#rest and assess phase

[tarotnoob]

Collective energy for the month

I have been talking about Mars a lot but it seems like Mars energy is being pushed aside in place of Venus energy.

Also, keep in mind I'm not an astrologer. I'm just a tarot reader who notices when certain astrological transits are coming up repeatedly. I'm sure an astrologer could better explain to you why these transits are important at this time. But, I can at least tell you that besides what transits seem to be most important for the next several weeks, I can also tell you what I'm seeing in the cards in terms of what aspect of that transit seems to be coming through.

Venus is in Taurus right now and will move into Gemini (Mercury making a similar transit from Taurus into Gemini is also tied to this). I just did a new reading about what energy to embrace and every pile had some strong Venus energy coming through. Even Venus with the hierophant, so literally Venus in Taurus energy and then the Mercury energy is showing up. Even though I'm kind of spoiling the reading, it's nice to have a heads up on what energy we can embrace.

So, to me it's looking like reading up on what Venus in Taurus and Mercury in Taurus and the following transition into Gemini can do for you. Judging by the cards, it's a good time to assess the structure of a plan, especially if it's a plan around a vision or goal for the future. A lot of what I am seeing has to do with checking up on how much progress you've made, if you have all of the information necessary to move forward, taking time to rest and assess basically but also look around and make sure if you have any missing information thats still needed.

I'm also heavily getting examples when I want to explain something which I tend to give examples anyway but they are coming non-stop but in this case it was like you are getting ready to go to the post office and you might have several packages or you are putting together the package for something you have to send off. So it's like you are putting the item in, you are packing it, you have to make sure the packing slip is inside. So I see you looking around and making sure you have everything before you tape the box and before you get it to the post office. So whatever that stage of a goal is for you which feels like at about 75% of the way. And also it feels like it's a single step in a multi-step process if that makes sense. It also feels like a great time for you to be able to verbally express your plan with more clarity. Or be able to more clearly ask for more information from others. Which would make sense with Mercury in retrograde having come to an end. Besides the occasional post shadow moment.

If we're talking about moon phases maybe we only talk about from new moon to full moon and that's a single cycle but this feels like something made up of multiple cycles and you are on maybe the third step of four or 48 step of 60 steps. It doesn't matter where you are but it does feel like past midway but not at the end. And multiple steps. And that like I said in the reading I just did for one pile, it's that part of an essay where you still have to complete the bibliography, have to add a couple of citations, waiting on some information from a source to add a quote, and then also have to do the final spell check and grammar check and read through.

But mostly you have completely written it, so it's kind of like okay we can take a breather and stop here. Although that's more of a specific pile so I kind of got ahead of myself. However, I really feel like if you're going to do anything this week toward a goal, besides just assessing how far you've come or what else needs to be done, maybe work on some visual aids lol. Like putting together a lists, or putting together a bunch of pictures to inspire you, creating mood boards, making bookmarks of apartments that you want or redesigns of your bedroom or new hairstyles. It's a really good time right now to inspire yourself visually in order to create a manifestation. In fact, you may find that the next month you are for some reason collecting a lot of images that inspire you to create some type of change. I especially see it for physical looks or rooms as in makeovers and rearrangements or redesigns. It feels like you are working with something that's already there as opposed to creating something entirely new.

I thought I would share that because it's coming out so strongly and I'm not used to Venus being so obvious but Mars move over. Venus is coming through. And anyway that makes me feel like going from some type of action oriented phase into something that's more calm, more receptive, more at rest. So you shouldn't be feeling so strongly right now that you need to do do. Even if there is stuff going on around you, rather than let it overwhelm you or feel like you have to pick up slack or you have to do something. I feel like you've done as much as you should and now is a good time to just see what happens and let it come.

#collective energy #june 2022 #venus in taurus transit #venus in gemini #mercury in taurus #mercury in gemini #rest and assess phase #gemini season 2022 #tarot #astrology

[a-s-levynn]

At this point i'm certain i should not be left alone unsupervised for extended periods of time.. it's not good for my mental state. I'm fully aware of this obejctively, but i don't care about it the slightest.

I forgot a concert i was waiting on for months, i forgot that i was supposed to meet a friend few days ago whom i haven't seen over a year, i regularly forget daily tasks lately, i can't sleep nearly as much as i used to, which wasn't much to begin with, i have thoughts and dreams i should not have. I skipped a week at work via a lie because i hadn't had the mental strength to present as normal around people and i lied to my friends about it, saying that i wanted to stay home to play a game with them which we did, on my part as a weak attempt to socialize but i didn't cared about that either and basically just exhausted myself mentally and pissed myself off. I lie on a daily basis about anything and everything because it’s easier at this point. I don’t have motivation for anything because i just don’t care. And i know it's supposed to be concerning but i just don't give a shit. I know i should. But i don't. About any of it. And at the same time it doesn't affect me as it probably should. So on the bright side, at least i’m not suicidal at the moment. But that doesn’t mean i don’t wanna do unhealthy stuff. Fun times.

#what the fuck is going on in my brain and why i don't give a rat's ass about any of it #but my boss said i look well rested ? #so:my nihilism is on an all time high and i'm disassociating on a daily basis and it doesn't affect me nearly as much as it probably should #please don't be concerned i have phases like this i'm just mentally burned and doing a self assessment post to make some sense to myself #but i'm fine #just fine as always #levynn tries to think #levynn cries about nonsense

[shewroteaworld]

Unsub Bait

Premise: For the fourth time, brilliant sunshine!reader is asked to bait the unsub. For the first time, Spencer has a problem with this.

Word count: approx. 2,000

Tw: canon-typical discussions of violence

Author's Note: Welcome to the second installment of brilliant sunshine!reader (meaning highly intelligent sunshine!reader) x Spencer Reid! While you don't have to read my first brilliant sunshine! reader fic to understand this one, I would highly recommend reading it. It's titled "I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't." Hope you enjoy! :) <3

“Here’s an overview of the first phase of the operation: (Y/N) will go undercover as a college student at Yale. She’ll get acquainted with the unsub at Speakeasy, the New Haven bar where he assesses potential victims. We’ll apprehend him in the act of attempted kidnapping.” Hotchner listed for the team.

You’d played unsub lure almost a comical number of times. Once? That’s a once in a million task required to capture a once in a million unsub. Twice? You’d only have two nickels, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right? But four times? 

You’d already joked to Hotch that you should add “professional unsub bait” to your resume. 

It would’ve been more comical if it wasn’t so scary. 

You took a deep breath as you stared at the photos of the victims on the mahogany conference room table. Melissa Grey. Audrey Bernstein. Alivia Johnson. You could see your 21-year-old self in their eyes. You remember being so young and full of anxiety; you were near graduating from MIT. You couldn’t sleep at night from worrying if you had already lived up to your potential and would spend the rest of your years a washed up gifted kid– an academic has–been. After graduation, you proved to yourself your worth.

The college juniors in the photographs had their lives cut short by the unsub before they had the opportunity to find out what amazing places their brilliant minds could take them. You were about to allow said unsub to nearly kidnap you. 

That is, if you didn’t blow your cover. Then, he would hold you hostage or attempt to kill you as soon as possible by skipping his usual "kidnap and torture" routine.

Rationally, you knew your field experience more than prepared you for this task. Also, you knew your team had your back. They always kept you safe and healthy. The one time you were put at serious risk, you had to fight to be left alone after the case closed. But, you’re not sure if all the facts in the world could adequately calm your adrenal glands.

“Is this necessary?” Spencer suddenly interjected.

You turned to Spencer in surprise. “It’s the quickest way. We have twenty-four hours,” You said.

The unsub had a pattern; a girl was dying once every two weeks, and, when the the local and Connecticut police force combined failed to contain the situation, the BAU was brought into the case 36 hours before the next killing. With his eidetic memory, you were certain Spencer couldn't forget the time restraints if he tried, hence why you were stunned by his sudden brazenness. However, given Spencer's traumatic relationship history and your budding romance, Spencer's behavior was a lot more likely.

You and Spencer had been dating for a couple weeks. Despite being certain the team had their suspicions, you kept your relationship on the downlow. Strong boundaries were a good thing to keep when your relationship was in its fragile, formative era. Plus, you both agreed it was best to keep a high level of professionalism. 

This was the first time Spencer broke protocol.

“I think there’s another way.” Spencer continued. “It’s unsafe and illogical to put anyone’s life into considerable risk if there’s another viable option.”

“Are you implying I’m being rash, Reid?” Hotchner asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Usually, Spence would look away and take a breath. He’d at least have the decency to act timid, especially given the fact the entire team pulled multiple all-nighters in an effort to catch this serial killer. Instead, he leveled with Hotchner’s glare and asserted himself further. “I just think we’ve gotten a little too comfy using (Y/N) as an unsub lure. The more we do, the more probable a disaster will occur with her in the line of fire.”

“Spencer,” Morgan cut in gently. There was sympathy in his eyes. “We’ve done this with (Y/N) before. We’re good at reading her. And she knows the drill. We’ll keep her safe.”

“Yes, because that’s something we can certainly guarantee when she’s 3 inches from a serial killer.” Spencer deadpanned. 

“Reid. A word.” Without waiting for Spencer’s reaction, Hotch left the meeting room. With a hard look in his eye, Spencer filed after Hotch. You were relieved he was still obedient despite being ornery.

For a few moments, the team sat in silence. 

Rossi broke the spell with the scrape of his chair. “Well, I for one, am going to take this impromptu intermission as an opportunity to grab coffee. Any requests?” Rossi asked. 

“I’ll take a barbajada.” You joked half-heartedly. 

“Very funny, (L/N). Any requests the office Keurig can complete in less than five minutes?” 

The team rattled off their go-to office drink orders, but it faded to white noise. During your friendship, Spencer would always care for you when you had to lure the unsub. He’d be more attentive on the jet ride in and out. He’d check in on your mental state directly after the unsub was arrested and always called you once you got home. Once, after the particularly stressful unsub encounter, he sent you links to PTSD articles and even offered to help you schedule an appointment with a specialized therapist through the FBI’s mental health services.

But he’d never once intervened with a plan for you to go undercover. You knew Spencer Reid was nothing if not rational. He knew Hotch valued every member of his team. He knew Hotch would never send you undercover if it wasn’t necessary to stop a killing spree before more young women became statistics. 

Therefore, you knew Spencer was thinking about Maeve. 

You stood. 

“Where you going, Beauty Queen?” Morgan asked.

“Just heading to the restroom.” You lied. 

You walked down the hall and crept up the stairs. You tiptoed down the east wing of the second floor to avoid clicking your heels against the concrete. 

You crept to the side of Hotch’s office. You pressed your back to the wall.

Hotch said something indecipherable. An angry Reid answered.

“And all I’m saying is, she is not a cat with nine lives! She has one life. One precious life, that I think we’ve been a little too careless with.”

“Reid, you know I would never risk putting (Y/N) in harm’s way if it wasn’t the best course of action. She’s experienced with this. The team is experienced with this.” 

A beat of silence passed.

“Promise me that if you have so much as an inkling her life is in danger–”

“We’ll do everything in our power to get her out of there.”

“That’s the thing! ‘Everything in our power…’ It’s not enough. How many times have we told families we did everything we could when all they have left is a body bag?” 

Your heart froze. Both of the voices lowered. You could only catch bits and pieces of Hotch’s speech. You were never an eavesdropper, but despite your better nature, you crept around the corner towards the door.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to an unsub, Spencer. I know how it sticks with you. I know how it changes the job. But you have to trust us– the team. We’re going to protect her. And we’re going to be there for you,” Hotch said. 

Spencer sighed. "How did you do it?" Spencer's voice cracked. "After Haley, Hotch? I’m not sure if I can survive this.” He sounded seconds away from tears. 

At that moment, you knew you would not sleep comfortably at night if you continued to be a fly on the wall.  You tiptoed back down the east wing and waited for Spencer at the bottom of the stairs.

Ten minutes passed before Spencer appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Spencer?” You called. 

His hazel eyes were tinged pink. He walked down the stairs nonchalantly. “Hey, um, would you mind if we discussed part of the case file real quick? Privately? It could help, um…” He cleared his throat. “Develop your persona.”

“Yes, of course.” 

Spencer didn’t look at you as he power walked down the hall towards the janitorial closets. For the first time since you started dating, he didn’t adjust to your walking pace. 

He flung a door open and yanked you inside. 

Carelessly, Spencer slammed the door behind you. Before you could get a word in, he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Spencer.” You whispered. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

He nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

You stood in the statue of a hug for two minutes.

“I can’t lose you.” Spencer whispered.

“You won’t.”

Spencer pulled away from you. He bent down to look you in the eye. He squeezed your shoulders. His eyes danced with emotion. There was a deep ache, a whirlpool of sadness that you knew a lifetime may never heal. What perplexed you was the hardness that you could only read as anger. 

“I…” He sighed. He hung his head. He dragged his palms down the slope of your shoulders to your forearms. It was like he was taking a cast of you with his hands. 

“I’m not dead on arrival. I’m still here. I’m coming back on that jet ride home with you. I’m going to be okay.” You reciprocated his shoulder squeeze. “You’re going to be okay.”

Spencer shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I care about you. It’s a part of the girlfriend package.” Spencer pulled you into another constricting hug. 

 “I can’t fathom how difficult this must be for you.” You whispered.

Spencer pressed his forehead to yours. “Promise me when you go out there, you won’t worry about me. I want you to only focus on you, your surroundings, and making sure you get out of there.”

“I promise, Spencer.” You said, though you weren’t sure if that would be the truth.

“And one more thing,” He said. His irises were so close to yours you could pick apart the layer of green and brown. “As soon as you feel unsafe, you call someone. If you have any inclination he’s going to overtake you–”

“I call the team.”

He took a step back and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you’re strong. I’m not trying to insult your field work.”

Your heart cracked. “Spencer, love, I know that. I’m so happy you care about me. I just wish this situation hurt you less.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. His brows furrowed. He stared at a random point to the left of your face.

“Can you do something for me? Before we leave?” He asked, still not meeting your gaze.

“What is it, Spence?”

He took a deep breath. He met your eyes again. “Dance with me.” 

“What?”

“Dance with me. I…” He inhaled deeply. “I never got to dance with Maeve before she…I barely even got to hold her. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

You closed the distance between you and Spencer. You cupped his face in your hands, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. His eyes shone with tears. “I’ll dance with you for the rest of my days, Spence.” 

He whipped out his phone. He turned on a slow jazz song you played for him last winter on an impromptu hot chocolate date. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You could go on that same date again, but it would have a whole new color to it. 

He slid his phone onto a cleaning supply shelf. He pulled you to his chest. Your head nestled right beneath his collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his mid back.

You danced, bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces, in silence until the song ended. The symphony of emotions didn’t cease with the final brush of the snare. 

Spencer continued swaying with you.

“I’m going to be okay.” You whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You can’t promise me that.” He held you even tighter. “But I can promise you I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you come home to me.” 

Author's Note: Hello to all my new followers! I'm so glad you're here! I'm so grateful for the overwhelmingly positive reception to "I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't." Hope you enjoyed this piece as well!

I hope you have a great day or night wherever you are in this crazy world.

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from an in-progress "the Core Four gets a clonebaby and it's not even Tim's fault" fic

Kon has a bruise on his face and is bleeding from the mouth and has a four year-old sitting on his hip all wrapped up in his studded leather jacket. Tim finds seeing him bleeding more concerning than the sight of the kid, because while Kon isn't necessarily the first choice to comfort the traumatized civilians, he's done it plenty of times and he'll no doubt do it plenty more.

Also, like, the whole street is on fire. What, is he gonna put the kid down?

The kid is barefoot and wearing a white bodysuit, it looks like. They have pale skin and fluffy black chin-length hair and huge hazel eyes–a hazel that's practically yellow in the light of the burning street, it's so bright–and they're small and slender, but also surprisingly muscular for their age.

And surprisingly alert, Tim can't help but notice. Their eyes are subtly darting around, hypervigilant to a fault, and they're visibly just clocking things. They've already threat-assessed him, Cassie, and Bart, and they're obviously watching out for anyone else and simultaneously keeping an eye on the guttering flames and broken ground and surrounding street in general.

The bad guys left out here are technically all down and thoroughly zip-tied into submission, but the kid assesses them all too, one by one.

Tim gets a weird itch in the back of his brain, and Kon brings the kid over to the rest of them.

Their eyes aren't hazel, Tim realizes. They actually are yellow.

A very specific, familiar yellow.

"What's with the kid?" Bart asks, narrowing his very specific, familiar eyes curiously. "Like, why are you bringing the kid, I mean, not 'why does the kid exist?' That's a different question, obviously, like really why do any of us–"

"They're ours," Kon says.

Bart stops talking.

"Um?" he says.

"What do you mean they're 'ours'?" Cassie says.

"Show 'em that thing you showed me, kiddo?" Kon asks the kid, patting their back. They nod solemnly. Then they vibrate into a blur that phases right through Kon's arms, leather jacket and all. Kon makes no effort to catch them, apparently because he knows it's unnecessary, because a second later the kid is floating up into the air over all their heads.

Tim blinks, very slowly. Tilts his head.

Kon wiggles his fingers at the kid, who noises very quietly and reaches down to grab at his hand. Kon grins up at them and holds his arms open, and the kid settles back into them . . . not warily, exactly? But very definitely uncertainly. Like it's something unfamiliar.

Not like Kon is unfamiliar. Like being held is unfamiliar.

"Okay, huh," Bart says. "Well that sure was the Speed Force."

"And that sure is a Greek demigod," Cassie says.

"Sure is," Kon says agreeably. "And I'll give you two guesses as to where the attached unenhanced human DNA came from, Boy Wonder."

"Kon, what the hell?" Tim says in bemusement. "What even . . . what, exactly?"

"Remember that weird green light earlier?" Kon asks conversationally as he pets the kid's back. "The one that just kinda flashed all up in your respective businesses while I was inside punching asshole scientists after the comms got fried?"

"Yes," Tim replies warily. "I assumed it was supposed to be some kind of distraction."

"It was a DNA scanner," Kon says.

"Ah," Tim says, and wonders how the hell he's going to explain this to Bruce.

"Apparently, these shits decided the best way to handle invading superheroes was to just copy their DNA and then make speed-gro clones who could counteract their abilities," Kon says, jerking his head back towards the TTK-ruined remains of the lab. "With, obviously, a healthy side of brainwashing and indoctrination programming uploaded directly into their developing brains. But literally everyone and their mother underestimates the range of TTK, so I kinda just broke the lab and now, welllll . . ."

"So the kid is a Greek demigod with a Speed Force connection and a Bat-brain?" Cassie asks.

"Apparently," Kon says, nuzzling the kid's ridiculously floofy black hair. "Sorry, kiddo, I'd have given you TTK if I'd gotten the option, but we made the fatal error that is splitting the party. Then again, now you won't wanna puke if you ever run into kryptonite, so could be worse? And also you not getting TTK meant I was on deck to save you from getting grown into a teenage superweapon, so that was probably worth it, right? Like, not that we wouldn't have let you join the team in that case, but clone to clone, I hear actual childhoods are kinda cool and all."

Well, Tim thinks it's safe to make some assumptions about why Kon said "they're ours" and not "they're yours".

"Huh," Cassie says, looking bemused.

". . . honestly I just can't believe this isn't Rob's fault," Bart says, darting over to peer more closely at the kid, who frowns at him.

"I'm not that bad," Tim protests reflexively. The others all give him pitying looks. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not!"

"Yes you are," Cassie says dryly, then steps in closer towards Kon and the kid too and smiles at them. "Hey there, little guy. What's your name?"

The kid stares blankly at her, then curls up tighter in Kon's jacket–and, probably not incidentally, his arms–and presses in closer against him.

"No," they say. Cassie blinks.

"'No'?" she repeats in confusion.

"Babe, they're five minutes out of the cloning tube," Kon says wryly. "They don't have a name."

". . . we should fix that," Cassie says. "Like. Immediately, let's fix that."

"Yeah, I'm on board with that," Kon agrees. "Any suggestions?"

"Are you a boy or a girl?" Tim asks the kid, because at this age it's hard to tell. He's assuming boy, since two male gene donors to one female, but who knows, really.

"I'm a clone," the kid says, looking at him like they think he's stupid.

"Gender-neutral name it is," Kon says, clearly unconcerned by that very concerning response.

"Max?" Bart offers immediately and unsurprisingly, visibly perking up. Which, well–not the worst name for a speedster anyway, Tim supposes.

"Blake," Cassie suggests. "Avery, Channing, Charlie, Aubrey, Kirby, Morgan, Sage, Shiloh–"

"You're hanging out with Cissie a lot again, huh," Bart observes.

"Like you're not?" Cassie huffs, tweaking his nose before continuing with: "Ash, Casey, Jo, Sam, Maddox . . ."

"Alex?" Tim tries, mostly because Cassie's offering a lot of unusual-sounding options and that might not be ideal.

Bart and Cassie eye him. Kon raises an eyebrow in a very Luthor-esque fashion.

Tim experiences the five stages of grief and quickly moves on.

"Uh, or Jace," he says. "Or . . . Harley?"

Wait, those are terrible too.

"No," the kid says, frowning at all of them.

"None of those sound good?" Kon asks them. The kid's frown deepens and they press closer against him, still eyeing the rest of them just a little bit sullenly.

"I don't want one of their names," they say with obvious distaste, and also much clearer annunciation than a typical four year-old would have. "I want one from you."

"Oh," Kon says, blinking a couple times. "Yeah, okay, kiddo. Um . . . you sure?"

"Yes," the kid says.

"Okay," Kon says, and tightens his grip on them a little. And then, surprisingly quickly–"Kenley Elliot. And we can hash out your last name later, that's gonna have to be a later thing. How's that sound? You want it?"

"Yes," the kid repeats, and then throws their arms around Kon's neck and squeezes. It looks a bit closer to a chokehold than a hug, but Kon a) is a half-Kryptonian clone, and b) clearly doesn't care.

"Cool," he says, and swallows a little roughly. "Okay, well, that's squared away. Let's get the fuck out of here before some asshole with a badge tries to take custody of Kenley."

Tim did not miss the "Kent" and "El" concealed in either of those names, or how quickly Kon had them to hand. Not as quick as Bart had "Max", obviously, but . . .

Very quickly, all the same.

Alright, then.

#superboy #dc robin #wonder girl #dc impulse #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: yj accidental baby acquisition

[n3xii]

Pick a card ~ What's your archetype + your storyline

Hey guys, i wanted to do a reading that illustrates your current life situation through the lenses of archetypes and storytelling. today, you have three piles to choose from; your reading will tell you what archetype you are embodying at this moment and the specific storyline that may play out in the context of this archetype.

An archetype is a recurring symbol or motif throughout literature and media. it's the primordial mental image inherited from our ancestors that categorize people into vague ideas or concepts. According to Carl Jung, an estabkished psychologist and psychoanalyst, it's said that we all have a collective unconscious understanding of all these archetypes that we can tap into for various purposes. for example, if you've ever heard of the ''shadow self'' then you've already encountered a Jungian archetype, this archetype is meant to help us confront deeper, hidden parts of ourselves that we tucked away.

One single archetype may not describe you perfectly, as archetypes can be dynamic and ever becoming, so let this reading be a soundboard for your own personal understanding of who you are and where you're going.

heres info about getting a reading from me: services

PILE ONE

your archetype- the nine of pentacles ''the independent woman''

this card portrays the archetype of a feminine who is self-reliant, independent and enjoys their own company. you do not have to be a woman for this archetype to apply, as archetypes describe ideas and motifs, not specific genders. this archetype also exudes a sense of inner peace and contentment: a person who embodies this archetype knows how to find the beauty around them, they know they can rely on themselves to provide stability and success through their own hard work. this archetype values autonomy, aesthetics, hard work, and solitude.

Your story line- 7 of pentacles, the fool, 4 of swords, judgement

your storyline is fixated on patience and waiting, at this point in your life you may feel that you're in the phase of growth and harvesting your wealth and abundance all around. You may feel you're on the ''brink'' of something taking off, I feel that your purpose deals with your ability to grow and assess yourself for progress. I feel like you're in the part of the story where the protagonist is experiencing frustration, they feel like they have put in the work but have yet to see substantial results from what they have done. you feel that you put in the work, you should see that manifest in the real world. your archetype is being moved in the direction of taking a leap of faith, of trusting the process blindly even though they dont know whats going to happen. you're the protagonist who places more faith what they can see rather than what they can sense, you're frustrated because you want to see results in the physical instead of trusting that movement is already happening behind the scenes. for you, having faith is the recurring lesson and momentum of your storyline. the climax of your storyline is represented by the 4 of swords. the 4 of swords is regularly a mundane card of rest and reflection, but for you, this is the cultivating event that occurs. as the hardworking, independent, self-reliant archetype, learning to take a break and reflect on where you are internally instead of trying to make movement happen in the physical world will feel very disorienting. its not so hard for you to be in solitiude, but to take a breather from pursuing goals and action is the hard part, and that precisely what i see as the climax of your storyline. taking time to reflect on yourself and go within the avenues of your mind is the inciting event, taking a break from movement will harden your sotryline into place. The conclusion or resolution of your storyline is represented by the judgement card. i feel this is a realization, a revelation that awakens you on a spiritual level. the momentum behind your storyline was learning to have faith, to trust the process despite not seeing evidence in the physical world. so i feel the ultimate conclusion for your protagonist is a spiritual or philosophical awakening. you will reach a higher level of understanding that allows you to contextualize your growth beyond what you can see. you will achieve a revolutionary understanding of yourself and of your growth.

PILE TWO

your archetype- ace of wands, the element of fire/ the seed

ok, for this pile. you are not honed into one archetype but rather an energy, or potential. you're characterized by the element of fire and smoke, you're chronically at the start of something new and you're at the start of realizing your own light. you're seed at the root of life. to be specific, you're the archetype of someone who can't be placed in a box or tamed by one image or phrase because you simply the potential, the energic seed. you cant be conceptualized, and perhaps your experience a feeling directionless in your life because of this. as the element of fire you have the option to destroy or enlighten. you can impassion or burn. its up to you.

your storyline- justice, 8 of cups, 9 of swords, knight of cups

your storyline is characterized by fairness, equity and making big important decisions about your life path. as someone who is simply the archetype of fire, of raw potential, your storyline is to make a choice of where you want to go on your path. but this choice is an important one and dictates the course of your life. the lesson you ultimately learn as the protagonist is when to move on and release certain things. truth and integrity is something you strive for on a deeper level, so making fair, descions based on clairty is something you value, so I feel like on your path, you will encounter the choice to leave something behind or to detach emotionally many times. this will be very difficult for you, but this theme of choosing when to leave and when to detach will be a recurring theme throughout your life. learning what your path is and taking action to stay committed to this journey is the lesson. and this choice will be a Indepth process of weighing out the pros and cons, of trying to do the right thing thats fair to yourself and other's. the climax of your storyline is represented by the nine of swords. this will be a very mentally choatic or active climax, and it will involve extreme anxiety and overthinking. ultimately however, your resolution is represented by the knight of cups. learning to lead with your emotions and to trust your intuition will be the ultimate outcome for you as the protagonist. trusting yourself with your own emotions and going with your instincts when it comes to what your path should be is the direction you are going.

PILE THREE

your archetype- the page of swords - young messenger, the spy.

the page of swords is young, open minded, smart, alert and very curious about their environment. traditionally speaking, the page of swords has been associated with the archetype of the spy; someone who can adapt to their surroundings and gather information as quickly as they can pass it on. you dont spy on people per say, but you do watch and observe others, you may act as a intermediatory between people for their communication, you're curious about the world and new ideas spiral around your mind like little nats. You're the archetype off someone enjoys mental stimulation, and you know how to find that stimulation in unconventional ways or without needing to actively engage with others all the time. You're alert of you're surroundings, details matter to you and you notice things other people don't because they're not quiet enough to pick up on it. You're the archetype of someone in their mind alot, soneone who may overthink or over analyze

Your storyline- the devil, death, 3 of wands, page of wands

You're in a place right now where you feel bondaged, stuck or held back. You may feel that there's hierachal or manipulative forces at play that are creating a shadow over your life, you may feel like there's not a lot of room to move around and do what you want because of illusions of control. This is the part of the story where the protagonist feels like a victim to their circumstances and they don't know how to wiggle out of them. However, im seeing that the lesson here is represented by the death card, which means the lesson you're learning is transformation. You're learning to release what doesn't have power over, illusions, and stagnant situations throughout your life. Death is a very humbling thing, the only thing we can take with us in death is ourselves. When you die, everything you've worked for will be dirt, and all you have is the core of your being You're overall lesson in the story is to release all the bondages snd attachments to things that aren't really apart of who you are. The climax of your storyline is represented by the three of wands. This tells me that the peak of the story arch is you moving, going new places, exploring and expanding past your comfort zone. The climax here is you taking action and experincing conplete freedom, going past boundaries and seizing new territory. The illusions and restrictions you experience mentally correspond to you're enviroment, you're the archetype of someone who is mentally stimulated, so when your enviroment is dull, restrictive and grey, you also feel like what's possible for you to equally restrained. When you release bondages to your ego, illusions of control and allow transformation to occur naturally, you reach new horizons. And I feel you may initiate alot of transformation through moving and traveling. The conclusion to your story arc is that of the page of wands, the page of wands is someone young or new to their craft. They're trying new hobbies and interests. They're putting themselves out there to learn and grow through the action they take. It's interesting, because you start out as a very mental, mind oriented archetype but I think by the time you move through life you will be a completely different archetype. Most people will be but its emphasized very much in your reading. The transformation and lessons of cycles ending will be imperative to your life purpose. You will be action oriented as opposed to mind oriented, you will not let blockages hold you back in life.

#tarot pac #pac tarot #pick a card tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #tarot meanings #tarot cards #astro notes #affirmations #law of abundance #pick a card #tarot readings #manifestion #tarot #pick a card reading #tarot pick an image #tarot pick a card #pick a photo #pick an image #carl jung #archetypes #tarot pick a pile #pac #pac reading #pac readings #love readings #love tarot spread #divine masculine

[prokopetz]

The most consistent piece of playtest feedback I've been getting on Space Gerbils is that the Action Phase sucks, on two counts:

Blowing your roll in the Action Phase can retroactively make the Operations Phase minigame feel pointless, and there isn't really any provision for addressing runs of bad luck; some playtest groups routinely managed to whiff a 15/16 chance of success three or four cycles in a row, which makes the whole engagement grind to a halt, and there isn't an obvious way to mitigate that when an entire round of prep work boils down to a single roll of the dice.

The first point feeds into the second: the Operations Phase has its positional minigame, and the Fallout Phase has those lovely lookup tables, but then Action Phase hanging out between them is kind of nothing, mechanically speaking. Many players have reported that it feels like the Action Phase ought to have a minigame as well, and that it's incongruous for the portion of the phase cycle where stuff actually happens to be the least mechanically engaging.

There've also been reports, where drafts 0.1 and 0.2 would often become unplayable due to the play grid filling up with broken stations, drafts 0.3 and 0.4 have swung too far in the opposite direction and made complications too easy to mitigate. It's unclear whether this is due to the Action Phase's mechanics not throwing complications frequently enough, or due to the Fallout Phase not assessing those complications harshly enough; probably it's a mix of both.

Fortunately, the game's modular nature means that it's actually fairly trivial to rip out the current Action Phase procedures and replace them with something else; very little of the rest of the system would have to change. The trick is figuring out what that should look like.

The most obvious routes involve introducing individual actions in the Action Phase, but that's exactly what we don't want; mechanically, because we just made each gerbil perform a tactical action in the Operations Phase, and doing it twice in a row would double the handling time of an already ponderous system; and thematically, because acting "as" the gerbils' singular assumed persona after doing all that setup as individuals is kind of the whole point!

In balance, this is a good problem to have, because I enjoy designing stupid minigames.

As for what that hypothetical Action Phase minigame might look like, I keep coming back to the idea of taking a page from Gone to Hell and formalising the presently-optional rule that the players should take turns "being" the bounty hunter persona in each Action Phase. That would definitely help with sorting out the forthcoming rules for GMless play, since the players whose "turn" it isn't could step into the encounter management roll. However, that leaves the off-turn players twiddling their thumbs every Action Phase in GMful play, which in turns means either having two separate sets of Action Phase procedures for GMful and GMless play, or biting the bullet and making Space Gerbils exclusively GMless, neither of which terribly appeals.

This post is mostly just me thinking out loud, so I don't expect anyone to have an opinion, but as always, I'm open to suggestions!

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #space gerbils #game design #playtesting #swearing

[mysicklove-main]

"I could kill you in a heartbeat."

Akaza bites back a smile, turning to you with a blank expression, as if he was annoyed. "Threatening me again?"

You let out a cat-like grin, and he raises his eyebrows, knowing something ridiculous is about to come out of your mouth. "They are thinking about making me a Hashira, ya know. I would be afraid if I were you, Akaza."

You close your eyes, satisfied with your cocky words, and rest your head on his crossed knee. You kick one leg over the other and hum to yourself, waiting for his next words. The mischievous smile hasn't fallen from your face and he's staring at it, his own matching grin pulling at his lips. Your antics always do amuse him, whether he likes it or not.

"What a strange thing for them to do, all considering you haven't touched a Nichirin sword in your puny lifetime." He places the tip of his finger on your jaw, the sharp, red nail slightly digging into your skin. A small reminder that he is a demon, and you are not. Probably another ridiculous act of physical dominance that you couldn't be bothered by.

You aren't phased by his strange actions anymore. The way he kisses you and purposely bites your lip to show off his fangs, the way his grip on your wrist sometimes is just a little too hard, or when he truly does get upset and shows you just a glimpse of what his opponents see that sends a shiver down your spine. He is trying to scare you, probably away from him.

You love him too much to go anywhere, even if he is afraid of himself. What is best is to ignore it, he seems to relax whenever you don't react to it. Act normal. You hold onto the finger with your own and continue to poke fun at him. "Way to ruin the mood. Mentioning how much older you are than me, you pervert."

"Deflecting now, are we?" He says, now tapping on your cheek. He seems to relax again and instead indulges your words.

You sigh dramatically. "I guess it can't be helped. I am in love with a pervert. And a demon non the less."

He scoffs at you, but he's smiling. You can hear it in the tone of his voice. "You are of age, stop whining. Besides, don't act like you didn't cling to me first. Maybe I'm the one getting taken advantage of. "

You gasp at him, and he barks a small laugh. He exposes his fangs, and his eyes hold a light in them. He is always pouting, it's nice to see him smile every once in a while.

"Sorry you know I have a thing for men who have blue-striped di—"

A hand covers your mouth in an instant and he shakes his head, as if disappointed. "And you think I'm the pervert."

You lick the palm of his hand and he pulls away with a disgusted groan. His snide comment makes you laugh, and play into it. "You know I can't help it with you."

He peers at you with amusement, but his mouth remains in a hard line. "You're gross."

"You love it."

He blinks at you and stares for a long second as if he was assessing your face. The corners of his mouth creep upward, and he lets out a breathless sigh. "Yeah. Guess so."

#yep self indulgent #this is my man #i NEED to tease him #akaza x reader #akaza fanfic #akaza fluff #x reader #reader insert #kny x reader #akaza x you #akaza x y/n #kny akaza #demon slayer akaza #akaza #self insert #kny fluff #kny drabbles #akaza drabbles #fluff #mello.writes

[baohanhanesel]

Valeria Garza x TF141 member Reader.

Summary: You interrogate her but you got a few screws loose. And Ghost is definitely judging you. Silently, but he is.

A valuable asset to your force, you were led in the interrogation room to take a look at your recent hostage. Your lieutenant told you she was a very tough nut to crack, that she was absolutely the most annoying one he ever got to deal with because he is not allowed to use proper violence.

You had laughed that time, telling him that surely you can hook some answers out of her. Why would you even need violence? That technique was for the dangerous hostages or the ones really unwilling to talk. ( And also Ghost liked that part of the interrogation the most.)

After you were in the room, you quickly understood what your lieutenant meant on the way here. You blinked, looking at the woman tied on the chair. Her smug and nonchalant expression shows she is no stranger to this situation. You glance at your commanding officer. "Sir?"

"I'll stay by the corner. Give it your best." He looked at the woman with his jaw clenched. You could notice that even with the mask.

The files had told you this woman was The El Sin Nombre. Valeria Garza. The boss of a cartel from Las Almas. Why was she here? You think it is because Alejandro trusted you with ripping information from her. ( And that he was infuriated with this woman. But you made a close guess at the time.)

You approached the woman, she looked at you, you looked back at her.

"Must be an awful day" You said, getting close to the chair she is sitting on.

You noticed her ziptied wrists and the burns around them. "Someone wasn't very comfortable?"

To your audacity, she just leans back on the chair. Tilting her head up and assessing you, up and down. You didn't look intimidating. You were supposed to make her talk? Someone must have been kidding with her.

"And who are you?"

"Chapped lips huh, they weren't so nice with you were they?" You cooed her, leaning closer to the chair and placing your feet to the corner of the chair. A swift move and she'd be down on the ground. It could have been a funny sight but you held your impulsive thoughts to yourself.

"Playing good police bad police, chiquita?" She was annoyed and you were smiling.

"That's a good sign, you like to talk. Most people only stare." You move to the table away from the chair, only ten or so steps. You glance at the items. A butterfly knife. It wouldn't cut deep, but it would cut enough to draw blood.

"Only a few hours," She said. "And I'll be out of here."

You didn't doubt that. But any damage you can land on her wit and will, you'd do it.

Ghost was in the corner of the room, in the shadows. You trusted him to have your back. You made your way to her with the butterfly knife in your hand. You smiled at her. She was more annoyed than anything but she matched your energy. Smirking back. Probably to intimidate you. You had seen all the tricks in the bag, nothing she could do would phase you.

You were an information specialist after all, and sometimes that called for... Unethical methods like this one. Such as participating in interrogations. This wasn't in your job qualifications but being with 141 you knew you had to improvise.

"You are right, you'll be out in no time. I do not doubt that." You brought the knife up on her chin and trailed it down her jaw. Your eyes squinted into a smile.

She didn't know what to make of it.

"A knife like that won't intimidate me." She sneered. And oh how her voice tingled, you kinda liked that!

You chuckled, you looked like you were enjoying this and you were. Much to her surprise, you were not acting like how she thought. You were not hesitant with that blade.

"I figured it won't." You beamed, and raised your knee on the chair in-between her legs to steady the chair while you lean your body weight on it.

She blinked, tilting her head away, but then you pulled the knife away and rested it on your palm. You dragged the knife on your palm and then sunk it in. Blood drew from your skin, and you placed the knife in your thigh holster, squeezing it there.

She looked at you with interest, why had you cut yourself?

You collected the blood on your two fingers and swiped it over her lips. She looked at you then back at your hands.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" She was startled because what the fuck?

You just smiled, and spread it on her lips further. You leaned down on her face while you kept the eye contact. "You owe me after all."

She looked at you, and scoffed. Your audacity made her laugh. "Owe you?"

"I didn't hurt you,"

"And what do you want in return? Fucking gratitude?" She didn't understand what you were getting at, and she can't lie it is making her uneasy. Which way she looks at you, she can't understand your actions. The blood on her lips? She is tempted to lick it but she refuses.

"A kiss would be great."

She widened her eyes, just as she was about to shout you leaned over her lips and whispered impossibly close to her. "I could have just cut you up and left you with a scar... Ruining your pretty face would be bad for business." Your eyes squint into a smile and the sight of it, Valeria has a hard time catching her breath.

"A kiss." she repeats. "Is this emotional torture?" She hates how curious she sounded. She was supposed to make it sound sarcastic not genuine but it somehow came out like that. Her eyes still looking into yours.

"Feels more like edging." You smirk. And that knocks the air out of her lungs. You are downright flirting with her. Filthy little shit you are, she is speechless.

You lean down on her bloody lips and then hold her chin with your bloodied hand, as you slowly glide it over her jawline and slowly down her throat. She swallows, and you can feel it under the heel of your palm.

"You'll be out soon, and you know we cannot kill you." You whisper these words, but you know she is not listening. She is looking at you but her chest is rising and falling faster than before. Her eyes are blown wide open. She is anticipating something. "Valeria Garza..." You try it on your tongue before wrapping your fingers around her neck. Staining her skin with your blood.

"You told me you wanted a kiss." She licked her lips, and couldn't stop until her lips were basically clean. The taste of iron in her mouth wasn't unpleasant. You couldn't help but laugh at her. She looked pathetic to you. Covered in your blood, chest unsteady. You were seducing her, catching her off guard. She was a pretty one, you found yourself smiling wider.

"I did. Are you grateful that I spared your beautiful face?"

Your words were a hit to her ego, as much as she would love to sit you back down and shout at you she was in no position to do that. You were a brat, she wanted to gut you for talking to her like that. But at the same time, she hoped you'd continue. She hated the complicated signals in her own damn head.

You wouldn't give her that kiss unless she was grateful. She knew the game and didn't want to play it.

"I am." She found herself saying instead. "I am grateful." A breathy whisper right down your core. So she could seduce too? You laughed and raised your hand away from her neck. Staining her lips with blood.

"That's right..." You pulled away from her, leaving her.

She couldn't process this. Wait why were you going away didn't she just play right at your hand like you wanted her to?

"See you soon probably, but I got what I wanted."

She stopped. And the alarms in her head started going off. Did she spill something without realizing? Surely she did not. Did you read between the lines? You couldn't have. She said nothing to you. You only flirted.

"Thanks for the go, Lieutenant." You told your superior, before grabbing the files with your clean hand.

He knew better than to question what he just saw. You weren't the most sane or the understandable person on earth. "Anything useful?"

"She'll come around." You paused. "Probably as soon as she is out she'll come for my head." You waved bye. Because woohoo you just got yourself in a dangerous zone.

Ghost didn't comment on it. He felt like you wanted it anyways, so he didn't interfere. He couldn't do much about it. Valeria would be out in a bit as she said, with political arrangements and such.

He groaned. Your work ethics were not sane nor safe. Who in their right mind tempts a criminal to seek you out? In your defense she was hot.

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod #ghost cod #valeria x reader #valeria mw2 #valeria cod #valeria garza #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

[allyaloe]

Messages for the Signs

Capricorn: Yellow, 333, you need to take a step back and assess what’s not working. You may also work with the phases of the Moon. “Take your dog for a walk, get out of the house” for somebody.

Aquarius: You need a break. You could in no contact or separation with someone significant, Aries and Scorpio placements. Someone could be into painting or digital art, 111/212. Taurus risings may be significant, too.

Pisces: The colours green or teal could be relevant to you. You may have been handed a necklace or family heirloom. Working with Archangel Chamuel could help your manifesting abilities, and lighting a red candle, 222. Long-awaited text message on the way from a Scorpio sun, moon, or rising.

Aries: Never let other people get to you. For the more spiritually inclined, you may be wondering what your mission or purpose is. You could have a Pisces, Libra moon or Capricorn placements. 333/777 are your relevant angel numbers. “I’m sorry I hurt you” is a message from someone; it is up to you whether you accept or not.

Taurus: Life may have been messy for you lately. Some of you could have distinctive Jupiter placements that you may want to tap into. Some of you could be into the darker aspects of spirituality or take a more Left Hand Path approach. There’s an emphasis on the birth chart and placements being on the axis; “Mercury and Neptune;” life path number 11 and 222. “It’s okay to feel.”

Gemini: Enough busybodying, Gemini! Some people may have been flitting around like a butterfly, without a plan to put into action. You need to go back to the drawing board, and take a pause to rest and recharge. Pisces risings could be significant as well. Take some time to think through what you want. 222, 444.

Cancer: New work opportunities may be abounding for you right now, particularly those with Scorpio or Sag placements, 555. Someone may have got a significant sentimental tattoo connected to their sister. Someone may be connected to family in the astral plane and they are looking down on you. You may have had prophetic dreams, or have Zeus as a deity.

Leo: You need to heal from that broken heart of yours and become responsible for your own happiness, 222. You may be perusing someone’s Instagram and you need to stop doing that before you hurt yourself further. I saw a visual of a pentagram symbol surrounded by black candles and crystals. Work on your self-love and the rest will follow.

Virgo: Someone may work with Aphrodite or have a connection with the Birth of Venus. This is about reclaiming your personal power. “Life is good.” You could feel a twin flame or soulmate connection with someone named Marcus or Mark. 333. Exchanging texts with a new handsome friend, could be this person. Gemini Venus placements.

Libra: “Free as a bird.” Connection to the name Ezekiel. This is SENSITIVE, so fair warning, but this could be related to fleeing abuse of some kind. One of you could have a young son. I genuinely feel for the person this concerns, you will be okay! Taurus rising. The name Dominic may be significant for someone here, too. 111.

Scorpio: Camomile tea could be a good soother for your nerves. The Barbie movie could be your way of getting in touch with your inner child, and healing wounds. You may have a connection with dolphins or the underwater world, 777. Artemis could be a being/deity to look into. Someone could have blonde hair, green or brown eyes. Don’t use temporary connections as a substitute for real love. Value, respect and care for yourself.

Sagittarius: The name Ethan could be significant. This is quite happy, actually. I see someone getting a new crush, and imagery of ducklings. It makes me feel the energy of birth and Spring time, so you could be going through a transformation or rebirth. Seeing 333/111, “watch out for yourself,” don’t be taken advantage of. The colour red and Taurus and Libra placements may also resonate with you.

If you feel called to book a PERSONAL reading, you can do so here! I hope these general messages provided some clarity to some of you.

#intuitive readings #general reading #pick a card #tarot reading #witchblr #spirituality #Spiritual Guidance #love reading #free readings #horoscope #zodiac signs

[anakinsthot]

Since im not sure which ones you've been sent already: 13, 15, or 25 for jarpatine (i kid, i kid! Please do obikin!)

I was soooooo tempted to write jarpatine it's not even funny.

Here's a super self-indulgent fill from this prompt list.

Background: eventing is the equestrian sport that Anakin participates in. It is a 3-phase sport and the one that's relevant here is cross country, where horse and rider jump over solid obstacles across terrain. It is one of the riskiest competitive horse sports and also what I do - although not at the same level Anakin is at. If anyone has questions feel free to ask!

15. meeting in the ER/A&E au (1.3k words)

beep      beep      beep

Anakin came to awareness in stages. Hearing first: a steady beeping sound and far-away murmur of voices. Then touch: cotton sheets over him, cool air on his face, and pain in his shoulder.

Finally he blinked his eyes open and took in the white ceiling tiles above him.

Ah. Hospital then, was his first thought. Guess we couldn’t save it at that oxer. I knew it was going to cause problems for someone today, followed quickly by, “Artoo? Is he okay?”

His voice must have alerted someone that he was awake, because a doctor came into the room followed quickly by his mother and his coach.

“Mr. Skywalker, please lay back down. I need to assess your concussion,” Anakin hadn’t even realized he’d sat up. He ignored the doctor and repeated his question.  

“How is Artoo?” His heart was lodged in his throat – if the worst had happened to his horse he could never forgive himself.

“He’s alright,” Mace reassured him. “He got up and walked away from your fall. The vet assessed him and he’s a little sore but nothing some NSAIDs and stall rest won’t fix. Ahsoka is taking care of him.”

Relieved, Anakin finally lay back down in the bed. “Sorry you had to see that, mom,” he said quietly. His mother had been so worried when Anakin started to move up the levels in eventing. After a couple years and successful runs at Advanced she’d finally started to calm down. This certainly wouldn’t help her nerves next time he left the start box.

Shmi didn’t say anything. She sat at Anakin’s side and took his hand gently, evidence that she’d been crying on her face in bloodshot eyes and dried tears on her cheeks.

“Mr. Skywalker,” the doctor stepped closer now. “I’m sure you’ll want to catch up with your mother and…” his voice trailed off for a moment, before Mace brusquely introduced himself as Anakin’s coach, “and coach. I really do need to do a TBI assessment though. This is the first time you’ve been awake long enough since you came in an hour ago.”

Anakin winced. Things could have been worse, obviously, but that wasn’t a good sign. Now that he was paying more attention he realized that the lights were dim and there was a pulsing pain in his head.

“I’m Dr. Kenobi, the neurologist on your case,” the man introduced himself. Anakin took a good look at him for the first time. He was well built, with an impeccable beard and kind eyes. If he had to be stuck in a hospital room, Anakin thought, at least he got an attractive doctor.

“Hi doc. You can just call me Anakin,” he said. He tried to offer a hand to shake, but at the sudden pain in his shoulder quickly thought better of it.

“You’ve broken your collar bone on the right side,” Dr. Kenobi informed him quickly. “You should be given a sling for it shortly, but the preliminary results from radiography look like you won’t need surgery.”

“Can’t you just kiss it better?” Anakin asked on autopilot. Shmi sighed and squeezed his hand. He could practically hear her and Mace rolling their eyes. He’d just been through a traumatic accident and the doctor really was attractive. Sue him.

Dr. Kenobi pulled up a chair on the side of the bed across from Shmi. “I’m afraid the hospital frowns on patient-provider relationships,” he said lightly. “Now, you’ve had a CT scan done while you were unconscious and we didn’t find anything concerning, but I need to do a neurologic exam as well. The CT shows us if there is any physical injury such as bleeding, but it can’t show a concussion.”

Anakin nodded his assent and followed the doctor’s directions. He tracked a pen light with his eyes, pushed and pulled with his good arm against Kenobi, and held his breath while the doctor leaned in close his face to examine his pupils and touch various parts of his face while directing Anakin to bite down.

“You’re lucky,” Dr. Kenobi announced, rolling back in his chair. “From what Mace has said your head was very badly clipped by Artoo’s hoof when you both fell. You have a mild concussion, but no significant brain injury and your collar bone should heal well. Thank your helmet that it’s not any worse.”

“And the air vest Mom makes me wear,” Anakin tried to joke. He glanced at Shmi from the corner of his eye. If he weren’t laying in a hospital bed, she’d probably be smacking him on the arm for such a poor joke right now, based on the look in her eyes.

“Maybe we can get Hit-Air to sponsor you now,” Mace said lightly. He gave Anakin a smile and stepped towards the door. “Text me any updates. I’m going to get a press release out and make sure Artoo gets home.”

“Thank you Mace,” Shmi said. Her eyes were clearer now, losing the ring of red around them and she’d scrubbed the tear tracks from her cheeks. “Anakin, would you like something to eat now? If that’s ok with Dr. Kenobi.”

Dr. Kenobi nodded, but gave Shmi instructions to get Anakin something light that would be easy on his stomach. She nodded and followed Mace out.

Now that they were alone, Anakin the question that had been sitting on his tongue for several minutes now. “When can I ride again, Doc?”

Dr. Kenobi laughed. “Typical equestrian,” he said with a smile. “I tell you you have a TBI and broken bones and the only thing you’re worried about is when you can get back in the saddle.”

He clicked his pen a few times in thought. “The collarbone break is pretty clean. Radiology has to write up their opinion on the x-rays but I don’t think you’ll need surgery. You’re still fairly young, I’d say six to eight weeks for that to heal.

“The TBI is another beast, as I’m sure you know. You could be recovered in a couple weeks or it may take months. I want you to take this seriously, Anakin. Even a mild brain injury can have effects that last for the rest of your life. After you’re released we’ll have follow-up appointments to monitor your progress. Physical therapy for your shoulder, possibly occupational therapy if you have any issues come up.”

It could be much worse, Anakin reminded himself before picking up on part of what Dr. Kenobi had said. “We’ll have follow-ups? You’ll continue to be my doctor?”

Dr. Kenobi chuckled. “If you’re staying in Ocala, then yes, I’ll be your neurologist.”

“Can I request someone else?” Hurt flashed across Dr. Kenobi’s face and he pushed further away from the bed before he quickly put on a professional mask. Anakin immediately kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to hurt Dr. Kenobi. “Only I’d really like to ask you out for dinner and I heard the hospital doesn’t like patient-provider relationships.”

“If we’re going to get dinner I think you should start calling me Obi-Wan,” Dr. Kenobi rolled closer to the side of Anakin’s bed. “And I have to insist that you at least wait until you’re discharged to ask me out.”

“I can be patient,” Anakin promised with a grin.

Obi-Wan scoffed. “If you were patient you wouldn’t be doing eventing. Don’t forget, I’m a doctor in Ocala. I know your type.”

“I can be patient if you tell me to,” Anakin insisted. “And anyway it sounds like it won’t be too long before they discharge me.”

Obi-Wan laughed and scribbled something on his notepad before tearing it out, folding it delicately, and giving it to Anakin. “Here, for when you get out. I’ll speak to one of my colleagues about taking on your case.”

Anakin grinned and took a moment to admire Obi-Wan’s ass as he walked to the door. “Thanks doc. I’ll see you soon!”

#this is sooo self-indulgent #i've been wanting to write an equestrian au for ages #anyway anakin gets back in the saddle before he's cleared to because horse people be like that and he def would #obi-wan punishes him for this with spanks (when he IS cleared for full activities) #obikin #prompt fills

[octopiys]

I. a partridge in a pear tree

Wordcount: 3.2k+

Pairing(s): eventual Soap/Ghost, Price/Nikolai

Warnings: blood/violence, traumatic injury, chronic pain (written by someone with chronic pain), ptsd, hallmark Christmas

(Yeah, here's your stupid little hallmark Christmas fic. Find the masterlist here)

Here's to @bringinsexybackk69 , @impossibletopronounce , @phasing-through-walls , @rai-to209 , and @lemonwrap for encouraging me to write this lol

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that bad. Worse things have happened to him, and he knew that he'd snap back from it immediately right?

The gunfire was loud in his ringing ears, the young captain clearing the building quickly. One body, a second, a third, the room was clear. His sergeant followed behind them, the antennae of his radio sticking up above his helmet like a little bug.

"Room is clear, no sign of intel. Moving to the next room." He radioed, and his Sergeant, Roach, nodded in affirmation. Three more bodies to add to his report. God, he hated paperwork.

He stepped out into the hallway, messing with his throat mic some, distracted.

Being distracted in this field gets you killed. It was his first mistake in years.

The hallway was alight with gunfire, and before he knew it, he was firing back, a roaring pain ripping up his leg before a pair of gloved hands pulled him back by the vest, back into the room from before. Adrenaline was rushing in his ears, muting his senses, dulling his sight to a pinpoint. His hands were still on his gun at the ready, having slammed the door shut.

Then....

The door had been barricaded, and he wasn't sure when that happened. There was a face in his vision, almost too close.

"Sir- sir! Captain, stay with me, sir-" Roach's hands were moving frantically around his pants, and a few jokes crossed his mind, but his tongue felt like lead. Had he been drugged? He didn't recall any-

The young Sergeant pressed against his leg rather harshly, and a sharp yelp left his lips, pained and surprised. Roach looked worried, the lower half of his face visible underneath his heavy goggles, mouth pursed in a worried frown.

His sight was tinged with black, and it sounded like he was underwater. Slow-moving and muted, he tried to assess his surroundings. Gradually, he came to the conclusion that he was injured, a sharp pinch wrapping around his upper leg by a pressure formed as Roach wrapped a tourniquet tightly. Somehow, he processed that the wound was grisly, narrowly missing the bone.

Words like 'artery', or 'blood', or 'cornered' found themselves in his ears, often countered by 'pressure', or 'pack it', or 'back up' from the radio.

Worse things had happened, sure.

But it hadn't occurred to him at the time that he was bleeding out from a missed enemy in the hall. It hadn't occurred to him until Roach had taken off his blood smeared goggles, until Roach tried to get him to stand but he *couldn't*, until his vision swam and tipped, and the last thing he saw was Kate Laswell getting out of the helo, rushing towards him, looking scared-

It didn't occur to him until he was in the hospital, leg propped up with crutches at his side, staring at medical discharge papers, that this was worse than MacTavish thought.

It turned out that he couldn't snap back as well as he thought he could. He had no choice but to sign the papers, leaving his Sergeant, his best friend, and the rest of his task force behind.

But it didn't come easily. Recovery wasn't easy. Roach was there when he could be, under watchful eyes of Laswell. And when he was on a mission, or he couldn't make it, Soap did it all by himself. He stayed on the base hospital, unable to secure much of a place anywhere else.

PT was hell. They talk about it some in the movies or the shows, but they never really go through what it's like. They show the successes, and they don't show the failures. And believe him, he failed. A lot.

The first time, they had him propped up between two balance bars, using all of his upper body strength to keep himself upright. It was the pins and needles that hurt the most, starting at his hip, traveling down through his thigh, knee, and ending in his heel. And it hurt, like thousands of tiny bugs were crawling, climbing, gnawing through his skin like he was made of marshmello. The first step he took it worsened, the feeling angry, and it angered him. The second step was worse, the beams shifted, and he slipped, his legs completely giving out beneath him, and he hit the ground on his elbows. Hard.

The second time he did it, he made it four steps without falling.

The third time, he refused to get between the bars. Flat out denied the pitied looks from the nurses, the ones who didn't really care whether he made it through or not. Viewed him as another statistic, another job, just a patient they wanted to get out of the facility. He was so angry all the time, the inconsistent throb of pain shooting up his leg any time he moved, his medicine not being enough, the nagging feeling that he might be better off with just not going to physical therapy, that it wasn't really helping him.

After a week, Roach forced him to go back, threatened to break his crutches if he didn't abide. With a considerable amount of insistent pressure, he made it again.

The bruises on his elbows weren't worth it when he finally made it the entire length of the bars. Even if Roach was there to celebrate him, even if he's never seen the Sergeant so happy, even if he did make it, he kept telling himself he should've made it earlier than he had.

Roach stayed with him and attended more sessions since then. Claimed he was the emotional support sergeant.

Come the seventh session, or maybe it was the eighth, they began working on his upper body and balance once he could stand on his own. Tossing weight balls above his head, bouncing them on the wall, then catching them himself.

Roach was more of a help than his nurses, sitting with him when he needed a break, or when he was too frustrated to continue. He was like a caged bird, too cooped up, and he was going to go insane. Someone needed to throw a sheet over his cage to slow him down before he exploded into a mass of feathers and irritation.

The sandy haired Sergeant began doing his treatments with him, too. Up, down, jumping jacks, walking laps, weight balls up above his head. It was... beneficial.

He saw improvement. There had still been days where he couldn't leave his bed, the pain meds doing nothing to ease the ache that was so deep in his muscle that it was embedded worse than the bullet that put him out of commission. He could walk on his own. He couldn't run, not as fast as he used to without falling and hurting himself worse, but he could.... shuffle quickly.

"Roach, ah swear tae everything ye call holy-"

The Sergeant only laughed. "I'm sorry- really, sir, but have you- oh gods, have you seen The Walking Dead? You look like a-" He paused to take a breath, his entire body shaking with laughter. "You look like one of the Walkers from the first season, bloody hell, I'm sorry-"

Soap rolled his eyes, but a smile found itself on his face somehow because he did know what Roach was talking about, and he couldn't even deny the accuracy.

When he was officially discharged from the hospital, Roach threw him a celebration at the local bar. It was a small thing, but a few members from his force showed up, clapped him on the back, thanked him, and drank the night away. Even Kate showed up, which he was grateful for, until he figured out why.

"John," she starts slowly like she's making sure he knows that this is important. It's snowing outside, he notices, and finally it's the end of November.

"Och, Kate. Dinnae gimme that look." He hummed, nursing his drink, glancing a side eye at her. "Bad news?"

"Depends on who you ask." It's always refreshing to hear an American speak. Not that it was a bad thing. He liked the diversity. "I secured you a new location while you recover." He knew what she meant, and she was telling him to rest without actually saying it.

"Kate-"

"It's not far from here, actually. A while to drive, but we'll send you on a plane to save yourself from the pins and needles. It's a small town, pretty conspicuous. No one'll recognize you, if that's what you're worried about." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face as a bartender slid her a glass, and she accepted it with a smile of thanks. "A few old buddies of mine live there too. They like it well enough. They're old military too."

At her words, he imagined a bunch of gnarly old dudes, scarred from war and injury, and suddenly he felt like this was more of a retirement plan than a wait it out situation.

He scratched the scar on his chin, shifting in his seat to allow the brace on his leg to be comfortable. It never really was.

Kate reached for her hip and he reached for a weapon that wasn't there, mumbling a soft apology as she pulled out her phone to show him his new placement.

The city was small, more of like a mountain village. It was picturesque, like it was out of one of the old Christmas movies his Ma used to watch. The bakery seemed to be a main community point, as was the general store, and some form of petting zoo for.... elk?

"People are relatively kind too. Pretty accommodating, very.... accepting." There was another meaning there that went unsaid. "All you could ask for in a recovery town." She kept swiping through photos, and he took a larger swig of his drink this time around.

A small cabin showed up, a little off the main road near the outside of the town. Isolated enough, but if he needed to get anywhere in town he could do it quickly enough. Well, that is if he wasn't-

"It's small, but nice. I pulled some strings so the force paid for everything, and there's a training facility a few miles outside the city for your appointments. One bed, one bath, and the living room has a Murphy bed in case you have any need for guests. The kitchen works, but the sink is a little iffy on water pressure, so if you're looking for a project then-"

"It's great, Kate." Soap cut her off with a tight lipped smile. He caught Roach's eye down the bar, and the man gave him a concerned look before Soap stood, winced, and glanced at Kate again. "Really, it is. Thank you." He said, before limping off to the washroom.

Later, he might feel bad for being brisk with her, especially for everything she did for him.

The sink was on and the door had closed before he knew it, running his hands under cold water. A minute hadn't even gone by before Roach joined him, albeit almost hurriedly.

"Cap? You alright there?" Roach said, joining him at the sink side.

Soap, in the meantime, was naming five things he could see, four things he could hear-

"Ah'm doon good, Roach." He huffed, scrubbing his hands without soap, just using the cold.

"Bullshit, sir." Roach leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I mean, at least it's only temporary."

Soap paused, his hands stilling. "Laswell tell ye?"

"I heard enough." The Sergeant hummed softly, turning off the water for him. "Could be a nice change in pace for you. Gods know you won't put yourself in for vacation, think of this as as mandatory break, sir."

Soap dried his hands off and glared at him, but there was no malice behind it.

"Landscape is pretty enough, too-"

"I'll send you a postcard-"

"-You'll have a white Christmas by the looks of it." Roach continued as if he hadn't heard him. "And it could be worse. You could be relocated to... I don't know, somewhere with nothing. Like Illinois. What's in Illinois? Nothing."

Soap breathed a laugh through his nose, leaning against the sink. "Yer welcome tae stay if the family gets rough."

"I'm sure I'll take you up on that, sir."

It turned out that the airport didn't even have a commercial flight to the town, so he had to take a private plane. It was cold already, and he barely had a shoulder bag of things to bring with him, so he wrapped himself tighter in his windbreaker (which was definitely not enough) and made his way towards the gate.

A text came through his issued phone, from Laswell.

'My guy's in the blue jacket, should be getting out of the red chopper any second now'

Then a second one,

'Looks suspicious, I'm sure. But it's his pride and joy. I swear it's safe'

Soap scoffed and scanned the tarmac, looking for a red helo. Sure enough, he found one halfway down, and sure as shit a man in a blue jacket was stepping out of it, taking his headset off.

Soap begrudgingly began to hobble his way towards the chopper, meeting the pilot halfway. The man had shoulder length raven hair, and he was clearly built out, physique wise. His eyes were hidden behind aviators, and his face held a decent amount of stubble, but not yet a beard. With his blue jacket, he wore a black and white striped shirt beneath it, and a gold necklace.

"Are you Nikolai?" Soap shouted over the roar of the rudders.

"Laswell's man!" The pilot shouted back in a distinct Russian accent. Despite the ops they had been working on recently, Soap knew he could trust him. Laswell's friend and all. Nikolai stuck his hand out, shook Soap's, then took his bag and threw it in the cabin of the helo. "Are you afraid of heights, my friend?'

"Nae... why?"

But Nikolai only laughed in response.

They landed and Soap was never rmore glad to be on the ground than at that moment. Military trained his arse, he thought he was gonna die more times in that helo than the entire time he had to figure out how to pilot in enemy airspace after his original pilot had been shot in the throat.

Another hearty chuckle from Nikolai as a goodbye, but Soap supposes he'd met worse people. The Uber took him directly into town from the frosted over field where they had landed, and dropped him off in the square.

Very few people were milling about, the cold wind nipping his nose and turning his skin flushed red. His windbreaker was not sufficient enough for him, which meant he'd probably have to find some off the wall clothing store. His bag still over his shoulder, he decided to explore some.

Okay, he might not've gotten that far. The impromptu change in weather and atmospheric pressure made his leg act up, especially after being cramped in a plane, then a helo, then a car for so long. His brace was stiff, and really, he just needed to sit-

Which is how he ended up in a cornerstore bakery with a donut or two sitting next to his sketchbook, waiting on a mug of freshly brewed coffee. He's gonna swear by them now, best damn things he's ever eaten.

The bakery was a cute, quaint little thing that barely stuck out, but it, like the rest of the town, had been decorated to the nines for the holidays. The white brick of the back walls were washed in a warm yellow light of Christmas lights, hung around the corners of the room. Wreaths and garland lined the countertops, a little bell dining when one walked in. The large windows in the front weren't ignored either, fake snow and little jelly stick ons had been pressed onto the glass in preparation for Christmas. Soft music played from a speaker in one of the corners, and Soap had scored himself a two seater table, propping his leg up on the chair across from him and sighing from relief.

'Dinnae warn me how bloody cold it would be, Kate' He texted her.

Also, it was much warmer in here than it was outside.

He didn't get a response back.

The man from behind the counter brought him his mug, lingering around the table for a moment for any other questions.

Soap, for one, still had barely any idea what was going on, so he decided to take a shot in the dark.

"Er- this might be odd to ye, but do ye ken where Chestnut Road is? Haven't been able to find it from the streets-" Given, he hadn't looked much, however, he doubted he'd be able to find it in this- oh would you look at that, it's snowing.

The man pauses, before backpedalling a few steps. He flashed Soap a warm smile, and he noted the bits of frosting stuck to the man's face, along with some powdered sugar that had settled on the rim of the old blue baseball cap he was wearing. The man was very obviously cleaned up, his coiled hair tucked beneath his cap, his mocha colored skin practically glowing, and Soap could fail to find a single imperfection. "Chestnut Road? That's just right up the street, mate. You hit the light and take a left, follow it up the hill. You here to visit?" The man asked curiously, leaning on the table.

"Och nae, ah'm no tourist, just moved here this morn' from the air base a few hours southwest o' here." He tried to haphazardly explain.

"Oh, military too?" The man, who's name tag read 'Kyle' in a handwritten flourish, asked, like he wasn't that surprised.

"Are we an exotic breed, lad?" Soap joked, sipping from his mug with a kind of hesitancy behind his words.

"Nah. Get a few of em every couple years. I quit to take care of my dad when 'e got sick, then took over this place afterwards. Lots of baking skills to learn, y'know." Soap felt a bit of shock at that. Townspeople here are pretty open. And he was talking to the owner of this wonderful bakery-

"Wait, yer tellin' me ye made these yerself?" Soap gestured to the donuts with a grin.

"If you're gonna tell me they're bad, then no it wasn't me." Kyle joked back to him.

"Nae, I'd never!" He feigned a hand over his heart. "Best damn things ah've ever had!"

The baker's face flushed with pride, his chest puffing up a little. "Thank you, I appreciate it.... Uh- I'm Kyle, by the way."

"Johnny." He greeted smoothly.

"Gaz, the coffee machine is broken again!" A woman's voice called from the register, a shorter woman with tanned skin, a patterned scarf wrapped around her neck, and Kyle jumped to attention.

"Uh... I gotta go fix that, but I'll see ya around, yeah?" Kyle lightly punched Soap's shoulder. "If you need help moving in, let somebody know!" He called over his shoulder, before he sprinted back to the kitchen.

Soap gave a two finger salute, smiling, and went back to his sketchbook.

A fresh start. Something new. Huh.

How about that?

Taglist: open

Next

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #ghostsoap #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #kate laswell #farah karim

[sofiiel]

Sometimes the night sucks & sometimes sleep decides to skip the party. Eddie's become a pro at guiding you to dreamland, even if it takes a while.

SFW | FLUFF | LET HIM LOVE YOU PLEASE | HINTS AT DEPRESSION SOFT EDDIE | PET NAME USAGE *I'm not shouting its aesthetic, I promise.*

It'd only been thirty minutes after you and Eddie crawled into bed, snuggled under the covers and said goodnight. The fan hummed in a hypnotic lull, and you could hear the distant traffic out the cracked window mix with Eddie's snoring.

He was out cold, wrapped in the blanket you had abandoned to pace around the room. You didn't want to wake him, He'd just taken double shifts down at Thatcher Tire.

Tire of pacing, you quietly nestle yourself o n the floor, watching him as you pluck at the carpet.

Eddie stirs as he reaches out to share the stolen covers with you once more. But his hand flops into the empty space beside him. Muttering groggy incoherence in his sleep, Eddie scoots over closer to where you should be and tries again, with the same outcome.

His head pops up from under the cover, his eyes are barely open as he peers down at the empty space. "Gone." you faintly hear the raspy sound of Eddie's sleepy vocal cords.

When he hears your short laughter, Eddie lays back down, only to roll over and peer at you from your place on the floor. He tries to assess what's going on when it slowly dawns on him.

"Sandman skipped a shift again, Pud?" he asks you, his voice still strained as he rubs at his eyes, trying to wake them up.

You give a nod, "go back to sleep, you were sleeping good." you say.

"Yeah but," He lulled sitting up and sliding his legs out the bed, "it'd be ten times better if you were doing it with me." he said.

Leaning forward, he nudges your nose with his. "Waking up to empty space is like waking from a falling dream before the splat." he murmured as he sat up straight.

Eddie's hands slapped down against his knees to push himself up as he flashed you a smile. "So, something warm to drink." He said. Eddie's mind was geared up for the usual ritual of lulling you to sleep.

"Goddamn lazy sandman," He cursed playfully, waiting for you to follow behind him into the kitchen.

You nestle yourself at the small table for two and watch Eddie as he is hyperfocused on preparing your favorite nighttime drink, determine not to get it too hot or too cold, and to add all the right things.

When he is finally done, there is a glint of pride in his tired eyes as he sets if before you. You thank him with an apologetic smile, "you can go back to bed now, I'm ok." you offer.

Eddie rests his cheek in his hand and shakes his head, "liar" he hums watching you drink up. It was always the same, and he waited patiently to fall into phase two. When he was certain you were almost done, he stood and wandered back to the bedroom.

In the dark, he fumbled for his slippers and yours. Sliding his pair on to his feet, Eddie gathered the blanket and reached out for his Acoustic. Eddie zipped up the guitar into it's case and grabbed his car keys.

Standing at the kitchen sink, you are rinsing out your cup when a soft weight covers your shoulders. Eddie wraps the blanket around you and gives his keys a jingle.

Phase two had begun, Eddie turned the radio down low, "you remember this song?" he asked you. He keeps his voice deep and low because he knows it's a good way to both calm you and keep you grounded away from any anxious thoughts.

You recognize the song from the time traded weed with the DJ at the school dance back in your senior year, it was this song he had them play.

It was the song you danced to, it was the first time Eddie ever broke down and braved the dance floor. A slow tune that caused racing hearts.

The memory makes you smile, "I remember" you tell him. Eddie holds a gentle grin on his face as he lets the song play while he cruises you through the vacant streets.

The windows of the van are down to let the breeze caress your skin. Eddie weaves through the streets and back roads at a mild speed. "Do you want to tell me what's in your head, pud?" He asks after some time.

Looking up at the road ahead of you, watching the lines disappear under the hood of the car, you linger quietly for a moment. "You don't have to, this is ok too." Eddie said, flicking on his blinker as he turned. There was no on the road, but he needed that dull ticking sound, as it always caused your eyelids to droop just a little.

The silence lingers a bit, until you come across a red light near the town center. Watching the red light, you start to talk to Eddie. You share your headspace with him, he welcomes the emotion dump, silently listening.

Now and then your out pour of thoughts draws a quiet "aw/oh, babe." or a a hum of a sound showing that he is indeed listening.

Eddie reaches out to give your hand a squeeze before the light turns green, with a "I love you." he rolls naturally off his tongue. He's noticed you've started to relax in the passenger's seat.

"Time for phase three." he thinks to himself, steering the car to your special place.

In the middle of the grassy field, Eddie brought the van to a stop. It's not meat for this kind of off-roading, but Weathertop was never too taxing on the vehicle.

You and Eddie sit in the back of his van, the seats lowered and blanket spread out. He's taken up his acoustic and lightly plays, swaying this the music as he starts to strum.

"Close your eyes." He said, and you do as he says. He scoots closer, you can feel his shoulder touch yours. The two of you hum the tune together, lyrics that mean the world to both of you and off their own sort of comfort.

You lean your head on his shoulder, and he rests his head on top of yours. He plays anything and everything that comes to mind until he hears a tiny yawn from you.

Eddie smiles to himself, "there we go." he thinks. Plating a tender kiss to the top of your head, he asks, "do you want to lay down with me?"

When you nod in response and Eddie reaches to put his guitar away. Scooting his body to lay down, he gives his chest a pat. You curl into him as if he were a body pillow. One leg slightly wrapped around him.

He lets you cling, his hand rubbing your shoulder gently, his other hand holds your hand to his chest. You can hear and feel a strong hypnotizing heartbeat, a consistent 'lub dub' trying with all its might to sing you to sleep.

Eddie stares up at the ceiling of the van as the two of you just lay there. You draw absently on his chest little hearts, and it makes him chuckle lightly. He tries to keep his feet still as they want to wiggle happily.

The two of you share a yawn, and you cuddle closer. Eyelids finally heavy. "Thank you, Eddie." you murmur before sleep finally decides to take you. "Every time." he whispers back. "Goodnight Y/n." are his last words before sleep takes him as well.

ST Onshot Masterlist | ST Fics

#eddie munson fluff #soft eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson oneshot

[soapiemomorphine]

His Firsts

When he first came to

Leonardo startles. There’s a commotion but nothing registers besides white noise.

He’s dead. He knows this deep in his soul. His heart no longer beats and the floor feeling like an afterthought, as if the earth it’s self was a fleeting memory.

The afterlife is colorful. And loud.

He gets up, only for his eyes to be bombarded with green light.

His instincts tell him to assess the situation.

He appears to be in a collapsing building; there are only two people in it. And neither of them pay any attention to him despite being in there direct line of sight, only confirming his beliefs.

He is indeed dead, but his apparition is among the living.

He just wants to see his father already.

The two people are yelling at each other. They both tower a staggering six feet.

Leonardo takes a deep breath. Not that he needs the oxygen, but he needs to calm himself. He needs to get out of the fighting for your life headspace.

He needs to not think about he’s a failure. He can’t think about his brothers, oh god his brothers-

Pieces of rubble phase through his spirit. The guy with horns and goat legs runs toward the exit, while the rat looking man is furiously dodging the falling bits of the ceiling.

Leonardo squints at the rat man. He seems to be holding something, and his distress makes the hero in Leo want to help him.

Then he sees what he has in his arms.

Four turtles.

Then it clicks.

He won’t be able to move on to the afterlife, because he’s not in his dimension. He’s witnessing the origin story of another Hamato clan.

He doesn't know what compels him to follow this Spliter.

That's a lie. He wants to see his family again.

The first difference

This Splinter is different.

If you forget the fact that Leo’s hands tremble whenever this one speaks, Leo feels sorry for him.

(This first time he heard his voice, he had a breakdown. Not that anyone could see.)

They are camped in an alleyway, his arsenal of stolen clothes swaddling both him and his turtles.

Babies are hard enough on there own, but four of them? While homeless?

The babies weren’t the only ones constantly crying. This Splinter’s hair is already going grey and Leo is pretty sure it hasn’t even been a month yet.

His rat features are becoming more obvious.

Leo has the suspicion that this Splinter used to be a movie star.

Leo has seen posters and DVD covers in the trash, starring a man that shares a striking resemblance to this Splinter. Sans the ears and tail of course. Not to mention for the first couple weeks, the only outfit he had was the one this ‘Lou Jitsu’ wore.

Leo can see the headline on the newspapers that he uses as a makeshift shelter, news of a missing action star, beloved by all.

His suspicions were confirmed in one of this Splinter’s breakdowns.

Usually, the turtles are pretty compliant, but babies can only cry, and when one cries, the rest follow suit.

“ I can’t do this.” The mutant rat grips his hair in frustration at the wails of the children, “ I can’t fucking do this,”

Leo can’t do nothing but watch as both parties meltdown.

“I DIDNT ASK FOR THIS!” Tears cascade down his cheeks, mirroring his young, “ FUCKING BIG MAMA, FUCKING YOKAI, FUCK, FUCK,FUCK, FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!”

His babies wail even louder. Leo just stands there useless.

The ratman freezes at the sound of a window opening, and rushes to scoop up the turtles.

Leo stays close behind.

They move to a different alleyway.

“Shush, shush, I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Splinter holds his sons close in a desperate effort to quiet their cries.

“I didn’t mean to yell, I-“ His voice breaks in his apology, “ I don’t know how to handle kids, fuck, I don’t know how to handle myself.”

“This whole time I’ve been running toward the limelight, but it always bites my in the ass, huh?” He starts to hum a Japanese lullaby.

Leonardo watches as the babies slowly fall silent.

“Guess Im a father now, huh?” Splinter let out a wet chuckle.

Leo gets the closest he’s ever gotten to this Splinter and takes a seat against the wall right next to him.

Despite his voice, and despite Leonardo’s own heavy heart at this similar yet so different image of his family, he smiles.

It’s not like anyone can see.

His first name

It’s been a month or two and he may have been wrong. About the whole no one being able to see.

The turtles, unlike him and his family are all different species.

They do not have names however, with Splinter calling them all “Little One”, or “My son,” and either addresses the one he’s holding or all of them as a whole.

But they are all different.

One is much bigger than the others, with spikes all up and down his body. He often bites the blankets and on some rare occasions, Splinters finger. The big one hardily makes a fuss though.

The same cannot be said for the smallest one. He is covered in warm colored speckles, and is half the size of his brothers. Yet he is somehow the loudest. He is constantly clinging on to someone, whether it be his brothers or Splinter.

Another one if the turtles has a softshell. Leonardo was flabbergasted at this, none of any other dimensions had a softshell turtle. He’s never even seen a wild one, let alone one as a mutant. Both Leonardo and Splinter worry the most about him.

Then there is the one who has red stripes. The one that Leonardo is almost certain can see him. He is often climbing over his brother and causes mischief, and pushes his brothers over. He’s often smiling and enjoys pulling on Splinters fur.

But what scares him is the way the red striped turtle looks at him. Not through him. At him. He looks him is the eyes, looks him up and down, and the scariest thing of all is that he reaches for him.

Leonardo doesn’t know what to do. So he keeps his distance.

He’s gotten used to the whole ghost thing, where no one could see him.

It was lonely but he was used to it after a while.

But now one of the turtles can see him.

He now looks to him when he cries, when he’s climbing on the big ones back, he smiles at him from Splinter’s lap.

It’s all very terrifying.

Especially when, he pushed one of his brother and listened when Leonardo on reflex said no.

So that’s Leo’s life now, following Splinter as he raises four nameless turtles.

That may have something to do with Splinters terrible eyesight.

Leo has the suspicion that Splinter has near-sightedness.

He can only read the news with his eyes nearly closed and millimeters away from his face. He doesn’t see the profanities on the alley walls, that make Leonardo worry, will the children learn that language?

He also is only able to tell the turtles apart once they are in his face or in his hands, “Ah!, you’re the big one!” He has to feel the turtles to differentiate them, and when they’re together he addresses them as a whole.

His suspicions are confirmed when Splinter finally loses it one July, “You’re all growing old now, how am I going to be able to tell you apart?” He grumbles and grabs his hair in frustration.

Leonardo is worried. What will Splinter do when they can walk? If only one is doing something dangerous how will be able to tell that specific turtle to stop? Leonardo feels a heavy weight in his gut at the possibilities.

He’s snapped out of it with a lound ripping sound.

In an act that is most certainly considered illegal, and probably come off as a hate crime, Splinter rips a rainbow pride flag hanging from a store front.

“HEY!” An angry voice emerges from in inside the store.

Splinter scrambles for his children as he scurries away.

Only the red-eyes child can see Leonardo following.

When the chase is seemingly over, Splinter find a different alleyway and takes a seat.

Leonardo doesn’t know what to think. Why would he steal a pride flag?

He is given the answer with Splinter ripping each stripe apart.

He accidentally makes a rip right through the yellow and green stripe and he tsks.

“Didn’t need all seven anyway,” Splinter grumbles under his breath.

He then pulls all of the turtles out of their cardboard box, awaking them from their slumber.

Leonardo takes a seat as he watches the turtles each stir and whimper. The softshell seems particularly upset and is trying to go back in the box, but to no avail.

The small one then starts whimpering as he is taken off the biggest brother.

Splinter take the red stripe and ties it like a ribbon around the big one’s neck.

“Red,” he then places him in the cardboard box.

He then grabs the smallest turtle and shushes his whimpers. He gently ties the orange stripe around his neck.

“Orange,” he places him right on top of his brother.

The red-striped one realizes the fastest way in the box is through Splinter, and he reaches for him.

“Blue,” the turtle practically scrambles to be a part of the turtle party in the box.

A loud cry comes the softshell, still going at the wall of the box, watching all his brothers go in but unable to.

“Shush, shush” Splinter gently picks him up. The turtle is awake enough to squirm when he ties the last color.

Splinter, despite cutting an indigo stripe forgoes it completely as he tied the purple stripe around his son.

“Purple” He whispers and puts his child in the box with the rest.

Leonardo feels his heart beat heavily in his chest, despite not having one. Of course.

Splinter smiles and points to each of his children, “Red, Orange, Purple, Blue,”

Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo. He realizes.

The same colors.

It may not be the same but nothing here is.

He swallows the lump in his throat as Blue smiles at him.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt two souls #rotmnt mikey #rotmnt raph #rotmnt leo #rotmnt donnie #tmnt fandom #fanfic #my fic post #tmnt leo 2012 #rotmnt splinter

[n3xii]

Rest of October- what will happen?

Hey, havent done a pick a card in a while, today's post is about the remaining days of October, the general energy coming towards you and what you can expect in money, relationships, etc. relationships can pertain to any relationship, romantic or friendships or familial it doesnt matter. Close your eyes and let your intuition guide you to your sweater.

PILE ONE

general- justice reversed, 5 of cups reversed

I feel like the next 15 or so days is about recovering from something unfair, you may have delt with dishonesty or inconsistent or otherwise shitty behavior from someone recently and the next few days are about getting over it essentially. This doesnt mean that your feelings arent valid however, it just means you're realizing that it's not worth it to remain upset over something you can't control, you're in the phase of learning from the situaiton instead of being bitter about it.

relationships- queen of pentacles reversed, 3 of wands reversed

this message can pertain to any relationship in your life that resonates with this, but i feel like this is speaking to a situation where setbacks and delays are occurring due to smothering, over protectiveness and control issues. the next 15 days needs to focus on giving people space (if you're the one being like this) or setting boundaries with the person in your life who is trying to restrict you. I think this over protective, contorlling comes from a place of love and nurturing, but ultimately leads to blockages in the relationship. the 3 of wands is a card about personal development and growth, and this person who is trying to ''protect' you is hindering your growth by being nurturing to an excessive point. this could be you to someone else, this could be a parent, it could be your partner, your boss, it could be anyone. this excessive protectiveness and controlling nature is hindering personal development.

career/money- 4 of cups, page of wands reversed

you're feeling bored and uninspired with your job, things in this sector of your life feel dull and stagant and I think you're craving somehting new and exciting. Consider finding a new position at your job or a new job entirely if possible. the page of wands is a person who needs room to grow and things to explore in order to feel stimulated- but im seeing you feel stagnant because that space to grow isnt there. doing the same shit everyday and not being able to learn new skills and try new roles is killing your spirit. learning a new skill or trade may be a good option for you as well.

PILE TWO

general- the sun, ace of wands

the next 15 days is about happiness and motivation. I think this is pointing to feeling in a good mood, feeling inspired and energetic about your actions, I think you could be trying something new or learning something new and it has you feeling optimistic about the possiblities this new skill, knowledge etc can give you.

relationships- judgement, high priestess reversed

you're gonna have to make an assessment or judgement call when it comes to your connection with someone and this will require you to actually listen to your inner voice. Relying on the wisdom and opinions of other people may be tempting but your intuition already has all the answers there for you, you just have to access them through trusting yourself. You can trust your own evaluations and decisions when it comes to your relationships, you know more than you think.

career/money- page of pentacles reversed, 4 of pentacles reversed

you're being impractical and reckless with your money/resources and i think it stems partially from impatience. saving money may be annoying but the longterm rewards of what you can afford will be well worth it. in the next 15 days, resist the urge to make impulse purchases just because you feel like it. be patient and keep your short term goals in mind when its come to how you spend your money, does it align with your budget or do you even have a budget?

PILE THREE

general- 7 of swords reversed, the chariot reversed

I think the rest of October is about you needing to be honest about the direction of your life and how you've contributed to where you are right now. I think you've been deceiving yourself and making yourself feel powerless, unmotivated and stagnant. lies have kept you from seeing your own potential and ability to take back control over your life, the chariot reversed is the energy of being in the backseat of the car, being controlled by wherever the car takes you. but the truth is you're the one in control. Breaking past self deception will help you realize how much willpower and direction you actually have.

relationships- the fool reversed and the ace of pentacles

I think when it comes to romance you wont be feeling particularly spontaneous in the next 2 weeks or so, and more focused on the matieral, finance or practical sector of your life. if not that, you're just not in the mood for games, you want someone who is gonna bring action to their words and not unpredictability. your patience seems low for people in your life who arent dependable or reliable.

money/career- strength reversed, queen of wands

when it comes to career, I think you're in this energy of trying to increase your self confidence and esteem in order to feel more comfortable in the spotlight, more comfortable in leveling up your responsibilities and more deserving of opportunities outisde of your comfort zone.

#tarot readings #free tarot readings #pick a pile #pick a photo #pick a card #pick a card reading #love reading #loa #loa tumblr #tarot tumblr #tarot #pick a pile reading #pick a photo reading #self love #tarot meanings #tarot cards #astro notes #october #psychic readings #pac #pac reading #tarot reading #affirmations #law of abundance #manifestion #intuitive readings #paid readings #paid tarot readings #oracle reading #free tarot reading

[binarytoys]

TREKYARDS - Star Trek Starships 101

The USS Ursula NCC-TX07

The Ursula's dedicated design and mission is to Find, Assess, and report on alien aquatic life-forms on any planets deemed suitable for aquatic life.

The Ursula has the unique ability to both sail on the surface or routinely separate the saucer from the rest of the ship and submerge for low clearance deep water expeditions and deployment of her many smaller shuttles, subs, and unmanned probes.

The Ursula has two fully functioning bridges at a single given time so that both sections can be independently utilized for many different uses.

Both sections of the ship are capable of impulse flight in space and on the surface, but she can only reach warp speed when paired.

With a single aft low profile nacelle she originally was only capable of reaching warp 2. But after some tinkering from the starfleet engineering division, she can now reach warp 5.

Specs:

Crew compliment:

-250

Weapon Systems:

-Phase cannons

-Photon torpedoes ×4

-multi-phasic mining lasers

Hangar capacity:

-standard starfleet shuttles ×2

-specially outfitted deep sea exploration shuttles.

X10

-Larger cloakable deep sea observation subs x2

-scientific unmanned probes ×20

#star trek #USS Ursula #NCC TX07 #star trek ships of the line #trekyards #starships #spaceships

[rorygillmore911]

Unsub Bait

(The team needs y/n to go under cover and spencer is worried about y/ns safety)

“Here’s an overview of the first phase of the operation: (Y/N) will go undercover as a college student at Yale. She’ll get acquainted with the unsub at Speakeasy, the New Haven bar where he assesses potential victims. We’ll apprehend him in the act of attempted kidnapping.” Hotchner listed for the team.

You’d played unsub lure almost a comical number of times. Once? That’s a once in a million task required to capture a once in a million unsub. Twice? You’d only have two nickels, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right? But four times? 

You’d already joked to Hotch that you should add “professional unsub bait” to your resume. 

It would’ve been more comical if it wasn’t so scary. 

You took a deep breath as you stared at the photos of the victims on the mahogany conference room table. Melissa Grey. Audrey Bernstein. Alivia Johnson. You could see your 21-year-old self in their eyes. You remember being so young and full of anxiety; you were near graduating from MIT. You couldn’t sleep at night from worrying if you had already lived up to your potential and would spend the rest of your years a washed up gifted kid– an academic has–been. After graduation, you proved to yourself your worth.

The college juniors in the photographs had their lives cut short by the unsub before they had the opportunity to find out what amazing places their brilliant minds could take them. You were about to allow said unsub to nearly kidnap you. 

That is, if you didn’t blow your cover. Then, he would hold you hostage or attempt to kill you as soon as possible by skipping his usual "kidnap and torture" routine.

Rationally, you knew your field experience more than prepared you for this task. Also, you knew your team had your back. They always kept you safe and healthy. The one time you were put at serious risk, you had to fight to be left alone after the case closed. But, you’re not sure if all the facts in the world could adequately calm your adrenal glands.

“Is this necessary?” Spencer suddenly interjected.

You turned to Spencer in surprise. “It’s the quickest way. We have twenty-four hours,” You said.

The unsub had a pattern; a girl was dying once every two weeks, and, when the the local and Connecticut police force combined failed to contain the situation, the BAU was brought into the case 36 hours before the next killing. With his eidetic memory, you were certain Spencer couldn't forget the time restraints if he tried, hence why you were stunned by his sudden brazenness. However, given Spencer's traumatic relationship history and your budding romance, Spencer's behavior was a lot more likely.

You and Spencer had been dating for a couple weeks. Despite being certain the team had their suspicions, you kept your relationship on the downlow. Strong boundaries were a good thing to keep when your relationship was in its fragile, formative era. Plus, you both agreed it was best to keep a high level of professionalism. 

This was the first time Spencer broke protocol.

“I think there’s another way.” Spencer continued. “It’s unsafe and illogical to put anyone’s life into considerable risk if there’s another viable option.”

“Are you implying I’m being rash, Reid?” Hotchner asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Usually, Spence would look away and take a breath. He’d at least have the decency to act timid, especially given the fact the entire team pulled multiple all-nighters in an effort to catch this serial killer. Instead, he leveled with Hotchner’s glare and asserted himself further. “I just think we’ve gotten a little too comfy using (Y/N) as an unsub lure. The more we do, the more probable a disaster will occur with her in the line of fire.”

“Spencer,” Morgan cut in gently. There was sympathy in his eyes. “We’ve done this with (Y/N) before. We’re good at reading her. And she knows the drill. We’ll keep her safe.”

“Yes, because that’s something we can certainly guarantee when she’s 3 inches from a serial killer.” Spencer deadpanned. 

“Reid. A word.” Without waiting for Spencer’s reaction, Hotch left the meeting room. With a hard look in his eye, Spencer filed after Hotch. You were relieved he was still obedient despite being ornery.

For a few moments, the team sat in silence. 

Rossi broke the spell with the scrape of his chair. “Well, I for one, am going to take this impromptu intermission as an opportunity to grab coffee. Any requests?” Rossi asked. 

“I’ll take a barbajada.” You joked half-heartedly. 

“Very funny, (L/N). Any requests the office Keurig can complete in less than five minutes?” 

The team rattled off their go-to office drink orders, but it faded to white noise. During your friendship, Spencer would always care for you when you had to lure the unsub. He’d be more attentive on the jet ride in and out. He’d check in on your mental state directly after the unsub was arrested and always called you once you got home. Once, after the particularly stressful unsub encounter, he sent you links to PTSD articles and even offered to help you schedule an appointment with a specialized therapist through the FBI’s mental health services.

But he’d never once intervened with a plan for you to go undercover. You knew Spencer Reid was nothing if not rational. He knew Hotch valued every member of his team. He knew Hotch would never send you undercover if it wasn’t necessary to stop a killing spree before more young women became statistics. 

Therefore, you knew Spencer was thinking about Maeve. 

You stood. 

“Where you going, Beauty Queen?” Morgan asked.

“Just heading to the restroom.” You lied. 

You walked down the hall and crept up the stairs. You tiptoed down the east wing of the second floor to avoid clicking your heels against the concrete. 

You crept to the side of Hotch’s office. You pressed your back to the wall.

Hotch said something indecipherable. An angry Reid answered.

“And all I’m saying is, she is not a cat with nine lives! She has one life. One precious life, that I think we’ve been a little too careless with.”

“Reid, you know I would never risk putting (Y/N) in harm’s way if it wasn’t the best course of action. She’s experienced with this. The team is experienced with this.” 

A beat of silence passed.

“Promise me that if you have so much as an inkling her life is in danger–”

“We’ll do everything in our power to get her out of there.”

“That’s the thing! ‘Everything in our power…’ It’s not enough. How many times have we told families we did everything we could when all they have left is a body bag?” 

Your heart froze. Both of the voices lowered. You could only catch bits and pieces of Hotch’s speech. You were never an eavesdropper, but despite your better nature, you crept around the corner towards the door.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to an unsub, Spencer. I know how it sticks with you. I know how it changes the job. But you have to trust us– the team. We’re going to protect her. And we’re going to be there for you,” Hotch said. 

Spencer sighed. "How did you do it?" Spencer's voice cracked. "After Haley, Hotch? I’m not sure if I can survive this.” He sounded seconds away from tears. 

At that moment, you knew you would not sleep comfortably at night if you continued to be a fly on the wall.  You tiptoed back down the east wing and waited for Spencer at the bottom of the stairs.

Ten minutes passed before Spencer appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Spencer?” You called. 

His hazel eyes were tinged pink. He walked down the stairs nonchalantly. “Hey, um, would you mind if we discussed part of the case file real quick? Privately? It could help, um…” He cleared his throat. “Develop your persona.”

“Yes, of course.” 

Spencer didn’t look at you as he power walked down the hall towards the janitorial closets. For the first time since you started dating, he didn’t adjust to your walking pace. 

He flung a door open and yanked you inside. 

Carelessly, Spencer slammed the door behind you. Before you could get a word in, he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Spencer.” You whispered. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

He nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

You stood in the statue of a hug for two minutes.

“I can’t lose you.” Spencer whispered.

“You won’t.”

Spencer pulled away from you. He bent down to look you in the eye. He squeezed your shoulders. His eyes danced with emotion. There was a deep ache, a whirlpool of sadness that you knew a lifetime may never heal. What perplexed you was the hardness that you could only read as anger. 

“I…” He sighed. He hung his head. He dragged his palms down the slope of your shoulders to your forearms. It was like he was taking a cast of you with his hands. 

“I’m not dead on arrival. I’m still here. I’m coming back on that jet ride home with you. I’m going to be okay.” You reciprocated his shoulder squeeze. “You’re going to be okay.”

Spencer shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I care about you. It’s a part of the girlfriend package.” Spencer pulled you into another constricting hug. 

 “I can’t fathom how difficult this must be for you.” You whispered.

Spencer pressed his forehead to yours. “Promise me when you go out there, you won’t worry about me. I want you to only focus on you, your surroundings, and making sure you get out of there.”

“I promise, Spencer.” You said, though you weren’t sure if that would be the truth.

“And one more thing,” He said. His irises were so close to yours you could pick apart the layer of green and brown. “As soon as you feel unsafe, you call someone. If you have any inclination he’s going to overtake you–”

“I call the team.”

He took a step back and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you’re strong. I’m not trying to insult your field work.”

Your heart cracked. “Spencer, love, I know that. I’m so happy you care about me. I just wish this situation hurt you less.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. His brows furrowed. He stared at a random point to the left of your face.

“Can you do something for me? Before we leave?” He asked, still not meeting your gaze.

“What is it, Spence?”

He took a deep breath. He met your eyes again. “Dance with me.” 

“What?”

“Dance with me. I…” He inhaled deeply. “I never got to dance with Maeve before she…I barely even got to hold her. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

You closed the distance between you and Spencer. You cupped his face in your hands, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. His eyes shone with tears. “I’ll dance with you for the rest of my days, Spence.” 

He whipped out his phone. He turned on a slow jazz song you played for him last winter on an impromptu hot chocolate date. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You could go on that same date again, but it would have a whole new color to it. 

He slid his phone onto a cleaning supply shelf. He pulled you to his chest. Your head nestled right beneath his collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his mid back.

You danced, bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces, in silence until the song ended. The symphony of emotions didn’t cease with the final brush of the snare. 

Spencer continued swaying with you.

“I’m going to be okay.” You whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You can’t promise me that.” He held you even tighter. “But I can promise you I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you come home to me.”

#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader