taken from angles


Jimin thought you were cheating with his best friend.

Word Count: 1.9k
Genre: Angst/Fluff
Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Description: A little bit mention of mature content. :)

The door in front of you was slammed close.

You were glued to the floor where you were standing.

Your words were stuck in your throat.

It was a mistake.

A total misunderstanding.

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At the same time, (General Douglas) MacArthur had attacked the imperial mystique when his staff released the famous picture of his first meeting with the Emperor (Hirohito), whose impact on the Japanese public was electric as the Japanese people for the first time saw the Emperor as a mere man overshadowed by the much taller MacArthur instead of the living god he had always been portrayed as. Up to 1945, the Emperor had been a remote, mysterious figure to his people, rarely seen in public and always silent, whose photographs were always taken from a certain angle to make him look taller and more impressive than he really was. No Japanese photographer would have taken such a photo of the Emperor being overshadowed by MacArthur. The Japanese government immediately banned the photo of the Emperor with MacArthur on the grounds that it damaged the imperial mystique, but MacArthur rescinded the ban and ordered all of the Japanese newspapers to print it. The photo was intended as a message to the Emperor about who was going to be the senior partner in their relationship.



Man, MacArthur did not fuck around!


idk why i’m posting this here but,,,,,,,my choir went on a little tour a couple of months back and i just got a hold of one the videos my roommate took when she came to see..(catch a solo from ya girl at :48) anyway it’s a really pretty song and i just…yea lmAo ok i’m just gonna post this and stop rambling.

i love ben platt so much but honestly that hi def picture of him during “words fail” taken from that angle below the stage with all his makeup running really badly so he looks like a wax figure of george w bush is so terrifying

tinder's a shit show (trixya) (1/?) - ornacia

(A/N: hey all. this little thing is the product of exam stress, boredom, and my inevitable relapse into full-on rpdr fanfiction addiction. i’ve never written anything for this fandom before so apologies if it’s not the best. i might continue it if the response is good but if not, it was a lot of fun either way!)

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General Grant posing for a photograph, 1860s


Soraru: Thank you for all your hard work at the XYZ Tokyo Performance! After such a while the live was so fun with everyone! See you next time XYZ

Mafumafu: Thank you XYZ Tokyo Zepp Divercity!! I was so nervous performing with everyone after such a long time… It was so fun… 

Doing stuff like this, mixing with everyone, having my song done, I’m seriously so happy

Ah, this photo shows the hierarchy of ATR

Soraru: RT Since this was taken from a high angle doesn’t my head look super big?

Mafumafu: Scary face… Today my costume looks like I’m eating in a posh restaurant! My hands are in a strong-boss-like pose, my eighth-grader disease is starting to come back   (  ・᷄ὢ・᷅ ) nihihi

In the dressing room I laid down and looked like a melted slime    I’ll have to withdraw for a bit     ahahahahaha ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ*)

Backstage with Stone Gossard before my first appearance on Letterman in 1995.  (Another photo taken from another angle at this moment was used in a story in Entertainment Weekly.)  The second time I appeared on the show, Ed Vedder walked out and surprised Dave with a quick cameo.

Little did we know all those years ago that David Letterman would be inducting Pearl Jam into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame one day!   Crazy!  

Congratulations to PJ, Kelly Curtis and their whole crew.

#tbt  #PearlJam  #StoneGossard  #DavidLetterman  #PeteDroge  #entertainmentweekly  

Obsessive - Part 21

What’s in the envelope?

(This will be multi parts so check back for my next installment. As always, if you want to be notified of my updates just let me know and I will message you when I post new chapters)

**Disclaimer: I do not suffer from OCD so I cannot begin to imagine what it is like. Any and everything that I am writing is what I’ve learned from people I know and the internet as well as asking advice from friends who know more about it than me. If anything is wrong or inaccurate of someone with OCD, please excuse my ignorance, as I said I am asking questions to help with the descriptions but I’m sure I will get something wrong eventually.

Juice Ortiz x Reader

(GIF belongs to @lolsthecat)


Juice slid everything back in the envelope, folding it up and shoving it inside the pocket in his kutte before drawing his Glock 17 and holding it out in front of him, “Who’s in here?” he yelled, hearing nothing in return. He crept to the kitchen, passing by your misplaced picture frames and peering at your once-again down-turned camera, knowing someone had been inside since he left. He looked around before advancing down the hall, checking it before opening the hall closet and peeking inside, nothing but towels on the shelf and coats hanging below it. He walked down to your bedroom, checking in the closet, behind the doors, and in the bathroom, nothing was even out of place aside from the photo frames and the camera..

He was out of his depth. He needed to figure some shit out. He needed to think, alone, and without the chance of someone breaking up his party for one. He grabbed his bag, gathered up his stuff, and headed out to your car pulling out his phone and dialing Happy, asking him to bring you home before hanging up and dialing you.

You were still seated at the bar, but you were done working for the day when your phone rang and you saw it was Juice who was calling. You grinned as you picked up the phone, “Hey Juice,” you beamed, ignoring Bobby’s side-eye as you spoke.

“Hey listen (Y/N), I got some shit that came up. Happy’s gonna bring you home after work alright?”

“Sure… Is everything okay?” you asked, you sensed something in his voice, stress, maybe anxiety.

“Y-yeah. I’m good. I’m pulling up now, can you come get your keys?” he asked, not waiting for your reply as he hung up and turned on the blinker, preparing to turn into the lot.

You hung up the phone, setting it down on the bar and looking at it like it had just talked to you itself. Bobby, of course, noticed your confusion and spoke up, “Trouble in paradise, kid?” he chuckled.
“Oh bite me Robert,” you scoffed with a grin, standing up from your bar stool and walking out into the parking lot.

“Here’s your car keys, I’m gonna take my bike, so you can drive home,” he handed you your keys, wrapping his fingers around your hand to get your attention and looking into your eyes, “It’s important that you don’t leave alone,” he emphasized every word in that sentence and you stared at him questioningly but he didn’t give you any answers. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was still holding your hand.
“Well I’m done for the day. I can go with y–”
“–No,” Juice cut you off, almost a little too eagerly, “…Just….. Make sure Happy is with you if you leave, okay? No questions,” he was blunt and to the point, but you wanted to know more, so you pushed.
“Juice what is going on?” you asked but he just shook his head, “Nothing, (Y/N). I’m good. Everything’s fine,” he urged before he turned abruptly and walked away to his bike, pulling his arm out of your grip.

You sighed heavily, hands on your hips as he mounted his bike and sped away. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders and you looked to your side to see who the arm was attached to, peering at Tig as he watched Juice pull out of sight.

“You good, doll?” he asked, still looking ahead.

You chuckled a bit, wrapping your arm around his waist, and squeezing him to your side, “I’m great Tiggy. Care to buy a lady a drink?” you looked up at him and he tore his eyes away from the front gate to gaze down at you.
“You kiddin’? Girl as pretty as you wants to drink with this ugly mug?” he smiled down at you as he began to walk with you back towards the clubhouse, “Absolutely,” he finished, steering you back inside.

Juice pulled up at his house, he hadn’t been home in a few days, since your accident, and he was eager to finally feel relaxed. He could never shake the feeling that he was being watched when he was at your apartment, but as soon as he stepped foot in his own home he felt at ease. That is, until he remembered the envelope in his kutte. He took a deep breath, slinging his bag off of his shoulder and tossing it down on the floor beside his couch and walking into his restroom where he produced a set of latex gloves. He had already touched the stuff in the envelope but he didn’t want his DNA all over it in case it became crime scene information. He pulled the gloves on as he sat back down on the couch, sliding the envelope out of his pocket and opening it.

Pouring the contents out onto the coffee table in front of him, he sorted through it all so that he could get a good look at each thing, study it, see if he could find any clues. He picked up the only thing he really saw  earlier and took another look at it. It was three pictures printed on regular white printer paper taken from your hallway just outside the bedroom looking in. You and Juice were in each of the three photos, naked, in the middle of having sex with each other - the photos had been taken from inside your apartment last night. He slid the paper back into the envelope and looked down at the table.

He didn’t even need to open the next thing on the table to know what it was, someone obviously wanted the two of them to stop seeing each other and he knew the piece of paper on the table would be a message to leave you alone..

He picked it up anyway, unfolding it to read the words written inside in red pen. ‘If you touch her again I will send big brother the photos from last night and let him handle you. It’ll save me some time.’

Juice shook his head frustratedly and moved on.

Next was a polaroid picture, and although age had caused it to yellow and fade, he could clearly tell it was a dead body. A man, maybe around his thirties, laying on some blood-soaked concrete, with brain matter surrounding him. He seemed to have been shot in the head, but the creepiest thing about the photo was that it was taken from an angle that made it appear like he was looking at the camera. Juice flipped the photo over on the back and there was writing, ‘Dont Fuck With Me’ was written on the back. Juice swallowed, wondering who would be sick enough to send this conglomerate of objects to someone he didn’t even know. He set the photo down, moving on to view what was left. 

He picked up a piece of black cloth, quickly realizing it was a pair of ladies underwear before immediately identifying them as the ones you were wearing last night, the ones he had pulled off of you himself. Juice growled at the sight. Not only did this sick fuck watch him having sex with you, but he stole your panties as blackmail to go along with his threat to send photos of him defiling you to your own brother - proof that this guy could get as close to you as he wanted without getting caught and there was nothing Juice could do about it.
“Jesus Christ,” he sighed opening the envelope to slide everything else back in when he noticed there were markings inside. Someone had written something on the inside of the packaging. Juice hauled the items back out of the envelope again and tore it open quickly unfolding the paper to read what was written inside.


Thoroughly shaken, Juice grabbed everything and shoved in under his couch. He couldn’t tell Clay, but he couldn’t risk letting you get hurt. He was gonna have to play by this asshole’s rules until he could figure something else out, hopefully without hurting you in the process.