Three years ago this week, Mom and I came across a super old telephone. We were allowed to touch the ancient machine, so of course, I had to investigate how such a humongous contraption could possibly have been a telephone!
I tried to call Mango (@wafflesworld), but the big old phone wasn’t actually connected.
Bad photos (taken with my phone) of antique instruments preserved in Guez de Balzac High School in Angouleme. They have a fantastic “museum” room full of real school scientific material which was used by the students before.
OC x ChildhoodFriend!Jimin Length: 2.8K of fluff Recommended OST(s): (x) // (x) // (x) (a/n) a little something before I need to focus on my finals hehe ENJOY LOVES I have many more things to finish in my drafts… I think this is more like a drabble LOL
The sunrise paints itself over the glittering jewels of the ocean, illusions of light with corporeal beauty that leaves you to your thoughts and the rhythmic inhales and exhales of the boy next to you. You let the sea breeze soak into your skin, allowing the colors of the sunset to saturate into every wrinkle of your brain until the image is impressed upon your memories and safely stored away for those nights. To the right, the moon has already risen into the multicolored sky, her position just short of the loud colors because she always preferred the somber blues to the sultry violet reds.
“Say Jimin,” you begin after a huff, “don’t you think the moon is sad every night?” The tuff of chocolate brown on your lap tilts upwards every so slowly until you’re granted the view of his smiling crescent eyes. It makes your pulse stutter and your heart ache because even the moon would be envious of such beauty too. Soft, melodic, albeit amused laughter floats to your ears as Jimin looks up to meet your eyes, his hand coming up to thread through your hair and your heartstrings.
“Why is that?” he murmurs, the prompt enough to spill your thoughts into messy splatters. “Because, she’s always missing something. Even when she’s full and shining the brightest, she knows that it’ll only last for so long until her pieces are scattered once again. Never satisfied. Never whole. Eternally incomplete.” The sentence picks itself up and departs from your lips along with your train thought, leaving you to wonder if maybe the thought was too eccentric and after all when the only response you earned is an echoing silence, occasionally filled with the oscillating crash of the waves.
You wanted to send a message to your boyfriend since he been having a bad week recently due to his job in the business field. He had been traveling recently which tugged a bit on the relationship. You loved the guy with all your heart but sometimes he just wasn’t around when you needed him the most.
Today was your day off from your job as a bartender at the local club so you thought, why not just lay around in one of your boyfriend’s shirts which happen to be way too big on you and watch Netflix until you were too worn out to keep your eyes open any longer.
Slipping the shirt on over your head, you let it hang off your shoulder, revealing the top part of your bra. You stepped in front of the mirror in the corner of your apartment, turning to your side to reveal the small amount of butt that stuck out under the shirt. Your brown wavy locks laid against your shoulders.
Snapping a photo, you quickly saved it and opened messages and typed in what you thought was Colin’s international phone number.
‘Wish you were here baby! So we could cuddle and I could cook for you <3’
You hit send before you crawled onto your bed and picked up your ceramic mug full of coffee before pressing play on the remote.
Spencer jumped as he felt his rather antique phone vibrate in his pocket. He was sitting at his desk, reading trying to find out information on his team’s current case. When he viewed the message and photo, his soft green eyes grew wide as his cheeks started to burn.
Was this meant for him? Course not, but did it come in use to send it to someone who’d actually respond? Sure.
Even though he had an IQ of 187, the brunette haired boy didn’t know how to reply to this. His face was heating up quicker than he could read a book. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he bit on it, a nervous habit of his, he developed around the age eight, when his mother had one of her psychotic breakdowns while he was at home. When she had one of her moments, it meant the whole rest of the day was revolving around her and trying to get her to calm down and remember what was going on. It hurt him to see his mother in such a bad place but there wasn’t much he could do with his job at the BAU.
‘Uh..I don’t think you meant to send this to me..’ He replied before placing his phone on the desk, trying to convince himself not to look at the photo of the beautiful girl on his phone.
The phone vibrated almost instantly after Spencer had returned his attention to reading or tried to..
‘Yeah, i did cutie pie. When do you get home? I wanna cuddle with you’
‘As much as I’d like to be, I’m not your cutie pie…’ Spencer typed, trying not to be harsh with his words. He’s never really been good at these type of situations with pretty women. He could count on his fingers how many dates he had been on in the past year. Big, fat zero. Spencer decided it was for the best realizing he didn’t want to start dating someone then get extremely focused on the job and ignore his love interest.
‘Nope. This is Dr. Spencer Reid.’ The boy sent, biting hard on his lip. He ran a hand through his waves, pushing a fallen lock out of his eyes as he glanced around the office to see everyone working.
Doctor Spencer Reid?
You’re texting a doctor. ‘Then doctor me up baby.’ You replied, stretched your legs out under the covers. Your lips curled into a smirk as you reread what you sent. ‘But seriously show me who you are before I call the cops!’
‘Ha ha..I am a cop..well Behavioral Analysis unit FBI agent..and a genius.’ Spencer sent, before quickly sending another, ‘oh, I’m rambling. Fine. here.’ He said and attempted his best to take a selfie. Another FBI agent on Spencer’s team, Derek Morgan, caught him and shook his head.
“Pretty Boy, what are you trying to do?”
“Take a selfie.” Spencer admitted, heat starting to burn his cheeks.
“Let me help you.” Morgan replied, letting out a laugh. Taking Reid’s phone, Morgan took a selfie of the two of them and sent it to the unknown number.
‘So..which ones you?’ You sent, admiring the cute curls of the brunette and the wide yet perfect smile of the African american.
‘The one in purple.’ Morgan smirked, seeing Spencer smile slightly. “Who was that even to?” he asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.
“A girl.” Spencer replied, clearing his throat softly as he saw Hotch walking into the room.
“What’s her name?” Hotch asked as he walked past towards the door. “Wheels up.”
He didn’t know your name, but you knew his. Was this fair?
“I don’t actually know..could be one of the million of different names. Would take hours to figure it out.” The brunette replied, looking at his friends before making himself text you.
‘What’s your name? It’s only fair. There are so many options it could be and all I came up with was Ethel. Doubt thats right though”
‘What if i want to keep it a secret?’ You typed before backspacing what was written, ‘its (Y/N).’
‘Well you’re very beautiful woman, (Y/N).’ Spencer sent before boarding the plane with his signature, and very unused smile growing on his lips.
what kind of stuff can be found in everyone's rooms? also i love you
Darcy: variety of lava lamps, rock band posters, “I want to believe” poster, a blacklight tube on the ground somewhere, messy bed (lots of blankets of all sizes. batman pillow, quilt his grandma made him ) huge Rick Sanchez plushie, Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD set, Hey Arnold Complete Series, bunch of old cartoons, random souvenirs from places his carnival has traveled, his skateboards (most are broken), spray paint cans, canvases, art history books, globes
Ezequiel: Z’s room is a mess. Horror movie posters and various horror figurines (Dracula, IT, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Thing, Creepshow, Tales from the Crypt) Jigsaw doll with a custom made dress, Chavito (his pet scorpion) inside her large tank, pokemon plushies and amiibos, OF COURSE, his nintendo 64, super nintendo, xbox. jar of candies, sowing machine, magic 8 ball, black candles, shit ton of cds, his cd walkman, blacklight, sugar skulls, tv with lots of random stickers on it, jumbo bean bag, incense sticks, baby cactus plant, COLLECTION OF GOOSEBUMP BOOKS IN SPANISH (escalofrios!)
Benjamin: NEAT AF. vanity mirror, perfume/cologne bottles, rose gold silk sheets, no wrinkles bed is Always made. so many fluffy pillows (heart pillow), 3D photo crystal of a rose, ALSO actual roses in a vase, maybe potpourri, jewelry music box, flower string lights around his window, framed picture of him, Z and Amiel, cream colored record player, collection of black &white movies, dat classic literature, glitter bath bombs, mini bar, this fancy ass antique lamp with a phone attached to it (i gotta show u guys)
Michelangelo/Leo: cause they practically share a room (they both have their own rooms but Leo always sleeps with Micc) chest filled with potions under his bed, corkboards on the wall filled with potion recipes, handwritten shit, maps and pages upon pages of magic studies, small wooden desk with random shit Leo has carved into with a knife, mini fridge cause Leo always gotta remind him to eat, vase of roses (cause of Ben), baseball caps, a couple of copies of King Arthur, old ass crown he made back in the orphanage, telescope, broken shit from his angry outbursts
Just silliness for the sake of silliness XD Felt like writing something light hearted since I needed a break from the more serious piece I’m working on.
Things had taken a turn for the worse on your current case. As it turned out, you weren’t dealing with some petty witch or even a demon. Those would have been easy to handle. No, instead life had decided to throw you a curveball and put you face to face with a Greek God.
You’d hightailed it out of there of course, lucky to escape with your lives, and made it back safely to your motel room where case files on every weird death connected to him were strewn across the room. Cases you’d thought were hex bags, as people had done stupid things leading to their own deaths, or died of alcohol poisoning after years of apparent sobriety. The alcohol related cases hadn’t seemed too weird, until the autopsy reports had come back finding no actual alcohol content in their stomachs, just ridiculously high amounts in their blood stream.
Jim Gordon, voice muffled as his lips inch way too close to his 20-year-old antique rotary phone:
Wêll.....now.....ya see tha' thing about Gotham is.....it's a city ah nightmares and *distant mottled sounds of banging brooms against house roof* Well nows hold on I's got a göśhdamńéd batsgirl problem on my roof space again now SHOO, SHOO WHY DONT Y