#she works out at the mill

[neutral-party]

northern albertan miku.

[roystory4]

my perhaps unpopular opinion ive decided recently is i dont think piper and nick would get along terribly well bc piper regularly prints and distributes fear-mongering rumors that would contribute to the aggression that nick (and ellie by association) face in diamond city…. like i think nick gives piper a pass bc he can see the passion for the Truth there and bc shes young, but i think shes on thin ice. also i think it would eventually annoy him to have her come prying after a new client. lastly i think this is a weakness in piper’s writing more than anything else vis a vis Actual Journalism but i think that tension would add more depth past detective/journalist banter

[tackyink]

I'll touch wood in case I run into someone in the new place, but every time my parents, especially my mother, say that women are cattier than men, and you have to be very careful who you trust, and that workplaces full of women are full of backstabbers because they make cliques and are always competing with each other and it's much easier to get along with guys I'm like. I have no idea what you're talking about. At school, at work, in my private life, most women I meet are lovely. I get along with men well, but women of all stripes of life have also been consistently kind to me. Maybe it's a generational thing or I've been very lucky, but to me that sounds like a skill issue, mom. I think you should meet more lesbians.

[threnodians]

Y’ALL I GOT THE JOB 🥲

[labwebs]

🕸gotta go get ready to meet a dog we might be rescuing but i'll be around later :)

[violeteyedkiller]

what if....

What if Leah WASNT a Creatura

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

The two sims I had that I loved the most of them all were Oliver and Bruno Maynard-Moon. They started out as a challenge for myself to see how long I could keep a werewolf and vampire living together while pretending to be human (not doing anything obviously spooky in from of the other basically) and turned into an epic romance I’ll never be over them

[royalreef]

                 To be fair, she had already heard about Vera’s dad, it’s moreso... 

       This would be her response to meeting any parent. It’s a little hard-cooked into her brain at this point. Hard to deny the fear with that kind of “encouragement”—

[dragonanne]

I feel like a granny in the 1930s 👵🤣 I made a small batch of biscuits this morning without a recipe, and they actually came out fluffly and yummy!! They're not very golden on top or bottom, but that's because it's gluten-free flour, and for some reason that stuff has a hard time browning 🤷‍♀️

But yeah, that's my victory for the morning: I entered granny mode and made biscuits from scratch without the aid of a recipe ☺️

[h0rnfoot]

the night after: a few drinks before meeting rory for the first time....girl's quite the charmer... really full of herself too... - 10:14pm

[goethitee]

oooo i think im in trouble…….

[slothrusts]

My beautiful smart precious Angel baby has finally figured out how to use the stairs to get on the couch!!!!

[spiderbeam]

FC43: CONSEJOS DE AMOR

pairing: haas driver!reader x franco colapinto

summary: you’ve been friends with franco for a long time. but after a post-race interview clip of the two of you starts making rounds on social media, things might not be as clear cut as they seem.

a/n: first smau !! lmk if u enjoy this <3

liked by haasf1team, francolapinto, and 202,378 others

ynracing it was a tough race and i gave it my all. feeling immensely happy with that p10! now it’s time to regroup and prepare for baku. congrats to charles for the win and franco for his debut! grazie mille monza! 🇮🇹

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user1 haas domination could bore fans 🥱

user2 🫶🫶

user3 this might just be the first good news haas has gotten in a WHILE

user4 oh definitely

user5 don’t you love it when women

haasf1team onwards for more points! 👏

user6 @haasf1team girl aren’t you like 7 million dollars in debt 😭

user7 @haasf1team your other driver is literally banned from the next race

user8 @haasf1team didn’t you get your assets seized like last week

user9 @haasf1team i’m gonna hold your hand when i say this….

user11 everyone dragging haas in the comments 😭😭

kevinmagnussen great job there 👏👏 well-deserved ♥︎ liked by ynracing

user12 WOHOOO P10 BABYY

francolapinto VAMOSS sos una genia!!!!!!

ynracing idk what that means BUT I’LL TAKE IT 🫶

user13 @/mercedesamgf1 she’s single you know ♥︎ liked by francolapinto

user13 not the point i was trying to make but HOLD ON

user14 SCREAMING ariana what are you doing here

user15 😎🤏 🤨🕶️🤏

user16 can we talk about franco and y/n racing together again after all this time?? we used to pray for times like these 🤲🤲

user17 franco read she’s single and all the pr training left his body 😭

user18 was there really any pr training to begin with?

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liked by ynracing, williamsracing and 521,091 others

francolapinto que día inolvidable. lo que disfruté mi primera carrera en f1 no les puedo explicar!! hay que seguir trabajando… pero no se dan cuenta de lo que me duele el cuerpo 🫠

what an unforgettable day. i can’t explain how much i enjoyed my first race in f1!! time to keep working… but you’ve got no idea how much my body hurts 🫠

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user18 GRANDE FRANQUITOOO

ynracing congrats fran!!!!!! what a great way to start off 🩵 estoy muy orgullosa de ti ♥︎ liked by francolapinto

francolapinto JAJA did you google translate that?

ynracing ………no

user19 i love argentina, it looks like such a great country with amazing drivers. greetings from argentina

williamsracing 👏👏👏

user20 @wiIIiamsracing OUT you’re not allowed to celebrate with us 👉🚪

user21 oh no he’s endeared himself to me what now

user22 🇦🇷👏

user23 the utter lack of pr training of this man during the interviews had me screaming

user24 GREAT JOB FRANCO

user25 why am i growing attached to a driver that will only be here for 9 races 😭

user26 wait i think i love him i fear

user27 are we just all gonna fake dementia over that post race interview or………

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liked by francolapinto, carlossainz55 and 301,091 others

ynracing this idiot should’ve known flowers are much more effective

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user35 OH MY GOD

user36 NO WAY NO WAY SAY SIKE RN

user37 somebody SEDATE ME

carlossainz55 this idiot should’ve opened google translate before

ynracing OUT 🫵🚪

user38 does this make franco a wag

user39 i mean………

francolapinto yes :)

user40 TRULY INSANE BEHAVIOR

francolapinto si igual te encanta cuando hablo español (you still love it when i speak spanish)

ynracing yes i do ☺️

landonorris @ynracing 🫵 SIMP

user41 NO WAY THIS ACTUALLY WORKED FOR HIM 😭😭

user42 he has too much charm someone has to put him down

francolapinto what

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liked by ynracing, bizarrap, landonorris and 411,450 others

francolapinto dijo que si 😇 (she said yes)

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user42 does this make fernando alonso a multi-millionaire match maker

user43 THE HAND PLACEMENT

user44 OH WE’VE BEEN PRAYING FOR TIMES LIKE THESE 🤧🤧🤧

user45 y/n amiga ya sos argentina 🙂‍↕️🧉

user46 ABOUT DAMN TIME

user47 🫶🫶🫶

user48 what a time to ALIVE 😍

ynracing awww do you like have a crush on me or something

francolapinto we’re literally holding hands right now

ynracing i know 🥰 te quiero corazón

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a/n: social media aus take SO LONG to make oh my god?? why did i think this would be easy. i feel this is good for a first attempt though? also i hope none of the spanish comes off as cringey….. i very much had forgotten how much second hand embarrassment it gives me to use petnames in spanish (read: spanish is my first language)

i hope you enjoyed!!!!! reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)

[inkskinned]

hello. you left a neon pink post-it with pgs 194-359 due 9/12 in the book, by the way. it is now May 23rd and the library's printer is running out of ink. it jammed and tore my passport application. one of the librarians dutifully blacked out all my information (front and back!) before proceeding to use every unmarred inch as scrap paper.

i think maybe our (plural, inclusive) lives are connected. all of them. i have been thinking a lot about borrowing. about how people move through the world in waves, filling in the same spaces. i have probably stood on the same subway platform as you. we held the same book. all of us stand in the same line at the grocery, at the gas station. how many feet have stood washing dishes in my kitchen?

i hope you are doing well. the pen you used was a nice red, maybe a glitter pen? you have loopy, curling handwriting. i sometimes wonder if it is true that you can tell a personality by the shape of our letters. i'm borrowing my brother's car. he's got scrangly engineer handwriting (you know the one). it's a yellow-orange ford mustang boss. when i got out of the building, some kids were posing with it for a selfie. i felt a little bird grow in me and had to pause and pretend to be busy with my phone to give them more time for their laughing.

i have a habit of asking people what's the last good book you read? the librarian's handwriting on the back of my smeared-and-chewed passport application says the glass house in small undercase. i usually go for fantasy/sci fi, but she was glowing when she suggested it. i found your post-it on page 26, so i really hope you didn't have to read up to 359 in that particular book. i hope you're like me and just have a weird "random piece of trash" "bookmark" that somehow makes it through like, 58 books.

i wish the concept of soul mates was bigger. i wish it was about how my soul and your soul are reading the same work. how i actually put down that book at the same time you did - page 26 was like, all exposition. i wish we were soul mates with every person on the same train. how magical to exist and borrow the same space together. i like the idea that somewhere, someone is using the shirts i donated. i like the idea that every time i see a nice view and say oh gosh look at the view, you (plural, inclusive) said that too.

the kids hollered when i beeped the car. oh dude you set off the alarm, oh shit is she - dude that's her car!! one was extremely polite. "i like your car, Miss. i'm sorry we touched it." i said i wasn't busy, finish up the pictures. i folded your post-it into a paper crane while i waited. i thought about how my brother's a kind person but his handwriting looks angry. i thought about how for an entire year i drove someone to work every day - and i didn't even think to ask for gas money. my handwriting is straight capital letters.

i thought about how i can make a paper crane because i was taught by someone who was taught by someone else.

the kids asked me to rev the engine and you know i did. the way they reacted? you would have thought i brought the sun from the sky and poured it into a waterglass. i went home smiling about it. i later gave your post it-turned-bird to a tiny child on the bus. she put it in her mouth immediately.

how easy, standing in your shadow, casting my own. how our hands pass over each other in the same minor folds. i wonder how many of the same books you and i have read. i wonder how many people have the same favorite six songs or have been in the same restaurant or have attended the same movie premier. the other day i mentioned the Book Mill from a small town in western massachusetts - a lot of people knew of it. i wonder if i've ever passed you - and didn't even notice it.

i hope whatever i leave behind makes you happy. i hope my hands only leave gentle prints. i hope you and i get the same feeling when the sun comes out. soulmates across all of it.

[royalreef]

        Meanwhile — she’s taking this entire dungeon business VERY seriously. If the near-month of training and preparation wasn’t already a clue. Professional!! Even if she’s still not as experienced as Aaravi herself, she takes very deep pride in being able to handle this swiftly and efficiently. Be wary, if you let a menace cat into your dungeon, for who knows what she might break.

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”