#overlap: polaroids

[tayfabe75]

Polaroids of Matty

[tayfabe75]

November 29, 2014: Matty signs one of Taylor's 1989 polaroids for a fan. (more details here)

“Oh, I knooow her!” The concert was brilliant. Meeting Matty was perfect and his reaction to me asking him to sign my @taylorswift polaroid was FABULOUS. Such a great day. ✌️

[rhiannonsknife]

😭 Thank you so so so so so much for writing my request!! There's absolutely no rush with this I just wanted to ask another one, Because I'm kind of obsessed with your work-

Perhaps Jackie Taylor X Reader where they have been married for a long time. Like 10 plus years. She wakes up ready to go to work but their reading is standing in the kitchen, And it reminds Jackie of when they were so young and in love. It just makes her fall in love with the reader all over again and she decides she just has to take the reader and eat her out on the counter!

-🦜

── RUNNING HOME TO YOUR SWEET NOTHINGS

— summary: slow mornings with jackie.

— warnings: established relationship/marriage. fem!reader. domestic fluff & nsfw content. mdni.

jackie stretches as she wakes, letting consciousness settle over her slowly. the sheets are warm, cocooning her in their familiar weight, too tempting to leave just yet. from the other room, the quiet sounds of morning drift in; the rustle of pages turning, the soft clink of a spoon against ceramic.

jackie’s muscles, untrained but prominent from years of soccer in highschool and college, uncoil as she turns her head toward your side of the bed. it’s empty but still holds the warmth of you, the shape of your body faintly imprinted on the freshly washed sheets. not gone long, then. she smiles to herself, fingertips tracing the dip where you had been.

a soft weight presses against her shin, pulling her from the last remnants of sleep. glancing down, jackie finds your cat curled at the foot of the bed, paws tucked neatly under its chin. she reaches out, running her fingers over its soft fur, scratching lightly between its ears. the cat barely stirs, only flicking its tail once before sinking deeper into sleep. even after all these years, it still favors you.

with another stretch, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, the morning air cool against her skin. reaching for the worn sweater draped over the chair, jackie tugs it on quickly. yours, technically, but she’s long since claimed it as her own in the mornings. the fabric is too large on her, with sleeves hanging way past her hands, but it smells like you and the lavender laundry detergent you always buy and feels more comforting than any of her own clothes.

once she pulls it over her head and untangles her limbs from the sheets, she moves from the bedroom. jackie already knows exactly where she’ll find you.

as she walks through the hallway, she passes all the little signs of your life together: the framed photo from your honeymoon hangs slightly crooked on the wall, something you always insist you’ll fix but never do. tucked into the frame is a worn polaroid from your first apartment, covering a small crack in the glass. in it, jackie is holding up a wine glass, while you’re caught mid-laugh, leaning into her the same way you always have, even in the wedding photos that follow further down the hall.

the entryway table holds a vase of dried flowers, a bouquet she had given you months ago, now preserved because you couldn’t throw them out. nearby, a small stack of mail she keeps meaning to sort through, books piled beside it, some hers, some yours, overlapping in the same way your lives always have. it’s a cozy kind of mess, one that makes her smile even in passing.

and then there’s you, the centerpiece of jackie’s existence now, standing in the kitchen, bathed in the light that spills through the curtains.

you’re still in your nightgown, its hem skimming the curve of your thighs, and your hair is a little mussed from sleep. one hand cradles a mug, while the other flips absently through a book on the counter, your lips quirking every so often at whatever you’re reading while you wait for the eggs to cook.

jackie freezes in the doorway to watch you for a bit.

it’s been over a decade. over ten years of this, of waking up and falling asleep to you, learning every single one of your habits, and still, she finds herself caught off guard by how much she loves you and how much she still wants you, in all the ways that matter.

she remembers mornings like this from the beginning, back when you were both in high school, and time alone was a rare thing. the only moments you had to yourselves then were tucked into the short window between her parents leaving for work and shauna pulling up to drive you both to school.

everything felt like new territory back then. your presence in her house had meant rushed breakfasts at the kitchen counter, stolen kisses between sips of coffee in the too-large home of the taylors, always cut short by the sound of an approaching car and the reality that you couldn’t stay.

now, here you are, still stealing her breath away.

you glance up as if sensing your wife, and your face softens into a smile. jackie swallows, her heart doing something embarrassingly teenage in her chest.

“you’re staring,” you tease, taking a sip of your tea. jackie hums, pushing off the doorframe and crossing the room. “can’t help it,”

you laugh. before you can say anything else, she’s there, warm hands finding your waist, pulling you into her. sighing into the touch, you instinctively set your mug down on the counter as she buries her face against your neck and breathes you in.

“mhm, good morning to you too mrs (y/l/n),” you murmur.

god, jackie never tires of hearing that: your name, now hers.

it had never even been a question. the moment it came up in a long conversation spent curled up bare under the sheets of the cottage where she’d proposed, jackie knew. you had tilted your head, fingers tracing lazy patterns against her shoulder, and asked, ‘so, what do we do about names?’ she had just shrugged, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. ‘i’ll take yours’

and that was that. no hesitation or second thoughts, just certainty, like so many things when it came to you.

“you still like the sound of that, huh?” you tilt your head enough for her to kiss you properly.

“best decision i ever made,” jackie whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. she can feel your smile against her lips in response.

“aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work?”

she lets her hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt. “i changed my mind…”

“oh?”

“yeah. i think i’d rather stay here,”

you hum, and your fingers move into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging just enough to make jackie sigh against your mouth.

she always knows where you need her before you do yourself, and her hands slide further up beneath the silky fabric, over warm skin, cupping all of your breasts in her palms. her teeth graze your bottom lip just enough to make you whine into her. she swallows the sound greedily, tilting her head to kiss you deeper, her fingers tightening like she wants to pull you even closer. like close will never be close enough.

just as smoothly as she works your lips apart to slip her tongue in, she hooks her hands under your thighs and lifts you onto the counter. with a startled laugh, you let her move you. jackie grins when she steps between your legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs.

“easy,” you tease.

jackie’s palms caress up your parted thighs, the heat of her touch leaving a trail in its wake until settling firm at your hips. she holds you there and you exhale against her, fingers slipping back into her hair, curling it in your fists.

your legs tighten around her waist, pulling her in closer until jackie swears under her breath, clearly feeling the warmth that radiates from your center. she breaks the kiss just long enough to press her forehead against yours, breathing heavy, lips agape.

“you,” she accuses with her index poking your sides. “are trying to kill me here!”

“i’m not doing anything!” you protest.

jackie scoffs, quick to steal another kiss. then another. and another, like she has all the time in the world. right when you’re sure she’s going to lose herself entirely, the kitchen timer beeps.

the eggs.

for half a second, jackie looks almost offended at the rude interruption, but then your head drops against her shoulder and your body shakes with laughter. she groans, but your laughter is contagious, and soon enough, she’s laughing too.

jackie doesn’t let go of you, blindly reaching behind herself to fumble for the stove dial until she manages to turn it off.

“you’re just going to leave them sitting there?”

she nods, lips trailing down your jaw again so her voice comes out muffled. “they’ll survive”

you wrap your arms around her shoulders whilst she kisses her way back to your mouth.

jackie’s fingers fumble with the tie of your nightgown, working it open without needing to break the kiss. years spent learning where to tug and pull to free you from your clothes are to blame, the different motions muscle memory by now.

no matter how familiar jackie is with your body, she will never not take her time savoring the sight of you: you’re not wearing anything underneath, save for a thin pair of panties, so with the way she’s pushed the gown open your chest is on full display.

“so pretty,” she purrs, already closing the distance again. her hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples gently at the same time as she’s kissing you. jackie’s mouth wanders to the side of your throat, then further down.

there’s no longer need for claim, for desperate encounters that aim to prove something. jackie will occasionally enjoy ravishing you (sinking her teeth in your flesh until the skin between them bruises all while she’s really fucking you), but it has become this for the most part: gentle lovemaking whenever you have the chance, still unable to keep your hands off of each other.

her lips briefly graze over the valley between your breasts, then slide below your belly button as she lowers her weight to the ground in front of you. with a smile, you cup one side of her face, taking your own share of time to admire your wife.

jackie doesn’t let you have a lot of it, though: before you know it, her mouth is on the fabric of your underwear and your head falls back against the wall as she feels you up with her tongue and lips, pressing in the places she’s memorized by heart.

“is that okay?” she breathes against you, still fully clothed, but aching with want.

“mhm,” you tighten your grip and jackie, who sighs happily in response and reaches out to peel your panties off. she’s careful with it, making sure you won’t slide off the counter while she lifts one leg after the other, just to pocket the underwear once that is done.

an invitation would not be necessary, and still, you spread your legs wider, not out of urgency but trust, shame and self consciousness long outgrown.

she has seen you in every state, knows every scar, every curve, every place where time has left its mark and, still, jackie looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. her hands brush over skin she’s traced a thousand times before, never with any less reverence.

you look down just in time to find jackie pressing a first kiss to your mound, her ragged breath ghosting over your soaked sex that pulses impatiently lower.

with the index and middle finger of her right hand parted, she runs them through you, spreading your labia open in awe. a breathless sound tears from your throat, aware of how easily her digits slide through your wetness.

“come on,” you urge, lifting a leg over her shoulder. easier access.

jackie complies; her lips are parted when she presses them against you, applying just the right amount of pressure. the moan you let out at the first contact is loud and ragged, echoing through the kitchen.

“right there,” you cry.

right there, not because jackie needs guidance but because you know she loves it when you’re open. loud. when you let her know that she’s making you feel good, whether it is by letting your moans slip or by praising her verbally.

the vibrations of the noise she makes in response go straight to your core, more arousal dripping for her mouth to drink up hungrily. it is coating her, slick and wet as she traces over your clit and swirls in clockwise circles.

for a while, jackie eats you out like this, getting lost in your taste just like you are in the sensations of her tongue flicking from side to side, licking broad strokes through you, then fucking into you deep.

her hair, a little longer now but still the same golden brown she’s been maintaining, clings to the thin film of sweat on her forehead in delicate strands, proof that she’s just as affected by what she’s doing to you, whilst her neatly manicured nails dig into your flesh. soft pastel pink almond shapes drag lines of red down the side of your thighs, goosebumps and shivers rising from the touch.

“you taste so good” she says softly once, then leans right back in to continuously flick your clit.

you can tell she’s toying with you, avoiding your most sensitive spots with purpose, only ever ghosting it briefly until you’re grinding yourself against her face in frustration you cannot contain. she knows exactly what you would need to get close to the edge, pretends to give it to you, then withdraws once pleasure starts building up.

“jackie,” you whine.

between your legs, she holds your gaze, reaches out and runs a hand through your folds. when she tilts her head, asking for permission silently, you immediately nod and jackie pushes forward, two fingers sinking into the heat of your cunt.

this draws the loudest moan from you yet, though you wouldn’t dare to try and stifle it.

that’s a habit you’ve long since left behind, discarded like the passed down furniture and mismatched dishes from your first apartment. then, everything had been hushed, kisses stolen behind locked doors, moans muffled into pillows. the walls were thin, the neighbors close, and the fear of being overheard turned every moment into a careful mix of restraint and want.

in the home you live in now, there are no walls to mind, no need to press a fist to your mouth to quiet yourself. here, you are free to gasp when jackie’s lips press against your clit, free to let her love you without reservation.

jackie has taken her mouth off of you to watch the way your face contorts in pleasure as she rubs the tips of her fingers against your g-spot, allowing you to see the arousal smeared across the lower half of her face, glistening beautifully in the light.

she’s moaning too, quieter and less desperate of course, but moaning all the same when she feels the way you flutter around her as though she could actually get off from this. your pleasure had always been jackie’s, too.

“good?” she rasps.

“mhm,” you lift your head from the wall behind you, watching in awe as jackie puts her tongue back to where you want it. you don’t even know what it is about jackie’s mouth but she could probably make you cum from nothing but gentle kisses if she tried, always knowing exactly where to move to coax the most pleasure from your body.

her hair curls up between your fingers when she starts sucking on your clit gently, drawing a contented hum from her mouth.

the words jackie is saying morph into muffled babbles against your cunt, her voice white noise to the pleasure that sets your nerve endings alight as she sucks, her eyes rolling back in their sockets at the taste of you.

“jackie” you gasp, your hips pushing further into her face. an unreleased tension starts building in your abdomen, making your whole body tremble wildly.

“are you close love?” jackie asks, her fingers thrusting into you at a faster pace. “it’s okay,” she sits back on her heels to look at you, her hand making up for the momentary loss of her mouth. “i got you. just let go”

your free hand reaches for hers, fingers lacing together so that she can give you one long squeeze. jackie’s mouth starts sucking your clit harsher, pushing into you deeper, making your walls clench around her fingers. the sensation is so much. it’s not nearly enough. it’s perfect, sending you over the edge in mere seconds.

with a strangled cry of jackie’s name, you cum against the feeling of her mouth on your clit and her fingers buried deep inside you. her voice feels distant as pleasure rushes through your veins.

“that’s it” jackie praises, holding you through your orgasm. “oh my god, that’s it. fuck, you’re so beautiful” she talks you through the entire height, her voice cracking whilst she watches you fall apart and come undone. she continues her licking and sucking too, until you comfortably move her head away, spent and on the verge of overstimulation.

with a wet pop, she releases your throbbing clit and presses a last kiss to your knee before rising to her feet. you’re still perched on the counter, catching your breath, warmth buzzing under your skin.

jackie reaches for the edges of your nightgown next, making quick work of pulling the fabric back together, tying it loosely at your waist. you watch her fuss over it with amusement, as if she hadn’t just spent the last several minutes undoing it in the first place. “very modest of you”

“someone’s gotta keep you decent,” she quips, a teasing smile on her lips as she slots herself back between your legs, hands settling at your waist. the kiss that follows is slow and sweet, her mouth still carrying the taste of you. jackie lingers until the soft scent of something cooking reminds you of the world beyond her touch.

your gaze flickers past her to the stove, where the eggs still sit, long forgotten. “so...you still want breakfast?”

jackie glances over her shoulder at the abandoned pan, then back at you, considering. “i mean, we did work up an appetite, huh?”

you roll your eyes, swatting at her arm playfully before slipping down from the counter. she doesn’t let you go far, her hands finding your waist again as she stands behind you, holding you close while you move around the kitchen.

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Simon, who keeps a stack of Polaroid pictures of his body in a locked drawer. The photos aren't a pretty sight, seeing how it was taken while he was in the holds of narcos, endless scars covering his body.

Jagged pink lines overlapping with each other along with the countless amount of bruises turning black. In one of the pictures, Simon's face was swollen beyond recognition, his body bloodied with several teeth clearly on the ground behind him. The gleaming face of his captors briefly shows in the background, gun to his head as their other hand dangles the ghost mask.

He doesn't like looking at them, but still keeps the pictures as a reminder, because no matter how bad it gets, he's still safe and sound now, in the comfort of his apartment, with people he trusts, people like Price, a strong steady guide in his life.

He hides the pictures too, only occasionally taking it out for the few people whom he trusts fully. (Price and Laswell mostly. The two of them are almost always immediately concerned whenever a drunk and brooding Simon pulls pictures out of the cabinet and then proceeds to laugh about them, cracking jokes after jokes that end him up in his therapist office.)

And then Johnny.

How mocking it was of the gods to send someone like Johnny down to earth, and have a man as perfect as him willingly seek him out? Not that he was complaining, but he's pretty sure an angel like Johnny would surely run away from a sight like him, no? Can't he see the endless amount of scars on his body? The broken man that Simon really is? How tiring would it be to love someone like him?

(a creeping thought begins to blossom in his mind, how he was a ugly and worthless man, incapable of being loved, and loving another back. Not in this line of job, and probably never in the past, present or future)

He throws the Polaroids on Johnny's desk one afternoon, sitting across from the man as a gruff command to review them leaves his lips.

He watches as Johnny's brows furrowed further, taking in each photo in consideration. Simon observed how...adorable Johnny looked while concentrating, how his face twisted up into confusion at the graphic pictures.

"Ah'm... Yer' gonna do t'is to'me?"

The question leaves his lips in almost childlike curiosity and horror. Simon sees the way Johnny holds up one of the pictures, eyes darting between it and Simon's biceps, comparing both.

Simon didn't have time to react when Johnny immediately grabbed his arm after, brows furrowed even further as he ran his eyes over the jagged lines, observing how some of them never healed fully in the first place. Up this close, Simon could almost see how Johnny's lips jutted out in slight horror, the wheels spinning in his mind as it clicks for him.

The man in the pictures was none other than his lieutenant.

He drops silent afterwards, before gathering the pictures and handing them back to Simon, leaving his office soon after.

Simon looked on in quiet amusement and slight hurt from how Johnny had just walked out. But he supposed he did expect that reaction from anyone with a sane mind. (He acknowledges he's broken, yet won't say he's self destructive. Delusional ass)

A week later, he finds a gift basket full of healing creams and soothing lotion on his desk, meant to help with bruises and scars. Sloppy (but recognizable) handwriting stuck on a post it notes on one of the bottles, obviously hurriedly scribbled on.

'I'll help you with your scars if you are willing to trust me - 🧼'

Simon takes a moment to consider himself, before resigning to the fact that Johnny would probably stick by him for the rest of his life. He also makes a mental note to visit Johnny later, when the base is asleep.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[pinksilkribbons]

COLLAGE: yan! classmate

CW/TW: non-consensual candid photos, elijah has a shrine of [name], mentions of praying to and basically viewing another human being as god, small implication of a boner, general yandere stuff ig.

You guys my last post on Elijah got quite a few likes I’m so glad y’all like him!! He’s my least developed OC so i decided to write more on him and develop his character. I’ll post some of my others soon!

Ever since he bought his new polaroid, Elijah has discovered a new side of himself. At the beginning he’d only taken pictures of you and hung them around his closet.

But eventually…he grew tired of it. Not of his darling, no! Of course not! But…it was rather difficult to sneak photos of you without getting caught. Not to mention the majority of them turned out blurry anyway.

Something needed to change.

He didn’t just want pictures of you at school. He wanted pictures of everything. When you’re angry, when you’re sad, when you’re eating. Pictures in normal clothes instead of a school uniform for fucks sake!

In the beginning school was the easiest (and only) way he could gain access to you, but now it’s proving to make his job that much harder. There’s too many risks involved.

With a dramatic sigh he shut his closet door, making sure to click the padlock into place. After hanging so many pictures of you on his closet walls he decided it would be wise to invest in a lock.

He knows it isn’t normal. Taking pictures of people without asking isn’t normal. Being so deeply obsessed with someone isn’t normal.

But not being normal doesn’t make him bad. Just…more passionate!

“Hey mama?”, He asks, trudging down the stairs.

His mother turns away from her phone with a quick glance his way. Her head tilts up as if to silently ask him what he needs.

“You aren’t using these magazines anymore, are you?”

A small stack of magazines with a bunch of ‘trendy fashion’ labels catches his eye. On the front cover a young lady with blonde hair is posed in a field of flowers. The lady, however, isn’t what he’s interested in.

She laughs playfully and watches Elijah pick up the stack. “Well, not exactly. But why do you need them? I’ve never known you to be interested in fashion.”

Elijah feels a rush of red to his cheeks. A part of him feel dirty. Perverted, even. It’s clear his mother is implying something dirty, and while she isn’t even wrong, he’s probably planning something much worse than whatever she’s imagining right now.

It takes a few good seconds for his mind to come up with a plausible excuse. “W-well, I’m not interested in fashion! I just need some material for this project in art class.”

Luckily his mom doesn’t question him further. She definitely rolled her eyes at him though, clearly not believing his story.

As soon as he makes it back to his room Elijah is quick on his feet. He rushes over to his closet so quickly he almost falls over. A pulse of excitement gushes through his body as he begins to unlock his closet door.

The password to which is his darlings birthday, of course!

Upon opening the door, one wouldn’t suspect much of anything. Clothes, shoes, some random boxes, but nothing out of the ordinary. The real magic is in the far right corner, at the very bottom of the wall.

So far his collection is pretty small. The few photos he does have are all taped beside one another, carefully placed to ensure nothing is crooked or overlaps with the other. This small corner is Elijah’s entire life.

He lives and breathes [Name]. In fact, every morning, without fail, he finds himself in this exact position; sitting on his knees, admiring his darling. He bows his head and prays to your existence.

The amount of sheer joy your being grants him should never be taken lightly. Elijah is a good boy. He’s thankful. And He proves it every single morning.

“I feel kinda bad, cutting up her picture like this”, he mumbled to himself. His hands carefully maneuvered the scissors, making sure to save as much of his darlings face as possible.

Believe it or not it came out pretty good! Next he needed to cut the cover from his mom’s fashion magazine, which proved to be the real challenge.

The blonde lady on the cover was dressed in a blue flowy sundress. From the moment he saw it Elijah knew that dress was meant to be his darlings. The chances of him getting a real photo of you in this dress were zero, but he’d like to think he’s quite creative!

To finalize his creation he glued [Name]’s head onto the models face, successfully dressing her in the beautiful gown. Just imagining her in such an outfit had his heart racing and pants tightening.

It made him feel proud knowing he found a way to grow his collection while also reducing the risk of getting caught. Next time he visited the library, Elijah would be sure to pick up a few books on collaging.

You truly did bring out a new side of him. Who knew he was so artistic?

[sapphirerubydragon]

What am I thinking about?

The significance of photographs as symbolic conduits of love. Photos supposedly convey 1000 words and in Spiderverse they say what words won't.

Photography is a traditional part of Spiderman iconography. Peter Parker is conventionally recognized as a photographer at The Daily Bugle. We get this even in the form of LEGO Peter Parker in ATSV. Capturing photos in order to document for the news and make a living because well, Spiderman can't make money from saving the city. Sure, we have variations like Holland's who does some videography but The Daily Bugle photographer is pretty typical.

In Into the Spiderverse we have Peter B. Parker looking at a photo of MJ in Peter (1610's) hideout. There's so much yearning and longing because he and his MJ are yet to make up concerning their marriage but he clearly can't stop thinking about her and eventually resolves to make it work.

Later in the film we have Gwen cherishing the memento on her cellphone of her and Miles from the bus to Hudson. This photo becomes a pivotal motif throughout the next film. It helps her to feel more convicted and less alone as Spiderwoman. Propels her when she can't get back to Miles. It is so important to her that she prints it out so that she has a physical photo. It's kept in her drumset which holds her dearest belongings and it's the only thing she comes to reacquire after her expulsion from the Spider society. She prioritizes claiming this photo over seeing her own father. (We know why).

We've got Miles equally pining about the gulf separating him and Gwen documenting her image through his drawings. This is a cathartic pastime, and it also helps him to remember her face since he doesn't have any images with him like she does. His replication then of her image is how he channels his affection, admiration and loneliness. He draws all the friends he misses but having drawn Gwen many more times its quite clear how he feels about her.

We've got Gwen's Peter using his camera to document not only Gwen but her alterego Ghost Spider, foreshadowing our discovery that Peter has known for a long time that Gwen and Spiderwoman are one and the same and he wants to be special like her. And he loves her, all of her. Or so he thinks.

Lastly, we have Miguel who revisits images and videos of his daughter because he has lost her to eternity. The pain, guilt and grief he shoulders are immense but he claims that he doesn't always like what he has to do and I believe he is carrying out a lot of his actions concerning the multiverse in the name of his daughter.

Photos or drawings - all require attention to detail to capture essence adequately and after the act provide a concrete mode of connection when there's physical distance.

Longing, yearning, loneliness. The need for focus on a cause. Reminiscence. Unconditional, unfiltered love. The reasons for these sacred images overlap and give the films even more emotional resonance.

There are more instances of course. Images are also used in the film for surveillance for example, as shown in my first image. But I wanted to focus on this use in this post. Looking forward to the significance of Gwen's Polaroid in particular in BTSV.

[writteninkat]

I Wish You Would | Bakugou x Reader

synopsis: As you deep clean your attic, you find a box filled to the brim with all your old things back in high school...and the memories of your first love, Katsuki.

w/c: 2.2k

warnings: angst

a/n: i was going for a kind of bitter-sweet tone for this, so i hope it hits the right mark

navigation

♫ listening to:

You sneeze inside your shirt, wiping the sweat dripping down the side of your face with your arm as you huff languidly.

One more corner. I can do this!

You make it to the dark corner, moving a few half-filled boxes around as your eyes fall on one that's tucked in all the way at the back. Intrigued, you pick up the box, struggling slightly at its surprising weight.

You drop it in a heave, watching as the light from your attic's circular window shines directly on the box. Lowering to your knees you undo the flaps, gasping at the first sight of the item at the top. A UA uniform jacket.

Your brows knit in confusion as you pull the jacket out, spreading it out. The faintest smell of caramel and smoke seeps through your nose, a memory immediately flashing.

UA Jacket

"Why didn't you bring a damn umbrella?!" Katsuki yells, holding his uniform over your head as the both of you run under the pouring rain.

"You're my boyfriend! Shouldn't you be the one taking initiative?!" You yell back just as loudly, earning a glare from the annoyed blond.

When the both of you finally reach the dorms, you breathe heavily, catching your breaths.

"You guys got caught in the rain?" Shoto asks, showing off his dry state. You glare at the stoic man, standing up straight.

"No, icy hot. We swam through a tsunami."

When it looks like your classmate starts to believe you, you roll your eyes at him, walking deeper inside the dorms. As you reach the hallway towards the elevator, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders.

"Heyyy, you're learning a thing or two from already, huh?" Katsuki grins, proud at you for giving Shoto shit.

"Yeah, I'll start calling you professor." You chuckle, earning a soft kiss from the blond.

You blink out of your memory, feeling your eyes well as you drop the jacket on the floor. The next thing you pick up is a burnt scrapbook. You gasp, running your shaky fingers across the names on the cover page.

Katsuki & Y/n

"This is so fucking stupid." Katsuki grumble, holding the little hearts with one hand in a cupping motion, the other holding tiny hearts.

"No it's not! It's cute!" You say, wiping the glue on the paper with your finger before pasting the a picture of the both of you on the thick page.

"Here, how's it looking?" You ask, holding the book up at him. Despite him frowning and glaring at the page, ypu can tell he's really studying it.

"Add in a few more orange." He says, looking away as you giggle.

You carefully apply the lipstick on his puckered lips, his eyes filled with rage. To give him credit, he didn't move at all when you were applying the make up product on him. You smile brightly, checking to see if there were any messes on his lips before looking up at his eyes.

You grab the scrapbook, pointing at the area that overlaps the kiss mark you just did. "Kiss."

Without complaints, Katsuki presses his lips on the page. He's glaring and the throbbing on the side of his forehead looks like it's about to pop, but he still kissed.

You look at the finished product, laughing in amusement as you drop the book, replacing it with your polaroid camera.

"Say cheese!" You yell.

"Wait, you didn't say anything about pictures-!" The flash flickers.

The polaroid shows you holding the camera, your lips stretched into a wide grin, painted in a dark green color. Katsuki is right beside you, eye brows furrowed and mouth halfway open as he was in the middle of talking- yelling. He was in the middle of yelling.

Without knowing the story of the picture, to an outsider, it may look like you annoy his entire being. But the bright orange coloring his lips, along with the soft look in his eyes makes you think otherwise.

You bite on your lower lip, smiling wistfully as you place the book down beside you, unable to go through all the pages yet. What you find next finally pushes your tears over the edge.

A dark green scarf with orange boxes.

You sneeze, watching one or two cherry blossom petals fall on the bridge you're standing on as you watch a family of swans swim from below it.

"Why didn't you wear anything warm?" Katsuki asks, wrapping a soft, warm scarf around your neck.

"Then why'd you bring me here? We could have stayed in the dirms." You frown.

You spot his ears slowly turn red along with his cheeks as he looks away bashfully. Your eyes widen in surprise as this is the first time you've seen Katsuki act this way.

"Well, I just thought maybe I should do this somewhere pretty, y'know?" He mumbles, scratching his nape as he tucks his other hand inside his pocket.

"What do you have in there?" You ask, eyes on said pocket as you narrow them in suspicion.

"You know what! Nevermind!" He yells, turning around. "Damn idiot..." He mutters.

You run after him, grabbing his fee hand to spin him around. As soon as you're facing eachother, you quickly grab onto his other wrist, pulling his hand out his pocket.

"Wait-"

Your gaze falls on a shiny silver ring with an emerald as its stone. You gasp, hands flying to your mouth as your eyes begin to water.

"Hold on-" Katsuki starts but you quickly jump at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you chant, "Yes! Yes! I'm saying yes!"

The people around you begin clapping and cheering for the both of you, making your heart melt instantly.

"Y/n, hold on! This isn't an engagement ring." Your boyfriend yells, pulling your arms off of him. You suck in a breath at his words, heart clenching in pain at his rejection.

He immediately reads your expression, rolling his eyes.

"If you had just let me speak first before screaming like crazy!" He yells, taking your right hand, inserting the ring in your ring finger. It fits you perfectly, the light glinting off the stone.

"It's a promise ring. I know we're too damn young for such heavy commitments, but if you'll wait for me..." He squeezes your hands, deeply staring into your eyes. "I promise to ask for permission from the people you love, so I can take your hand, and officially make you mine."

The tears stream down your face as your chest warms with so much love and adoration for this foul mouthed dumbass.

"How 'bout it, idiot? Wait for me?" He asks, a rare smile on his lips. You disuse your words, instead standing on your tippy-toes to press your lips on his. You're greeted by a soft grunt before he wraps his arms around you, kissing you back with so much passion it almost drowns you.

You feel the wind pick up and by the time you've both pulled away, the cherry blossom petals have surround the both of you, swathing you in pink.

You dig around for the ring, cursing when you find a hero keychain instead. You study the small item; dark green and in a shape of a grenade, with a date on it. 04-27. You smile as your heart aches- it was a week after his birthday when you finally agreed to be his girlfriend. You set it aside, wondering what else you'll find.

A scortched notebook.

"'Bend your knees when you land after falling from somewhere tall, it will cushion your fall.'" You read aloud, raising a brow at your boyfriend. "Really?" You deadpan.

Angrily, he snatches the notebook from your grasp. "If you don't fucking want it, give it here! I'll burn this to pieces!" He yells, activating his quirk.

Thinking fast, you grab his opened bottle of water, splashin it onto the notebook in his grasp. He looks at you with a 'how dare you' expression all over his face, making you roll your eyes and take the notebook back.

The back and edges are too late to be saved, but everything he'd written can still be read.

"Thank you." Your tone is genuine and grateful as you press a soft kiss on his cheek, making him turn his head away in embarassment.

You lean on his chest, reading aloud the hundreds of notes and tips he had written, asking him to explain what he meant and why they're important.

"I just want to keep you safe." He mutters, squeezing you tightly.

"If I'm with you, I'm always safe, my love. You don't need to worry." You scratch his nape before you resume reading.

"No wonder I'm still safe, I've always had you with me." You chuckle as tears continually stream down your cheeks as you press the notebook onto your forehead. Your chest feels like it's about to cave in on you and your breathing has turned ragged.

"Fuck you, Bakugou!" You yell weakly, bending over the box as your tears drip on the remaining items inside. Your hands shake as you spot a picture frame with its back facing you. You flip it over, and it's a picture of the both of you during graduation.

You hold a boquet of flowers to your chest as Katsuki holds you. A wide smile stretched across your face while your boyfriend sports the 'i-can't-believe-this-is-my-girlfriend-look-at-her-!' look.

But as you inspect the photo, you notice that the glass is missing and that there's a slight incline with the photo. You quickly turn it around, undoing the back.

An old folded up paper.

I’ve never been great with words, but for you, I’ll give it my all. I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately, and there’s so much I want to say, things I never imagined I'd be able to express.

First off, thank you. Thank you for sticking with me, for seeing something worth loving in me when all I ever showed the world was anger and ambition. I know I can be a handful—loud, brash, and sometimes downright difficult. But you, you’re different. You’ve always seen past that exterior, straight to the heart I tried so hard to hide. You’ve softened me in ways I didn’t know were possible, and I’m grateful every single day for it.

When I’m with you, it feels like everything falls into place. Your laugh, your smile, the way you look at me with those eyes full of trust and love—it’s all more than I ever thought I deserved. You make me want to be better, not just as a hero, but as a person. I find myself wanting to do things just to see you smile, to make you proud.

There’s this feeling I get when I think about our future. It’s like a fire, but not the kind I’m used to. It’s warm, comforting, and it grows every time I imagine us building a life together. I can see it so clearly—a home filled with laughter, late nights talking about our dreams, and mornings waking up next to the love of my life. I want that with you more than anything.

I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, and loving you is the best challenge I’ve ever taken on. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it. You’re worth it. Every single day, I fall a little more in love with you. And I can’t wait to keep falling for the rest of my life.

I want to marry you soon, my love. I want to stand by your side through everything life throws at us, good and bad. I want to make you laugh when you’re down and hold you when words aren’t enough. I want to be your partner, your protector, your everything. Because that’s what you are to me.

So here’s to us. To the love we’ve built, the dreams we share, and the future I can’t wait to start. Thank you for loving me, for believing in me, and for making me the happiest man alive. I love you more than words can ever say, and I promise to spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me.

Forever yours,

Katsuki

If you could, you'd hit him right now. Your sobs break through your lips, heart clenching in agony. If you could, you'd hunt him down and run back into his arms, tell him you love him, tell him you need/ him back. Your shoulders rise and fall as your wails of sorrow echo throughout your attic. You clutch the letter and photo to your chest tightly.

Sometimes, you hate being so strong. Sometimes you wish you were weak enough for the littlest of breezes to break you, so you can rebuild yourself and start over again. But somehow you widthstand everything the universe throws at you. And you hate it.

"Please take me." You gasp, too tired and weak to scream some more. You look up into the sky through the window, "Take me like you took him, and it will end the suffering I give to others."

At the end of the day, after you lost the one person who truly knew you, you became the one thing he fought for—the one thing he hated.

You're to take over the league once your son of a bitch father finally croaks. And the day that happens, you're destroying everything he spent his life creating.

[freyascoffee]

You always come to the party

College!Ellie Williams x reader

Summary: 3 months after your breakup, you and Ellie have been seeing each other around more recently. Do you think she deserves a second chance to prove her love?

Author's note: this is my first time writing one of these so bare with me :) Also posting this late because I've been meaning to write this for ages now

December 12th

The silence of entering your dormitory after boring lectures was probably the worst part of your day. You and Ellie broke up to 'focus on yourselves' yet it was hard to focus at all when the polaroid pictures of the two of you hang upon the golden fairylights above your desk. That stupid dinosaur keyring she won for you during your date at the arcade jingled every time you grabbed your keys. The guitar pick she accidentally left on your window sill collected dust; nonetheless, it was left untouched, as if waiting to be picked up again.

Everything reminded you of her. You procrastinated the decision of putting yourself out there because you didn't want anyone else. A distraction would be useful- hell- it was a need. The need to forget about that internal conflict and question what you did to deserve the sudden cold shoulder from Ellie. She was in the wrong. She chose to be dismissive of your feelings the few weeks before your breakup. It was nothing like the Ellie you knew, but you had to put yourself first.

Repetitive and monotonous cycles of talking stages chased you throughout the next 3 months. 'What's your favourite colour?' 'What's your favourite food?' The questions were so vague, only reminding you of the silly conspiracies you and Ellie made up during your smoking sessions, or when you gazed at the stars from a grassy hill close to the campus. The philosophical questions you'd debate just for shits and giggles overlapped the strangers' voices when they asked the generic 'what superpower would you want to have?'.

You only wondered if Ellie felt some sense of remorse for her neglect in the end, or if she was too busy hanging out with Dina, who seemed to cut contact with you after the breakup, and Jesse, who still reached out to you every couple weeks.

"Earth to Yn!" Jesse waved his hand in front of your face.

"Sorry, you were saying?" You asked, tilting your head to face him reluctantly.

"..The party" Jesse raised an eyebrow, implying that you should catch on what he was talking about, if you were listening.

"Absolutely not" You mirrored his raised eyebrow in a 'Are you serious' way.

"Come on, you'll meet some new people. Show yourself off a little, maybe make certain individuals jealous. " he nudged your elbow at the last word. He was completely aware of what happened between you and Ellie, having most definitely hearing both sides of the story.

A narrow glare from you, shot up at him before averting to your textbook, which looked brand new, despite owning it since the beginning of the school year. The spine wasn't even cracked, knowing Ellie, she would've begged you to let her crack it for you. "...I'll think about it"

"Don't give me that," he insisted, leaning forward as he covered the pages of your textbook with his hands. "How long has it been since you got a little drunk? A little cray-cray?"

"Euh, never say that again" you groaned, dropping your head into the palms of your sweating hands. "I might just never go to a party again out of spite"

"I'm just saying, you should go. I'll take you there and we'll will leave any time you feel like it" he pursed his lips into a thin line, mocking your dad's convincing expression.

"Is she gonna there?" You mumbled, gently pushing his hands away from the book and flicking through to the next page, a soft crackling sound cutting through the short silence between the two of you.

"Who?..ohh- nah, she said she'd rather stay in and judge people's instagram pics from the party" Jesse shrugged. "Dina will probably stay with her"

"Right" you rubbed your temples in circular motions, easing the aching sensation of your head.

"Do you want her to go?" He smirked, grabbing his phone from his brown leather jacket, a loud zip of his pocket cutting through the quiet library. "Because I can get that sort-"

"Shut up- I was just asking" you hushed, looking around awkwardly to ensure nobody was giving the judgemental look of disapproval.

"And I was just offering" Jesse was annoyingly quick with comebacks, and you were often reminded of that. "So, the partys December 18th, Margaret's beach house, there's gonna be food, drinks, music, you know, basic party stuff..and a pool"

"Anyone willing to swim in a pool in December?" You winced "..whatever- and what if the cops come because of complaints?" You added. A criminal record was not on your Christmas wishlist whatsoever.

"you were on the track team for a reason" he laughed, looking back up at you from his phone. "If anyone knows how to run away from problems, it's you"

"Was that seriously a secret diss? That's low, Jesse." You scoffed with a goofy smile, propping one leg up on your chair and fiddling with the chain of your locket.

December 16th

The party was only two days away and you had no idea what to wear, you thought as you stood in front of your wardrobe full of clothes. Point was, none of it was essentially party-worthy, basic tees and jeans were all you had since your sister decided she wanted her clothes back. In that case, she should consider that her Christmas gift.

You mindlessly walked through stores, looking for a simple dress, but a lot of the racks were stuffed with outfits that were rave-appropriate at most. You eventually left the mall, and decided to go to your favourite store, TJ Maxx, it had all anyone ever needed.

The glass doors slid open, and the faint echo of a 2010s pop song rang through the building. You made your way towards the dress section and you only found silver sequen dresses which went down to your ankles, so that's a no. You pulled your phone out from your pocket and opened Pinterest, typing 'Christmas party outfit simple'.

You scrolled for a moment before finding a cute top and skirt combination. TJ Maxx definitely had this. It was a skirt and a fitted sparkly long-sleeved top along with tights with patterns. After a couple laps through the aisles, you found everything you needed and made your way to the checkout.

As you exited the store, you were notified of 2 missed calls. Jesse. You audibly sighed and clicked the green telephone icon. It rung once before the other line immediately picked up. "Listen, oh my gosh, okay, so come to my dorm right now, we're trying to build a gingerbread house and I thought, who'd be better to help than Yn? Get your ass here right now"

You heard Ellie's voice in the background, talking, you weren't sure whether it was to Jesse or someone else but you weren't sure if you were ready to see her again. "Uhh..who's with you?" You asked, knowing the answer, but just seeking confirmation to emotionally prepare yourself.

"Ellie and Dina" his voice cut of between syllables. Probably just your data running low again, why did your renewal always have to be at the end of the month?

"Oh I'll try and-" you spoke, before the call ended. Shit. Now you're gonna have to go because it seems like you agreed. You weren't opposed to the idea of building gingerbread houses, but you were definitely against the inevitable tension you'd face when you got there.

After reaching your room, you dropped your shopping bag onto the bed and checked yourself out in the mirror. Fixing your eyebrows and reapplying vaseline onto your lips, winter dryness was the worst. You looked yourself up and down one more time before slipping on your sliders and taking the stairs of the flat down to Jesse's dorm.

You knock quietly, a swift and recognisable pattern you always made against the door of room 47. You heard Christmas music from the other side of the wall and chuckling as the sound of footsteps drew nearer. You twirl a lock of your hair awkwardly whilst waiting for someone to answer.

Oh.

"..hey" the freckled auburn mumbles between the cookie she looks like she just stuffed in her mouth.

"..hi" you smile awkwardly, not moving any closer towards the room, as if hesitating to even enter. You were already regretting coming at all, the sound of Dina's voice further in the room intimidated you.

"You coming in, or are you stopping by to sing Christmas carols?" Jesse called out from his seated position on the floor. "You're letting the warm air out"

"Right- sorry" you nodded once, slipping under Ellie's arm which was propped against the door frame. "So what did you need help with exactly? This looks fine"

"We needed a fourth contestant to make a poll on instagram, you know, see who's gingerbread house looks the best and all" he grinned "come on, it'll be fun"

You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, realising Ellie already shut the door and sat beside Dina. "Okay okay" you reluctantly sit beside Jesse, crossing your legs and scanning the ingredients. "Shit, where'd you get all this?"

"My mom got it for us, she wanted us to keep the Christmas tradition while I'm away" Dina admitted. Her tone was calm and neutral, maybe that secret amnesty you thought she felt towards you was just overthinking. You nod slightly, a loud silence growing in the dorm. Only the music from Jesse's phone brang a sense of ease to the group of you.

"Let's get started, I'm starving" Ellie groans. "I like the outfit, by the way" she nods in acknowledgement in your direction.

What was supposed to be a subtle smile unfortunately turned into a wide grin, you quickly mask it with a light chuckle. "Thanks" you meet her gaze, it felt more genuine and nostalgic since the last time your eyes locked..months ago. You knew better than that, though.

The day was filled with laughter and 'remember when' stories. You and Ellie spoke frequently within the group, yet direct interactions between the two of you were strictly Ellie asking for you to pass the icing...and also a significant number of exchanged glances, and catching each other looking longingly at the other.

"..kay, mines done" Jesse announced, his country accent slipping slightly. "When are you losers gonna finish?"

You suppress a laugh, avoiding eyecontact with him. The house looked like a five year old made it. The icing was dripping on the sides, the windows were crumbling off, and the roof was asymmetrical. "Is that it?" Your voice trembles. He looks up at you with a confused expression, gesturing his hands at it. He picks it up, as if to pretend he's going to drop it on purpose.

"N-no it's nice..oh..it's so nice" your voice shook with hidden laughs. You look at Dina, who's covering her mouth with her hand, giving you a thousand yard stare. Ellie bursts out into laughter. "Isn't your dad an architect?" You ask, trying to distract yourself.

"What about it?" He frowned, also seemingly holding back a smile. He placed the gingerbread house down on the floor again, the sweet roof collapsed inwards as he did. "..yeah okay."

"It's fantastic, babe" Dina mumbled, tears swelling in her eyes from laughter. "..so beautiful I could cry.." a muffled chuckle escapes from her lips.

"Oh okay I see how it is" Jesse rolls his eyes, taking a piece of the roof and shoving it into his mouth. It made his mouth look rectangular which only brought another round of giggles.

December 18th

Red Solo cups were scattered across the wooden crates and sands. The flickering of strobe lights painted the trees and fences of the backyard with splashes of color. You lost Jesse in the large groups of people and chose to make the most of it. You were drunk, you didn't know anyone, nor did you have to, just make the most of it.

Strangers you danced with flashed into fragments of a familiar girl's face, the fast rhythm of the bass guiding your heart to race along with it. The ginger girl you laughed with as you jumped to the music momentarily twitched into an image of a short-haired auburn, before morphing back into her usual state. The rays of lights illuminated a plaid pattern on her jacket, imitating a recognizable flannel.

"Cannon ball!" A guy, pretty sure his name was Tyler, jumped into the freezing pool. A group of students around you cheered and pushed past you, causing you to accidentally tug along with them before finding your balance. Dropping cans and sliding their shoves off, they sprinted into the water, are they stupid? You slowly made your way to sit on a nearby decorative rock, and watched them in their pre-hypothermic states.

Your gaze shifted to the group of girls singing along to a Shakira song by the campfire. They swayed their hips and lifted their green bottles of booze, followed by a loud cheer for a girl taking chugs from her drink. She then threw the bottle to the side and squealed, good for her.

A cold sensation splashed against your face. You looked up, alarmed, only to see some jock shaking his wet hair like a dog, that was completely unnecessary. Although, it had minimally sobered you up, you stood up and instinctively reached to adjust your locket, it was a habit of yours to awkwardly play with your necklace.

...Where was your necklace? That familiar weight of your golden locket was missing. Your fingers fumbled at the fabric of your jacket, to your hair, to your shoes. It had felt like time slowed down, just for a split second. Your gaze flickered around the rock you were sitting on. The locket was something precious to you. You couldn't lose it, not like this.

You heart raced as panic set in. You had to find Jesse. You frantically pushed through the crowd, trying to stay calm, you were always a collected person but this was unknown. You didn't know where to begin looking, he could be anywhere, the lake was packed. People blended together like blurry smears, faces lost in your clouded vision of alcohol.

"Woah there, you okay?" Your breath hitched, looking up at the familiar voice. It was Ellie. This was a bad time. You were too panicked to let her see you like this. Her and that dark green winter coat. You weren't ready to talk to her.

"Have you seen Jesse anywhere?" You said, just loud enough for Ellie to understand your words above the booming sounds from the speakers. "Is he still here?"

"What wrong?" She asked softly. She gently placed her subtly calloused hands on your forearms to stop you from anxiously fidgeting. You averted your gaze to Dina, who was sipping juice from a silly straw.

"Nothing- I just need to find him, okay?" You hissed. Flickering your gaze back to her, a pleading glimmer in your eyes.

She nodded at Dina before guiding you inside the building. The music was muffled, or at least less painful to listen to. She occasionally looked back at you to ensure you were still following her in the busy hallway.

Jesse was sat on the sofa, laughing with a group of unfamiliar faces. As soon as he noticed the two of you, he stood up and approached you. "You alright?"

"No you are all left" a guy from behind you chuckled, placing hands on yours and Ellies shoulders and peeking between your heads.

"Dude, get outta here" Jesse sighed, pushing him away by his forehead. "You okay?"

"This is really inconvenient, I know, but I-I lost my locket and I can't find it, can you help me? Please?" You bit your bottom lip anxiously, awaiting a response.

"Okay..take a deep breath" he inhaled deeply, gesturing you to mirror him "..and out..is this the locket you always wear? The little gold heart, right?" He smiled reassuringly. You nodded quickly.

"Listen, it's nice n chill in here, look, you can stay right here until I'm back, and I promise we'll find it. You don't leave until I come back because we both know how that's gonna end. If you feel sick, just go to the sink, it's right behind you, alright?" He patted your back. Your gaze followed him until he reached a pair of girls, fuck drunk vision.

It felt like ages had passed, your dizziness had thankfully faded, but the pit in your stomach suggested you weren't going to find that locket. Ellie and Dina walked past you, giving small sympathetic smiles as they went down the hallway and to the front porch. Ellie's clothes were drenched and a scent of chlorine followed behind her.

You closed your eyes for a moment, fiddling with the hem of your top, praying that Jesse would return soon. Your locket dangled in front of your dazed expression. You looked up at the raven-haired male. "Thank you so much." You stood up and hugged him tightly. You pulled away and took hold of the locket, clipping it back around your neck. The locket was cold, and droplets of water trickled along your collarbone from the chain.

"Come on, let's get you back" Jesse mumbled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to support your swaying legs. He guided you to his jeep.

December 19th

You extended your legs as far as you could in the comfort of your warm, morning mattress. Memories from last night flashing through your mind, remembering how pretty Ellie looked. The freezing feeling of the locket around you. The slight shivering of Ellie's lips when she smiled at you last night. Dots slowly connected in your exhausted brain and a sudden realisation hit you like a brick.

Ellie was the one that found your locket. The moment you saw Jesse speak to two girls, was the imaginary picture comparison of the colours they were wearing. Although you couldn't depict their faces, one was wearing all black, and the other was wearing dark green and dark blue; this matched Dina and Ellie' outfits from your previous interaction.

Ellie's hair and jeans were drenched from what you could remember when she was leaving. Her coat was dry, she must have taken it off, implying she looked in the pool. Plus, the necklace was wet when Jesse gave it back to you. Stop it, you're spiralling and overthinking it. You could only ask Ellie to find out the truth.

So there you were, standing in front of room 51, with a warm smile and handful of questions, knowing your signature pattern. Why were you doing this? You and Ellie were over. She stopped caring in the end. It was too late to turn back when the door had creaked open, revealing a pale Ellie with a weighted blanket draped over her shoulders.

"...this looks like a bad time. I can come back la-" you reassured awkwardly, stammering over your words as your gaze struggled to hold hers. She just stood there, intently watching you.

"Shut up, it's fine, come in" she cut you off. She opened the door wider, exposing the messy dormitory, and softly lit salt lamp which brightened the dark room. "Make yourself comfortable"

How was she being so casual right now? Was it casual? Were the feelings one-sided now? Stop analysing, just talk. "..hey..so..I figured maybe.. we could talk?...if I knew you were sick, I wouldn'tve bothered you"

"What do you wanna talk about?" She dropped onto the bed, resting her head against the bedframe to face you. "This isn't about the gingerbread house dm right? Because that was Dina, she took my phone when I was in the bathroom"

"I didn't see it..I came to ask about.. everything that happened..before.. and stuff " you pursed your lips to the side, twisting the golden chain which rested on your neck.

"..right right.." she nodded "I've been meaning to reach out and all, I was gonna talk to you last night" she scratched her lip "then I saw you super panicked and drunk so I..didn't"

"And between the 3 months of not talking either?" You raised an eyebrow, provoking her to continue.

"Listen, ever since we got together, you were so kind..and funny and cool. It made me so..afraid of losing that. It was selfish, I know. I just didn't want you to go, not like everyone else in my life, not you" she admitted "..that day..when we argued, like- for real argued- I hated every second of it. I hated facing the consequences of my own actions. I still hate that I was stupid enough to leave you like that"

Your eyes were wide in surprise. "...and you didn't think to try and tell me?" You were being reasonably confused, communication is key to a relationship.

"I felt too guilty, I didn't want to make you feel obliged to stay with me out of pity" her hand trembled subtly as it lay on her lap. She leaned her head on your shoulder.

"It still made me feel guilty" you murmur, resting your head on hers.

"I know, and I'm so sorry for that. Uhh...I- I'll do whatever you ask me to, just to prove my remorse. I'll post something really embarrassing if you really want me to." She muttered, lifting her head from your shoulder to look at you. "I'd do anything"

"..are you sick?" You asked, scanning her face. You noticed the darker circles under her eyes, and the box of painkillers on her bedside table. "Did you go in the pool, you idiot?"

"Hey-hey now- I was actually in the pool for you, idiot" she mocked your insult. "Your locket was at the bottom for whatever reason...so..yeah"

"What did you get fucking hypothermia looking for my stupid necklace? Are you serious?" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the smile on your face couldn't be restrained. "You're kidding"

"Does the medicine receipt on my desk look like a joke to you?" She grinned "it was no big deal, it was whatever"

"Not to me it wasn't. You found my locket. How'd you even know it would be there?" You let out a half-laugh.

"Guessed" she shrugged with a stoic tone, but the glimmer in her eyes said otherwise. "Well I guess I kinda saw it glowing under the lights in the pool. This is gonna sound corny as hell, but that locket kinda made me realise how much I needed to fix...so I I'll say it again, I'm really sorry."

"I forgive you, I do, just please promise that if you ever have a problem like that again, you talk to me. You're my best friend and I don't want to lose that." You stutter "you have a lot to make up for, you know" you smile softly.

"Can I start my redemption now?" Her smirk deepens, those green eyes meeting yours again. "Just a small head start?" You let out a deep breath and nod, eyes flickering down to her lips before returning to her eyes.

You adjusted slightly to face her. She leaned closer. Her lips brushed against yours, ghosting a soft kiss. She pulled away slightly, your stupid smiles mirroring each other's. "Chat is this rizz?" You mumbled shyly, a pink hue tinting your cheeks.

[tayfabe75]

"It's slightly reflective - the record. I think at times, I'm obviously not there. I'm kind of, you know, it's like the… it's like the um, the analysis of like, a Polaroid, you know? The kind of faded splendor of a memory. Something that I'm trying to carry through to the next record, really."

August 5, 2014: Matty compares the reflective nature of The 1975's debut album to a Polaroid picture. (source)

[tayfabe75]

November 29, 2014: A fan details her encounter with Matty, who signed his name to one of Taylor's 1989 polaroids. (see the polaroid here)

First OMG your blog is amazing I checked it because of your matty autograph post. What exactly was his reaction to him signing a taylor picture LOL I want details! So cute I wanna do that! Except bring my 1989 shirt for him to sign

Thanks! Haha it was super funny! He was walking away because his signing time was up and it actually caught his eye and he stopped and was like “What’s this?! Oh, I KNOOOW her!” And then his manager sarcastically asked “Who is that?” And MATTY gave him this really sly look 😏. So he signed it with a heart (which he hadn’t been doing) and handed it back smiling.

It was exactly the reaction I was hoping for. :)

[nightly-valkyrie]

<warning for Signalis spoilers> Something I found neat about the included picture with some of the releases of the Signalis physical edition is how if you're looking at it straight on it shows Alina and to get it to show Ariane you have to adjust the angle.

It may be unintentional, coincidence, or maybe each one is different but I want to think it's representative of how at first Elster believed she was looking for Alina, and it was only through intentional effort and the false ending she was able to recall it was actually Ariane she was after. In the same way, it takes the intent to shift the angle of the photo from looking straight on, for it to show Ariane over Alina.

Both show how there must direct intent to not have Alina overlap Ariane and there must be intent to look past what can be seen on the surface. Example here:

Picture from straight on view:

Picture from a slightly lowered angle:

Anyway I just thought that was neat. But that wasn't the only thing i noticed! The above pictures aren't the best example, on the bottom right of the pictures is a number that changes based on angle too. For Alina the number is 6, and for Ariane it's 4. To be honest I don't really have an idea for what that could represent, the only thing I can think of is the number of picture in the cartridge, but then it feels odd that Ariane's number implies hers was taken before Alina's. Sure they could be from different cartridges, but with a game like Signalis it feels like an odd detail to specifically include. I'm open to other ideas though if its a more general polaroid thing... I've meant to do more research, but I'm still sick so who knows :)))

[inkykeiji]

character: hanemiya kazutora x fem!reader genre: smut warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (step siblings), naughty photographs, mentions of naughty letters and phone calls, coercion/guilt tripping, just general ickiness words: 1.3k

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man. 

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, a truth buried deep at the very core of your soul where it has begun to rot, to infect—you knew it when he killed Shinichiro, knew it when he stabbed Baji, knew it when he beat the boy who had been picking on you in first grade to near death, only a few days after you and your dad had moved into his mother’s dilapidated little house.

It’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore, he had said to you as his clumsy thumbs swiped through the streams of tears on your cheeks, leaving streaks of blood painted in their wake. I’m your big brother now, I’ll always keep you safe. 

And keep you safe he did, until he got sent away, and then got sent away again, and you were all alone once more.

They shaved his head down to his scalp when he was incarcerated, but it’s been several years since he was arrested now, moved from the juvenile detention center to a real prison, and his hair has begun to grow out again, fluffy onyx tufts curling over the tips of his ears and around his cheeks. 

He’s beginning to look like himself again. 

“Hi,” he pants as you reach his table, the breath released from the confines of its lungs, where you’re sure it’s been festering since your last visit, exactly seven days ago. 

“Hi, Tora-nii,” you nod politely, taking a seat across from him. 

Your knees knock together, and he scoots closer to the edge of the bench, the chains adoring his ankles jingling delicately. Your toes overlap his own as he wedges them beneath the soles of your feet, wiggling a little in his slip-on shoes. 

“I missed you,” the words surge from his mouth, as if he can’t spit them out fast enough, as if they need to be heard, immediately, clawed their way to freedom and left his throat raw. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” your fingers interlace with his, palms pressing together tightly, the silver cuffs shackling his wrists scraping against the metal tabletop.

“It’s fucking hell in here without you,” he admits, eyes downcast, calloused fingers playing with your own, folding and unfolding them. “I keep thinking about the day I’ll finally get out of here, the day when I’ll finally be able to be with you, to have you, but then I remember...It’s still years away.” 

He looks up, eyes suddenly bright, shining through a torrent of tears in that special way that is so uniquely him. 

“But the photos help. The photos help a lot.” His voice is husky, bordering on a ragged whine, and his knees bump against yours again. “I’m sure they’re nothing compared to your body, but...”

“I’m glad I can help, Tora-nii,” you whisper, gazing at him through your lashes, his stare too brilliant to meet head-on, to hold for an extended period of time. 

“Still so shy, my precious little sister,” a knuckle traces the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the bow of your lips, topaz eyes enraptured by its trajectory. “Will you still be this shy when I...”

And he can’t even say it, either—too vulgar, too naughty, too illicit to even be uttered in the breath between the two of you.

He swallows thickly, his words turned hoarse, raw, steeped in sick desire. “I hope you are.”

“Kazutora,” you whimper, sounding more like a plead to continue than an order to stop. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he clears the grit from his voice. “I—I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me this week, baby.”

Pricks of heat ripple across your face and you duck your head, nodding to yourself as you pull a hand free from his, sifting through your bag for the small collection of polaroids tied prettily with a piece of silk ribbon.

You’d think, after doing this for so many years, that you’d be used to it by now, but it still feels just as grimy and gross as it did three years ago, when he had begged you for a few photos—nothing crazy, he had promised, nothing too wicked or sinful, just a bikini photo or two, that’s all. 

That’s all he needs, he said, swore up and down, cross his heart, pinky promise. 

You were fucking stupid to have believed him. 

Because that’s never all he needs, when it comes to Kazutora. 

Because it won’t ever be truly enough; no matter how much of yourself you give to him, no matter how many shards of your body and slivers of your soul he pries from you, he’ll always crave more, devouring piece after piece until he’s consumed you fully, made you whole, made you one.

Please, sweetheart, I’m going fuckin’ crazy in here, he had told you with tears in his eyes, hands grasping yours so tightly your knuckles cracked, only a few months later. I—I’m so lonely, and I miss you so much, and I’m just so sad and, really, this is the least you could do to make your big brother feel a bit better, isn’t it?

A few pairs of panties and a single naked picture—you could part with those, couldn’t you? You wouldn’t miss those too much, would you? 

Of course not. 

The panties were short-lived—they were too stringy to be considered safe, and someone had already stolen a pair and tried to strangle another inmate with them, but the polaroids were deemed harmless, and so the polaroids stayed.

And so the polaroids grew, in numbers and in frequency, until you were delivering up to ten in one visit, doing your best to take into account all of Kazutora’s requests, as outlined in his previous letter from the week before.

And even though nothing will ever truly be enough for him, you continue striving to please him anyway; diligent, dedicated, desperate. 

Because you’re a good little sister, a kind little sister, an obedient little sister, the best little sister, he’s told you several times now—over this very table when you slip the polaroids across the scratched up metal surface; breathed out as a broken little whine into the phone receiver during his weekly two minute phone calls, when he inconspicuously stains the inside of his jumpsuit with thick, hot cum; in his letters, scrawled across the soiled page in his sloppy handwriting, when he details all of the things he wants to do to you, when he responds to all of the things you said you’d do to him.  

The guards know, of course—you’re pretty sure they know all of it, all about the nasty, naughty pictures you routinely deliver to your nii-san every Monday, the grotesque phone calls the two of you have perfected, the devilish letters you send one another, filled with vile thoughts and foul promises. 

You’re pretty sure they get off on it, too. They must; why else would they allow it to continue otherwise? 

The notion inspires a rush of shameful thrills to shoot through you, leaving your blood tingling and your chest giddy and heat seeping through the floor of your tummy, and you know it does the same for Kazutora, too. He’d at least try to hide it better if it didn’t. You know he would. 

And as perverted and nefarious as it all is, as horrible and sordid as you feel, it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to taking those photographs every week for him, if you said you didn’t feel a dizzying anticipation when coming up with new poses and angles, if you said you didn’t anxiously await his weekly letter, eager to know his thoughts, to read his praise.

Your big brother is a sick, depraved man.

He always has been.

You’ve always known it, because you are a sick, depraved little girl, too. 

You may not share blood, but those family roots run deep, twisted and tangled at the pits of your souls, irrevocably knotted so long ago that they’ve fused into one mangled mass, unable to be undone. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Neither would he. 

[skylarsblue]

»zenless zone zero«

Small details in Wise's room. I'll admit I struggled a little on this one. (No offense to Wise lovers, he's just not super interesting to me. But I did my best!)

[Desc: Next to Wise's bed is a brown shelf beside an industrial style shelf, made of wood & metal. Like Belle's room, the standing shelf holds record sleeves. The first one is white with art of a black record that is broken in thirds, with large box letters that say 'ZERO'. The art is vague which makes it hard to speculate what style of music it might be. I guess...Jazz? That's a guess purely on vibes, really. The second record sleeve is black, white, and grey. On a white background there is a grey (traditional style) dragon wrapping around the studio's logo, EZ or 3Z, I'm not sure which. There's text that says 'ZENLESS', and underneath that, some descriptive text. The descriptive text is more legible than others. It says - "SAN-Z Studios is a general arts and design studio that aims to create fun experiences. We have a broad range of talents, involved in fashion design, accessories, music...and more." The third record sleeve is black with art of three eyes, each with a 'Z' in the iris. It's far too vague for me to guess what style of music it is. On the industrial shelf is a cardboard box with a red polaroid camera on top, and some VHS tapes leaned against it. These VHS tapes have no branding, which once again makes me think these are the tapes one would buy for personal recordings. On the shelf above it are three non-descript cases. They seem too thin for VHS tapes, and too big for a walkman tape. This makes me think they're CD cases.]

[Desc: On the coffee table(that is a trunk style coffee table) is a tray with an open package of 'Royal Baking' chips/crackers. Based on coloring, I'd guess they're cheesy. Beside the open cracker package is a bag of Coff Coffee, made by the Tin Master. There's a cup with Tin Master's logo beside it, with coffee inside. The coffee has foam in a design. On the table is also a newspaper. The only legible writing is in kanji I cannot read, but the picture on it is of Box Galaxy, the gadget store on Sixth Street. Also, I took note that there is a little Bangboo reading a newspaper on it. Lastly, there is a remote. Despite the vintage style TVs, this remote looks akin to a modern Roku remote. Black, with rounded corners, fairly slim and small, with a simple set of buttons. On, record (potentially, the symbol is vague), a central d pad, a menu button, undo, home, a pair of volume buttons & up/down decision buttons, a settings button, a button with a red heart (to favorite things I presume), and a last button with a symbol so vague I couldn't begin to guess what it does.]

[Desc: Like Belle, Wise has movie posters on the wall beside his bed. Unlike Belle, his posters don't overlap, and seem meticulously placed. There are a total of six movie posters. Though before I describe those, I'll point out that he has a green & yellow ukulele hanging on his wall. A notable difference from Belle's electric guitar. 1) Now, the first poster features art of an old computer (think big white box computers from the 80s) in a blue & yellow ocean landscape, with dark blue fish shapes around it. The title says Under The Sea in yellow text. What this could be about, I have no clue. But Wise has been said to enjoy documentaries and artsy films. Completely based on my own headcanon and no evidence? My guess is a documentary about technology developed to explore the ocean. 2) The one underneath has a title in kanji, but the art is pretty clear. It features a shiba inu dog front and center with a "saddle" on it's back, of which has two bags on either side. The only item I can tell that is in the bag is the left one, which has the top of a leek sticking out. Behind the dog is a young woman with a long skirt, as well as some trees. I can't read the title so I'm not sure, but I'd like to think this is a documentary about a very special dog. Like Balto! 3) The third poster features art of a young girl in a space suit, sat on a swing (a wooden board with rope that goes up out of frame), over a shadowy moon that is covered in children's crayon drawings. The title is one again in Kanji, but the tagline says "She's a Starchild". Once again, the art is vague, but my guess would be an artsy kind of film with an underlying message about a young girl with a struggle of some kind. Probably a movie with a lot of metaphors and symbolism. 4) Poster number four is a horizontal kind of poster. On a blue background, there is an old film camera on the left. (A vintage one, 1930s-1950s, which used large film reels.) On the right are three figures. The one furthest to the back is Godzilla, the second is a woman in a red dress, and the third appears to be a non-descript hero character in a blue & yellow uniform. In white block text, it says "DREAM WEAVER". My guess is that this is a documentary about film making. 5) Five has art of a semi-humanoid creature standing in a red lit doorway, but at the bottom are various winding tentacles. The title says "The Obelisk". My guess is that this is a sci-fi horror movie of some sort. 6) The last poster, number six, features an animal skull (a bear skull based on my limited knowledge) on top of a white background. There is black and red kanji in a "messy" style. The English text are the words "Before The Story Begins", so it's probably a prequel of some kind. There's a vague shape in the bottom corner that looks like an award symbol.]

[Desc: Wise's memory board. (If you don't pick him as your MC). The back is the basic wooden style that Belle also has, and it has five pictures. The first one is a selfie taken by Belle, featuring her and Eous standing over Wise, who is sleeping, after having given him a pair of pigtails. The second picture features various cats, with one opening it's mouth for a big yawn as Wise pets it. The third picture is a picture taken by one of the Random Play Bangboo; but not Eous. Eous is in the picture, cleaning one of the screens in the H.D.D, while Belle reclines in a chair and holds up a stack of papers that has red writing - "Complete!" with a circle around it. Wise stands beside Eous with his jacket slung over his shoulder, drinking a soda. (It doesn't match the LENMAN soda in Belle's room, but I've seen vending machines in Lumina square with a drink that is orange; with oranges on it. So...Orange soda? The fourth picture is of the Hollow in the Scott Outpost area. I can tell because there are pillars that match that area. The last picture is a childhood drawing of Wise & Belle. Stood in a field, in front of an orange house. Based on the style difference, it's possible that this was a group effort. Belle's figure and various background elements seem more...uh, artistically inclined. While Wise's figure, some trees, and the flower/grass details seem more simplistic and sloppy. Which would make sense given all the artist details in Belle's room. Wise probably didn't get the artist gene.]

[Desc: On the cabinet beside Wise's TV (once again an old style tube television) are some knickknacks. In front of three stacked small boxes is a stature, the same one in Belle's room that she used to hold her snowboarding goggles. I guessed rabbit based on her room, but it also looks like a fox. Beside that is an orange desk fan that's always on. Further to the right is a game console, which I mention was visually similar to a Super Nintendo. There are no visible cartridges out excluding the singular one in the slot of the console, with a vague logo on the front. An orange smiley face; which could mean it's part of a series, since Belle had a game with a blue smiley face in her console. The sticker for this game is ripped at the top. Maybe it's old, or maybe he and Belle swapped games for a bit. Belle seems like she'd accidentally rip a sticker. He also has a VHS player, there's a small screen on top of it. It's tiny, like a monitor, but I'm not sure it's purpose exactly. Maybe one of those old CCTV monitors? There's some more non-descript VHS tapes leaned against it. There's a shelf as well that holds some more VHS sleeves and a blue & white box. While I've seen the box in the 141 Convenience Store, which tells me the box's branding has the word "CLICK" on it, the rest is in kanji and there's no pictures on it to hint at a product of some sort. Game? Console? ...Wireless mouse? I have no clue.]

[Desc: Wise owns the same CD/Record/Tape player that Belle does. It's situated on a little table by the door. I can see now that the branding on the gadget is the same as the studio on the second record sleeve he owns, SAN-Z studio. The table has a divot to hold records. The only one with a visible front has art of a girl with vibrant green hair, in front of a black background that has bright pink, blue, and orange detailing. The girl has a hearing aid/ear bud in her ear, and an...accessory? On the side of her head. On a separate cabinet beside this is a blue & white box with a pair of black & white sneakers, which I think I've seen on one of the commercials that the game-start loading screen features.]

[Desc: (With a bonus Wise in frame), there is an L shaped cabinet in front of his door. On this cabinet is a plain black cap with a blue brim, and a skateboard with blue & white art on the back. I didn't seen any snowboarding gear in his room, but it doesn't mean he doesn't own it. He's neat, so it could just be put away. On the wall is a yellow bike. The back wheel is black, while the front is white. They don't match, but the front one matches the seat color of the bike, so my guess is he had to replace the back one. Also, based on the shape of the handlebars and the seat positioning, the seat is raised in a way that would make riding while sat upright hard/impossible. This seems like a bike someone must lean forward on, which means it'd be for things like trails and marathons, rather than transportation or leisure rides.]

[Desc: A bit boring, but his roof is the only one with a sun roof. Belle's room doesn't have one. By his bed is also, the only window that is visibly open on the front of Random Play. Somehow, this pale boy gets more sunlight in his room than Belle. But maybe she picked that. Also, though I picked Belle (which means Eous charges in her room), Wise also has an Eous charger, just unused.]

[Desc: A set of lockers with some posted notes. These seem to be reused assets from Belle's room. There is also a book case. None of the books really have any branding that allows for speculation of what they're about, but there are some colors with tiny (non-descript) details that remind me of textbooks and books about specific subject, like for learning.]

[Desc: Wise's desk. It features a standard PC screen, one of those vertical screens, and a laptop on a holder. All of which are on, glowing with blue symbols and unreadable text. There's a wireless mouse too. On the shelves over the desk are post it notes, one that seems like a list, and another that might be about code? There are also more books. Most are in kanji, but I can read one. "Hollow Raiders & Their Proxies." Beside his computers are three journals. Unlike Belle's, there are no stickers, stamps, or tabs poking out of the pages. These are note journals, each with a button latch to close them. One yellow, one red, one blue. To the right is a...radio? It looks vaguely like a call radio to me, and there's a set of headphones on top. But I'll be honest and admit I'm not sure what it is. There's also a yellow license plate on the wall - "NOV 715". There's another Tin Master mug, and while in the photo it's blocked by his aerodynamic chair, there's a metal coffee percolator. Which makes me think this dude has a caffeine addiction.]

[forgetfulmachineart]

[ID: Drawings of Polaroids of Gojo, Geto, and Shoko from Jujutsu Kaisen. The first is four pictures; the bottom two are unflattering face close ups of Geto and Gojo and the top two are their forehead and hair respectively. The top and the bottom are taped together. The second is two photos of Gojo; The top held by Suguru's hand is Gojo's top half giving a peace sign and the bottom held by Shoko is of Gojo's legs. The third is Shoko smiling and smoking while Geto and Gojo are much closer to the camera and are faceless. The fourth is a black and white adult Geto smirking behind a picture held by Gojo of teen him who is happily smiling with his eyes closed. Fifth is two photos of Geto; one is him smiling in dappled lighting and the picture slightly overlapping on top is of his side starting from his shoulder. The last photo is the entire composition. It includes the above photos and in the top left is Gojo looking empty and sad. Curvy wispy smoke fills the dead space. /End ID]

Very normal photos with no implications or references :]

[the-fandom-abyss]

Are You Scared?

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Genre: Fluff ♡

Word Count: 832 words

Tara led the pack as she stormed down the busy street of New York. She was furious at her sister for destroying the one piece of normalcy she had. Yelling had ensued from both sisters, adding to the noise of the drunken students that surrounded the area. The rest of the group fell back, observing the scene, ready to jump in if anything were to happen. From experience, it's best to let the sisters start and end their fights independently, unless you want to be next.

What you weren't expecting was a small group of students to take interest in their fight. Their eyes trained on the sisters as they walked closer to the group. Once a phone had been raised, alarm bells had sounded for you, knowing that anything could follow. It wasn't until they reached the pair, shouting a "hey" to grab their attention that you realised the plan. It was silly enough, throwing a sticky drink on someone, all that was needed was a shower. When it's followed by "murderer", then the consequences become a lot worse.

The group instinctively stepped back as you approached, scared that you have the same affliction as Sam. "You are just as psychotic as her" they screamed, their version of deterring you which was rather foolish as it only propelled you further. Their friend filmed the entire interaction, holding it close if needed to be shown as evidence. When you were only a few steps away, they shivered at the sight of cold eyes and a crooked smile.

"Want to hear a secret?" The voice that flowed from your tongue, was one that resembled the Joker. It was sickly sweet with an undertone of horror, which clearly struck a cord with the group as they inched even further away. That only encouraged you to step deeper into their space, leaning in just so they can hear. "Don't mess with a killer, it puts you at the top of the list" it was comical the way their eyes widen and the camera faltered. How they looked at each other in fear, deciding what to do next. If they had just poked the bear, then surely they will know the wrath that it could cause.

As they stood stunned, you took full advantage of the moment. Another way to add to the charade that you had created. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled your phone out, directing it towards the group. "Say cheese" the flash registered a second later, their faces now engrained in a photograph on a psychos phone. The flash was bright enough to bring them back to earth, causing them to run in the opposite direction. A laugh escaped your lips at the photo that flashed upon your screen. It was priceless, a clear reference of a Casper Polaroid from the movie itself.

When turning back to the group, it was easy to see that they were worried to say the least. They couldn't decide whether they wanted to cheer or scold you. When you reached the group, you were instantly met with questions and comments that overlapped each other. "What did you say to them?", "I've never seen someone run so fast", "What did you do?". All they earned in response was a shrug of your shoulders before a confident "I just told them to not mess with a killer".

"Y/N!" Tara shrieked, a hard push to your shoulder followed. Tara was furious, first Sam and now you, she'll never have a normal life. "That's all on video, you idiot" she seethed, she couldn't believe what had happened.

"Is it?" A smirk sat comfortably upon your lips as you held the phone in their view. Tara's eyes grew wide, a shimmer of hope laid within them. It was surprisingly unlocked, screen showing the exact video of moments prior. All it took was one tap and the video would be deleted.

"How did you get that?" Chad inquired, wanting to add this new trick to his set of skills, who knows when it could become handy.

"While they were busy running in fear, I swiped the phone from their pocket" While discussing previous actions, the video was deleted before locking the phone. Tara sighed in relief, knowing that when she wakes up, there will be no scandal against her name. Slyly, you placed the phone on the floor, starting your walk home. "I'll leave the phone here like they dropped it"

"You scare me sometimes" Mindy mentioned with a playful smile as she bumped shoulders with you. A cold hand wrapped around yours, while their body started to walk in pace with you.

"Thank you" Sam whispered in your ear as she let you lead the way. She gently pressed a kiss on the top of your head, giving your hand a squeeze. She was thankful that you were there, that you would protect her in times of need. Someone had to keep her grounded while the world spins around her.