city of Megara fought for independence from Corinth, and claimed Apollo as their patron god.
"Classical" Apollo 500-300 B.C.E.
As Ancient Greece moves into it's classical age, and the height of it's glory, Apollo's worship continues to grow. In the 400's, Pericles and the architects of the Acropolis in Athens used the money held by the Delian league (An allied group of islands in the Cyclades, lead by Delos) to create their temple to Athena, which held the Athena Parthenos. This, alongside many other ways in which Athens attempted to take control of the rest of Greece, caused tension in both the mortal world and Olympus. Apollo begins to see cracks in the foundations of Greece, but can not do much about it at the time. Myths that occur during this time: 1. The Peloponnesian war breaks out. It lasts 27 years, with Sparta claiming victory over Athens in the end. Olympus continues to degrade as Athena and Ares spar. 2. Shortly after this, the Theban War starts. Sparta had won the Peloponnesian war and taken Athens place as the head of Ancient Greece, but many city-states took issue with this. Both Corinth and Thebes waged war against Sparta, with Thebes being victorious in this struggle. Thebes was Dionysus' city, and Corinth, Poseidon's. The Olympian council continues to splinter. 3. Apollo's first temple in Rome is built. The Temple of Apollo Medicus was constructed outside of the religious boundary in Rome, as Apollo was still seen as a foreign deity at this time, and so his worship was not permitted in the city proper.
Late Greece (300-146 B.C.E)
Greece is falling apart at the seams, with civil wars breaking out all over the region. Rome is growing stronger to the west, and eventually takes over Greece completely at the end of this period. Apollo attempts to ignore the signs of failure, keeping up a relaxed, even as the war begins to devour Greece entirely. Myths that occur during this time: 1. Dionysus journeys to India 2. Trophonius and Agamethus are killed.
Fall of Greece: 146-32 B.C.E.
Olympus falls, and will not come back together for a while yet. With each deity lost and unfocused, they all have to find their own way back to their former glory. Apollo is one of the last to return to the council, spending centuries wandering the ruins of Greece, burying his people and mourning the culture that had been lost. It is not until Augustus brings his worship to Rome that Apollo returns to Mount Olympus.
Rome 32 B.C.E.- 140 C.E.
Apollo is now one of the chief gods in Rome. Even though he is at the same level of power and popularity that he had during the height of Greece, it doesn't feel the same. Apollo drifts, going through the motions with very little passion behind it. It takes some time for him to warm up to his new civilization, which leads to:
Late Rome 140 C.E.- 392 C.E.
As Rome continues to grow and prosper, Apollo begins to grow fond of it's people. He interacts with them far more, and begins to once again meddle in their affairs, especially when it comes to the various emperors that ruled the nation. This trend continues until the eventual end of pagan worship in Rome. Myths that occur during this time: 1. Apollo meets, falls in love with, and eventually kills Commodus. 2. The Bacchanalia, which was a private cult festival of the Dionysian cult of Liber that was full of drinking and mingling of all social classes, becomes popular. This festival is obviously associated with Bacchus first and foremost, but there was a common rumour amongst members of the cult that you could meet Apollo at these celebrations.
And that's the whole thing! Hope you all enjoyed, this took a lot of time and research lol.
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aliteralsemicolon · 5 months ago
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Wait until you like me again - 18+
See part 1 | Part 2 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 3
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The decision to resign puts a lot of weight on your shoulders. A takedown gone wrong makes it the least of anyone's concerns, especially Spencer’s. You’re not willing to let him back in; it feels too little, too late.
Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader
DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. Part 2 was highly requested and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to finish.
WARNING Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, drugs (GHB), Case details (very poorly thought out). Violence: canon typical - strangulation, drugging, guns/gunshots. Proceed at your own risk.
Word count: 10.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.
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The most annoying part about making a decision in haste is the clarity of the situation when the dust settles. It’d taken Hotch just over two minutes to message you after you’d sent your email. 
From: Boss Man 🕶 👔 My office, first thing tomorrow. 
You didn’t take into account that you’d have to explain your sudden resignation to your unit chief, or that you’d need to think of a good enough goodbye to lessen the hurt of abandoning your friends. These are people you consider your found family; you’re leaving behind years worth of bonds with no proper warning or closure, in a measly few weeks. Your reasoning had to be good enough to convince them that this was for the best. 
To convince you that this was for the best. 
You’d spent the whole night in tears, racking your brain for an excuse, because ‘the person you care most about in this world and unrequited love of your life telling you that he didn’t want to see your face was a pathetic reason for discarding your life’s work. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t think of adequate justification. Even as the sun rose and you made your way through your pre-work routine, nothing came to mind. 
“You can’t love me.”
Any time you tried to conjure up a defence your thoughts would wander back to Spencer. Too many words had been exchanged between you and your former best friend in the span of four months and not a single one of them properly explained why he was so butt-hurt. He loves you too much, but doesn’t want you to love him? That’s your understanding, at least. 
“Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 
Since you’d left his apartment the previous night, you’d been cycling through all the stages of grief in record time. Spencer once told you that people tend to remember more negative memories than positive. He was right. You couldn’t recall a lot of your happier memories with him. All you could think about was the two conversations where he’d hurt you in ways you never imagined he would. 
You’re not sure exactly what part of you snapped at that moment, all you knew was that you were done making him the centre of your universe. Spencer Reid played no part in your decisions moving forward. He was not the reason for your departure with the BAU, a lie you made sure to relay to Hotch during your meeting with him.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Where is this even coming from?” He inquired from across you, hands folded neatly against his desk.
“I just think it’s time for me to try new things, you know?” It was a pathetic excuse, but less pathetic than the actual reasoning. 
“I try not to interfere with the personal lives of the team, but this is just so…sudden. I have to wonder if this has to do with Spencer?”
“This has nothing to do with him.” You go out of your way to avoid saying his name, suspecting you might taste poison. 
Hotch’s brow raises, as if his brain has been alerted to key information, head marginally tilting to the side like it does when he catches a lie. He doesn’t say anything, eyes narrowing in on you in stoic fashion. You feel like a petulant child that’s about to receive a scolding from their father. 
“Hon–Honestly…Hotch, I just–”
Three rapid knocks cut you off, the door to the office swinging open without waiting for a reply. 
“Sir, Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s an emergency. That case we were consulting on for Anchorage PD?” Garcia bursts into the room, slightly discoloured and more panicked than normal. “Well, five more bodies were discovered. Two of them pre-date who we initially thought was the first victim.”
“Garcia, tell everybody to meet on the jet ASAP. We’ll debrief on the flight.” Hotch orders abruptly standing from his seat. “You and I can finish this meeting later. This case is now our top priority, wheels up.” 
Emily, Rossi and Derek were already in their seats when you boarded. You secured your go bag in one of the overhead compartments and temporarily took a seat next to Derek. 
“How bad do you think this one is gonna be?” Derek sighs, dreading the horrors that await your arrival. 
“We’re up to thirty six bodies and counting. Whoever this unsub is, they’ve been at it a while. So, bad.” You answer honestly. 
“Speaking of bad, is everything okay?”
“That was not even remotely smooth.” You scoff. 
“I’m just asking as a concerned friend.” He shoots his hands up in defence.
“What happened to the days where we at least tried to mind our business. You know, at least asked each other about our weekend plans before jumping into interrogation mode.” You roll your eyes and smirk. 
“Heyyy, woah– no one’s interrogating anyone.” Derek chuckles. “What are your plans for the weekend?”
It wasn’t long before everybody had made their way on the jet, Spencer being the last one. You didn’t notice his arrival, too engulfed in your conversation. He definitely noticed you though. The sound of your giggles caught his attention the second he was in ear shot. He didn’t like how warm he felt at the sight of your smiling face. What he disliked more was that he could instantly tell that it wasn’t a genuine smile. 
He quietly made his way to his self assigned seat on the couch, trying his hardest to focus on anything but you. Every laugh that Morgan coaxed out of you bothered him. Spencer’s agony only ended once the jet had successfully taken off. 
“Alright let’s get started.” Hotch declared and everybody moved to gather around. 
With all the details laid out by Garcia through the monitor, everybody began stating facts and suggestions. You wrapped up soon enough and retreated to an isolated seat in the back of the jet. It was an almost eight hour flight, seven of which you were planning to use to come up with a solid plan to announce your departure. Life always has to throw a wrench in your plans though, because the lack of sleep from the night before caught up to you and you dozed off almost immediately. Had you any energy left in your body, you might have been privy to the eyes that were on you. 
“She didn’t say anything as to what the meeting was about?” JJ hushedly pries from her raven haired co worker in the cramped kitchenette.  
“No, but Garcia said that ‘the air in his office was really tense’.” Emily relays, her fingers mimicking quotation marks. “Did Hotch say anything?”
“No. He just gave me his usual dry look and told me to focus on the case.” JJ rolls her eyes at the thought and leans back against the counter. 
Despite being the FBI’s most decorated task force, the agents of the BAU weren’t strangers to workplace gossip. You’d just entered the bullpen this morning when Hotch frantically summoned you to his office, not even giving you time to set your things down at your desk. Witnessing the events sparked a guessing game sparked amongst the team. 
“Is it something we should know about?” Sitting across from Hotch, even Rossi succumbed to his curiosity. 
“Dave you’re not normally one to pry.” Hotch smirks, keeping his eyes on the case-file laid out in front of him. 
“No I’m not. But with the events of the past few months...” Rossi sips his coffee, staring at his younger superior expectantly. “...there’s been some talk Aaron.”
“Talk?” Hotch meets Rossi’s eyes.
“Mhm.” Rossi nods. “Apparently you’re transferring one of our two youngest members because they haven’t been able to put their differences aside.”
“I’m not transferring anyone. Where did this come from?” The alarm in his tone makes Rossi snicker.
“Office drama. You know how it is. And while you may not be transferring anybody,” he sets his mug down and looks towards where you’re sound asleep. “I’m guessing somebody is leaving. Hence this morning's meeting.”
“We’re not supposed to profile each other, you know.” Hotch sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep this contained. I haven’t had a chance to properly discuss this with her yet and I think she’d prefer to break the news herself.” 
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As you had predicted the case was by no means an easy one. On the first day everybody was split into groups to follow up with the M.E, victims’ families and examine the crime scenes. All the evidence and information gathered wasn’t enough to narrow the profile any more than the generic: male, mid thirties to early forties, hates women. You were now three days in with no viable leads. 
You were especially frustrated because you felt that you weren’t working as well as you could. The stress of your announcement was taking its toll, you were unable to properly converse with your team out of guilt. Hotch sent everyone back to their hotel rooms with the idea that you would start fresh tomorrow. Normally you would room with Spencer, but lately JJ and Emily have been taking turns rooming with both of you. This time you were with Emily.
“I think this may be the first night we’ve gotten to turn in early.” Emily yawns as she dramatically stretches her limbs.
“I’m just glad we got to turn in at all, for a while there it looked like we may have to pull another all nighter.” You force a giggle, exasperated.  
“You okay?” She doesn’t miss a beat, taking the opportunity to ask about your uneasiness. 
“Yeah, fine.” You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 
“You’re going to snap at some point, you know?” She examines your closed off posture, trying to figure out a way to get you to open up. “Something’s clearly wrong. Talk to me.”
“We’re all on edge right now. It’s this case.” You hope that you’re being convincing enough. 
“It's more than that. You’ve been distant from everybody.” Emily briefly thought back to the Ian Doyle debacle, recognising all the signs of somebody preparing to run away at any given moment. 
“I’m aware that I’m not working to my full potential–”
“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” She steps closer to you. “I can’t force you to tell me whatever’s actually on your mind, but I would really appreciate it if you would. I hate seeing you so…detached. Not just from us, but from yourself.”
It’s the empathy in her voice instead of the usual sympathy that finally cracks you. Tears pool your eyes and you sink to the floor. Emily sits down next to you without a word. She tries to pull you in for a hug but you push away. 
“Please don’t.” You sob. “I’m sorry.”
She squeezes your knee to relay that she understands and retracts her hand. Your discomfort with physical touch was another thing you had in common with Spencer. It was just a personal preference for you, unlike his germophobia. He was the only person you were actually comfortable with in terms of touch, but you couldn’t fault others for not respecting that boundary when you’d never verbalised it. 
“I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell you guys, but I don’t think there’s any way this gets easier.” You recompose yourself after a moment. “I’m, um, leaving.”
You expect her to get upset with you, but find her unfazed. 
“You don’t look surprised.” 
“Well it’s not entirely surprising. I mean given everything that’s happened.” 
“So you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?” She leans back with her mouth slightly open. 
“Because I feel like I’m abandoning you guys.” You heavily exhale. 
“You’re not abandoning us. You’re doing what you feel is right for you. I mean, am I happy about it? Definitely not. But I know better than anyone why you feel like you need to do this. And it’s not a decision you have to justify to anybody.” Emily reassures you. 
“How do I tell everybody else?” You push for more advice.
“However you feel most comfortable doing it. It doesn’t have to be some big announcement. You can casually break it to them whenever you get the opportunity. They’ll understand.” 
“Thank you, Em.” You genuinely smile this time, eternally grateful that she’s managed to take some pressure off your shoulders.
“Now while you’re in a mood to share…if you wanna talk about something else–” She attempts one last time to get you to talk about Spencer, sensing that the mood lightened a bit. 
“Nice try.” You laugh as you rise to your feet, offering your arms out to her to help her stand.
The following two days were a lot easier on you, mentally. You took Emily’s advice and disclosed your news individually to each team member, each of them more understanding than you’d anticipated. You were surprised to learn that Rossi was already aware, assuming that it came with being a profiler for as long as he had. Derek and JJ did try to talk you out of it initially, but accepted your decision in the end. You still had to talk about this with Garcia, but felt a lot more at ease with mostly everybody knowing.
Except Spencer.
That thought lingered in the back of your mind. You still love him, it’s not something you can just turn off. You shake it off and divert your full attention to the case. Four more bodies had been discovered and with them, a new pattern to the killings. The unsub was devolving. You and Spencer were the only ones at the precinct when the last murder was called in. Meaning you were stuck working on the geographical profile with him while the others were out chasing new leads. 
Realistically, only one of you was needed to build the profile and decided you were going to let him do it. You quietly sat in the furthest seat possible, trying to make yourself invisible and hoping that this would keep him busy enough to not talk to you. The whole week, you hadn’t uttered a single word to him unless it was absolutely necessary for the case. It was as if he didn’t exist, even if he was standing right infront of you. Spencer, on the other hand, spent the whole week prodding you for any reaction he could get. Anytime you made suggestions and he happened to be in the area, he tried to one up you.
At times it felt like he was purposely seeking you out, despite his brutal proclamation five days ago. Every attempt to rile you up failed. The most acknowledgement he got from you was a few scoffs and glares. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it, until Derek asked him point blank what his problem was. He didn’t have an answer, but now that he was aware of it he tried to go out of his way to avoid it. 
That didn’t last more than a few hours. The fact that he had to consciously avoid talking to you pissed him off, especially because he couldn’t stop. You pretending like he didn’t exist pissed him off even more. The one time he took his eyes off the board in front of him they landed on you. You were busy scribbling words in a file, trying to get a head start on your paperwork. 
“Do you plan to help at all?” He sneers, noticing that you looked a lot more relaxed than you did at the start of the case. 
You snap your head towards the board behind him. A rough venn diagram was drawn on a map of the city, small tacked notes labelling prominent buildings in the area. 
“How am I meant to help?” You question, darting your eyes between him and the board out of confusion.
“You’re asking me how to do your job?” He taunts, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.
You dramatically groan, throwing your head back. 
It’s hard to believe that he’s a man of logic in moments like these. There have been far too many in the last few months. You bounce off your seat and head over to the board. Spencer stays glued in his spot and your body accidentally brushes against his as you try to get past. He watches you take off some notes and add on new ones but doesn’t register what you’re doing at first. He’s too intoxicated by your scent. His hand runs through his hair as he steps back in an effort to regain his composure. His teeth grit and his jaw tenses momentarily, he hates that you have the ability to do this to him. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” The pitch of his voice raises and his ears are burning.
“What do you mean?” You roll your eyes, shrugging your arms, sarcasm laced in your words. 
“Don’t try to act all dumb!” He berates, shaking his head. 
“Don’t try to act all smart.” Your eyes roll again. Spencer was slowly starting to wear down your apathy. 
“I am smart.” He scoffs. Your blood boils, this trump card is becoming too repetitive.
“Savour that, it’s the one good thing you’ve got going for you!” You finally snap. 
“You’re UNBELIEVABLE! The first time you bother to answer me all week and it’s just to argue?” He’s trying his best to refrain from yelling.
“Oh! You’ve been trying to start an argument all week and now that I’m giving in you can’t take it?! Actually, why have you been trying so hard, Doctor? I was under the impression that you can’t even stand to look at my face!”
He dryly swallows, unable to respond immediately. The reminder of his words makes him internally cringe. He never meant to say them. It was the most efficient way he could think of at that time to hurt you. Spencer hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of will power it would take to stay away from you. You seeking him out made it infinitely harder. His fake disdain was a defence mechanism, he was hiding behind hatred to get the job done. 
“YOU–”
“Alright, that’s enough!” Hotch loudly cuts him off. 
Neither you nor Spencer noticed the teams return during your squabble. You’re slightly embarrassed, wondering how much they’ve witnessed. Spencer turns away from you and looks to the blank wall on the other side of the room. You look to the floor and bite the inside of your cheek. 
“Care to explain what’s going on?” He grills and you feel like a petulant child receiving a lecture from your father. 
“She wasn’t doing her job!” Spencer complains. “And when I brought it up she messed up my profile!”
“God you’re insufferable! It’s called ‘narrowing the profile’, Spencer. Maybe if you did it properly, I wouldn’t have to.” You retort. 
“Hey!” Hotch scolds.
It falls silent for a second, awkward glances finding their way around the room. Rossi breaks it first. 
“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were bickering toddlers instead of FBI agents.”
You make eye contact with Morgan trying to hold in a laugh and it makes you snort. 
“We will discuss this later. Let’s focus on the updates we’ve gathered.” Hotch dismisses due to more pressing matters at hand. 
“After talking to friends of the latest victims, I can confirm that they were all last seen in the same club.” JJ pipes up first.
“And the dumpsites are all less than twenty minutes away from there. He’s definitely not holding them anymore.” Morgan adds.
“That has to be where he’s choosing his victims. Did the medical examiner find anything new?” Hotch asks.
“Traces of GHB.” Emily replies. “We don’t know how he’s administering it into their systems, but my guess would be through the drinks.”
“Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, mostly known as GHB, is a party drug that produces feelings of euphoria, confidence, relaxation and sociability. Side effects of GHB can include drowsiness, vomiting, mood swings, dependence, as well as more serious symptoms of unconsciousness. When mixed with alcohol the risk of overdose increases as it can cause respiratory collapse leading to coma or in extreme cases death.” Spencer’s about to continue but quickly recognises that it’s a tangent he needs to cut short. 
“Wait JJ what club were the victims last seen in?” You inquire, walking closer to the map.
When she relays the name it clicks. 
“That’s smack in the middle of the comfort zone.” You point at a small red note labelling the building. 
“So how do we catch this guy? I mean the club would be packed and we don’t know what this guy looks like. The profile tells us that he would blend in, nothing would stand out about him.” Morgan subtly suggests a string operation.
“Except for when he’s alone with the object of his rage. Which in our case would be the women he’s using as surrogates. He'd be possessive, become clingy, hold on too tight and once those advances are rejected he’d fly into blind rage.” Spencer exclaims without realising the weight of his input. 
“Yeah…but he has a very specific type.” Rossi hesitates. 
A fact that everybody had been avoiding the case because of how close it hit to home. 
You’re his exact type.
“No.” Hotch shuts down.
“Hotch, think about it. I mean this guy is not slowing down. A sting might be our best bet to stop him before he kills again.” JJ shares Rossi’s hesitation.
“It’s too risky!” Spencer blurts, making it clear he’s against the idea. 
Everyone begins to chime in with their input, but you stay silent and think it over. None of them wanted to put you in this position, but you’d seen the bodies and what he’d done to those women. What he’ll continue to do to other women if he isn’t stopped. It was a no brainer on your end. 
“I’ll do it!” You announce amidst the chatter.
It comes to an immediate halt, all eyes shifting on you.
“What?” Spencer scoffs.
You can tell that he’s genuinely surprised by the small hitch in his voice. Emily sceptically calls your name, posing it as a question. 
“I’ll do it.” You reiterate, taking care to seem as confident as possible.
“Absolutely not! The odds of this going wrong are way too high!” Spencer howls with a little too much passion. 
“Reid’s right. The unsub is way too unpredictable.” Hotch debates.
“JJ has a point, think about it!” You argue. “We know for a fact that he’s going to strike tonight. Sending me undercover as bait is better than staking out the place and waiting for him to target a civilian!” 
“Okay so let’s send somebody else!” Spencer contests, his tone prayerful. 
For a split second, you see your best friend again. He’s showing more regard for you now than he has in months and it makes your heart sink knowing it won’t be forever. Still, you try to reason with him while he’s there.
“There’s no time! I fit his type. This is our best option.”
“No, this is stupid and dangerous. You’re not going in there!” He’s gone again. 
“That’s not your call to make!” You snap. 
“Hotch no!” Spencer tries again.
“Kid, relax! This isn’t her first undercover mission.” Morgan attempts to calm Reid. “Plus we’ll all be there in case anything goes wrong.”
“Statistically–”
“For God’s sake forget the fucking statistics! People’s lives are at stake!” You loudly end his tangent before it can begin. 
“Alright, everybody calm down!” Hotch speaks up, making it a point to stare down Spencer. 
He’d made his decision and Spencer can only stare back in disbelief, too breathless to argue. 
‘Like Morgan said, we’ll be there watching over you, along with some local law enforcement. You won’t be wired, but we’ll have a fail safe just in case you need backup earlier than expected. We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s get to work.” The unit chief asserts. 
Before anyone can make any further moves, Spencer storms out of the room. JJ runs after him, assuring Hotch that she’ll take care of it. The rest of you break off to your assigned tasks, preparing for the operation that night. 
“Spence! Slow down!” She yells, chasing him all the way outside the precinct. 
He’s breathing too fast, practically on the edge of hyperventilating. He pushes his hair back with both of his hands, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. 
“Spence what the hell is going on with you?” JJ pants, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
“Me?!” Spencer yanks himself away from her. “What the hell is going on with all of you?! You’re all insane for allowing her to do this!”
“She’s a grown woman and a trained agent! This is her decision. She knows what she’s getting herself into.” JJ reminds him. 
“Well it’s not a very smart decision! She shouldn’t be making decisions this…this reckless!” He shrieks. 
“Okay you need to calm down!” JJ sternly states. 
“Jennifer, do not tell me to calm down! She’s about to make herself a direct target for a psychopathic sadist and you’re all just letting it happen!”
“So what? Should we let some innocent woman become his next target?” 
“No! I’m not saying we should– just– why does it have to be her?!” The emphasis on his last word gives him away, JJ picks up on it instantly. 
“That’s what this is about? C’mon you know better than this.” She relaxes her shoulders. “Spencer, we all care about her. We all want her to be safe. And she will be as long as we separate out feelings from–”
“Feelings? This has nothing to do with how I feel–”
“Okay stop! Stop! God!” JJ huffs with pauses between her words. “I am so sick of this! This is clearly about your feelings. The past four months have all been about–”
She smacks her hands against her face as she takes a deep breath, a display of frustration. 
“Listen to me.” She commands, exhausted from the back and forth. “It’s clear that you two care deeply for each other, whether you’re willing to admit it or not. Neither of you will talk about whatever it is that’s caused this rift– fine! But don’t you think it’s time to bury the hatchet now that she’s leaving?”
Spencer freezes. 
“...Leaving?” He repeats, taken off guard. 
JJ takes a moment to read his expression. 
“She didn’t tell you?” JJ mutters, still scanning his face. 
“What– what are you…” He can’t find the words, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to process her words.
“She’s resigning, Spencer. She’s leaving the FBI.” JJ can’t hide how she’s surprised that you haven’t shared this with him. 
“No, that's not possible. She loves this job. Why would she leave?” Denial is his first response.
Spencer thinks over your possible motivations and can only land on the obvious. You’d only leave if you grew to hate the job. 
Did he do this? Did he make you hate it?
“We were all surprised when she first told us, I mean, it came out of nowhere.”
“We?” He rubs his temple, anticipating a possible migraine from the bomb that just dropped on him. “How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you guys known?” He balefully sighs, trying his hardest to not misplace his anger. 
“It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 
He had no one to be angry at, but himself.
“A day? Maybe two? She told us individually. Honestly with this case I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it.” JJ honestly reveals. 
So not long. Maybe you were still making your way around to telling him? You wouldn’t just leave without so much as telling him, would you?
A few months ago, Spencer would’ve confidently answered no. Today he was sure that you would. He so badly hoped that he was wrong. 
“Spence, look, we can talk about this later. But right now, you need to make sure you’re able to stay objective. Can you do that?”
He nods relentlessly, tucking his hair behind his ears. A habit he adapted early in life. It was an indicator of the gears turning in his head. JJ gives him a few more minutes outside before guiding him back in to help with preparations. Spencer absentmindedly performed his tasks, but all he could think about was you. 
You’re leaving and he’s the only person you hadn’t disclosed this information to. Abandonment was a feeling he was all too used to, but he never imagined that you’d abandon him. He knows that he can only blame himself, but he still can’t help the irritation that’s creeping in his veins. 
Even as he straps up his hidden bullet proof vest hours later, he can’t push the sentiment away. You were setting yourself up as bait for one of the most dangerous types of serial killers. On top of purposely putting yourself in direct line danger, you were leaving without telling him. He would’ve showed up to work one day and you’d be gone.
Right now he stands just a few feet away from you and you don’t look toward him once. No one would be able to guess that you’re undercover. It’s amazing how you’ve managed to transform yourself from supervisory special agent to a regular socialite and party girl in a couple of hours.
If he could overcome the hurt he feels at the moment, he might see how breathtaking you look. Then again, you always appear breathtaking to him. Before he knows it, he’s walked right up to you. You don’t feel his presence looming behind you until you bump into him when you turn around. 
“Shit Spencer!” You jump, mostly because of the nerves from the upcoming night. 
He’s about to say something but you beat him to it.
“Don’t start! I’m not in the mood.” You brush him off and disappear out of sight.
It was like that for much of the preparations. He’d muster the courage to try and talk to you, and you’d walk away. Much like how Spencer would avoid you when your friendship first fell apart. 
“Everybody in position?” Hotch inquires through his ear piece. 
“Affirmative.” Morgan gives the greenlight for your entry into the club. 
You made your way to the bar, making it a point to sit alone. You didn’t have to wait long. Archie Carter, 36, cheated on by his ex fiance before their wedding. She ran away with another man because Archie failed to keep his sadistic traits hidden and it scared her off. Torturing and murdering women who looked like her was his way of giving her a real reason to be scared. 
This was all information Garcia found after it was nearly too late. He’d managed to get you on the dance floor, subtly injecting you with the GHB. You didn’t even feel him do it. To everybody else it just seemed like you were playing your part really well on the dance floor, when in reality you were struggling to stand up. You couldn’t give out any signals and he was able to slip you away into the back alley under the noses of five FBI agents. 
It was Spencer who’d found you fighting for your life against Archie’s grip around your throat. Spencer, who put the bullet in Archie’s head after being unable to talk him down. Spencer who kneeled above you, begging you to come back as he began CPR. If he’d found you any later you might’ve been gone for good. 
Pissed was an understatement.
At the piece of shit that almost ripped you away from the world. At Hotch and the team for not listening. At himself for being right. Not you though, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t pissed at you. He was terrified. Both for you and for almost losing you. 
You had to stay a few extra days in Anchorage, bound to your hospital room. The team refused to fly back without you, each of them taking turns to keep you company. They all felt an immense amount of guilt but you reassured them that it wasn’t their fault. Your tongue grew tired of reminding them that this was a part of the job. Rossi joked that it was a good thing you were leaving it all behind in that case and it stung more than you were willing to admit. 
In your brush with death you came to the revelation that you didn’t want to leave, but hearing Spencer’s voice lull you back to him confirmed that you needed to. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear him talk everyday and not be the person he was talking to. It was why you had basically barred him from visiting you during your recovery there. Seeing his face was more than you could handle at the time. Not seeing yours weighed on him, because he needed to see if you were okay.
Physically, he knew you’d be fine once the doctors confirmed it. Mentally, he knew all too well of the repercussions that came with almost dying directly by the hands of an unsub. You’d been discharged and cleared fifty eight hours after you were admitted, and the team was ready to fly back a few hours later. All the signs of being less than okay were there. He recognised them as soon as he saw you board the jet. 
Besides the obvious bruises collaring your neck, there was some minor swelling that lingered. That wasn’t his biggest concern. It was the smile plastered on you when you put on your ‘I’m okay’ act for the others. Your eyes, like always, gave you away. You were already trying to sweep everything under the rug. Less than a few minutes after take off you isolated yourself in the back. You’d been doing that a lot in your recent cases. 
It irked him how everybody just let you. He decided right then that he wasn’t going to. He didn’t care how much you hate him, he was going to ensure that you came out of this truly okay. You were mindlessly staring out the window, counting the clouds, listening to the music playing through your headphones. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. You’d felt like that since you came to, in the alley. 
It took you a second to understand that you were actually being watched, turning to find Spencer in the previously empty seat across from you. 
“You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on me.” You snark, ripping off your headphones, still recovering from the small jump scare.
“Sorry.” He chuckles out of habit.
You unintentionally smile at the sound and find yourself staring in his eyes. 
“Are–” He falters as he thinks the question over in his head. “Is there anything I can get you?”
You’re taken aback, not expecting those words. You had a script prepared to waive off questions about your well being. He knows you better than that, throwing you off course as usual.
“What do you want?” You grumble, accepting that you couldn’t get past him.
“I want to know if there’s anything I can get you.” He repeats in a low tone. 
There he is again. The Spencer you know and love. Your heart threatens to leap.
“If this is to clear some guilty conscience, don’t bother.” You verbally guard yourself. “I’m fine.”
It would be a lie if he said his reasoning was completely selfless. He was hardly able to keep away from you without feeling like he was drowning, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he thought he may have lost you forever. The feeling didn’t last very long, he was able to revive you within a few seconds, but never feeling like that again would be too soon. 
Spencer believed in two things; statistics and facts. One fact he refused to ignore any longer is that he couldn’t live without you. He quietly opened that satchel that still clung across his torso, fishing out some pain killers and an unopened water bottle. 
“I know you probably forgot to take yours out of your bag.” He ignores your previous comment and slides the items across the table to you. 
Your gaze lingers on the items in front of you, but your hands stay folded in your lap as you piece everything together. 
“You know.” You whisper. 
“Were you going to tell me?” He gulps after a beat of silence. 
“Does it matter?” You're quick to respond.
“I wanna hear it from you.” He’s just as fast. 
You look up from the leaf of pills, he’s already surveilling you. It’s a short lived staring contest because your focus shifts behind him to Hotch, who’s observing this encounter from the kitchenette on the other end. Spencer continues waiting on you for a response but you stand up, ready to walk away. It dawns on you when you see your supervisor that technically you hadn’t officially resigned yet. The paperwork never got started because this case took priority and that was a detail you needed to sort out right away.
“Don’t go.” Spencer pleads when you take your first step.
Was it a request to sit back down or to stay with the BAU? You didn’t bother to clarify, he had no right to ask for either. 
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You let out a deep, exasperated sigh as you lie curled up in your warm sheet, scowling at the floor beneath you. It seemed that the universe (your friends) had it out to delay your departure as much as possible. It’s been four days since your return from Anchorage and you’ve been stuck in your apartment since Hotch dropped you off here. He’s ordered mandatory time off for your recovery, meaning the paperwork has to wait. 
You could be using this time in a more productive manner. You could be searching for a new job. And a new place to live. You should be trying to figure out where this new place would be. You never actually thought that far ahead. In your haste to run away, you forgot to plan your next steps. You’ve convinced yourself that you can’t do any of it until the forms are filled out. 
The ‘universe’ isn’t the only thing delaying you. 
If you really wanted to, you could have everything emailed to you. You can have it done online, but there are two major problems. The first is pretty straight forward; you’re not ready to leave. You know that this is the best course of action for everybody, but your brain and your heart are at an impasse. You’ve dedicated years to this job because you love this job. Unfortunately, you love Spencer more, which means that staying is going to drive you to hate your job. 
The other reason is slightly more nuanced and you don’t want to think about it, opting to let your impasse be the reason for your lack of motivation to do anything other than bed rotting. It’s not as bad as it seems, it’s more self care than anything. Your body’s telling you it needs to rest and you’re simply obliging. Plus, it couldn’t be that serious if you still had bursts when you had to keep up appearances. You have to be okay if you’re able to force yourself to open the front door for your coworkers when they come to check on you. You really weren’t that miserable if you managed to smile and laugh for their short visits. 
And it’s not like you’re truly rotting. You showered quite often, you actually just had your second one today. You were definitely okay if you could manage to keep up with hygiene. It’s not excessive, you need to scrub the purple away. You know that’s not how it works, but you can’t stand to look at the parts of your neck where his hands were wrapped around. If you close your eyes for long enough you can still feel him squeezing until–
You’re okay.
No, you’re irritated. The incessant knocking on your front door won’t stop no matter how much you ignore it. You were relieved when evening came. It meant that normal visiting hours were over and you could rest today. If it wasn’t any of your usual visitors then it had to be stranger. The thought made you uneasy, you hesitated to answer it at all. 
You can’t live in fear all the time. 
The door eventually opens and Spencer sees you for the first time in days. He actually tried to check on you earlier, but Penelope insisted everybody stick to her roster so you don’t get overwhelmed. The circles under your eyes were almost as dark as his, you hadn’t been getting much sleep. The swelling around your throat was almost all gone, but the bruising wasn’t healing like he expected it to. 
“Spencer…what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse. 
“I brought take out.” He gently dangles a bag of food in front of him, his voice high, but quiet. 
You can practically smell the contents of the bag, nostalgia hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was your favourite thing to order on the days he’d come over for movie nights. Before Spencer showed you a side of him you didn’t know existed. It felt like a taunt, like he was twisting the metaphorical knife he plunged in your heart. It made you sick.
“I already ate.” You lie, mustering a dull smile on your face.
Spencer swallows and bites the inside of his cheek, not taking his eyes off you. Trying to think of the best way to call you out without causing you to shun him. 
“We can do something else until you’re hungry again.” He gives a tight lipped smile and raises his furrowed brows, like he’s pleading for you to accept his offer.
“I don’t think I’ll be hungry anytime soon.” You awkwardly laugh– well it’s close to a laugh if not for your strained vocal chords. 
“Can I come in anyway? We can put on a movie.” He’s using the voice he used to when trying to comfort you or convince you of something. Soft, low, steady. It’s a stark contrast to the voice you’ve been hearing for the last ten days. 
Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.
Tears threaten the composure you’re working so hard to maintain.
“Why are you really here?” You sigh, unable to stick with the pleasantries. 
“I told you.” He emphasises the bag of food in his hands again. “Take out. Maybe a movie–”
“Cut the shit.” You assert, harshly. “You can tell Penelope that you came to see me so she gets off your back, but please stop pretending like you care.”
“That’s…is that why you think I’m here?” His shoulders drop.
“Isn’t it?” You bite, your door now wide open as you lean against it for support. Your legs are aching to curl into your chest again. 
“No.” His reply is short and clear, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I’m here because I want to be here.”
“Why? There’s nothing in it for you.” You scoff, blinking from confusion. “Unless…is this some sick game? Seeing me like this– knowing that I’m– are you trying to gloat?”
“Gloat?” He repeats in almost a whisper, the hurt in his voice evident.
“Relish, rejoice, rub it in, I don’t know. You’re the walking thesaurus.”
He can tell from your lax posture that you're amused. Your back is against your door, hands behind your back and you’re leaning forward a bit as you stare at the ground. Not caring that your words cut deep.
Is this how low you think he is?
“Why would I be enjoying this?” His hopeful smile drops entirely as he tries to understand you. 
“Call it epicaricacy.” You shrug. 
“Epicaricacy?” He mumbles in a whispered tone, like he’s trying to process what you said.
Deriving pleasure from the misfortune of others.
Your eyes roll from how slow he’s acting and you have to hold yourself back from repeating the definition out loud.
“Do you honestly think I enjoy seeing you like this?” The change in pitch stings a bit. 
“No, I don’t think you like seeing me at all.” You half smirk up at him, sadness evident in your eyes. “Which brings us back to…why are you here Doc?”
“That’s not true.” He cringes, ignoring the second part.
“Not true?” You wiggle your brows sarcastically. 
“Not true.” He reaffirms, sighing deeply. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” 
“You’re sorry.” You scoff again, shaking your head.
“I know that I’ve been unreasonable–”
“Unreasonable?” The tip of your tongue rolls against the back of your teeth, bewildered at his sheer audacity. 
“A dick! I’ve been a dick.” He corrects himself, desperate to have you hear him out. 
You tighten your jaw, inhaling lightly through your nose and your brows are raised as high as they can go. 
“I was hurt. Okay? I wash lashing out, but, I–” He takes a deep breath to stop himself, wanting to get to the point. “I know that I’ve been acting otherwise but, I care about you. And when I found you back there…I just…I know what you’re going through, even if you won’t admit it. I don’t want you to go through it alone.”
Your expression softens as he speaks. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone. For a moment you consider allowing yourself to break down in his arms, like you would have once. It’s jarring, Spencer reverting to his former self after he saved your life. The comfort swiftly bubbles into anger. All your attempts for reconciliation were met with so much hostility before. It took you almost dying for him to care. It feels too little too late. The only thing you can think of as he stands next to you is all the ways he can further hurt you if you let him. You push off your door and stand straight, giggling bitterly. 
“Spencer, go home.” You say with the same bitterness. 
“Please–”
“Go home! I don’t want your pity!” You yell. It feels alleviating. “Do you honestly think that  anything changes just because you saved my life? Do you think it erases everything that’s happened in the past few months? Because it doesn’t! Things can’t go back to how they were simply because you feel bad that I almost died. It’s not a flip you can switch. You don’t just get to start caring!” 
You're heaving and he can only stare at the ground. He knows you’re right, except for the one crucial error in your speech. 
“I never stopped caring.” He mumbles.
This fucking idiot.
Enraged, sad, frustrated, confused; all emotions you’ve been suppressing that are now fighting to show at the same time. You take a step closer to him and he meets your eyes again. You can see that he’s holding back tears, same as you. It fuels you in a twisted way. You have an opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt you and you don’t let it go to waste.
“Don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work to see your face at work, I don’t want to see it in my personal time too.” 
You can’t stay to see the effects of his words thrown back at his face, your heart’s threatening to burst from how fast it’s racing. His jaw locks from how tense he is. He knows exactly why you said it, but it’s still hard to hear. You turn around and rush into your apartment, shutting the door on his face, leaving him standing there. You don’t make it too far inside, collapsing on the wooden floor with a choked sob. 
That didn’t make you feel as good as you thought it would. You hoped that maybe if you could make him feel at least a fraction of you’re feeling, you’d hurt less. It was more than just getting back at him for everything he’s done. You were unknowingly trying to punish him for what Archie Carter did too. It didn’t make you hurt any less, but at least you felt less alone in your hurt. 
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He didn’t come back for the rest of your time off. Everybody continued to follow the roster, showing up on their days and bringing you ‘get well soon’ goodies. Penelope even invited herself over for a night's stay once. You didn’t have the heart to say no, but you found yourself counting the hours until you’d be alone again, free to wallow. The only respite you got for the next week was on Spencer’s days. You could expect to be left mostly alone, only a bag of take out accompanied by an eerily fitting quote sitting outside your door. 
You hate to admit that those were your favourite days. You had a chance to breathe and he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. You gave the food away in protest and the quote would go straight in the bin (once you read it). One final psych evaluation later you were cleared to come back. Not that you needed one since you didn’t plan to stay for long. It was really just a formality. By the time you returned only a few faded bruises remained, easy enough to cover with concealer. 
“You’re back! Ooh, it’s so good to see you!” Garcia was the first with a warm greeting and a tight hug. You reciprocated to the best of your ability. 
“Good to have you back, Pretty Girl.” Derek’s second, walking you through the bullpen as you make your way to Hotch’s office.
“Enjoy it while you can.” You giggle in reply. “Is Hotch in yet?”
“I see someone can’t wait to leave us.” Emily jokes, feigning a hurt look. You roll your eyes.
“Yeah, he’s expecting you.” JJ laughs, slapping Emily’s arm playfully. 
“Thanks JJ!” You smile and they all watch you disappear behind the door. 
“So it’s official? She’s really leaving?” JJ questions through a half-hearted smile. 
“I asked Rossi and he said that Hotch is gonna ask her to stay until we find a replacement.” Emily replies, still eyeing the door. 
“How did you get Rossi to admit that?” JJ turns to the raven head, questioningly, and Emily smiles coyly giving no response. 
“Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing would end once they make up? I mean come on, we all know she’s leaving because of him, right?” Morgan looks at Spencer, who’s nose deep in a file at his desk. 
“Yeah, but we can’t help if they refuse to talk to us about it.” Emily sighs, hanging her head back. 
The three dive deeper into their discussion and you’re none the wiser from inside the cream-coloured walls of Hotch’s office. As per protocol, he’s just finished informing you of what’s next and you’re kind enough to accept his request to stay until they find a replacement. You definitely said yes because you want to make the team’s transition easier, not for any self indulgent reasons such as you not being ready to leave. 
“Just return this to me once you’ve filled it out.” He instructs as he hands you a file containing your resignation forms. 
“Thanks Hotch.” You smile, grabbing the file. 
You begin heading towards the door when he stops you by your name. 
“I understand that you’re set on this decision, but I am sad to see you go.” It’s insane how many emotions this man can get across while maintaining a blank expression. “However, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” 
“Thanks Hotch.” You playfully scoff, appreciating that even he has to try at least once. 
If one more person tries though, you might scream. It wasn’t easy, pretending that you weren’t crumbling inside. The extra pressure doesn’t make it any easier. You leave his office, closing the door behind you and approach your desk. The resignation forms are put aside for later as you still have to finish your case report from Anchorage. Part of you wanted to put it off until the last minute, the other part wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. 
“Coffee?” Penelope chirps, holding out a mug filled with the hot beverage. 
“Thanks Pen.” You smile up at her, taking it out of her hands. 
“No problem.” She smirks mischievously and trots off. 
A strange lady, but your strange lady.
Upon your first sip you almost choke it out. It was perfect. Exactly to your liking. Which would be a good thing, except only one person knows exactly how you like it. Back when you first joined, you learned how popular coffee was with all the employees. You felt out of place because you weren’t a massive fan of the drink and you avoided too much sugar because it made you feel sick. You soon discovered that you liked it a lot more with honey instead. It was a weird preference, but it worked for you, making it sweet without overpowering your senses like sugar did. 
You never declined a cup when offered by your colleagues, not wanting to dishearten them. It was Spencer who caught you sneaking honey into your cup when you thought no one was paying attention. He never mentioned anything to you, but the next time he returned with a cup to offer, you couldn’t help but the smile that adorned your face for the rest of the day. It was why you dedicated yourself to morning breakfast runs for him, memorising his coffee order as a silent thank you. Neither of you ever talked about it. 
You spin your seat around to find Spencer engaged in conversation with Rossi. You consider walking past him and dumping the beverage in the sink to make a point, but it was a welcome energiser for the dreadful task at hand. Plus you aren’t wasteful. You spin back around and decide to accept it just this once. 
When he’s sure you’re no longer looking he sets his sights back on you. A small smile forms across his lips when he sees you drink the coffee. He honestly expected you to throw it away. He feared that if he was the one to deliver the mug, you’d throw it on him. It was why he convinced Garcia to do it, bribing her by promising to buy a round of drinks on the next night out. 
“Kid, are you even listening?” Rossi scolds in an incredulous way. 
As the hours pass, your frustration grows. You couldn’t get yourself to write the details of the case. Your mind refused to think about it. You had hoped that taking breaks would make it easier, but everytime you returned to the page your head went blank.
“Need some help?” Spencer asks, spawning next to you.
“Christ, Reid!” You blurt, startled. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.” 
“Sorry.” He chuckles as if on cue. 
You glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t say anything, glancing between you and the unfinished case file, waiting for an answer. 
“No thanks.” You keep it short, hoping he takes the hint. 
“Let me know if you do.” He doesn’t. 
“You wouldn’t even be the last person I’d ask if I did.” You snark. 
“But you would eventually?” He stays calm, almost playful. 
Smart ass. 
You choose to ignore him, be the bigger person and all that. Even though he wasn’t antagonising you. 
“Thanks for the coffee.” It’s forceful gratitude. You weren’t feeling grateful, but you still had manners. 
“You’re welcome.” 
“Don’t make it again.” 
“I will not.” He grins and walks away to his desk. 
You act like you don’t know he’s watching you work. Looking up often to find you stuck on the same page. Even if he knew that you know, he didn’t plan to stop. What he does know is that you’d never directly let him help you. He doesn’t care. There weren’t any new cases this week, so a ton of paperwork was to be expected. It’s taunting enough to write down details of your own assault, the extra paperwork would only add more stress. You’re too busy trying to push through the mental blockade to notice the sudden influx of files on his desk and the efflux on yours. 
What you didn’t miss was how the next cup of coffee you were offered was just as perfect as the one from before. 
“I thought I told you to stop with the coffee, Reid.” You lightly slam the paper cup on Spencer’s desk. 
He leans back in his seat and chews on his lip with an entertained smirk. 
“And I did. That’s not from me.” He’s earnest with his response.
“Oh, so JJ just happens to know my coffee preferences all of a sudden?” You sarcastically retort, crossing your arms.
“No.” He crosses his fingers across his lap. “I told her how you like your coffee when she said she was going on a coffee run.”
“And why did you do that?” You play along, unenthusiastically. 
“Because you told me to stop doing it.” He states in the most casual way possible. 
This was getting you nowhere. It was naive to think he’d let you spend your last few weeks here peacefully. Scratch that– he was being peaceful. Too peaceful. A new tactic to get under your skin?
“Stop. It.” The delivery of your words is slow and emphasised. 
“Stop doing exactly what you’ve told me to?”
You bite your tongue and glare at him. His face, shoulders, arms, everything, is relaxed. You can’t even argue with him. You take a moment to consider how bad it would be if you bashed his head in with the back of your gun. Then you take another to critique how easy it is to pass the psych evals. They should really think about the consequences of using questions the BAU wrote on actual BAU agents. 
After that day you went back to ignoring him. Any time coffee was offered you’d decline altogether. If he attempted to try and talk to you, you’d respond with yes or no for the sake of professionalism. This didn’t deter Spencer though. He gave you your space but kept a close eye on you, continuing to try and ease your burdens from afar. Exactly how he used to. 
This only lasted until the next case came in. Specifically until you were back out on the field, where he perceived you to be in high amounts of danger. You tolerated it because it gave you comfort, not that you’d ever tell him. Having Spencer by your side made it easier to deal with the reality that there’s little you can do if another incident like Anchorage occurred. 
Plus focusing your energy on ignoring him kept the flashbacks away. Or it did, until the take down. You once again found yourself in danger from an unsub, only this time the situation was controlled. All guns were pointed at the killer, except for the one that was pointed at you. The plan was simple: you talk down the unsub, take him back to the station and talk him into exposing his partner. 
Everything was going according to plan, until Spencer realised that one of the cops in the room was his partner and he was about to shoot you. Nobody understood what happened before the situation calmed down. Spencer had fired the first shot towards the dirty cop and immediately tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the hail of bullets that followed after. All you remember clearly is freezing up, clinging to the man on top of you. One moment you were screaming out, trying to make sure that he was okay and the next you were back in the alley behind the bar, fighting for your life. 
You didn’t comprehend anything until the panic attack subsided but Spencer was fine. His vest caught the bullets. Both unsubs were dead. Rossi and Prentiss came to the realisation the same time as Spencer and were quick to react. And you weren’t in the alley. You were in Spencer’s arms as he led you away from the scene when it was safe. 
When you snapped out of it the medics had cleared him of any injuries. He tried to approach you during your check up, but you shoved him away, unable to even look at him. The only thing you remember clearly is Hotch sending you all back to your hotel rooms before tomorrow’s flight back. You should be asleep right now, if not from the exhaustion of today’s events alone, then from how long you spent reassuring everybody that you were okay. 
You couldn’t sleep. Not when so many thoughts were occupying your headspace. This is the second time Spencer’s saved your life, in the span of roughly a month. The first time he’s put his life in direct danger to save yours. Had it not been for his vest he would be dead. The more you linger on it, the angrier you’d become. You were also wearing a vest, you would’ve been fine. What he did was unnecessary and reckless. 
What if the bullet missed the vest? Entered through the side? What was he thinking?
You were mentally fighting the urge to barge into his room and yell at him for his stupidity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him. What happens to him is not your problem anymore. You aren’t going to let your guard down just because he’s an idiot.
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Spoilers: BAU! Reader, Reader almost dies, Reader and Spencer are pissing me off, bc they’re so dumb, angst, hurt no comfort, Reader gets a little revenge.
AN - Before you comment ANYTHING, there is one more part. It’ll be posted a lot sooner than this one was. Writing this made me realise how limited the English language is. There’s only so many words to use and ways to write them. If either part sounds repetitive at times, it’s not my fault!!! Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.
If you comment you garner good karma for yourself and that could lead to you meeting MGG someday (I’m not liable if this never happens), think about that... 
Thank you for reading!
1K notes · View notes
literaryavenger · 7 months ago
Text
You Were My Sunshine
Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.
Word Count: 3K
A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.
Masterlist
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“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.
You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.
“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.
“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.
“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.
“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”
Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.
You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.
Your life is an open book.
Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.
You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere. 
It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.
At least that’s how the team sees it. 
They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:
Don’t worry about it.
After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it. 
Everyone except Bucky.
It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.
Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.
That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.
He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane. 
He just needs you. to know.
So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.
He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.
You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.
You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.
Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.
He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.
Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.
He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.
Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.
It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?
But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.
So why do it in secret?
After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.
Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.
He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.
After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.
It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.
So why don’t the Avengers? 
You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.
You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.
He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.
He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.
“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”
You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.
“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.
A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.
Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.
You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.
“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”
Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.
“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.” 
Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.
“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.
“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.
That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.
He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.
Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.
But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.
And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.
“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”
He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.
“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.
It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.
You are my sunshine
Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing. 
My only sunshine
Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.
Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.
You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.
You make me happy, when skies are gray 
You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little. 
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you
Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.
Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away
Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.
Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these. 
Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...
Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.
His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.
Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.
“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.
For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.
“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.
“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”
Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.
“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”
“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.
“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”
His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.
Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.
“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.
“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”
You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.
But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...
So you let him.
You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.
“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”
Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.
“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”
You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering. 
“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”
His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.
With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.
In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.
This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.
And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.
Drabble
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alllgator-blood · 9 months ago
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I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)
I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!
Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch
Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)
ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:
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