texting with pictures

[sokye]

THE TEXTING PICTURE PROMPT MEME
A picture says more than a thousand words...

You're in the middle of something, maybe not something important (though, who can say, maybe it was), but you were in the middle of this maybe unimportant thing anyway and it interrupts you, when your phone beeps and a message ticks in. It's a picture. Someone took a picture and sent it your way. Does it make you happy? Curious? Do you want to know more? If yes, text them back! Inquire! Tell them what the picture makes you think about, how it makes you feel.

And on that note, converse!


How to play:

1. Top-level with your character. Include prefs and the like, if you wish.
2. Others now leave a comment with a picture their character has sent to yours.
3. Have your character respond with a text, then go tag around as you wish.
4. They text back, you text back, everyone texts like their lives depended on it.
5. Be entertained!

Comments

[halfjewish]

And yet you can't creatively give all those papers made up grades and come out.

My god. It sounds like it should come with an operator's manual and maybe an official government warning.

[asyndeton]

I would love to, I really would. But I'm supposed to give them actual feedback, can you believe it. Like any of them actually read what I write on these things.

It's not so complicated once you get the hang of it. And besides, most charming people have a charm smile already without even realizing it. The more effortless it is, the better.

[halfjewish]

Are you working at home or school?

[asyndeton]

I'm still at the office. Why?

[halfjewish]

Well I'm done with big brother duties for the day and still somehow I have a shred of public service left in me.

I could bring a care package.

[asyndeton]

You're too kind.

[ It's not like he demurs or anything, though, because the next text that pops up is a google map with a pin dropped right on Matt's office building. ]

I'm on the ninth floor. When you come out of the elevator turn right and go through the glass doors. The secretary should have gone home already, but if she's there just tell her you're here to see me, she should let you through. I keep weird office hours so she's used to people coming to talk to me at all hours.

[halfjewish]

Is she now.

[asyndeton]

For some reason, 18yos don't really notice or care much about regular office hours.

So yes. I'm usually here until 8, 9pm in case a student needs to talk to me about something. And it gives me more space to work.

[halfjewish]

[If Whizzer didn't know better, he'd say Matt likes avoiding going home at the end of the night almost as much as he does. The difference being Whizzer hates going home alone, and Matt's got the Perfect Wife waiting for him, probably behind a white picket fence with a tray full of high fiber banana muffins to keep him satisfied and regular.

But he doesn't put any of this into typeface. Not right now.]

Jesus. I hope they've got some kind of employee of the week scheme going. I'm expecting to walk in and see a picture of you in a crown.

[asyndeton]

[ If only he knew... ]

I would love a picture of me in a crown. It would go great with the Gary Larson cartoon I’ve got taped to the door.

[halfjewish]

You've got who taped to the door? If you're having a private moment I can always come back another time.

[asyndeton]

ATTACHMENT.JPG

[halfjewish]

SOME TIME LATER

[halfjewish]

OH, he's pushing the door.

[asyndeton]

Just hurry up with that care package already, I'm drowning here.

[halfjewish]

I'm here. I meant to tell the secretary I was here with your order from grub hub, but I think I accidentally told her I was your order.

I'm looking for the office with the weird cartoon.

[asyndeton]

[ Matt doesn't respond, muttering a laughing Jesus Christ to himself before tucking his phone in his pocket and standing up, moving over to his open office door and leaning out far enough that he can see down the hall to where a lone figure is wandering around. ]

They all have weird cartoons, [ he says, grinning and holding out a hand in a very 'behold!' gesture. ] It's sort of a thing in academia.

[ And then: ]

Hi.

[halfjewish]

[Whizzer wheels round at the sound of Matt's voice, breaking into a sunbeam of a smile when he locates him, before trotting across like a puppy being called for treats.]

I feel like one of you started it to look quirky and different, and the rest decided to normalize it out of spite. Am I close?

[He is close, now, leaning past Matt to check through the doorway.]

Somehow I was picturing a classroom. At least a couple of desks and a reason to call you sir. [A JOKE. Probably. At any rate, his voice is all warmth and no guile.] Hi.

[asyndeton]

[ It's nice to have someone so happy to see him who isn't his dog. Matt can't help the way he smiles in return, his eyes crinkling, the dimples he pretends he doesn't have thankfully lost in his beard. ]

I neither confirm nor deny.

[ Matt moves out of the way so they can both fit in his office, a small-ish room lined with bookshelves, dominated by a desk perpendicular to the window that's occupied by a computer monitor and six or seven towering piles of assorted papers. There's one of those wire 'inbox/outbox' things on the edge, but considering how full that is too, it's unclear if it's being used for its actual purpose. Squeezed in front of the desk are two chairs, not wholly comfortable ones, and a sad lonely ficus is wilting in the corner, dropping yellowed leaves into its pot. On the desk, and dotted around the bookshelves, are a collection of framed photos, most of them including Matt and various combinations of men who look exactly like him, plus a horde of small children, ranging from deep chestnut brunette all the way to white-blond. Only one photo is of him and a tall blonde woman sitting next to a Christmas tree, a brown and white dog trying valiantly to climb onto Matt's lap.

Moving a pile of papers off one of the chairs, he gestures to it and then carefully sets his current pile on top of another pile. ]

There's not enough space for more than one desk in here. I'd say make yourself comfortable, but I know for a fact these chairs are anything but.

[halfjewish]

[But Whizzer's already walking toward the centre of the chaos, open mouthed, like someone who's just opened the door to their air raid shelter and is walking through a broken city for the very first time.]

My god. You didn't tell me a bomb had gone off in here. Shouldn't we be reporting it to the relevant authorities?

[He pushes both hands back through his hair, more ruffled than usual thanks to an afternoon at the baseball pitch, and takes a steadying breath.]

There's a tiny Japanese lady I could call to help you with all this, but I think she'd just suggest you burn it to the ground. [He stops, raises his eyebrows.] Think that could get you out of marking?

[asyndeton]

[ Whizzer's reaction is not outside the norm for someone walking into his office for the first time, so all Matt does is grin ruefully and shrug. ]

Told you I was drowning. Not even Ms Kondo could save me from this.

[ With blatant disregard for the structural integrity of the piles on his desk, he decides to lean against the edge of it and stretch his legs out, crossing them at the ankles, his hands settling on his thighs. ]

I'm babysitting some of my colleague's classes while she's out on maternity leave, so it's worse than usual.

[ Which is also why he's here on a Saturday, when any sane person would be at home not thinking about work. That, and it gets him out of the house. ]

[halfjewish]

Uh huh.

[The response is distracted, as the hyper organized part of Whizzer's brain works on making an inventory of the mess. He's barely even focused in on the family photos. They're all just debris in the same shipwreck.]

You're sure she's on leave and not just buried under Walt Whitman over there? What a way to go. [Whizzer ticks his head to one side again, giving the office another once-over in case he missed any other atrocities.] Small, but contains multitudes.

[With a huff that probably ruffles a dozen haphazard papers, he drags his focus back to Matt, finding himself smiling again somewhat helplessly.]

Okay. Let me see your hands.

[asyndeton]

I think I would have heard her wheezing by now. Probably.

[ Considering he has three brothers and countless cousins and probably went through an awful lot of mildly traumatic hazing in the name of brotherly affection, Matt holds out his hands when prompted amazingly quickly, perfectly trusting.

He's still not wearing that wedding ring. ]

What's up?

[halfjewish]

[What's up is a thorough check up: no pranks here. Taking Matt's hands in his own, Whizzer turns them over once, then the other way, smoothing his thumb across the palm to the patch of slightly rougher skin where a habitual pen user's built up some defences.

Whizzer's hands are well kept but rough too. He's not quite as pampered as he acts. Or as he's dressed: again in a crisp button down and dress pants, like he's headed to a concert in the park rather than spending his Saturday afternoon in a dim office where the dust levels are reaching critical.]

So you're not bleeding to death just yet. Looks like I was just in time.

[Stepping away, he slips his bag off his shoulder and rifles through it until his fingertips hit the corner of a box of disney princess band-aids. They're tugged out, a bag of twizzlers hitching a ride, and held out as an offering.]

One care package. I have to admit I don't have a working knowledge of what usually goes into them, but I guessed this would be more use than some packet soups and novelty socks.

[asyndeton]

[ Whatever Matt was expecting, a gentle but thorough examination of his hands was not it. Somewhat bemused, he watches as Whizzer takes both his hands in his and turns them over, looking for something, though he doesn't know what. He's not complaining, though. It's kind of nice to be touched like this, even if he doesn't understand why it's happening.

When Whizzers finally clues him in as to the reason for the inspection, Matt huffs a laugh through his nose, lifting one of his freed hands to smooth down his beard in the sort of habitual tic most people don't realize they're performing. ]

It was getting close there, for a minute.

[ The smile that blooms on his face when Whizzer hands him a packet of princess band aids and some candy is probably disproportionate to the cost of the items, but it's not the cost that's important. Smiling helplessly down at the cardboard box and plastic packet in his hands, he glances up at the man standing in front of him, inadvertently looking at him through his lashes. ]

Thank you. That's oddly very sweet of you. And you guessed my favorite candy, look at that.