coffee district

The Signs and Cities:

Aries: A city of ripplling marble walls that stand fast against the sea. A city of hidden gardens.

Taurus: Vast umber halls now buried. A grand courthouse now a necropolis that guards sacred remains.

Gemini: Cities separated by a great bridge, the methods of its construction now lost to time.

Cancer: The streets of an old port city reclaimed by the sea. Host to new dwellers.

Leo: A city tied in knots. No map will be of use.

Virgo: A city carved from the bones of something titanic and long dead.

Libra: A holy city cloaked in iron and coffee.

Scorpio: A market district so vibrant it has a language and an embassy all its own.

Ophiuchus: The city of pipes, shafts, and poverty. A refuge from the shining city above.

Sagittarius: A city on rails. So many shifting parts it feels as if it may depart any moment.

Capricorn: A city of srtorms. A city powered by a thousand funnles, aquaducts, and dynamos.

Aquarius: A grand capital. A headstone to every city like it that came before.

Pisces: A palace now pinned to the earth by trees. The dusty crown worn by wolves.

anonymous asked:

Fuck owner story. So I work for a popular coffee shop and our district is full of "older" stores. In my store alone our carport is falling apart(a piece actually fell on someones car. Luckily it didn't do any damage and they weren't mad) and the roof leaks really bad. Just recently I've noticed mold growing over where we brew the coffee in open pots. The owner is aware and isn't going to do anything about it. About ready to call OSHA on them.

You better get up while you can.

Saint Valentine

Reid x Reader

“Look who I found!” Garcia cries, turning the corner into the bullpen. The analyst is grinning, her hot pink heels clacking across the floor. Being dragged behind her is a young woman in a winter coat, a red and white striped scarf wrapped around her neck. She hastily pulls off a pair of mittens before waving at the gathered team members, evidently having just arrived.

“Well, well, Y/F/N Y/L/N!” Morgan stands to shake her hand. “Long time no see. What have you been up to?”

“Traveling, actually,” she says. “I’ve been with a team coordinating trainings in local field offices, to provide better support and services. Brocker came from lab services, Freeman from security clearance, Vega from law enforcement training, and Whitley from media and communications. I heard they’d been hoping to get JJ though.”

“Being away from my boys for a few days is too much, let alone for a few weeks,” JJ replies. “How are things at the Office for Victim Assistance?”

“As good as they can be, considering our work. It seems like there’s always some new form of crime creating more victims.”

“We know what that’s like,” Morgan says. Y/N works for the OVA, the office only a few floors down from BAU headquarters. Her duties are varied, ranging from putting brochures and handouts together, to training local law enforcement, to traveling to assist agents working a case that required a victim specialist. It was how she and Garcia had met, when the analyst was looking for resources for the support group she ran. They hit it off, becoming fast friends, and when the BAU team needed a second opinion on how to proceed with a victim, Y/N became the first person they called.

“Could someone please explain why the f-” Reid stops midsentence when he notices the newcomer. “Y/N! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Dr. Reid. I was on my way in when Penelope here kidnapped me, insisting I come to say hello.”

“It’s nice to see you again. Which reminds me, Garcia, why is the fridge full?” Reid nods towards the office kitchen.

Garcia glances away, guilty. “I was making chocolates for everyone, and if I leave them out they would melt! I labeled them by type, if you want some. There’s more than enough for the whole office. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, you know? Since it’s a weekend I wanted to bring them in today. Holidays are meant to be celebrated!” Clearly she’s in the mood for festivities, her entire outfit is pink and red, completed by a headband with two light-up hearts on springs that bounce with every step.

“I would hardly count Februrary 14th as a holiday,” he mutters.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, surprised. “What’s this? There’s a holiday you don’t love?” In the two years she has known him, Spencer Reid has managed to find a reason to celebrate even the most minor of days. Obscure historical observances and the birthdays of famous scientists seem to demand proper respect, and he’s been extremely enthusiastic about any office holiday parties – going so far as to attempt to start an annual Halloween one. It’s the first time she’s ever seen the agent annoyed by a celebration.

“Don’t let him sour your mood,” Morgan interjects. “Pretty Boy is just mad he’s never got a date for Valentine’s.”

“I am not!” Reid snaps, his voice jumping higher, signifying there’s some truth to Morgan’s statement. Even if he’s not upset about his lack of a relationship, he’s definitely lonely. Everyone gets lonely.

“Do you have any plans?” JJ counters. Reid doesn’t respond, merely haphazardly tosses a few books out from his messenger bag and onto his desk.

Y/N surveys the gathered agents. She knows that Penelope has a date with Sam, Morgan is probably going out with his girlfriend, and JJ will be with Will. Agent Hotchner isn’t around, nor is Rossi, but they have family and close friends to spend the day with. Before her judgment gets the best of her, she blurts out, “I’m not doing anything tomorrow. Some company would be nice, if you’re free of course.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, JJ and Penelope exchange a look. “What?” Reid asks, caught off guard. His face is nearly as red as her own.

She’s already starting to regret saying anything. “It’s just – well, Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to suck. And you don’t necessarily need a date to celebrate it. Why not spend it with a friend?” They are friends, aren’t they?

There’s a long silence, and she can practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Finally, he agrees. “Sure. That – that might be, uh, nice.”

“Great! Well, I should really get downstairs but I’ll give you a call later, Dr. Reid. Bye!” The young woman waves once more, readjusts her scarf, and hurries out the lobby doors almost as quickly as Reid excuses himself back to the kitchenette to avoid teasing.

“Since when does she call him Doctor Reid?” Morgan asks. Y/N has almost always called them by their first names.

“Since a month and a half ago,” Garcia announces with a smirk. When he inquires as to why, she simply says, “You’re the profiler, Derek. You figure it out.”

There is a collective pause before understanding passes over JJ and Morgan’s faces. “No kidding. Pretty Boy might just find love after all.”


She did call him, and they arranged to meet at a coffee shop in the District. Before she hung up, he added, “Oh, and Y/N? You don’t have to call me Dr. Reid at work.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m just nervous they’ll think something is up.”

At which he sighed, “Overcompensating will make it even more obvious.” It wasn’t anything they needed to hide, after all there were no rules about those from different divisions becoming friends. There had been a few cups of coffee, a visit to the library, and a showing of a Doctor Who special at a nearby theater which neither had wanted to attend alone. None were dates, just two people who shared similar interests spending time together. Though the more they hung out, the ore Y/N realized she wanted to keep spending time with him, wanted their meetings to be more than that. It was just a crush, a small and very persistent crush. It was unlikely he felt the same way. She has managed to keep calm about it around him, but something about being surrounded by profilers made her worry.

Saturday morning arrives and she tries to find a balance between casual and nice, wanting to impress him but afraid of giving him the wrong idea. With a sweater, a heart-shaped barrette, and that striped scarf, she makes her way into the city. The air is cold, and it forces her down the sidewalk at a faster pace. Reid is nowhere to be found, and so Y/N heads inside the coffee shop to wait where it’s warm. After a few minutes of standing near the door and examining the menu, a man’s voice startles her. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone?” Only it’s not Reid’s voice.

The man before her is tall, a muscular blond with a rugby shirt and a leering smile. The way he looks at her, sizing her up like a prize to be won, makes her shift uncomfortably. “I’m waiting for someone. He’s running late,” she says.

Rugby Shirt shrugs. “I don’t see your boyfriend. C’mon, let me just buy you a drink and we can chat.”

Before she can respond, a strong arm wraps around her waist. “There you are, sweetheart. I hope you didn’t wait too long.” This voice she knows. Sure enough, it’s Reid, gazing down at her like there’s nobody else he so badly wants to see. It’s surprising enough to find his hand resting on her hip, but then he leans down and kisses her cheek. He smiles at Rugby Shirt. “I’m sorry, are you two friends?”

The blond man doesn’t answer, only mutters something under his breath and stalks off. Reid promptly lets her go, and she’s a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. “Sorry Y/N. You looked like you needed an out, and that was the first thing that came to mind.”

“You don’t have to apologize Spencer! I’m just glad you made it.” It is a relief to see him there, confirmation that he at the very least he thinks enough of her to meet her for coffee. His hair is its usual mess, his messenger bag hangs from his shoulder, but his cardigan is one she didn’t recognize. Gray fabric, and a tiny red heart pinned on the left side. In some small way, he’s finding a way to be festive. It’s a start. Her only goal for the day is to give him a reason to love Valentine’s.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers. “I’ll go order.” Reid knows her order from their previous excursions, and insists on paying. He has always been  a perfect gentleman – holding doors, buying popcorn at the movies, lending her his jacket when it was cold, making sure she got home safe. It would be so much easier if there was something she could hate about him, rather than the ever growing list of reasons she wants to be around him. A cup of hazelnut coffee is set in front of her, and Reid sits down across from her.

“How was life on the road?” he inquires. Much of his own career has been spent in a jet or a car, traveling from city to city.

“I can say this – you never really know someone until you travel with them for six weeks,” she laughs. The trip was a whirlwind, the five loosely acquainted agents sharing hotel rooms and plane rides and taxis together. Each city led to a new discovery. Agent Freeman couldn’t go two days without buying a milkshake, and they would often end up making detours to random diners in order to satisfy his cravings, Agent Whitley hoarded complimentary soaps and shampoos from various hotels and motels along the way. Whenever Agent Vega had the chance to play music, she subjected them all to Celine Dion’s greatest hits, and while Agent Brocker was a soft spoken man, he often muttered the most amusing sarcastic remarks under his breath when he thought nobody was listening.

They cover the usual topics, works and cases and coworkers, catching up on the books they’ve been reading and the little details of each other’s lives. When there is a lull in the natural flow of conversation, Y/N decides to seize the opportunity to quell her curiosity. “So, I was wondering,” she begins, venturing hesitantly into new territory. “Why do you hate Valentine’s Day so much?”

Reid frowns and takes a hasty sip of his coffee. Was it too early to ask him something like that? “It’s sort of complicated. When I was growing up, my high school used to hold a fundraiser the week before. The student council sold roses, and you could send them to anyone in the school with a message attached. It was kind of a big deal, and everyone would compare how many they got and who they got them from. Some received messages from dates, from secret admirers, and even friends. My freshman and sophomore year, I didn’t get a single one. I wasn’t really surprised, since I didn’t have many friends, but it still hurt to see that all of my classmates had somebody who took the time to send them something, and I had no one.

“That changed my junior year. When Valentine’s Day came around, boxes of roses were sent to all the homerooms For the first time, there was something for me – an entire bag of roses. I was so excited to think that someone too the time to do that. That’s when I read the cards attached to them. Every last one had something mean on it. Some were taunts, some were obscene messages, and some were just plain cruel. There was one from nearly every member of my grade. All day people laughed at me, like I was some joke the whole school was in on. I stayed home on the 14th the next year, and while nothing like that has happened since, there’s nothing fun about being alone on a holiday that’s meant people who have someone to share it with.”

Her heart breaks for him, to picture that eleven year old kid lost in a sea of careless teenagers looking for a cheap laugh. Kids could be so mean. Childhood bullies never imagined the scars they left would last long into adulthood. Especially when their target has an eidetic memory. “That’s terrible,” she says. “No wonder you don’t like Valentine’s.”

“I just don’t think this day is meant for people like me. I’m weird and awkward. I talk too much, my hair is a mess, and I spend all my time reading. I’m not the kind of person that people fall in love with.”

There is no trace of doubt in his voice, Reid is entirely convinced that what he says is the truth. As she looks at him, she wonders how on earth he could believe that. Perhaps he isn’t handsome in the conventional sense, but Y/N could spend hours looking at him, getting lost in those eyes and the sharp angles of his cheekbones. His smile brightens a room, so wide and so genuine. Appearance stopped mattering to her long ago, when one day she realized that she didn’t just see a tall man in a cardigan and tie anymore. She saw Spencer Reid in whole, all of his quirks and his kindness and his brilliance at once. All of the things that endeared him to her, that made her want to dig beyond the surface and discover more about him. How is it that the man before her doesn’t believe he’s worthy of love?

“Surely you’ve fallen in love before,” she says, hoping to bring up a happier memory.

Reid wrings his hands, trying to discern how much to tell her. “I mean, there have been people I liked. A few girls I had a crush on in high school and college. A handful of relationships that… didn’t work out. Like I said, I’m not exactly at the top of anyone’s list for potential dates.”

In an attempt to push back sentiments that are far too honest, she takes a swig of her coffee, the hot liquid scalding her tongue in her haste. All around them there are couples chatting over drinks, smiling at each other and laughing. A teenage kisses a girl outside on the sidewalk, two women hold hands at the table next to them. The city of politics has become a haven of lovebirds, if only for 24 hours. The day doesn’t last forever, and so she decides to be brave. After all, she’s helped rape victims to face their attackers in courtrooms, and the families of those murdered to get through interviews with the police; if they can face their fears, surely she can manage this. “What about me, then?” she asks.

“What about you?” Reid responds, his eyebrows knit together.

“I like spending time with you. I don’t think what you have to say is boring, and I love that you’re so passionate about the things that are important to you. Whether that’s Russian literature or Doctor Who.  You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you’re so nice. And you look fine. More than fine, I mean Derek calls you ‘Pretty Boy’ for goodness sake. Anyone dating you would be incredibly lucky.” She can hardly believe she’s saying this, feeling altogether courageous and flustered.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, as he maintains a blank expression. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” she says, her voice falling a little quieter. These sorts of things don’t need to be shouted, a whisper is enough to make quite the statement. “It’s not that hard to see. You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. It’s hard not to fall in love with you.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You didn’t use the conditional tense.” It’s her turn to ask for clarification. “The conditional tense,” he repeats. “You didn’t say it would be hard not to, you said it’s hard not to. The conditional verb tense implies a possibility, whereas the present tense…” Reid trails off, not certain how to finish the statement. In his mind, it must’ve been a slip, an accident. There’s no way she meant it.

“Present tense implies that the feeling is true and present, now,” she finishes. Courage, she reminds herself. Seize the day, make this one day count. Too late to turn back now. “And it is. That feeling.”

“Are you saying that you would be okay if this was a date?” A hint of excitement, unbridled hope, creeps into his voice. How she loves that sound.

“That would be more than okay.” Suddenly she’s tired of tiptoeing around what she wants and what her heart is telling her, screaming at her to do. “Spencer, if you don’t want to spend Valentine’s Day alone, then don’t. Spend it with me. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. If you want someone to share a holiday with - or any day really - I’ll be there. I care about you, a lot. I know we haven’t been friends that long, but I know you well enough to know that you’re someone worth caring about.”

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he confesses. “I just never thought you would feel the same way.” She can’t blame him, the way his heart has been broken and hurt over the years. Feelings are fragile, and his have been trampled on too many times. If he gave her his heart, she would be gentle with it, be gentle with him. Is it too much to ask, to be allowed to love him? “When you offered to meet me today, I thought maybe February 14th wouldn’t be so unbearable after all. I know you said it was just between friends, but… do you want this to be a date?”

The phrasing is uncertain, and he’s slightly uncomfortable. This isn’t his area of expertise, relationships, but he knows he wants this, wants to at least try to make this work – whatever “this” is. It is the quiet murmur of his heart that continues to urge him towards Y/N, the way she pops up in his thoughts without warning, or how her laugh makes him feel just a little bit lighter. Around her, he doesn’t feel so out of place, around her he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that loneliness isn’t something permanent.

“I’d like that very much,” she tells him. What a relief it is to have those wishes made real. “So, it’s date then… sweetheart.” Turning that phrase around, calling him by a pet name this time, she decides it’s time to make things even. All he can do is grin as Y/N leans across the table to kiss his cheek.

Oh, there are most definitely reasons to love Valentine’s Day.


Garcia is regaling JJ with a story about her weekend with Sam when Reid breezes past, his mood far more pleasant than it was Friday. “How was your Valentine’s Day?” JJ asks him, speculation about the nature of his coffee shop rendezvous having taken place before he arrived that morning.

“Did you know there are a number of conflicting legends regarding Saint Valentine?” Reid counters. “Some say he performed marriages for Christians when it was outlawed by the Roman government, others say that while imprisoned he healed the warden’s daughter of blindness, and sent her a farewell card that was heralded as the first valentine? It’s impossible to know which accounts are most historically accurate, but the feast day itself wasn’t associated with romantic love until the 14th century when Chaucer connected romantic poetry with Valentine. And in Europe, people give Saint Valentines Keys not only to symbolize the unlocking of one’s heart, but also to ward off epilepsy which has been referred to as Saint Valentine’s Malady.”

JJ nods, bemused. That was typical Reid, ask about his weekend and receive a history lesson. The doctor rifles through his satchel for a particular file when Garcia gasps. There, nestled in the leather flaps, is a striped scarf. A red and white striped scarf to be precise, one that they’ve all seen before.

“That’s Y/N’s scarf!” Garcia exclaims. “Why do you have her scarf?”

“Way to go Pretty Boy,” Morgan chuckles, raising a hand for a high five.

Reid shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that,” he says. “I drove her home after we met for coffee, and she left it in my car on accident. I promised her I would return it today.”

As if on cue, Y/N steps through the glass lobby doors and makes her way to the group gathered around the desks. “Good morning, everyone. Sorry to interrupt. Spencer, do you have my scarf?” The change in greeting does not go unnoticed by the team. No longer is he Doctor Reid to her. Nevertheless, he takes the scarf from his bag and wraps it carefully around her, a gesture that strikes Garcia as oddly intimate. To their further shock, she stands and kisses Reid’s cheek. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

“It’s no trouble, sweetheart. Will I still see you tonight?” Y/N confirms this, and after reminding Penelope they still need to pick a date for brunch this week, bids the agents farewell and heads down to her office.

Garcia is still gaping long after her friend is gone. “Sweetheart?” she asks. “Sweetheart? Since when do you call Y/N that? And since when does she kiss you?” Reid just smiles, shakes his head, and goes straight to work. 

“Well Baby Girl, it looks like Reid finally has a reason to love Valentine’s Day,” Morgan remarks. Coffee and an open heart could go a long way towards turning the loneliest of holidays into a day worth celebrating. 

That was the first year that Spencer Reid thought of February 14th as a holiday, the very first in a long line of days worth celebrating and worth remembering, with someone who was very worth loving.

Climbing and coffee! (Adventure fuel)

When you’re out at the crag, it can sometimes be cold and miserable. Our favourite pick me up is a good strong espresso!

Yesterday in the Peak District it was no exception. Snow on the ground and a metal camera which just saps heat, Michael offered me a cup.

As he was getting the stove ready I noticed how cool it looked and so grabbed this cheeky behind the scenes shot.

Climbing days are so much fun, not just for the climbing, but also because you’re able to hang out with friends, chat and chill.

Remember to follow along for more climbing and adventure stuff 😀


(via wild strawberry | Coffee shop in Keswick by Derek Beattle | Flickr)