#at this point i hope anyone who still thinks Michael is straight

[ingravinoveritas]

Michael straight up writing erotic gay fan fiction about Lucian and Aro in a 2012 interview and I am losing my mind...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #i'm screaming #aro #twilight #lucian #underworld #there is no heterosexual explanation for this #at this point i hope anyone who still thinks Michael is straight #can just disabuse themselves of that notion #because dear god #and if he's imagined this with Aro and Lucian he has probably imagined endless smutty scenarios with Aziraphale and Crowley #i think Michael has been telling us exactly who he is for a long time now #bless his bisexual Welsh chaos #i need to lie down now

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ambivalent Days

Jim Halpert x Trans Man Reader (PART TWO) Can be read alone, but I do reference part one, so read that HERE if you want to be caught up!

Summary: You’ve finally come out as trans to the entire office. It’s gone a lot better than expected. But now you’re faced with a serious problem- or rather, a serious crush. On none other than Jim Halpert, leading supporter of your transitions and quickly becoming your best friend in the office. But are you willing to risk that friendship just for some silly little feelings?

Tags: FtM!reader, Gay!Jim (for narrative reasons, I think i wanted him to be bi in the first part but switched it around, whatever), implied gay!reader (all i said was ‘not straight’), trans supporter Dwight, peacekeeper!Pam, supportive!Kelly Kapoor, bisexual!Kelly, drinking in moderation, happy ending Warnings: Michael being absolutely ridiculous and attention-hungry to the point that he does bad things (so, like, normal episode?), some general swearing

A/N: This has been requested so many times, both in asks and requests. I’ll try my best to tag everyone who asked for this, sorry if i forgot any! I was excited to write this because I loved the first part, but figuring out where to start was the trickiest part. I hope you all enjoy!  (this entire fic ended up just writing itself once i got going. I had no clue what i was gonna do until it happened so… enjoy lol)

Life was great, working as a Customer Service representative for Dunder Mifflin paper company. Wow, you never thought you’d say such a thing, but it really has become something appealing, something that had you smiling and willing to come to work every single day. Of course, it had its own ups and downs, times when you felt overwhelmed or frustrated at certain people. You still ended up enjoying the majority of the day, and sometimes the rough days turned out to end up better than the rest.

It had absolutely, wholeheartedly nothing to do with James Duncan Halpert, otherwise known to his work colleagues as ‘Jim.’ You continued to lie to yourself, nodding along to this thought process on your drive to work. It was rainy, just like most days, and you were bored out of your mind waiting in the traffic. You just enjoyed going to work, because… Because of all of your friends, that’s why! Sure, that might include Jim, but that also included Pam, and Oscar, and god forbid, even Dwight. He’s certainly grown on you over time, having completely accepted your identity, even defending you against anyone who said anything. You couldn’t be sure, but you suspected that Dwight had even lost a customer through those actions- but when Mr Dellicker had called for customer support and you had answered the phone, saying his name out loud, Kelly had rushed around the divider and ripped the phone from your hand, immediately transferring it to her own phone. You tried to listen in, curious why this was so important to her, but you kept hearing her say the same thing over and over.

“Thank you for your consideration, but we no longer want your business with us. I completely understand that you think so, but we no longer want your business with us. While that may or may not be true, this whole conversation is futile considering we no longer want your business with us.”

Mr Dellicker had become a hushed topic around you, but you had managed to catch a private whisper among your friends one day when he was brought up again. They’d ask Kelly if he had called yet, and she assured the situation was handled. Pam had whispered, “I can’t believe some people’s views on trans people. It makes no sense.” So, while it wasn’t likely due to you specifically, you were almost sure that you were the only trans person they knew. If they were defending trans people, they were defending you alongside it all.

You pulled into the parking lot finally, shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. Mr Dellicker’s whole deal had been a problem a month ago and was no longer an issue. You shouldn’t dwell on those thoughts, you weren’t likely to ever have to worry about it again. You managed to snag a semi-decent parking space. It was only the second from the front, but it happened to be right next to Michael’s own car, and as you placed your car into park, you glanced over to notice he was still sitting there. You tilted your head in confusion, watching for a moment.

You couldn’t tell if he was psyching himself up, or singing along to one of his weird songs. He seemed ready to open the door, then leaned back once more without actually doing it. He lowered the visor on his car, flipping open the little door to reveal his mirror and looking at himself in it. He continued, probably, speaking to himself, and you just shook your head and decided to leave it be. You reached for your suitcase and umbrella, then began making your way inside.

You were stuffing your umbrella into the little holder by the door after you entered the office, taking off your long overcoat and hanging it on the coat rack by Pam’s desk. She smiled, asking about what you did over the weekend, and you answered that you didn’t really do much besides binge the next season of your current obsession. You agreed to tell her about it later, moving toward the break room for your normal cup of tea. You pat Jim on the shoulder on the way, and he reaches up quickly to touch your hand before you slip by. It causes a smile to cross your face as you continue on your path, a happy feeling welling up inside.

“I. Am a girl.” You spin around quickly, eyes widening in fright. There stood Michael Scott, wearing a short, pleated pink skirt with his normal yellow button-down dress shirt, as well as a crooked ginger wig that he had most definitely not been wearing in his car. The room falls completely quiet, and you hear two people put their calls on hold. Jim stands, and you can’t see his face from this perspective, but you hear a hardness in his voice.

“Michael, this is not a funny joke-”

“It’s not a joke!” Michael yells out, crossing his arms. He purses his lips before speaking again in a higher tone. “I’m a girl, and so I decided to say it. That I am.” He looked around the room as if expecting something, but no one moved a muscle. Pam broke the silence, clearing her throat and talking in a tone that was both cautious and unbelieving.

“Alright, so what would you like us to call you, then?” Michael sputtered at the question, throwing his hands outward and looking around the room again. His eyes settle on me, and Jim sidesteps to block off his vision. You can no longer see Michael, but the image of him has burned into your mind anyway. You could feel yourself panicking, your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. This had to be a prank right? He was making fun of you? Now? After all this time?

“What do you mean- Y/N didn’t change his name when he came out!”

“This has nothing to do with Y/N,” Jim quickly tries to interrupt him after hearing your name, but you heard his sentence all the same. Jim walked closer to Michael, leaning down to whisper, but even you could still hear his words in the silence your boss caused. “How about we talk this out privately and continue this announcement later?”

“But-”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, Jim,” Pam calls out quickly, circling her desk and corralling Michael into his office. He was putting up a fight, but not much of one. Jim followed closely behind, closing the door behind him. You could see multiple faces turn to look at you- as their current entertainment had been dragged away- out of the corner of your eye, but you were still there, shell-shocked. Before you realized what you were doing, you were standing directly outside Michael’s office door, peeking around the side to look in through the window. You could hear them talking still, considering the rest of the office was waiting to see what you would do.

“No, no, no!” Michael yelled out, plopping down into his seat. “I’m serious about this you guys!”

“Alright, let’s assume you are,” Pam begins, but Jim looks at her with an aggravated look.

“Pam-”

“Let’s assume you are,” Pam repeats, pushing Jim away and leaning closer to Michael. “How did you come to this decision?”

“I-” Michael hesitates, looking at his computer, then back to Pam. “Well, I really like girls a lot.”

“Sure, sure, but sexuality and gender are different.”

“I know that, Pam! God!” Michael starts flipping random pens on his desk, trying to distract himself. “I just like their clothes a lot.”

“You like to wear the clothes, or see them on women?”

“See them-” He stops, looking up to her. “I mean, wear them! Yeah, that’s what it is!” His stuttering and determination caused Jim to huff in a humourless laugh, no longer just standing by.

“What’s really going on here Michael?”

“And,” Michael begins, ignoring Jim’s question, “What was that question about what I wanted to be called? Y/N didn’t change his name when he came out?”

“Sure,” Pam agrees, trying to maintain the peace, “But Michael isn’t a very feminine name. Doesn’t that make you feel a little, I don’t know, dysphoric?”

“What does that word mean?” Michael asks, causing Jim to huff again, moving forward to slam his hands onto the table.

“What is really going on here, Michael?”

“Fine!” Michael yelled out, throwing up his hands, his fake hair swinging around wildly. “I don’t think I’m a girl! I don’t like wearing dresses or skirts or-” He spits, swatting away the fake hair that had managed to catch itself in his mouth, “And I’m so uncomfortable in this,” He pulls the wig off finally, throwing it onto the ground. He stands next, reaching for the skirt he was wearing, “Or this-”

“No, no, no!” Pam calls out quickly, keeping him from ripping the skirt off in front of them. “I’ll fetch you your spare pair of pants here soon, it’s at the desk. Just,” She sighs, shaking her head, “What could’ve possibly made you think this was a good idea, Michael?”

“Well!” Michael huffs, pouting as he sits back down. “Y/N got all sorts of attention when he came out. He became cool, and popular, and now I’m not even allowed to make jokes about him! Everyone hates me now, he took my thunder!”

“You can still make jokes about him,” Pam continues cautiously, raising her hands up in a plea to calm him down. “Just, not about the fact that he’s trans.”

“My thunder Pam!”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jim begins, reaching forward and grabbing hold of Michael’s shirt. “That stunt you pulled was mean-spirited and heinous. Do you have any idea how you could’ve made Y/N feel? How hard it was for him, not only to accept himself for who he is but to become confident enough in himself to come out to the entire office? Do you realize how much you probably just put him back?” Michael’s face was terrified, and Pam was too stunned at this action to do anything at first. By the time Jim was done talking, she reached forward quickly and pulled him back.

“Jim, that’s unnecessary.”

“I feel it was completely necessary, Pam.”

“He doesn’t realize what he’s doing, he just wants attention.”

“He gets attention every single day Pam! He demands it, hell, he goes out into the office and-”

“Jim,” Pam interrupts, nodding toward Michael. You watch Michael visibly sniff, raising a hand to rub at his nose.

“No, no, he’s right. I’m a nuisance, everyone hates me.”

“No one hates you, Michael,” Pam starts, and Jim scoffs.

“You’re babying him.” She shoots him a threatening look, and he just shakes his head and crosses his arms. Pam moves closer to the desk, looking down at Michael.

“Hey,” When Michael looks up, his eyes are red and glossy. “What you did just now, was that a good idea?”

“No,” He whines out, drawing out the vowel.

“Good, that’s the correct answer. And why was it a bad idea, Michael?” He huffs again, moving to play with a different toy on his desk and avoiding her eyes.

“Because I lied for attention.”

“And?”

“Because I probably made Y/N feel bad. And Jim.”

“So what are you going to do?” Pam asks, and you can’t see her expression but Michael finally meets her eyes and breathes in a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell everyone that it was a horrible prank and that I’m sorry.”

Even Jim startles at this, both Pam and Jim- even you, yourself- having never actually heard Michael apologize for one of his many failed pranks or skits. Pam straightens up, glancing quickly at Jim before looking back. Her voice was full of surprise as she nods, “That’s right. That’s completely right, actually. Good job Michael.” You could see him smile before looking down at his lap, then back up at Pam.

“Can I do it after I change?”

“Of course,” Pam moves quickly to the door, and you don’t think fast enough to move out of the way. The door swings open wide and you are revealed to be standing there, right outside of it. All three occupants turn to look at you with varying expressions, but they all share a similar surprise. You swallow hard, locking your eyes with Michael. You are about to speak but can feel eyes digging into your back, so you take a few steps into the office, past your two friends.

“What you did just now,” You begin, sucking in another deep breath, “Was horrifying- for everyone involved. I’m sure we want to see you in a skirt just as much as you want to be in one.” You lean forward onto the desk, watching Michael shrink away from you. “But let me ask you, how does it feel to wear that skirt?”

“What?” He looks startled at the question, looking to Jim and Pam for help. None arrived for him.

“How does it feel, wearing that skirt? Why aren’t you wearing a blouse with it? Couldn’t find one that fit, or did it feel too uncomfortable? What about the hair?” You nod down to wear the wig laid on the ground. “Was it annoying? Kept getting caught in your mouth, right? Drooped in front of your face, obscuring your vision?” You leaned forward, your breath coming out harsher. “Imagine you had breasts attached to you- and push past your sexuality. Imagine you had them and they couldn’t be removed.” You whisper this last part, your own eyes tearing up. “How would you feel?’

You hear Jim say your name softly behind you, realizing what you were referencing. Michael shook his head for a few seconds before he stopped, widening his eyes. You nod, continuing your speech. “Yeah, exactly.” You lean back, picking your hands off of his desk to rest by your side. “That’s how I feel every single day. Or, did. Until I came out.” You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I became confident because I was finally comfortable with who I was. I’m sorry if you can’t find that confidence in yourself. But don’t try to steal mine. Don’t make a mockery of my struggles.” You turn, heading toward the door, toward your desk- to anywhere but here. But Michael’s voice stops you before you’re able to leave.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You turn, looking into his eyes. He seemed genuine, but you knew he didn’t really understand.

“Think about why you are. Then get back to me.”

You pushed your way past Pam, who stood in the doorway with shock and pain written across her face, and ignored Jim’s call of your name as you kept going. You wanted away from these stares, this was not what you meant by loving this damned office. You continued past the breakroom, ignoring your daily cup of tea. You enter into your side of the annexe, seeing Kelly on the phone and hearing a whispered but high-pitched, “What? No! He didn’t?” Before she suddenly looks up, widens her eyes, and quickly says, “Gotta go,” Before slamming the phone down. You sigh and walk around the divider, taking your seat.

Kelly has more social sense than most people in the office, you’ve come to realize. It was why she had applied for customer service- unlike you, who had just taken up an ad from the newspaper. So, she knew better than to try to ask you what happened. She remained quiet on her side of the partition, something that was extremely odd, and it almost felt like you were in your own little world, in your tiny corner. Your desk was pressed against two walls, and the partition blocked the other two sides except for the small gap for your entrance. The partition walls weren’t very high, but sitting down they reached above your head. You felt isolated- something you first loved, then hated, and now feel grateful for once again. It gives you time and privacy to calm down.

After some time, you hear a throat clear nearby, and Kelly’s chair roll as she likely stands to leave. You look up at the top of your divider, waiting for a face to come into view. Luckily, it’s Jim’s face. He smiles softly at you, and you can tell he’s trying to keep the pity from his face, but it's not working very well.

“You didn’t make your tea?” He raises a cup- your favourite cup, no less, that no one else has used since your incident with Dwight- and offers it to you. “I figured I’d make you some. Can’t go a day without your tea, right?” You can tell he was trying, and it warmed something inside of you. Trying for a smile, you reach out to take the cup, taking a sip. It was made perfectly.

“I’m sorry about that,” You begin, sighing and placing the cup aside. “I kinda went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Not at all,” Jim rushes to comfort you, circling the divider completely to be inside your little cube. He rests himself against your desk, looking down at you with earnest eyes. “If anyone was overboard, it was Michael.” You just shrug, looking away.

“I mean, what did I expect, really? Everyone in the office has been so good about the whole thing. Ever since I’ve come out, it's been nothing but positivity.” You bite your lip, shrugging. “This office isn’t exactly a positivity-friendly environment.”

“You being trans should have no bearing on your workplace,” Jim insists, leaning forward toward you. “I know the world is fucked, but I want to make sure that at least your world isn’t.” You huff a laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh, c’mon Jim. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You look up, meeting his eyes with a self-deprecating smile. “It’s not like it's because of you that all of this ended up so easy until now.” Jim’s eyes widen slightly, then wander away as he wiggles his head and bites his lip. You wait for him to agree, then narrow your eyes. “You… Didn’t tell everyone to be nice to me, did you?”

“Well,” He begins, drawing out the word and wincing. “I didn’t quite do that. But I did explain that they shouldn’t act any different, what jokes they shouldn’t make about it, and to look something up before asking any questions. If they couldn’t find the answer online, then they could ask me, and then I would allow them to ask you.” You blink a few times, tilting your head.

“But no one ever asked me anything?” He nodded along, sucking his lips inside his mouth before popping them, sighing.

“Yep.”

“Did they have questions?”

“Oh,” Jim scoffs, laughing. “So many.” He places his hands between his knees, palms together. You couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Like what?” You feel curious but also dread at the prospect.

“Oh, y’know,” Jim shrugs, moving to mess with some pens on your desk idly, not meeting your eyes. “Just the usual dumbest shit on the planet. I told them all they were absolutely not allowed to ask you, of course, and had to explain why sometimes.” You nodded along, huffing out another laugh.

“I suddenly don’t want to know.”

“Oh, no, you really don’t.” You laugh softly along with him, feeling your chest bloom open, your crush developing further. For the second time today, you were moving before realizing you decided to. You stood, then reached forward and pulled Jim into a hug. He had straightened when he noticed you standing, then stood stiff as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You hesitated, about to pull away when Jim moved quickly, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in tighter. You relaxed once more, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes.

“Thank you, Jim,” You whisper, turning your nose to brush against his dress shirt. He smelled clean, with a hint of cologne that you couldn’t place. His arms were warm and strong- comforting in a way that you hadn’t felt in so long. He moved one of them up, cupping the back of your head as he straightened up more, pulling you in closer.

“It’s nothing,” Jim stutters out, and you can hear his heart beating under your ear. “Someone’s gotta make sure these folks don’t chase you away.” You laugh, leaning back to look him in the eye. He seems sincere, solemn, as he adds, “I think I would be devastated if you quit.” You chuckle once more, shaking your head as you pull away.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“No,” Jim lowers his head, trying to catch your eye once again. “I’m completely serious. You are probably the only reason I still show up.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m this old and stuck in this job?” You laugh along, shaking your head.

“You make good money here, Halpert, don’t deny it.” You feel slightly upset you had pulled away from the hug so soon, but you had to look at him after he said that. You had to see if he was serious- Jim is hardly ever serious, always joking around. It was part of the reason your crush developed so fast, and also why it’d always remain a secret. He was so funny, making you laugh constantly. But he was also a bit of a jokester, and you didn’t know if he had a serious bone in his body. Today was showing he certainly did.

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it.

You both spend some more time chatting, and his presence is a balm that soothes your panicked heart. He tries his best to make you laugh- which you do, often- and you finish your morning cup of tea in the meantime. You were sure you could’ve talked to him forever if only your phone hadn’t rung. You shrug with helplessness, reminded that you’re technically at work and still have a job to do. You reach to pick up your phone, apologizing to Jim who waves you off. You watch him walk away as you answer the phone, “Dunder Mifflin paper company, customer service representative speaking.”

It ended up being a quick call, with someone complaining that their shipment was late. You only had to find their account to let them know that the delivery was scheduled for today and the time. Once you placed the phone back in its slot, you raised your cup to your mouth before remembering it was empty. ‘Eh, might as well,’ You think to yourself, pushing to stand and make your way to the breakroom. Kelly is back at her desk as you circle around, and you make sure to say a soft greeting to her to make up for your earlier rudeness. She says a polite and short greeting back with a gentle face, still conscious of your rough morning.

You’re about to pull the door to the breakroom open when you notice the back of Jim standing at the counter. He was hefting a freshly brewed pot of coffee, and you couldn’t help but stand there and watch his arm flex as he hefted it with no problem. You didn’t see the other door open, but suddenly Kevin was walking directly into Jim’s space.

“I have another question.” Jim sighs visibly, shaking his head.

“Haven’t I told you enough-”

“No, this is a different question, Jim!” Kevin seems adamant, and after Jim puts the coffee pot away he takes a side step to regain some personal space. “And you said yesterday there’s a limit of stupid questions I’m allowed to ask a day so I couldn’t ask yesterday!”

“You have until I finish making my coffee.” You’ve never seen Jim quite so indifferent and snappy before, raising your curiosity. For some reason, you still stood there, barely peeking through the window of the door, still holding your empty cup.

“Ok, so if he still wanted breasts-”

“Nope.” Jim was already shaking his head, stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Alright fine, but also. Can he sow a penis-”

“Nope.” Kevin huffs in frustration, flapping his arms for a split second.

“Why do you keep saying no to all of my questions?” Jim finishes stirring his coffee, placing the spoon in the sink and turning to look directly at Kevin finally.

“Because all of these questions are way too personal.”

“How are they personal?” You tilt your head, furrowing your brow. How would they not be personal? Jim seems frustrated, running his free hand through his hair.

“You can’t just ask someone about their breasts or genitals, Kevin. You wouldn’t want anyone asking about your dick.”

“Actually, it’s kinda itchy-”

“Nope!” Jim pushes away from the bar, leaving immediately. You’re stuck between sympathy for both of them. You don’t think Kevin actually knows any better at this point, but you also just felt too awkward to even try to come up with an answer to those questions. However, were these the types of things that Jim had to put up with daily just to vet the office for you? Why would he put himself through all of that?

“He’s really trying, you know?” You startle from your thoughts, turning to look at Kelly still sitting in her rolling chair. You tilt your head in confusion, but also shifted on your feet, hoping to play off the fact that you’d been standing there this whole time.

“Who?” Kelly just gives you a look you can’t quite decipher, continuing.

“Jim, obviously.” She sighs, pushing herself away from her desk and standing. “He’s even asked me for help on occasion. Little things here and there, but he recruits the allies where he can find them.” You purse your lips, leaning back against the wall next to the door, crossing your arms while holding your cup upright still.

“Asked you for help? Doing what? Who else has he asked?”

“I knew you’d figure it out at some point, I just didn’t think it’d be when someone slipped through his fingers. Though, Michael is pretty unpredictable like that.” She shrugs with a smile like she’s trying to hold back a laugh. “His main ask for me was just to intercept anyone trying to bother you- most likely to ask the dumb questions. I just had to send them right back through the breakroom over to Jim’s desk.”

“Did that happen often?” She shrugs again, wiggling her head.

“Not often, but a few times. Mainly Kevin, he has a lot of questions.” You nod, glancing briefly toward the breakroom’s door before resting your eyes on her once more. You study her posture, then try to make a guess.

“The other was Mr Dellicker, wasn’t it?” She winces but nods nonetheless.

“He was a real ass.” She sighs dramatically, moving to lean against the wall next to you and bunching up one of the random, typical office posters that hang around throughout the floor. “He was Dwight’s client, actually. The moment Dwight heard him be even a small bit transphobic, he hung up the phone. This, of course, caught Jim’s attention. I mean, have you ever known Dwight to drop a client? Like, ever?” You shake your head in agreement, and she nods with you. “Yeah, right? Anyway, Jim asks, Dwight answered. To Dwight, that was the end of the entire thing. To Jim, however,” Her smile begins growing as she leans closer to you, “Well, he knew that Mr Dellicker would call back to complain. And who would be picking up the phone?”

“Customer service,” You mumble, absorbed into her story.

“Exactly!” She giggles now, unable to hold it back. “It was adorable, really, the way he begged me to make sure I took his call. He actually asked me to call the man first, but I told Jim I wouldn’t go out of my way just to aggravate someone who, as far as we knew, wouldn’t be calling back after such a rude hang-up. But he wouldn’t let up, so I agreed to keep an ear out.” She huffs now, widening her eyes with a far-off look. “Good thing I did, too. He was such an ass.”

“Thank you,” You say softly, bringing her back to the present. She tries to brush it off but you just shake your head, placing a hand on her arm. “No, not just for Mr Dellicker. For agreeing to help out at any point, just for me. For not making a big deal about my whole coming out, for never treating me any different or- just-” You hesitate, shaking your head. “Just everything, Kelly. You’re an amazing coworker.” You watch her eyes begin to water, and she lets out a wet laugh.

“Wow,” She raises her hands, wiping the corners of her eyes. “You’re going to make my makeup run.” She pushes up from the wall, circling you and entering into the breakroom, heading straight for the girls’ bathroom. You widen your eyes at this reaction, unsure, but take a deep breath and enter into the breakroom yourself. You still had some tea to brew.

You didn’t mean to idle, standing near the exit of the breakroom toward the annexe, but stuck in place watching Jim lean against Pam’s desk through the door’s window on the other side of the room. They were talking back and forth- a lot of laughing involved- and you couldn’t quite place the feelings whirling in your chest. It felt similar to jealousy, but you knew that wasn’t it. Envy? That perhaps she was his type, and not you after your transition? Insecurity?

You startle as Jim suddenly meets your eyes, watching him straighten up quickly. You try to act nonchalant, moving out of his line of sight to grab your lunch from the fridge, and sitting at the break room table. You’d finished your second cup of tea hours ago, and you were a tad overdue for your lunch break considering you had a whole host of emails that you usually respond to in the morning, but had to answer during your second cup of tea since you’d been just a tad distracted that morning. You bite your lip as the events from that morning fly through your mind, a whole host of emotions attached to them.

The door across the room opens, stopping your train of thought in its tracks. Jim walks in with a smile, moving toward the fridge. “Hey,” He greets you, scanning you with his eyes while you just sat there, slowly removing your lunch from its brown paper bag. “Was starting to worry you’d forgo lunch.” You laugh, then proceed to explain your lateness. As he sets his own lunch on the table, you begin to wonder if he waited for you. Then your eyes flicker back toward the door you’d been staring at him through.

“So, how’s Pam?” Jim seems a bit taken off guard at the question, turning to look at the door himself before looking back to you. He shrugs, taking his own lunch out of his lunch box.

“Uh, good, I guess?” He raises his sandwich, ready to take a bite before hesitating and adding on, “She’s excited to hear about that one show you mentioned this morning.” You nod along, watching as he begins to eat his sandwich. You take your own small bite, looking toward the door again.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Jim’s eyebrows furrow immediately, and you watch him swallow. He seems to be planning his actions in his head before he performs them, placing his sandwich down.

“What?” He looks around the room aimlessly, wiggling his head. “I mean, yeah of course. She’s cute.”

“You two get along really well.” At this he chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ve worked together for a long time.” You both fall silent, taking more bites of your food. Jim breaks the silence with a resounding, “I’d probably have developed a crush on her by now if I wasn’t gay.”

Gay.

You end up lightly choking on your bite from surprise, playing it off with a cough and a sip of your water bottle. You can see Jim staring down at his sandwich at the table, taking a deep breath. “So, I can see why someone would develop a crush on her. If he was straight.” He glances briefly up at you, then back down to his sandwich. You tried your damndest to keep the look of shock from your face, that it takes an extra minute before you understand what he’s not saying. Did he think you were asking because you had a crush on Pam? You take another sip of water, letting your eyes wander away from him.

“Yeah, same.” Out of the corner of your eye, Jim glances up at you quickly, a look of concentration on his face that indicates his thoughts roaming a million miles an hour. You shrug for show, moving your own food closer so you can take a bite once you finish speaking. “I’d probably have developed a crush as well if I was straight.”

You only recognized the signs of Jim choking since you’d just gone through the same thing, as the man turns to cough into his arm as if to play it off. At least the poor man hadn’t been chewing food like you were. By the time Jim finished drinking from his own bottle, and moved to lean forward and say something, he was interrupted by the door opening and someone entering inside. He leans back, looking self-conscious, and you feel such a deep curiosity about what he was going to say that it burns in your chest. You don’t even register who walked in until she was taking a seat right next to you.

“I don’t know how you can stand it, Jim,” Kelly begins softly, and you look at her with confusion. Kelly never talks softly? “Working right next to the receptionist's desk all day. How do you get any work done?” Jim’s eyes flicker between you and Kelly, clearing his throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s so hot!” You and Jim meet eyes suddenly, listening to her continue to talk in a soft voice. No wonder, considering she was essentially coming out to the both of you. “When I first started and had to work over in that area, I was getting nothing done. Toby had to ask me what was wrong, and I sorta kinda told the truth that I was extremely distracted. He moved me to the annexe-” She pauses here, resting a hand on your arm with a sympathetic expression, “Sorry, Y/N, that’s why you’re confined back here as well.” You shake your head quickly, rushing in.

“No, it’s fine. I like it back here.”

“You do?” Jim asks with a smirk, and you give him a look essentially saying ‘Shut the fuck up Halpert I’m trying to console her.’ He just laughs noiselessly, his chest shaking as he moves to take another gigantic bite of his sandwich.

“Anyway, it’s so distracting. I had to go get something copied and I stood there an extra five minutes trying not to stare too directly at her. Oscar literally had to nudge me and remind me what I was doing!” She groans, letting her head fall onto the table. “So embarrassing.”

“Oscar knows?” You ask gently, unsure whether she actually realized she told you both. She lifts her head with a sigh, seemingly unfazed.

“Well, yeah. Oscar knows about everyone.” You hear Jim scoff softly, mumbling quietly under his breath.

“Not everyone.” This only causes Kelly to raise an eyebrow at Jim, smirking with humour.

“Oh, he knows about everyone, Jim.” His head was quick as it whipped toward Kelly, leaning in.

“Wait, what?”

“I mean,” She shrugs, glancing toward you briefly before meeting his eyes again. “You’re kinda obvious, Jim.” You can see his eyes widen, but you only feel confusion.

“Wait, how many people are gay in this office?” Kelly only shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes.

“Not my place to say.” You nodded along, obviously that being true. You meet Jim’s eyes once again, and you can see red peppering his cheeks.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jim.” He nods as if agreeing, flicking his eyes between you and the rest of his sandwich throughout the rest of lunch. Kelly takes the initiative in the ensuing silence, talking about everything yet nothing at the same time. Just as you and Jim are both cleaning up to get back to work, Kelly sighs loudly with an eyeroll before looking toward you and plastering on a smile. The look only made you feel wary.

“So, Y/N, what are your plans for after work?” You swallow roughly, glancing at a wide-eyed Jim, then back to her.

“Uh, nothing really?”

“Oh,” She draws out, reaching forward and placing a flirty hand on your arm. “So you’re free tonight? Want to go out for drinks?” You stutter, pulling away from her arm, your head already shaking as you try to come up with an excuse. ‘Didn’t she just say that she found Pam attractive? What the hell is going on?’

“Uh, Kelly-” Jim tries to intercept, but she pulls away as if nothing happened, shrugging.

“I just meant with the lot of us. Jim will be there too, won’t you Jim?” She looks directly at him, raising her eyebrows as if she was expecting something from him. You look between the two as an awkward silence settles before Jim startles, trying (and failing) for a normal smile.

“Oh! Those drinks!” Jim laughs awkwardly, looking back and meeting your eyes. “Yeah, we’re all going out for happy hour at Poor Richard’s Pub, you should join us!” You relax slightly as Jim was the one offering, no matter how weird this entire interaction ended up being.

“Oh, uh,” You hesitate, still slightly wary. There’s obviously something you’re missing here. “I mean, sure. I have nothing else to do. Who all will be there?”

“Just a couple people from the office,” Kelly quickly answers, standing and moving to throw her own trash away. She turns to look at both you and Jim, still sitting in your chairs. “Well, c’mon! We have work to do, people!”

“I know why I’m sorry now.” You startle at your desk, turning to look directly at Michael Scott with wide eyes. You hadn’t even heard him approach. He circles around your desk, motioning for you to stop your work as he leans against your desk- an unknowing imitation of Jim that morning. “If you’re willing to listen?”

You can feel yourself swallow roughly, the beginnings of a familiar panic starting in your chest. You’re unsure what to say, so you just nod. He nods as well, taking a deep breath before continuing. “At first, I had no clue what you meant. I knew I was sorry, and I knew it was because I had hurt you.” He looks into your eyes, regret deep within his own. “But that wasn’t enough for you. So I started thinking.” He chuckles softly, leaning back on his hands and letting his own gaze roam the walls behind your desk. “And when that didn’t work, I remembered something Pam said when she tried to play along with my- well, yeah. A certain word I didn’t recognize. Dysphoric.”

You feel yourself tense, suddenly remembering the tightness around your chest where the binder lays under your clothes. You can feel the tie around your neck like it was trying to choke you. Michael, unaware of your inner struggles, continues on. “That search was enlightening- it was like everything you had expressed to me. And everything I had felt, trying on those clothes.” He hunches inward, his expression becoming stormy. “I felt so wrong wearing that skirt. And you were right- I had tried a blouse on. I bought one at the store that fit and even brought it home, but it just felt so weird when I tried to walk out of the door with it on. So I switched to my normal shirt.

“Then I was sitting in the parking lot, and I knew that the moment I placed my foot out of my car, everyone would see the skirt. I was-” He laughs humourlessly, shaking his head. “I was terrified. I tried to ignore it- like it was just stage fright, something I had to talk myself into.” You began to nod, intrigued by his story. “I don’t know how I convinced myself to get out of the car- I guess something along the lines of, ‘Well, I’m the boss. The ship will sink without me in there.’” He takes a deep breath, patting his legs loudly. “Anyway, I was jealous.” He shrugs, looking at you with wet eyes. Was he really getting emotional over this? “I mean, you did kinda steal my birthday away from me.”

Memories of that night flash quickly through your head. You’d come out during a party- a party you didn’t know the purpose of. That pink quinceañera cake… You didn’t get to taste it, but they could’ve gotten it because it was his favourite flavour? You hadn’t even seen Michael there. Was he trying for a grand entrance? Memories from this morning flash through your mind’s eye, Michael yelling at Pam, ‘He stole my thunder! My thunder, Pam!’

“It wasn’t planned, Michael,” You try to assuage, wincing despite yourself. “I’m sorry, though.” Your apology causes Michael to blow a sigh out roughly, then laugh and slap his thighs again.

“Wow! I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that.” You’re both silent- you studying Michael’s face, and Michael looking anywhere but at you. Then you start laughing.

“Michael,” You try to talk through your laughter, but you just shake your head and try to get it under control. You wouldn’t want him to think you were making fun of him- you only found him ridiculous- so you try your best to calm down. “Michael. You were upset that I ‘stole your thunder’ on your birthday, so your response was to… Pretend to be a girl? Instead of, oh I don’t know,” You try to hold back your laughter again, choking lightly on your words, “Throwing another party?” Michael seems to take a moment to absorb this- then begins to laugh alongside you.

“Well, that would’ve only been easy, Y/N. When have you known me to do things the easy way?” You both laughed again, and you began to shake your head.

“Never.” When your laughter finally dies down, you meet his eyes once again. Staring at each other, it's like you both finally understood. You thought he was just ignorant, but you had been missing out on important information as well. He began to nod, glancing over his shoulder toward the nearby wall clock.

“Well, looks like I kept you long enough. Time to clock on out!” He jumps up, shooting finger guns before backing up. He trips over the edge of the divider, tries to play it off, and then groans loudly when he sees Toby walking by. “God, every time!”

You chuckle to yourself, then begin the process of shutting down your computer and packing up. Kelly skirts around the divider quickly once the door closes behind Michael, leaning into your space. “Let me drive you.” You hesitate, widening your eyes.

“I’m sorry?”

“To the pub! Let me drive you!” You laugh nervously, beginning to shake your head.

“Oh, uh, no. I have my own car, but thank you-”

“If you drink, you won’t be able to drive home.” She counters, raising her eyebrows at you. You laugh again, shaking your head.

“Well, if we’re all drinking, wouldn’t you drink too?” She shakes her head immediately, crossing her arms.

“I don’t drink at all.” You still feel hesitant, and it must show on your face as she sighs and then leans in. “I’ll tell you Jim’s whole deal.” This catches you, looking back at her to study her.

“What do you mean…?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me drive you!” You huff a laugh, smiling despite yourself. “Yeah, alright. But if I don’t drink, you gotta’ take me back here so I can drive myself home.”

“Deal! And if you do, then I’ll drive you home and pick you up for work tomorrow morning!” You laugh again, shaking your head as you pick your briefcase up, finished with closing down your desk for the day.

“You seem excited about this.”

“Absolutely! I’ve been waiting forever!”

You were still unsure what she meant but followed along with the hyperactive girl as she burst through both of the doors to the breakroom. You watch Jim straighten where he had been leaning against Pam’s receptionist's desk, and smile toward you as you made your way to the exit.

“You know,” Jim starts, huffing a soft laugh and smiling in a way that took your breath away, “I was thinking.”

“Oh,” You draw out, smiling despite yourself, “Dangerous territory there, Halpert.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim begins, laughing again. He takes a discreet look around before reaching forward to almost take your hand, his fingers tangling with your own but not quite grasping. “I was hoping that maybe I could drive you down to the pub? I know you have your own car and all, but I just want to make sure you’re safe with getting home, y’know?” Your face falls just as you hear Kelly’s voice behind you.

“Oh, don’t worry Jim! He has a ride already.” Jim looks toward Kelly over your shoulder, then back to you with wide eyes, pulling his hand away.

“Already?” Jim looks back to Kelly, confusion clear across his face.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Jim!” You feel her small hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you toward the door. “We’ll meet you there!”

You take one last look at Jim through the glass doors as Kelly drags you along to the elevator. You hesitate, mind trying to catch up, before you finally clear your throat and look at her. “No offence here, Kelly, but I honestly think I would’ve preferred riding with Jim?”

“You’ll have the rest of your life to ride with Jim. Just let me tell you what I need to tell you without the risk of Jim hearing us.” You both step onto the elevator, as Kelly begins mashing the button for the lobby.

“Uh,” Your mind is stuck, repeating ‘rest of your life’ and ‘Jim’ over and over. “This feels… Is this nefarious?”

“‘Nefarious,’” Kelly mocks, pulling you once the doors open again. “You say the oddest things sometimes.” You didn’t know which car was hers, but considering she was dragging you along, you didn’t have to guess. She pulls your briefcase from your hands, finally letting go of you, and you just stand in place. She throws your suitcase and her purse into the backseat, then opens the driver's door with a look up at you. “Well, get in!”

It was quiet for a long portion of the drive. You didn’t know what to ask, or how to even broach the subject. Did it seem too eager, to ride along with her just because she promised to tell you about Jim? And what was she even talking about- how would Kelly know more about Jim than you? True, you both hadn’t been friends for very long just yet, but you didn’t know Kelly and Jim were friends?

“So, it started when you started transitioning,” Kelly said, bursting you from your whirlwind of questions. “We all got pretty curious. I was the one who had the theory you were trans first.” She winces, looking over to you. “Sorry. I didn’t know at the time how true I was. I honestly didn’t even know if you knew about it, but- well, obviously you did.” You tilt your head, brow furrowing.

“You all were talking about me before we were friends?”

“Well, you know how the office is. You were changing, and people were noticing. Especially Pam and Jim. Pam, who is such a sweetheart and just wants everyone to be comfortable. She had a feeling you were never quite comfortable at the office but didn’t know how to help. Jim found you hot, which was throwing him for a loop considering he is gay, and normally not attracted to-” She hesitates, tilting her head. “Well, we did think you were a girl at the time.”

You nod along, unoffended. “Right, but-” You scoff, shaking your head, “I don’t know if I believe this story now. I mean, Jim? Finding me-” You almost say the word, then scoff softly and look down to your lap. “Attractive?”

“Well, you are hot,” Kelly confirms, and you look up quickly at her. You aren’t sure what expression is on your face, but Kelly just laughs. “What? Don’t look at me like that! You were hot when we all thought that you were a girl, and you’re even hotter now that we know you’re a boy!” You laugh in disbelief, shaking your head. Kelly continues on, pushing through your awkwardness. “I mean, c’mon! Confidence is sexy as hell.”

You look away, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks as you remember Jim saying something similar. “Sure, but-” Kelly interrupts you, continuing with her story.

“So once you finally came out, Jim had his own little freak-out because it wasn’t just a theory anymore. It is true, you are a dude, and Jim didn’t know if he could handle you getting hotter and hotter every day.” You flashback to another scene in your head, Jim saying something similar to Pam and you laughing, accusing him of finding Dwight attractive. Was he talking about you at that time? Kelly’s voice brings you back.

“Anyway, I finally told him that he needed to get his act together and ask you out already, or I’d do it first. Either ask you out for myself or for him, but either way. I don’t know if I could stand any more of him spewing about you, I mean- all I heard was Y/N this, or Y/N that, or ‘Wow he’s wearing the tie I gifted him!’ I mean, that man can talk.” You hold back a laugh, shaking your head. The one and only Kelly Kapoor, complaining about someone talking too much. That’d be hilarious to tell Jim- if you ever got the nerve together to tell him about this little conversation.

“Ok,” You huff out, shaking your head, “You’re asking me to believe that Jim not only finds me attractive but wants to date me?”

“Well, that’s where we’re going now! So you better believe it.”

“Going now- but you’re here? The office will be there, how would it be a date?”

“It’s going to be a date,” Kelly starts slowly, looking at you with a grin, “Because it’s not an office hangout. I’m going to drop you off and leave, and then Jim can take you home. I only did this to get you both together outside of work, you’ll be all alone with him.” She huffs, squeezing the steering wheel around her hands. “And I’m telling you all of this before the date because I don’t trust Jim to admit anything to you without pushing him for it. If I’m not there to pressure him, then-”

“Woah woah woah,” You interrupt, shaking your head quickly. “I’m not about to pressure my best friend for- for some wild hope that he might feel the same. And I-” You can feel the panic again, pulling at the seatbelt around your torso. “I don’t know if I can do this, I didn’t know it would be just us, I mean-”

“Calm down, it’ll be fine. It’s just Jim, remember?” ‘It’s just Jim,’ You repeat to yourself as Kelly turns the car into the pub’s parking lot. You take a few deep breaths, nodding your head. ‘Yeah, I can do this. It’s just Jim, just normal ole Jim.’ Kelly backs her car into a space, waiting for Jim’s to arrive. It doesn’t take long to notice Jim’s car pulling in, parking in one of the front parking spaces, directly in your line of sight. You take another deep breath, nodding.

“I can do this,” You whisper, and Kelly reaches over to squeeze your arm. That’s when you watch two of the car doors open, Jim and Pam stepping out to take a look around. You hear a squeak beside you, Kelly’s hand tightening on your arm. You look over with concern, watching panic written across her face.

“Oh, Jim, you bitch,” Kelly whispers, shaking her head.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“Absolutely not,” Kelly whispers, then moves to get out of the car alongside you. You both approach the other two, smiles on your faces. They finally notice you, and it’s almost like you and Jim have locked eyes and thrown away the key. You’re unsure what’s really happening between the two girls, not registering the words exchanged. You walk a little closer to Jim, smiling up at him.

“Hey,” You whisper, and his smile widens, reaching his hand out in an imitation of earlier, tangling your fingers together.

“Hey.” He glances over to the other two girls, wincing and looking back to you. “I wasn’t sure- is it okay that I brought Pam?”

“Apparently,” You whisper, leaning closer and glancing briefly at Kelly to make sure she’s sufficiently distracted, “That wasn’t part of the plan. She told me she was throwing me out of the car and driving off.” You note the blush lighting up Kelly’s cheeks as she talks with Pam, before turning your attention back to Jim. You hadn’t realized you leaned in this close- or did he lean in as well? His face was next to yours, close enough to share a kiss.

“Shall we head inside? Guys?” You both jump apart, and you look guiltily over to Pam, who spoke. She only smiled in response, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “We could grab a booth?”

The night was going well. It didn’t really feel like a date like Kelly had hoped it to be, but instead a nice get-together of a couple friends. You all laughed constantly, telling stories and jokes from the office, while also sharing your own life’s stories. No one really talked about their own life outside of the office while they were working, so it was a refreshing twist on things. You felt drawn even closer to the lot of them- Jim, especially, as he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from you for too long. You weren’t sure, but you thought it was Jim’s leg under the table pressing against your own. You hoped so, anyway.

“But, yeah, Toby is so weird! You guys don’t get that vibe?” Pam continues, giggling as she sips her mixed drink. Jim and Kelly were the only two keeping away from the alcohol, but you had ordered your favourite mixed drink and had slowly been sipping on it. You knew you weren’t drunk yet, but you were pleasantly tipsy.

“No?” You hesitated, trying to think back over the times you’ve interacted with him. It was more often than most since you worked in the annexe, but he always seemed like a nice, if tired, man.

“It’s cause he has a crush on you,” Kelly nods, laughing alongside Jim. Pam blushes, shaking her head quickly.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“Well, Kelly would know,” Jim points out with a grin, raising his glass to his mouth and taking a large gulp. You watch confusion rush across Pam’s face, while Kelly’s turns a bright shade of red. She mouthed his name behind her cup, giving him a stern look.

“What does he mean by that?” She asks, looking between you and Kelly, then back at Jim. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” You begin, laughing under your breath. “Just that Kelly has a lot of experience talking with Toby. He was the one who moved her into the annexe, after all. It almost seems like they have a lot in common?” You end it with a question, trying your best to be vague. Jim almost spits out his drink with his laugh, turning to cough into the crook of his arm.

You hear Pam question, “Yeah, why were you moved into the annexe?” Right as Kelly mumbled from beside you, “Not that much in common. Like one thing.” You and Jim meet eyes, trying to keep the humour from your faces.

The rest of the night passed in much the same way. You still were unsure about the whole ‘Jim liking you’ bit but found yourself pleasantly hopeful. And it seemed like- if that was true- maybe Jim was trying to get back at Kelly by teasing her about liking Pam. You began to wonder if that was his plan all along, showing up with Pam randomly. Honestly, whether this was a double date or just a hang-out with friends, you found yourself enjoying the time immensely. But the night was wearing thin, and all four of you had work in the morning.

As you and Pam were helping each other out of the booths, making sure she hadn’t forgotten her purse, Jim and Kelly had run off to pay the bill. You glanced over at Jim- probably with a longing look since you can’t exactly help it, being slightly inebriated- and watched him lean in close to Kelly as they began whispering back and forth.

“He’s a good guy, y’know.” You look back over to Pam, eyes widening. “I don’t know you well enough yet to know your thoughts on him, but he is a good guy. And he deserves the world.” You chuckle softly, nodding.

“Yeah,” You say breathlessly, looking back over to him. He glanced up at the same time, and you can’t help the smile crossing your face. “I think so too.”

“Then tell him,” Pam insists, and you look back down to her. “He deserves to know that. He thinks he’s not worth your time, apparently.”

“That’s ridiculous-”

“What’s ridiculous?” Jim asks as the other two rejoin you and Pam. Pam smiles brightly leaning over to take Kelly’s arm.

“That you have to drive all the way across town just to drop me off, Jim!”

“Actually, we were just talking about that,” Kelly mumbles, and you smile watching her attempt to hold eye contact with Pam unsuccessfully. “If it’s okay with you, then maybe I could take you home? And Jim can take Y/N.”

“Yes!” Pam practically yells out, and you chuckle softly. You look over toward Jim, seeing him already looking your way.

“If that’s alright with you?” He whispers, and you nod immediately.

“Of course it is, Jim.”

“Good,” Jim says, releasing a breath as if with relief.

“Good,” You parrot, reaching forward boldly to take his hand. “Lead on, then.”

Once you and Jim make it to his car, you both wait before getting in to make sure Pam and Kelly are in their car safe and buckled. Once Kelly begins pulling out, Jim turns to you and leans in closer. “I had a fantastic time today.” You laugh, nodding along, leaning against his car and gravitating toward him.

“I did too. ‘Was surprised that Pam showed up, though.”

“Well, Kelly did say it was ‘the office’ going out for drinks. I thought it’d be fine.”

“Well, she didn’t actually mean the office, apparently. She was just trying to get us alone.” You shrug, smirking up at him. His deer-in-headlights look was gone now, for some reason. He seemed bold, leaning closer and taking your hand.

“And if it was? Would that have been fine?” You laugh again, nodding slowly.

“That would’ve been perfect.” His face slowly loses his teasing look, turning serious- but soft.

“Y/N,” Your name is husky in his mouth as he begins leaning closer, and you can smell his cologne in the air. Everything was so much, his smell, his body heat, his honey-brown eyes as he took up your entire vision. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” You whisper in return and meet him halfway as your lips crush together. He pulls the hand not holding yours to your face, lightly caressing your cheek throughout the heated kiss, and you grab hold of his hip with your own free hand, pulling him closer. You can feel him moan through the kiss, turning his head to deepen it. This was nothing like you’ve dreamed of- but oh, so much better.

When you two finally part, breathing heavily, he’s pressing you against his car with the length of his body. You both pant as you stare into each other’s eyes, and your grip slowly loosens on his hip. Eventually, he pulls away, clearing his throat with a blush. “Wow,” He whispers, a smile growing as he looks at you bashfully.

“Yeah,” You agree just as quietly, and Jim moves to open the passenger door for you. “Oh, right. Thank you.”

As you sat down in Jim’s car, ready to be driven home, you can’t help but think: ‘Man, I love working for Dunder Mifflin. Even the bad days can turn into the best ones.’

Tag List: @ltnoscara @zombieboyevan @cursedashes

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x trans reader #ftm!reader #gay!jim #pam beesly #michael scott #kelly kapoor #bi!kelly #the office toby mentioned #dwight shrute mentioned #drinking in moderation #happy ending #the office #fanfiction

[lavendertales]

Judas—Javier Peña x f!reader

Chapter 14 of the Unholy series

summary: Javier tells you everything about the loss of your father.

word count: 3k

A/N: ANGST. mentions of violence, injuries & guns.

gif: @300mirrors​ 

series masterlist | AO3 

The silence is deafening, not tranquil in the slightest. The more you look into Javier’s eyes, the more you struggle to see past the eyes of a traitor. You brawl and battle against the ugliest instincts in order to see the eyes of the man who has given you the best, most exciting years of your life, the man who has bewitched your body and heart alike.

You know you should be thinking rationally. That you know.

Yet your spirit bends at anger’s will, unable to stand back up and offer a proper resolution.

You don’t move, and neither does the gun pressed into Javier’s chest. He doesn’t move, either. Not on account of fear of the bullet.

He’s too afraid that one wrong move will drive you out of his life completely.

“Talk,” you murmur.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“You do the talking, I give the instructions.”

Javier complies, scarily easy too. He doesn’t sit down either; he merely leans against one of the desks and takes in a deep breath, avoiding your glare for now.

Turns out, reminiscing the worst thing you did to someone is no easy task and it can take quite the toll on anyone. His chest feels heavy, his mind a blur as he scrambles for each detail of that dreadful day, and all of his hopes of being with you utterly shattered.

“It was a day like any other,” he begins, voice husky, filled with instant regret. “I haven’t seen him before, just—so you know. He was another guy that needed to be taken down, a… name to scratch off a list.”

Hearing that makes you tremble and nearly spit out your disgust, right at Javier’s feet, but you refrain yourself from such malicious actions. Instead, your finger remains secure on the trigger, gun still pointing in his direction.

“I got to the office, Murphy walked in as well, and we went straight to Carrillo. We had a raid planned for that day, it was supposed to be at a local brothel. Carrillo handed me that mission. He and Murphy were going at a different location. It was me, and another three agents. Mateo, Diego and Raul. When we got there… it was an ambush. They knew we were coming, someone sold us out. There were four of Escobar’s men. There was Navigante, Quica, The Lion… and Michael.”

The sudden thought of your father in a whorehouse makes you sick to your very core. You make a face, unable to contain it, but quickly brush off the thought. Water under the bridge now, you think. After all, your mother had passed years before, and it’s not like she stuck around for either one of you.

“They scattered like rats immediately,” Javier continues, taking another deep breath in. “We went after them, shots were fired… and civilians got involved. It quickly turned into madness. They were shooting at random people on the street, making sure it was difficult for us to follow them without helping the others. But there was nothing we could do, they were dead by the first bullet. So we chased them for a while, but Navigante and the Lion got away. That left us with Quica and Michael. Those two were… madmen. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never seen someone smile so widely while shooting and mutilating others.”

The word “mutilating” makes your skin crawl, and you’d hate to think that your father could possibly behave in such a twisted manner.

But you saw the file. You saw the pictures, the hard evidence displayed boldly in front of you, black and white on paper, indisputable. The pictures were, indeed, gruesome, and even reminiscing them is a heavy cross to bear.

“La Quica was the one who did most of that,” Javier seemingly puts your mind to rest with that sentence. “But your—Michael wasn’t that far behind. He—he enjoyed what he did. He had fun. He knew how to run and hide and to shoot. Quica was the one who took the first shot at us, and he got Raul right in the head. He dropped dead next to me. I kept shooting, trying to get one of them, either one of them. I knew at that point that they had to be killed. They left a trail of bloody corpses behind them and had no remorse about it. No shame, no guilt… there was nothing but happiness on their faces.”

The tragic part is that you can vividly portray those images, despite the hatred that you carry for the notion that your father was a notorious killer embarked on Pablo Escobar’s service. It seems like such a cruel sentence, to be able to portray a bloodbath of those proportions when you haven’t been present to witness it firsthand.

Perhaps on a deeper level, you acknowledge that your father could be capable of such atrocities. And it’s undoubtedly scary.

“I got Quica in the shoulder,” you hear next. “”Not much, but at least it got him to stop for a while. Then it was Michael. The moment Mateo took a breather to recharge the gun, he was a goner. Michael took the shot, killed him in a second. It was just me and Diego left, and Quica was back to back with Michael, shooting again like a fucking lunatic. Diego asked me what to do. He was following my orders, and I was following Carrillo’s. We were supposed to bring the most important faces for a confession, and Quica was one of them. Michael wasn’t. So I told him—“

Javier hesitates. He sees your face, drained of all color and emptied of any other facial expression but coldness, and he gulps. Your hand holding the gun doesn’t waiver, not even for a moment.

“Go on,” you tell him. “Say it.”

Javier is clever enough to know you won’t shoot him. You need to take control of whatever you can, to intimidate and show that you mean business, and if that’s how you need to proceed, then he will let you. He will not fight you.

Instead, he breaks for you; the sight wrecks him in the nastiest, most painful way. He wills himself to go on like you had asked him to.

“I told Diego to—take the shot. I told him that I’ll get Quica, and if he gets the chance to get Michael… he should.”

Silence installs itself in between you two again, more asphyxiating and crumbling than when you began. You review every word, imagine how it all went down, over and over again, and your eyes meet Javier’s for what feels the first time in months.

“And?” you demand.

Your voice is hollow, and it eats Javier alive to hear it so.

“And… he did,” he confirms. “He took the shot. He killed him.”

“At your order.”

“At my order.”

“And after?”

“La Quica shot Diego in retaliation, then ran, scared shitless. I called dispatch to let them know about the agents, got to the embassy in bloody clothes, signed the report about the failed mission, and… went home.”

This time, you purposely stare at him. You picture an exhausted Javier driving through the bloody streets of Medellin, his clothes stained with the blood of his colleagues—and who knows what else—and, to your surprise, you feel for him.

“What did you do then?” you ask.

Though surprised at the question, Javier gulps, trying to recollect his thoughts as he thinks back on the end of that day. He has a suspicion regarding your expectations as to what his past time activities were, but there’s no more harsh truth to be exposed.

“I took a shower. It didn’t wash away anything from that day. I lit a cigarette, drank half a bottle of whiskey, and stared out the window well into the night. I stared at Medellin at night, listening to the wind, the shouting, the happy screams like there was this… massive win to be celebrated. But the truth is, that day was just the tip of the iceberg. It would be one of the many bad days to follow.”

It’s somewhat impressive that your hand didn’t cramp up yet; you’ve been pointing that gun at him for over half an hour, and you are still going strong.

“Do you think he deserved it?” you ask out of the blue.

Javier stares at you bewildered, uncertain if he wants to respond to that question.

Though how could he possibly upset you even more?

“What are you asking me?” he says, tone unstable, much like himself.

“I am asking you if you think he deserved what he got,” you clarify. That’s when you pull back, crossing your arms at your chest as you tower slightly over Javier. “Do you think my father deserved to die? It’s a simple yes or no.”

Except it’s not. Not really.

Javier coos your name, his mental state in a worse shape now. But he knows you, inside out; the answer he has in his heart is the one you have as well, and he knows that. He knows you can’t help but rationalize everything, even this moment, even the grimmest moment of your life. You’ve always placed duty above personal gain.

And duty will win again.

“He was cruel and manic,” he replies. “He killed children. In broad daylight.”

“Yes or no, Javier.”

The way you pronounce his name, emptied of any emotion and yearning behind it, it both brings him back to life and kills him simultaneously.

“Yes,” he finally answers.

Your facial expression doesn’t change. The glare you exchange with him seems to be that of an underlying agreement, one that he isn’t part of. He notices that you seem less angry, though he fails to understand how or why. He’s worried again, terrified of the damage he’d unknowingly caused between you two.

“Okay,” you respond after a while. “Thank you.”

Javier doesn’t like that; the simple, cold way you send those thanks sends shivers down his spine, and he lowers his head into the ground again. He knows he’s truly fucked up and, in spite of your search for the truth and desire to keep things rational, you won’t ever forgive him.

What is rational, after all? Rational would’ve been if he had told you how he felt back in college. Rational would’ve been to tell you now, and drop the stupid rivalry act. Maybe it would’ve spared you of having to hide those shamefully pleasurable acts, and you could’ve actually enjoyed them properly, in a bed, intimate and cozy together.

There’s nothing but an ice cold distance between you two now, a broken road that’s suffered too much damage to be repaired.

The sudden callout of your name makes Javier’s head turn, but not yours.

“What are you doing here?” Claudia chimes in. “What’s going on?”

She remarks the gun you’re holding in one of your hands, the head still pointed in Javier’s direction, and fearfully approaches you both.

“Thank you for your honesty,” you continue, “and thank you—for making me an orphan.”

It hurts like a motherfucker, but Javier understands it. He knows you want it to hurt, to hurt badly like it did you, and not because you didn’t hear a word from what he said. But because you did. He knows that you’ve probably accepted the truth about your father, but that you also cannot forgive him for the crimes he committed.

Just as you probably won’t forgive Javier for giving out that order, even if you acknowledge the fact that it was justified and well-intended.

“What is going on here?” Claudia pushes, now in your vicinity.

“Nothing,” you say, strapping the gun to your belt again. “Just a conversation.”

“I take it you’re back at work?”

“No. I don’t know if I’ll return.”

No “yet” or “just”. Somehow, that sentence hurts Javier more than what you told him last. The idea that he drove you away from your job, your career, your passion and from him, subsequently, is more than he can live with. He didn’t even get the chance to be happy upon seeing you back in the office, unharmed by Escobar.

Looks like neither of you gets their shot at happiness.

“If you’re telling me you’re quitting—“Claudia begins, but you are quick to interrupt.

“I’m still on indefinite hiatus, ma’am.”

“That personal affair hit you hard, I take it. I’m sorry.”

You glance at Javier, regret exuding from your pupils and your whole body. “So am I.”

“Take all the time you need,” Claudia adds.

You walk away, fighting the tears that sting your eyes and the ache in your heart. You can’t wait to get home, allow yourself to feel everything that’s been weighing down so heavily on you.

“Peña. A word.”

Defeated, Javier does a never-before seen version of the walk of shame all the way to his boss, eyes lowered in shame into the ground.

“What the hell is going on?” Claudia asks.

“Nothing.”

“I got two of my finest agents on the sideline, one sulking in this very office and the other on an indefinite break, potentially leaving the DEA altogether, instead of going after Pablo Escobar. The goal they’ve been working towards for the past three years. One can only assume the two elements are related.”

“There’s not—“

“And before you decide on how to lie to me, I did not get to be in this position by not picking up on social cues.”

Javier inhales, pretending to weigh in on his options. For him, there is only one: do not reveal anything to the DEA’s chief. His private life is private for a reason. Although, in the past year, things had clearly gotten out of hand.

“Is there something else going on between you two?” she asks.

Javier doesn’t offer any verbal response; instead, he looks at Claudia with an incredibly guilty look in his eyes, one that suggests don’t you dare ask me anything else about this or I might lose it completely.

Claudia huffs, quite loudly, staring at the empty office they are in, taking in the image before looking back at the disheveled man in front of her.

“I do not need to know… everything,” she says, voice a little rigid. “But I can understand it there being something more going on.”

Javier remains silent still. He cannot bring himself to look into his boss’ eyes, not when she’s referencing the most private thing in his life.

“I do want to ask you a question, since we’re on this topic, Peña.”

The silence makes Javier hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears; the thump, thump, thump of a man on the verge of a breakdown.

“Whatever is going on… is it worth missing out on catching Pablo Escobar? Is she worth missing the biggest achievement in your career?”

“She is.”

Without missing another heartbeat.

“Or I thought she was. Hoped. I don’t know.”

Unable to resist the impulse to comfort, Claudia approaches Javier and gently pats him on the shoulder, smiling politely.

“Give her some time,” she advises.

“I don’t think time will heal in this case, boss.”

“Give it time. Trust me.”

While he’s definitely not a fan of discussing elements of his personal life—or lack thereof—with anyone, much less with his boss, the alternative, thinking of how the team is handling Escobar, isn’t such a treat either. At least in talking about you, he gets to think of you, to remember the times you’ve shared together, as sinful and forbidden they felt at the time.

God, he misses you. He misses having you nearby, the scent of your perfume, that soft, moldable skin of yours, your full lips, the fiery way you’d stare him down and the moans you let out as he slid inside you, always with ease, like you were—

Like you were made for him.

“How can you be sure time will help?” he asks.

“As I told you before, you don’t get to be in this position without being good with social cues of any kind. I know what attraction, what love looks like. I’ve seen it in her eyes.”

Javier’s eyes widen upon hearing the piece of information. “What?”

Claudia chuckles. “Peña, I am well aware of the fact that you have—quite a reputation around here, particularly among the few women at the embassy. But I’ve never seen you miss being in the middle of the action, let alone for a woman. I know what caring for someone looks like, and this is it. That kind of love doesn’t just go away. So… give it some time.”

The moment vanishes as swiftly as it had begun. Javier feels like he’d been talking to an old friend rather than an official representative of America. Which somehow makes the moment slightly more awkward as the realization dawns on him.

“Thank you,” he quickly says before rushing out the office.

He can’t stay there. He cannot keep waiting around. He needs distraction. And alcohol won’t do it this time.

He makes the call from the car. Anxiety cruises through his veins as he tells Gabriella to meet him at his place. Deep down, in the huge pit of his stomach, he feels retched for even thinking about it, and even more so for going through with it. But he can’t have you. He will probably never have you again, so why pretend otherwise? And there is nothing wrong about seeking solace in the arms of someone. Especially since you two were never an item, and by the looks of it, never will be.

He’s no good at being a boyfriend, or more. He’s good at fucking, and that’s what he will do tonight. Needy, rough and depraved. Just the way he likes it.

Just the way she likes it.

Stop. Don’t think about anything else but Gabriella. You need this.

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[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley: The Lost Interview

In this previously unpublished conversation from 1994, captured just days before the release of ‘Grace,’ the mythic singer-songwriter pushes through self-doubt, professes his undying love for the Smiths and New York City, and interprets a dream wherein he critiqued a serial killer’s photography. 

July 21, 2022 by Tony Gervino

In August of 1994, I interviewed the singer-songwriter Jeff Buckley for over an hour at the New York offices of Columbia Records. Other than pulling a few quotes for a regional music newspaper profile I wrote at the time, this conversation went unused. I put the recording in a box in my closet, where it remained for a quarter-century.

I went back over the transcript a couple of years ago and realized that our conversation offered a rare snapshot of the most pivotal moment in Buckley’s too-brief career. He hadn’t yet sat for many interviews and was trying to figure out his own narrative, just before he was to leave on a national tour that would make such quiet, thoughtful introspection a luxury.

The son of folk visionary Tim Buckley, he had made his mark in New York City as a solo artist in 1993, performing a suite of original songs and genre-spanning covers with only his guitar and multi-octave vocal range. The buzz didn’t really build; it seemed as if one day no one in the city’s music scene knew who Jeff Buckley was, and the next, everyone knew. 

Prior to entering the studio to record his landmark debut album, Grace, which featured his most successful single, “Last Goodbye,” as well as his transcendent rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” Buckley mothballed his troubadour set. To help bring dimension to the music swimming around in his head, he recruited the collaborative working band of guitarist Michael Tighe, bassist Mick Grondahl and drummer Matt Johnson. He wanted his solo album to sound big, ambitious and genre-slippery as he headed to Bearsville Studios in Woodstock, N.Y.

Even though our meeting was less than two weeks before the album release, Buckley was still tinkering with the mixes on Grace, tormenting producer Andy Wallace with sonic flourishes and rewritten bridges, and hoping to squeeze every bit of inspiration out of himself before the tape stopped rolling. In the pre-streaming world, this was an unheard-of high-wire act for a debut artist. But for a young musician who was signed to Columbia Records after a prolonged bidding war, it indicated a bit of acquiescence on the label’s part. From what they’d seen of him, Buckley was a can’t-miss artist. He just needed time, which, tragically, he was ultimately denied. Jeff Buckley drowned in Memphis in May of 1997, just 30 years old. 

I’ve edited this interview for length and clarity and removed some passages where I thought Buckley’s sarcasm could be misinterpreted, or where it spun off into tangents that ended with Buckley impersonating everyone from Paul McCartney to the French poet Baudelaire. He had the nervous energy of someone about to embark on a long journey, uncertain of its destination, and I wanted to ensure his answers would properly reflect not just his wit but his wisdom. ***** How does it feel to have to do interviews?

Well, at the outset I guess I figured why would anybody care? But I’m smart enough to know that people would want to talk about my music. I just didn’t think anyone would for a publication. But at this point the fatigue hasn’t set in, and no question is a stupid one. It’s still early.

[laughs] Mainly it’s helpful because I’m getting some ideas out about exactly what I think about some things. And the important thing in doing interviews is not to have any pat answers. That would make it unenjoyable for me. Like a … a murder suspect or something, in terms of having your story straight. Have you finished mixing the new album? No, I have one last day in the studio — one last gasp of creative breath before I have to go away. I’m totally pissed. Absolutely.

Did you write in the studio, or did you go in with the songs ready?

One of them was completely organized in the studio. But that was still prepared beforehand. A lot of stuff we’d done at the last minute because I was trying to get the right people to play with, and it took a while before I found them. 

But that was only three weeks before I’d gone up to Woodstock to record and we hadn’t known each other that long, and the band material hadn’t developed as much. Some things were completely crystallized, and some things needed care, and they got it. I’m still not satisfied.

Let’s see: I get to go into the studio on Wednesday, the day before I leave and the night after I perform at [defunct NYC club] Wetlands. So I have one, two, three, four, five precious days to [work on the music], along with all the other stuff I have to do. I have to shoot some pictures, possibly for the album cover. Then at night I’m free to get these ideas together, and I’ll still have one last shot on two songs in particular. The producer [Andy Wallace] doesn’t even know what I want to do to this one song. [laughs] He’ll be horrified.

Have you played it out?

Uh-huh. There are just things I want to crystallize about it.

Is figuring songs out onstage a conscious effort on your part to fly or fail?

Yeah, because I love flying so much. But, really, it’s still a kind of discipline. I guess it’s an engagement. It’s not like having “song 1 to song 6 and then a talk.” I don’t know anybody who really does that. I know a lot of performers talk about not being so structured. … Sometimes you can see bands that have a set of songs, and that shit is dead. That … shit … is … dead.

When I perform, I’m working off rhythms that are happening all over the place, real or imagined, and it’s interactive. It’s got a lot of detail to it, so I can’t afford to tie it up in a noose, and put it in a costume that doesn’t belong on me. So yeah, it’s free but it has its own logic, and sometimes it completely falls flat on its face. But it’s worth the fall, sometimes. Because that’s life.

To me it makes sense to do things in that manner, because that’s really just the way life is when you step out of it and see that, like, your car has a flat and somebody smashed in your windshield and then, shit, you’re walking home and all of a sudden you run into somebody that turns out to be your favorite person for the rest of your life. It’s always … unfolding. You just have to recognize it, I guess. And that’s my philosophy, that I haven’t really thought about until you asked me.

Have you been a solo performer out of desire or necessity?

Both. I did it to earn money to pay rent in the place I was staying, and bills, and my horrible CD habit, and failing miserably all the time, always playing for tips and always just getting by — by the skin of my teeth.

To get this sound in order, you can have a path laid out in front of you, but if you don’t have the vehicle to go down the road you’ll never get to where you want to go. So I guess I was building the parts piece by piece or going through different forms, reforming them and trying out different ideas and songs.

How long have you been building these parts?  

Some of them I wrote when I was 18 or 19, and some of them I wrote weeks ago, and some of them I’m still writing. [laughs] The rest of this album is kind of a purging, because the rest of the albums ain’t gonna happen like this. [points to chest] You’ll never see this person again.

Who and what are you going to become, Jeff? 

I don’t know, just something deeper. Nothing alien, just something deeper. I’m just not satisfied. I’m really, horribly unsatisfied. Cause I kind of got an idea of where I want this thing to go. It’s still gonna be songs. I think about deepening the work that I do, and other problems I try to solve, like, “If I go to see this band in a loft, or if I went to see this band in a theater, and I wanted to be very, very, very enchanted and very engaged and maybe even physically engaged to where I’m dancing or where I’m moshing, what would that sound like? If I wanted to be cradled like a baby or smashed around like a fucking Army sergeant, what would that sound like?” I daydream all the time about it. And that’s sort of what I work toward. It’s more of an intimate thing.

In America the rock band is not an intimate thing, but in America soul bands are very intimate and blues bands are very intimate, like way back in the day, when people who invented blues were doing it. It’s all very interdependent and it’s all very … people had to listen to make the music. And it comes around in a lot of different ways. Things I’m doing now are pretty old-fashioned: I’m going on tour to little places to play small cafés. [He lays his itinerary out in front of us.]

What do you expect the reaction to be? You play New York City and, by now, the people here know your deal, but there are some cities where they’re not going to know.

That’s OK.

Will you tailor your performance to different tour stops? Does it change the way you perform?

Every time I perform it’s different.  

How long have you been in New York City?

Three years. But I’ll always be here. I’ll always live here.

What is it about New York?

Everything. You know all the clichés: It’s the electricity, it’s the creativity, it’s the motion. It’s the availability of everything at any moment, which creates a complete, innate logic to the place. It’s like, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t have this now. There’s no reason I shouldn’t have the best library in the country, and there’s no reason why the finest Qawwali singer in all of Pakistan shouldn’t come to my neighborhood and I’ll go see him, and there’s no reason that Bob Dylan shouldn’t show up at the Supper Club. 

There’s no reason that I can’t do this fucking amazing shit. And if you have a certain amount of self-esteem, it’s the perfect place because there’s so much. It’s majestic and it’s the cesspool of America. And there’s amazing poetry in everything. There are amazing poets everywhere, and some real horrible mediocrity, and an equal amount of pageantry. There’s also a community of people that have been left with nothing but their ability to put on a show, no matter what it is — whether it’s a novel or a performance reading on Monday night at St. Mark’s Church for 20 minutes. Where do you do the bulk of your writing?

Everywhere. You know what? Mostly it’s in 24-hour diners, on too much coffee. That’s an old Los Angeles thing.

How much does the location affect the writing?

To me music is about time and place and the way that it affects you. There’s just something about it. There’s just some spirit that somebody conjures up and then it floats out at you and helps you or hinders you throughout your life. It’s either Handel’s Messiah or it’s “All Out of Love” by Air Supply.

Music is just fucking insane. It’s everything. Music is like this: It’s always seemed to me to be one of the direct descendants of the thing in the universe that’s making everything work. It’s like the direct child of … life, [of] what being “people” is all about. It’s incredibly human but it touches things that are around us anyway. [pauses, then quietly] It’s hard to explain.

Give it a shot.

It gets into your blood. It could be [the Ohio Express’] “Yummy Yummy Yummy” or whatever. It gets in. It’s not like paintings and it’s not like sculptures, although those are really amazing and powerful. But I identify with music most.

And is live music the next degree of intensity?  

Oh yeah, if they’re singing to me. You never hear it again, but you never forget it. I mean, you never forget it. It’s like the first time your mother cries in front of you. But I like making [music] and … I want the music to live live, even be written live, so it’s always forming, it’s ever unfolding. 

The king of improvisation is [the late Qawwali singer] Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan — the most I’ve ever been filled with any performer’s energy. I have over $500 of his stuff. And I never got to see Keith Jarrett, but there was a time when he was my big hero for the same reason. Big, huge improvisation. Improvisation is something that I identify with.

Which of your new songs is your favorite? Is there one that you can’t wait to get to in your live set?

Not yet. I give each song pretty much the same attention, and I have the same reservations and the same carefulness about making sure I bring out its best. No favorites.

What’s a song by another artist that you wish you’d written, that completely devastates you?  

Most of Nina Simone’s songs completely devastate me, although she didn’t write [most of] them. A lot of things that Dylan did are so impressionistic, even though his originals are supposed to be folky. Like “Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”: If I was a woman and he sang that to me, I’d be like, “Whatever you want, Bob. You want casual sex whenever you want it and still be with your wife? I don’t care.”

I’d like to write something like “Moanin’ for My Baby” by Howlin’ Wolf, and I’d also like to write something like [Gerry and the Pacemakers’] “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” I have schoolgirl crushes on a lot of songs that never seem to go away. Lots of Cocteau Twins. That’s somebody I got to tell exactly what I thought of them.

Where were they playing?

In Los Angeles, a long time ago on the Heaven or Las Vegas tour. I’m immensely in love with their originality, their shyness. … But … um … the Smiths! [stands up abruptly, then sits back down] I wish I’d written half the fucking Smiths catalog. There are so many: “I Know It’s Over”; I wish I’d written “How Soon Is Now?” I wish I’d written “Holidays in the Sun” by the Sex Pistols. I could go on forever, and I know you don’t have forever.

Maybe sleep on it. I’m curious, do you sleep a lot? No, I don’t.

Is your mind constantly racing? Are you always just … fast forward?

Have you ever seen those film montages when a guy’s going crazy, and it just gets faster and faster and…

Yeah, sure, that’s exactly what I mean. It’s exactly like that. It’s like, I don’t want to miss a thing, and [I get the] feeling that I will miss something. But usually I’m wrong. [laughs] But when I do sleep, I sleep hard and have the best dreams.

Do you remember your dreams?

Sometimes, and they become the basis for a lot of my learning. That comes along with my development as a human being. Lately I’ve been having a lot of killer dreams — like a killer is coming after me or I have to confront a killer. And when a killer is coming after me, what am I going to have to do? To kill him.

Interesting. What do you think that means? That something in me is going to be murdered. That a psychic killer is coming. Actually, I met him. Sometimes I meet people inside of me that don’t like me; sometimes I meet people inside of me that want to make love with me more than anything; sometimes I meet the most bizarre animals and am in the most bizarre situations. 

One dream, I met a serial killer who lived out in a small town in, like, Virginia. A small suburban town, very nice, white picket fence. And he lived in the town in a church with the pews taken out. And he was an artist.

You remember this much detail? Just wait. He was a very short young man, probably about 28 years old with thinning black hair that I think he was ashamed of. He also had all of these photos of these people mangled beyond belief, carved up, dissected alive. They were still alive in these photos, and there was a wall of all of these seductively beautiful, textured, processed black-and-white photos. One man had been made into a basket. One man had been totally deboned but still kept alive, and his skin had been made into a basket upon which his head stood, looking straight into the camera. And right before he died, this snapshot was taken. And this is what this guy’s job was. And my task in the dream, I was the person that saw this amazing horror and this amazing pain. The photographs were screaming, and all of this madness, all of this waste at the hands of this person with a warped soul.

The irony of the dream was that his self-esteem was nothing, and he was saying, “This sucks. This is horrible. I don’t even want to show you.” I was so afraid of him and wanted to keep him in the same place long enough for the police to get him and take him away — while not being killed myself. Obviously. [laughs] So in order to be cool I had to ultimately be compassionate and point out the details in the picture where I felt there was brilliance and really good workmanship — all the while feeling that I would vomit any second, all the while so scared I thought I would cry. And that was the dream. 

Sometimes I have really rhapsodic dreams, and sometimes I have little bits of memory … but lately it’s been killer dreams, and the police almost don’t come in time, although they do come in time. And then I met a woman inside me that hates me. I met the girl, I met the person that doesn’t like me, and then I met this person who was so lascivious sexually that she masturbates publicly all of the time, like she’s fixing her hair. And she looks beautiful doing it and really great, but everyone’s around her and she’s practically naked. I’m pretty transfixed by [dreams]. I link them to the way I perform. I don’t see any separation, because when you sing there’s a psychic journey that happens. 

Do you write a lot of poetry?  

I garner my songs from my poetry. If anything looks like it’s vibrating, yeah. But it’s a raw thing. 

Was the Live at Sin-é EP, released in November of ’93, supposed to hold people over until the album comes out?

No, it served that purpose, but no, it’s just because I love that place.

How often have you played there?

I’ve played there a lot. I played there for over a year. At first I couldn’t get a slot. Shane [Doyle], the owner, had too many demos to listen to. I gave him a demo and a review, which is something I never ever, ever fucking do: pay credence to any one journalist’s opinion. But this was a good review. [laughs] Some positive, some negative. Mainly the negative stuff was my fault. So I thought that maybe I could get a gig at this little place because I wanted to play in little places to establish my sound and do the work and learn how to sing the way I wanted to sing. Because I didn’t have any teachers. There were teachers around Sin-é to teach what I needed to learn, but Shane couldn’t be bothered. 

Then somebody crapped out on a bunch of Monday nights and my friend Daniel Harnett got me in. He said, “I’m doing one, and so you can do one too.” I was like, “Wow, thank you.” As it turned out, that was it. Bang! I really worked my ass off to get that gig and get others and to make money. How did you hook up with Columbia Records? They came to me. I didn’t intend for them to. I was just making music. Were they the only label that came to you? Nope. I met Clive Davis. Shook his hand. I met Seymour Stein. Seymour’s at Sire; Clive is at Arista. A lot of people were interested. I met somebody from RCA. Peter Koepke at London. Were they in the audience at your shows? Then they’d come up to you afterward? Yeah, and I didn’t really like it. I didn’t like Clive showing up in a limousine on the Lower East Side, in a fine suit. Poor guy — it was so hot in that fucking room. This was Sin-é, right? Yep, you were there — like a fucking furnace. In the middle of the fucking summer. I had my shirt off; the guy’s still in his work clothes ’cause his life is fully air-conditioned.

Did you have any misgivings about signing? Of course I did. Being brought up around the music business in Los Angeles, you see the turnover of people being signed and dropped day after day after day, and it’s all written off as a tax loss. To the company, it’s no sweat off their nose. 

But here in New York it’s more about the work, and you don’t get anywhere without the work and that’s what I was doing. But I had misgivings about the size of the places. I had misgivings about my deservedness, about how good I was. I had misgivings about who they thought I was and what they thought I was. And how I wasn’t what they thought. At all.

Which is? Don’t record companies think that every male solo performer with a guitar is the New Dylan?

No, they thought I was the second coming of Tim Buckley. [quietly] That’s what I thought they thought.

Is that a recurring worry of yours?

It was that as a child. But now I’m totally immersed in what I do. If someone asks a question about it, I just tell them as much truth about things as I know. I had no misgivings once I saw my first and only liaison to Columbia Records, [former head of A&R] Steve Berkowitz. He was there from a pretty early stage, just listening. Which is what he does. Because he loves music. And he’s smart. And he’s smart enough to work this fucking gig at Columbia and to do a good job. The personnel here [at Columbia] are what really changed my worries, but I’m really worried up until, like, now. How would you describe your sound? I can’t explain it because I’m actually confused. It’s not really a tremendous literary feat to describe it. It’s just an amalgam of everything I’ve ever loved and everything that’s ever inspired me. I’m using that now. How do the Columbia folks describe you? They don’t know. At a recent convention I played in Boca Raton for A&R folks at like 11 in the morning, the guy that introduced me said, “We really don’t know what this is. We don’t know what kind of record he’s gonna make. We just know he has to make it.” … a.k.a. “Introducing the boy genius…” I’m not a boy genius. I’m neither one, actually. But I’m aware that these people have to move units. I’m aware that this company, by inertia alone, has an agenda. That it can function without me, and I can function without it. But there’s a certain thing that I can’t have without it, and that’s making little plastic discs and traveling the world and being a musician, and they seem to want me. A lot. And I feel that where I’m going is worthwhile, that maybe when I get there this all will have been … whatever crappy shit I’ve ever done will be redeemed. Do you think you’ll ever get there? Sure. Or you’ll find me swinging from somebody’s dressing room [laughs] with a big blue arm holding a Jam tape.  

#jeff buckley #jeffbuckley #Tony Gervino #The Lost Interview #TIDAL

[tsarisfanfiction]

The Attack of the Demon Pigeons

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Will Solace, Lee Fletcher, Michael Yew, Apollo Cabin After encountering Stymphalian birds on his way to camp, Will had hoped to never see them again. He certainly hadn't expected to ever encounter them in Camp Half-Blood itself. Okay, so I've thrown TSATS out the window for a lot of reasons, but I did like the potential trauma of what happens when the Stymphalian birds attacked the camp in SOM if Will's already had a bad time with them, so I've snuck an encounter with them into my Will timeline and figured I'd write a fic about the SOM attack from his pov. I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Lee hadn’t stopped complaining about the chariot race since it was announced.  It wasn’t like Will’s older brother to be so stressed out about a camp activity, and he’d been a little surprised at just how upset he was about the race’s return – at least, until Lee mentioned that it was the reason Marisa only had one arm.  Will remembered the previous head counsellor for Ares well, even though she’d left two summers ago.  The stump of her right bicep had always looked painful.

Now, Will was worried about it, too.  He wasn’t sure why they were even entering – the Vinther twins from cabin twelve had point blank refused, and neither the Aphrodite nor Demeter kids had even considered it – but despite Lee’s vocal dismay they were.

“Be careful,” Lee insisted as Morton and Daisy hitched their two horses up, Michael standing alongside the chariot and counting out arrows.

It was Lee’s insistence that had convinced Michael not to use sharp arrows, too.  “We don’t need a repeat of your first summer,” Will had heard him say.  “There’s going to be enough work for us to do after the race without you adding to it.”  Will hadn’t been around for Michael’s first summer, but he’d heard the stories.  Michael, for his part, had rolled his eyes and made a show out of only adding blunted arrows to his quiver.

Blunted arrows were still going to hurt, but Michael had point blank refused to not shoot anyone at all, arguing that they were certainly going to be attacked themselves so why shouldn’t he return the favour, and bruising was much easier to fix than whatever else Lee thought they were going to have to deal with at the end.  Will very much hoped there wouldn’t be any limbs torn off this time.

He certainly hoped no-one was going to die.

“You’re good to go,” Daisy said to Morton and Michael, completely ignoring Lee as she held the head of the horse closest to her.  She and Morton were the animal-lovers of the cabin – it had been obvious that one of them would be their driver, and Daisy had passed the honour straight over in a sign that she, too, wasn’t happy about the race.

She hadn’t been in camp for the last one, the one that had gone so badly wrong it was immortalised as a golden chariot on a crimson bead on Lee’s camp necklace – Lee and Silena from the Aphrodite cabin were the only ones in camp that had that bead now, the only campers that remembered it happening, rather than simply hearing the stories – but she was one of the rare demigods who had a full-blooded sibling, and her elder sister Emily had been in camp at the time.

Will also didn’t think it was a coincidence that Michael was making up the other half of their chariot team.  Not only was he the best archer in the cabin, but he also healed fast.  Morton was a faster healer than Daisy, too.

“Then let’s get this over with,” Morton sighed, jumping into the chariot and taking the reins.  “Ready, Michael?”

Michael snorted, dropping one last blunt arrow into his quiver and shouldering his bow before lightly springing into the chariot behind him.  Seeing his siblings in the chariot showed Will just how not-safe it looked – there was nothing for either of them to hold onto.  All Morton had were the reins, which he couldn’t pull on hard otherwise the horses would rear up.  Michael had nothing except the side, which he couldn’t hold onto whilst shooting, and his own sense of balance.

“I’ll walk you to the track,” Daisy said.  “Lee, if you say be careful one more time I’m gagging you.  We get it, stop scaring Will.”

Usually, Lee would make some sort of light-hearted protest about how he was the head counsellor when one of their older siblings – Daisy was eighteen and would be leaving camp to start vet college in the fall – told him what to do, so when his shoulders slumped slightly with a sigh, Will found himself even more worried.

“Sorry, Will,” his brother said, putting an arm around his shoulders before raising his head to look at the rest of their siblings, who were all watching Daisy lead the chariot with their brothers in towards the track.  “Let’s get to the stands, guys.  We want good seats.”

Good seats apparently did not equate front row seats.  Lee firmly shepherded them all near the back of the stands, grabbing Nathan and Robyn by their collars when they tried to head to the front.  “Not the front,” he said.

“Aren’t you being a little too paranoid about this?” Nathan grumbled.  Will had heard the arguments about why couldn’t he be their fighter earlier – Michael had won by challenging him to a shoot-out.  Nathan wasn’t a bad archer (he was certainly better than Will, despite only arriving at camp few months ago), but even in their cabin, no-one came close to Michael.

“If nothing goes wrong and no-one gets badly hurt, then you can complain at me for being too paranoid,” Lee told him.  “And I’ll apologise for ruining the race for you.  Until then, we’re listening to my ‘paranoia’, as you call it.”

No-one else complained after that.

It wasn’t just Lee who was notably on edge.  The other head counsellor that had forced her entire cabin as far back in the stands as possible was Silena, and Will saw her and Lee share a worried look as the Aphrodite kids settled onto the stone steps, most of them apparently completely uninterested in the race.

“Your cabin’s competing?” Will heard Silena ask Lee quietly.  “I didn’t think you would.”

Lee’s answer was even quieter and his tone was as dark as Will had ever heard it.  “We weren’t given a choice.”  His tone lowered even more, until Will could hardly hear what he was saying.  “He made sure all the lead cabins in the camp’s defences took part.”

The rest of the campers jostled around on the other steps, all clearly trying to sit as far away from Tantalus as possible, leaving the poor nymphs and satyrs forced to watch as a barrier between them.  Will was glad Lee had made sure they were nowhere near their new activities director.

Daisy made her way up to join them as Morton drove the chariot the last few yards onto the track, into a gap between the Ares and Hermes chariots.  Will couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see Michael nocking an arrow as he snapped at the Stoll brothers in the Hermes chariot next to him.  Connor was gesturing at the arrow in what looked a lot like protest, but if Lee hadn’t been able to talk Michael down any more than blunted arrows, then someone from another cabin didn’t stand a chance in Tartarus.

Morton seemed determined to ignore everything except their horses, even when Murder (Will had never understood that nickname, but that was Ares kids for you) leaned over the side of his chariot to say something before Clarisse pulled him back with a short command.

Next to Will, Lee was almost vibrating, clearly impatient for the race to be finished already.  Will grabbed his hand, and got a squeeze in return.

Below them, the Poseidon chariot’s horses needed calming by Percy – Will guessed they weren’t happy about Tyson, which he thought was entirely fair, the cyclops was big and rather scary – and then finally all the chariots were ready to go.

Movement caught Will’s eye, and he glanced up at the trees.  The chariot race seemed to have even drawn in spectating birds, which seemed a little unusual but nothing completely out of the ordinary for camp.  Crows and doves in particular were common sights, but there was something about these that put Will on edge.

It was probably Lee’s paranoia rubbing off on him, he told himself, especially when he thought he saw a glint of something shiny – too shiny to be a crow or a dove.  He tore his eyes away and forced himself to look at the chariots again as they jostled into their positions on the starting line.  Michael had stopped arguing with the Stolls, but his bowstring now had two arrows on it instead of one.  Morton’s mouth was moving but Will couldn’t tell if he was talking to Michael or the horses.  He certainly wasn’t talking to Clarisse or Murder, who looked like they were having their own last-minute strategy discussion.

More birds flew throught his periphery and he pressed against Lee’s side.  They were just normal birds, he told himself.  Birds that weren’t normal couldn’t get into camp.  They couldn’t.  It didn’t matter that he and his siblings all carried bows and full quivers at all times now because sometimes monsters were breaking through the barrier.  It didn’t.

Lee let go of his hand and wrapped his arm back around his shoulders again, pulling him in tightly.  “Sorry, did I scare you that much?” his brother asked quietly.  Will shook his head, then jumped as the birds started to caw.

It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t-

But he knew that sound.

“Will?”  Lee sounded worried, and Will looked up to see his brother looking down at him, dark blue eyes filled with concern.  “Will, are you okay?”

His quiet question drew the attention of some of the rest of the cabin, and Will swallowed.  “I don’t like the birds,” he admitted.

“The birds?”  Lee blinked, as though he hadn’t expected that.  It wasn’t like Lee didn’t know about the birds that had attacked Will and Thistleberry on their way to camp, but his brother had obviously thought it was something to do with the race.  “It’s okay, Will,” he said, a soft smile slipping onto his face as he glanced over towards the birds himself.  “They’re just- oh.”

“Oh?” Nathan asked, leaning in and almost crushing Will.  “They’re just birds, right?  Noisy fuckers.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Michael,” Daisy muttered.  She was ignored.

“Are you going to tell us the birds are making you paranoid, too?” Robyn added.  “Should we be ready to shoot them if they startle the horses or something?”

Lee sighed.  “Guys,” he said.  “I get it, you’re annoyed at me.”

“I don’t like those birds, either,” Daisy backed him up.  She knew about Will’s history, too, unlike the other two.  “They’re not the normal ones we get around camp.”

The birds were getting louder, and Will burrowed further into Lee’s side.  Around him, the rest of the campers were starting to murmur, so it wasn’t just him that was bothered.  Lee’s reaction made him think that maybe he wasn’t being paranoid – or maybe Lee was being extra paranoid.  Will definitely wished for the second option.

Below them, Tantalus didn’t seem to care about the noisy birds at all as he announced the start of the race, and Will forced himself to watch as the chariots all surged forwards, hoping that the race would go smoothly, that everything was fine-

He shrieked as Travis lurched the Hermes chariot sideways and it smashed straight into the wheel of their golden chariot.

“No!” Lee shouted almost in his ear, but it wasn’t just Lee as they all watched Morton and Michael get thrown out, the wooden chariot splintering.  Caught by the reins, Morton’s fall wasn’t clean and Will saw his wrist jerk, clearly breaking as he crashed into the ground.

Michael, unrestrained, ended up in a roll that looked almost controlled as he landed heavily, flipping over until he was on the balls of his feet, bow fully drawn.  The nocked arrows flew towards the Hermes chariot, but the Stolls didn’t even notice the shafts tangling in their wheels as the panicking horses cut them off, obliterating their chariot in turn.

Both of them were thrown clear, not too dissimilarly to Morton and Michael, and wisely scrabbled away from both the mess of chariots and panicking horses, and Michael as he stood up, nocking more arrows.  Morton was slower to get to his feet, and was obviously cradling his broken wrist as he did so, but next to him, Will felt Lee relax slightly.

They were okay.  Michael didn’t seem to be injured at all, although there were probably some bumps and scrapes they couldn’t see, and Morton only seemed to be worried about his wrist.  Given Lee’s stories, and Marisa’s arm, it could have been a lot worse.

It was Morton that pulled Michael back from shooting the Stolls again, gesturing with his head to the horses.  Daisy was quivering in her seat, and some of the Aphrodite kids – Silena included – were no better, as the four horses kept struggling.  The chariots had to get off the track, and the horses needed calming down, but the moment some of them tried to move to go help, Tantalus’ head swivelled around.

"No interference," he reminded them all, voice raised just enough to be heard above the shrieking birds.  It sounded a bit like a threat.

Will watched as Morton and Michael approached the wreckage, the Stolls joining them – after putting their hands up in surrender when Michael glared at them and snapped something Will couldn’t hear over the birds – and started trying to free the horses.  Morton had the golden touch with the animals, while Michael and the Stolls carefully dodged hooves to cut them loose.  Next to Will, Lee had tensed again, and Will could understand why.  Horses were dangerous – if any of them took a hoof to the head, they could be killed.

The other chariots were still thundering around the track.  Beckendorf and Jake were trying to regain control of their chariot after failing to pull something on Percy and Tyson, while Annabeth and Conrad were barrelling into the lead, pursued by both the Poseidon and Ares chariots.

Will barely noticed any of that, though, because that was the moment the birds attacked.

Someone screamed.

Several someones screamed.

Will was one of them.

He knew these birds, knew those beaks that were tearing at him, getting caught in his hair and digging at his arms as he tried to batter them away before Lee pushed him down, crouching over him as Will curled up into a defensive ball.  He was vaguely aware of his siblings moving around him, nocking arrows to strings as further away the cries of shields! came from where the Athena kids had been sitting.

“Stay down, Will,” Lee said, his voice tight.  He sounded hurt, and blood dripped onto the stone by Will’s face.  Next to him, he heard Nathan swearing.

“I can’t get a clear shot!” one of his other siblings cried – Will thought it might have been Lear but with so much screaming it was hard to tell.

“They’re too close!” someone else shouted.

One of the Aphrodite kids screeched almost as loudly as the birds.

“Group together!” Lee ordered, and Will found himself pulled into a mass of bodies.  “Daisy- Michael?”

“I can’t get a fucking shot from the ground!” Will heard Michael yell back.  He sounded close, and out of breath.  “And I need arrows with fucking points!”

Will’s own quiver dug into his side.  He didn’t know where his bow was.

“Michael!” he shouted, fumbling with the strap.

“Will, stay down!” Lee shouted.

“Fuck, Will!  Where-”  Will unfurled himself enough to spot familiar boots and grabbed at Michael’s ankle.  Immediately, beaks tore into his exposed arm, and he half-screamed, half-sobbed.  “Fuckers!” his brother swore, lashing out with his other foot and kicking away the birds.

They went for Michael instead, but aside from a constant stream of curses, his brother ignored them as he fought his way past Nathan – who hadn’t stopped swearing, either – to duck down underneath where Lee was still looming over Will.  Michael didn’t bother asking if he was okay – he knew, too, about Will’s history with the birds.  He staggered, as though something had hit him from behind, and over his shoulder Will saw massive dark wings.

“Stay down,” he snapped when Will tried to move, realising that between Lee and Michael and someone else – Daisy, maybe – he was completely hemmed in by his siblings.  Protected by his siblings.  The realisation made tears well in his eyes.

“Arrows,” he said, fumbling with his quiver again.  He didn’t know where his bow was, couldn’t shoot well enough to take down the birds even if he could – he thought he could, when he’d trained and trained and trained, but now the birds were here and all he could do was cower and tremble and hate himself for being so scared – and Michael needed arrows.

His brother understood.

Michael’s small, deft fingers – they were smaller than Will’s, now, and it had always been obvious that he was going to out-grow Michael one day but he still hadn’t been ready for the day it happened – pushed his out the way and with a quick twist had the buckle loose.  “Stay down,” he said again, somehow fastening the quiver around his own waist and dropping his own in the process, before grabbing his bow again.  “I’ve got some birds to fucking kill.”

He stood up, amid shouts of no clear shot from their siblings, and snarled.

“Be careful!” Will heard Lee caution.

“Everyone’s got plenty of fucking holes in them already,” Michael snapped.  “A few more won’t make any fucking difference.”

“Michael!”

Anything else Lee had to say was drowned out by the sudden explosion of ear-splitting violins at maximum volume.  Will recognised one of Chiron’s CDs when he heard it, although he didn’t know which album it was.

The identity of the music was much less important than the cry of “archers!” from somewhere below – Annabeth, of course it was Annabeth that had thought of it – and the ripple that ran through his siblings as they shifted from crouching and cowering to standing up straight.  Will poked his head up as well to see the birds fleeing in a dazed cacophony, colliding with each other.

Michael was the first to shoot, what looked like half a quiver nocked to his string.  Every single one turned one of the birds into an explosion of dust.  Lee was half a second behind him, multiple arrows on his own string, and Will fumbled for his own bow – spotting it lying abandoned where he’d been sat – and arrows from Michael’s discarded quiver as the rest of his siblings followed suit.

Will could only shoot one arrow at a time, and all he had were Michael’s blunted ones, but he still forced himself to join his siblings in sending a hail of shafts into the sky.  It turned out that even blunt arrows could hit with enough force to dust some, although they couldn’t do what Michael’s sharp shots were doing and occasionally piercing several with one arrow.

It felt like an eternity before they were all gone, a layer of dust covering the ground and remains of the Apollo and Hermes chariots all that remained of those that hadn’t managed to get out of range fast enough.

The campers were a mess.

Will looked down at his exposed skin, where blood was trickling down from where he’d been pecked, and then at everyone else.  No-one was unscathed.  Lee had several deep gouges in the back of his neck, and Daisy’s hands were riddled with holes, while Michael’s face dripped red.  No-one else was any better off, and Will sank down to sit on the stone steps again shakily.

A warm arm wrapped around him and he looked up to see Lee sitting next to him.

“They’re gone now, Will,” his brother told him.  “It’s over.”

“I am going to shoot all fucking birds on sight now,” Michael grumbled on Lee’s other side – Daisy immediately protested, but went ignored, much like the entire Apollo cabin was ignoring Tantalus declaring Clarisse the winner.  Will tried to listen to see if he was saying anything about organising triage, but he only seemed to care about talking nonsense instead.

Lee nudged him softly, picking up his arm where it was bleeding and scrutinising it carefully.  “Let’s get you healed up,” he said.  “We’ll need your help patching everyone else up.”  He chanted a prayer to their father, and Will watched as his cuts stopped stinging so badly and started to heal up.

“I’ll start rounding people up for triage once he’s finished loving the sound of his own voice,” Daisy said, jerking her head towards Tantalus, and Lee nodded.

“Thanks,” he said.  “Michael, how badly were you and Morton hurt in the crash?”

Michael huffed.  “I’m fine,” he said.  “Don’t worry about me.  Morton’s wrist is fucked and he got a few scrapes but he’ll be fine, too.”

“I take it you didn’t look at Travis and Connor?” Lee asked, sounding a little bemused.

“Of course I fucking didn’t,” Michael grumbled.  “Fucking assholes.”

Lee laughed a little.  “I’ll catch up with them later,” he said, as Tantalus finally stopped proclaiming how the whole thing was Annabeth, Percy and Tyson’s fault – yet somehow not Conrad’s, despite it supposedly being the Athena and Poseidon chariots to blame – and dismissed them to clear up the mess.  “They look fine from up here.”

Will glanced down to see the Stolls taking charge of the Hermes cabin.  They had the same red specks as everyone else, but otherwise Lee didn’t seem to be wrong.  “They can wait,” he agreed, and Michael smirked.  Lee shook his head, but he was smiling, too.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said.  “Michael, you’re on arrow collection duty with Nathan.  Don’t shoot anyone, including each other, and if anyone comes to you guys for healing send them to the triage nicely.  Even the Stolls, although I think they’ve got better self-preservation than to go near you right now, Michael.  Will, you and Robyn are with me in the infirmary.  Everyone else, triage – if it’s not bad enough to need healing, clean punctures, put band-aids on and send them towards the other head counsellors to help in clearing this mess.  Anyone worse, to the infirmary.  No-one’s cleared to give out ambrosia or nectar – if they need it, infirmary.  Start with each other.  Lear, take over organising the campers from Daisy – I know she’d rather deal with the horses.  And make sure Morton comes to the infirmary rather than the stables!”

Will pulled himself to his feet as his siblings dispersed in groups of two or three, checking each other over as they headed for the bulk of the campers.

“You’re hurt,” he said, looking at Lee’s gouges, and his brother smiled reassuringly at him.

“It’s fine,” he promised.  “Let’s get to the infirmary first, then you can patch me up, okay?  I want to be there before patients start showing up.”

Will eyed the blood dubiously, but Lee pulled him along before he could say anything else.  Robyn had already run on ahead, nursing her own wounds as she did so, and Lee forged a path straight to the Big House, dodging around Mr D. when the god made a brief appearance, took in the state of the camp, and disappeared inside again.

All around them there was activity.  Silena was pacifying some of her distraught siblings and nudging them towards where Lear had taken over from Daisy in corralling the camp.  Will could see why Lee had picked him to do that – he and Daisy were both eighteen, but where Daisy was average height and more interested in making sure the horses were okay, Lear was tall and muscular and willing to wrangle campers.  Much like his older brother, Brandon, who had left camp two years ago – like Daisy, he was the younger of a pair of rare full siblings – he was going to be headed straight for the basketball leagues in the fall.  Lear was impossible to miss, and difficult to disagree with when he put his foot down.

Clarisse was organising the Ares cabin.  None of them had even considered approaching healers, and Will wondered how long it was going to take Lee to hunt them down, but despite their wounds, they were all grimly reorganising what sounded like camp defences.  Beckendorf had taken the lead on organising the clear-up of the racetrack, complete with the debris from the destroyed chariots, and from the sound of it was welcoming volunteers from all cabins.

It was almost a relief when they made it to the infirmary, away from the chaos of the camp.  Robyn had got there first and was already pulling out bandages and antiseptic wipes in preparation for the long line of patients they were no doubt going to get, and Will made Lee sit down as he inspected his older brother’s wounds.

“You didn’t have to shield me,” he said as he cleaned them, trying to ignore Lee’s wincing.  “You or Michael or Daisy or-”

“The older ones shielded all of us,” Robyn interrupted him, depositing vials of nectar on the desk.  “It wasn’t just you, Will.”  She gestured at the wounds on her own arms.  Like him, now that Will looked closely, she didn’t actually have many.

“Older sibling prerogative,” Lee shrugged, wincing again as Will dabbed a bit more at a particularly deep gouge.  “Daisy was trying to shelter me, too.”  He reached for Robyn’s arm.  “Let me look at those while Will deals with me.  Don’t think I missed you running on ahead without getting checked out.  We’ve talked about this, Robyn.”

“I wanted to get the infirmary ready,” she protested, but obeyed anyway, letting Lee wipe her wounds and chant another little prayer to Apollo.  Satisfied that Lee’s wounds were clean, Will hummed his own healing hymn, watching the gouges seal up beneath his hands.

He was done just in time for the first patients to limp through the door.

Despite Lee’s earlier orders that only the seriously injured come to the infirmary, most of the camp passed through their doors at some point.  The Ares kids had to be hunted down – Murder’s fingers had been pecked to the bone when he’d apparently tried to hold a camouflage net over himself and Clarisse as a defence, but he hadn’t walked in until Lear had all but picked him up and thrown him through the door – but most came willingly.  No-one, it seemed, wanted to run the risk of being scarred by birds.  Even most of the Ares kids didn’t seem to think that being pecked was a particularly badass scar story to tell and caved to medical attention eventually.

By the time they were done, Will was exhausted, and Lee and Robyn didn’t seem much better.  Their siblings had come to join them once initial triage was over – even Michael had ended up hanging out in the corner after he and Nathan had retrieved all the arrows they could, although most of what he did was to snap at anyone who tried to push ahead in the queue and threaten them with more holes if they disobeyed – but treating the entire camp in the space of a couple of hours was still a tall order.

Tantalus and his side comments about demigods being wimps nowadays didn’t help, either.

Will missed Chiron.

As the last patients – the Stolls, who had been left until last because they weren’t that badly hurt and had made the fundamental mistake of upsetting the healers by knocking two of their own out of a chariot – finally left, Will flopped down onto one of the beds.  Robyn flaked out on the floor, while Lee slumped into a chair next to them.  Michael shoved a small vial of nectar at each of them, and Will gratefully drank his as he watched Morton, wrist freshly casted, slink out of the door to no doubt join Daisy in the stables with the horses.

“Fucking chariot races,” Michael muttered into the blissful quiet of the emptied infirmary.  “I won’t be doing that again.”

Nathan, who had flopped on the floor next to Robyn for no reason other than to keep her company, perked up.  “Does that mean I get to be fighter next time?”

“There will be no next time,” Lee grumbled.

“Be my fucking guest,” Michael said at the same time.  “See how you like getting thrown out of a fucking chariot.”

He’d refused medical treatment until everyone else – except the Stolls – had been treated, and wasn’t impressed to find out that he’d actually got a light sprain to his ankle which he’d somehow completely missed during all of the excitement.  Will and Lee had both chewed him out for not letting them check him over earlier.

“There will be no next time,” Lee repeated firmly.

After that morning, Will was firmly on Lee’s side.

“How are you doing, Will?” Lee asked him after a few moments.  He wasn’t asking about Will’s post-healing exhaustion and they both knew it.

Will’s hand curled into a fist.  “I was scared,” he admitted.  “I couldn’t-”  He’d trained to fight them but he’d just hidden.

“Nothing wrong with being scared,” Michael told him bluntly when he broke off, before Lee could say anything.  He perched on the side of the bed Will was flopped on.  “You still shot them down.  I saw you.  With fucking blunt arrows, too.”

He hadn’t realised Michael had even been paying attention to his shooting.

“Not as-”

“If you’re about to say not as many as me, I’m going to stuff these bandages in your mouth,” Michael threatened, gesturing at the ones wrapped around his ankle.  Will’s mouth shut with a clack.  “It wasn’t a fucking competition, Will.  You stood up and you shot those fuckers even though Lee and I both told you to stay the fuck down.”

Was Michael telling him off for disobeying them?  Indignation flooded through him – sure, he’d been scared, but if Michael thought he was really just going to hide under them like a coward-!

Will pushed himself into a sitting position, only to see that his older brothers were both smiling at him.

“You were scared but you didn’t let that stop you,” Lee told him.  “That was really brave, Will.”

Will felt his cheeks heat up.  “But I-”

“But nothing,” Lee said.  “None of us are Herakles – we can’t take down a flock of those things single-handedly.  Not even Michael.”

“I could,” Michael grumbled quietly, and Lee shushed him.

“You’d get torn to shreds by a flock that large before you killed half of them,” he pointed out.  Michael threw an unused roll of bandages at Nathan when the younger boy laughed at him from the floor.

“You’d get torn apart first,” he snarled at him.

“Wanna bet?”  Will couldn’t see Nathan, but he could hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

“No,” Lee intervened before Michael could reply – and probably accept it, if Will knew his brother at all.  “Both of you, stop it.  Neither of you are having a competition to see how many Stymphalian birds you can shoot down before they kill you.  Or any other substitute for them, either.  Anyway,” he stressed, turning to look at Will again, “my point is that we’ll always have to work together to take down some things – a lot of things, actually.  So it’s not a bad thing that you can’t do it alone.  You’re not alone, Will.”

“Damn straight you’re not,” Michael agreed, nudging him in the side with an elbow.

Will knew he wasn’t alone.  He hadn’t been alone since he’d arrived at camp and discovered he had twenty or so half-siblings.  Even in the winter months, when most of them went home, there were still several – Lee, Michael, Daisy and Robyn among them – that stayed.  It was harder to find somewhere alone than to be with someone.

He still found himself bursting into tears, reaching out blindly for one of his siblings.

It was Lee that wrapped him up in his arms, almost pulling him off of the bed and into his lap, but there was a hand in his hair that was too small to be anyone’s except Michael’s and more hands on his shoulders.  Will sobbed into his brother’s shoulder, clinging to Lee tightly in turn.

The birds had been terrifying and he was exhausted from several hours of healing, but his siblings were proud of him and he hadn’t run away, had been brave, according to Lee.

Will still didn’t feel very brave.  But right then, he felt safe.

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #will solace #lee fletcher #michael yew #cabin seven #apollo cabin #silena beauregard #clarisse la rue #travis stoll #connor stoll #pjo tantalus #annabeth chase #percy jackson #charles beckendorf #jake mason #original characters #tsari writes fanfiction #the attack of the demon pigeons

[pastelwitchling]

Michael Guerin Week Day 2

Michael had hoped he was past this point. He’d believed it. Now here he was, hiding out in what was no longer his trailer, sitting against the wall with a beer in his hand.

His phone sat on the counter, buzzing with unanswered messages and calls. Michael hung his head back, eyes shut. He didn’t do this crap anymore. He didn’t hide away, or avoid his husband’s calls.

His husband.

Just the thought of Alex had his eyes burning. He wanted him here, but he thought he’d pushed things too far this time to be forgiven so easily. He just hadn’t been able to help it. He hadn’t expected to wake up to Alex and Forrest Long in their living room, Alex smiling widely over coffee with his ex.

He hadn’t wanted to snap at Forrest, to make him feel so unwanted, but when Forrest had smiled kindly and hugged Alex goodbye—as if to prove that Alex could’ve been with someone stable and calm, and instead ended up with a loose cannon—Michael had officially lost it and punched a hole in their wall.

“What the hell was that?”

“Why the hell was he here?!”

“Because he’s important to me,” Alex had said, without batting an eye. “And he’ll always be welcome here.”

That was when Michael had officially had it, and he’d snatched whatever shirt he could before storming out. He’d regretted it the moment he was out the door, but the look on Alex’s face had kept him from going back in. Like he just expected this anger from Michael. Like that was all Michael could be; a bad temper.

Michael took another swig of his beer and shut his eyes. When he heard the door open, he called, “Another minute, Dallas, I really don’t want to see anyone right now.”

“Good,” Alex sighed, and Michael opened his eyes to see him squeezing himself into the spot between Michael and the wall. “I’ve never just been anyone anyway.”

“Not to me,” Michael agreed in a murmur, and swallowed thickly. He wanted to ask what Alex was doing there, if he hated him for what he’d done, but was too afraid of the answer. His phone kept buzzing. It seemed Alex hadn’t been the one calling him.

Alex pulled his knees up to his chest, mirroring Michael’s position. As if reading Michael’s thoughts, he said, “I knew where you were the whole time. I was just trying to give you space.”

“So what changed?”

“I . . .” Alex pursed his lips. “Don’t like being away from you. It freaks me out.”

Michael stared. He looked away, rubbing his forearm. “Are . . . are you still mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you, Guerin,” Alex shook his head. “I love you. I can’t remember the last time I got mad at you for anything.”

Michael clenched his jaw and swallowed. “Because you expect this, right? I get angry and I ruin things, that’s who I am—”

Alex pressed two fingers to Michael’s lips, silencing him. “Do not talk about my husband like that.” His shoulders fell, and his expression softened. “I don’t get mad because I already know how much you love me.” He looked away. “So I know that it hurts you to see me with Forrest.”

Michael clenched his fists. “Then why? Why do you let him in every time?”

“Because I love him.”

Michael froze. In a split second, he saw Alex leaving him for Forrest Long, and panic seeped in too quick for him to think straight. “I—I don’t care. I don’t care, you’re mine. We’re not getting a divorce just ‘cause things calmed down around here, I don’t care what epiphany you had, you’re mine, Alex.”

“And you’re mine,” Alex said, with all of Michael’s certainty. “Guerin, listen to me. Forrest taught me to be braver. I got up on that stage and sang our song because of him. I know you hate him, but he opened the world up to me. I’ll always love him for that, but it’s not same way I love you, not even close. However kind and good he was to me, he’s not you!”

Michael’s lower lip trembled despite himself and tears filled his eyes. Because Alex didn’t seem to hear his own confession. He whispered, “Then what am I? If he’s the guy who opened the world to you, what am I, Alex?”

Alex took Michael’s hand in both of his own and turned to face him. “You’re the guy that makes my heart race every time you look at me. You’re the guy I dream about when you’re not around, and can’t stop touching when you are. Forrest helped me fight, but you’re the one I was fighting for, Guerin. You make me laugh when I think I can’t, and—and you help me breathe when I feel like I’m suffocating. You’re what I have to look forward to every day. You’re . . . you’re . . .” he huffed a helpless chuckle, “everything.”

A tear rolled down Michael’s cheek. If it had been anyone else, he might’ve played it off as a joke, smirked and said something witty, but with Alex, he no longer wanted to lie and hide. “Really?”

Alex smiled then like he thought Michael was the cutest thing in the world. “You know I married you, right?”

“Yeah, but . . .” he croaked, shrugging, “I—I thought that was just because we were gonna die.”

Alex scoffed, plopping back down next to his side. “Right, like that’s the first time that’s ever happened.”

“What?”

“What?”

Michael raised a brow, and they burst into wet laughter. He had no idea how hard it’d been for him to breathe until Alex put his head on his shoulder. He nuzzled Alex’s crown, inhaling the scent of him. He hesitated, then murmured, “I guess I can deal with Long coming over sometimes. But only when I’m there.”

Alex chuckled, and kissed his shoulder. He hooked his arm around Michael’s and snuggled closer. “You were there this morning, remember? In our bed. Naked.” Alex said this with a satisfied grin, his voice pitched low like he was imagining Michael naked now, and Michael raised his head a little higher, pride replacing any panic or misery in his chest.

“Damn right.”

#mgweek22 #guerinweek22 #michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #michael vlamis #tyler blackburn

[chibivesicle]

Trigun Maximum - I have feelings.

Ooooh boy.  I ended up at the shop for a bit this morning to have my HVAC controller in my car fixed and I had some down time.  I spent it reading the Trigun manga while the local CBS station had the morning news on the TV.  The pacing for this manga is fast fast fast fast and faster.  I will definitely need to go back and reread all of it after my first pass because it is both sparse and dense at the same time.  The amount of information that you have to glean from it - not sure if it is a stylistic choice or forces you to think about it just yet.

Yet, you know it is never a good sign when a character ends up bleeding profusely in the author’s notes.  Warning, mild spoilers ahead for up to volume 9.

Several plot points have just sort of made me go, ‘huh . . .’ and try to shake out why it would make sense in the context of things.

1.) Knives is the leader of his own personal crusade and he doesn’t need to convince anyone of it.  More that he simply tells himself that ‘sacrifices are necessary for the cause’, when the cause is himself? All other life is meaningless save for his own?  I hope the next few volumes clear this up a bit more since I’m currently struggling to really understand his motivations.  Especially, his idea to steal as many plants as possible, ‘eat’ his ‘sisters’ and to do what?  Even if the other ships get close enough to the planet and he absorbs them, then what?  I dunno man, what is your endgame?

2.) The Eye of Michael are an assassin group that recruits orphans due to the fact they lack attachment to others.  And their goal is to achieve what exactly?  They’ve been around for 133 years and they are far to obvious to act as a sort of covert group. I mean sure, if you kill everyone in your path there won’t be eyewitnesses but the giant cross - not subtle.  They are working with Knives but it isn’t the same - only part of them were sort of committed to the gung ho guns.  I really need to go back and glean from the text.

3.) Wolfwood is around 20 - max?!?! I’m also baffled how he got recruited based on what we’ve seen up through volume 9.  I found his words to be out of alignment with his age as a child at the orphanage.  Only going by the anime, I put him to be older, like 30s.  When he has his showdown with Chapel, we know that he was trained by him for ten years but the specifics are vague and it is clear he fucked off on his own when he realized he didn’t want to be told what to do.  In the anime, his realistic words of wisdom make sense for them to come from an adult with life experiences.  Yes, trauma and a harsh childhood can make you grow up faster but he always had that weird vibe that he was trained in some sort of religious philosophy that he could have more input into things.

Yet, in the manga he still has mature dialogue that I don’t quite get.  I hope volume 10 helps to explain things further in regards to this weird disconnect.  Wolfwood is there to oppose Vash in a constructive way, not in the straight out opposition that Knives is to Vash.  Yet, by having Wolfwood start out as someone who is good with others, willing help out and care about people.  It makes it obvious in retrospect he’d never be able to have given his all to the role that he was supposed to fill.  I mean the fact that he shot and crippled his mentor but didn’t kill him already speaks volumes.  Does he try to save everyone and not kill like Vash?  No.  Yet his destructive power is more tempered than many others.  He also has that built in protective nature which pops up all the time.  Though, he has spent a lot of time rationalizing that it is why he can kill people.

4.) Plants are technology that works on using the life force of angelic beings trapped in a bubble that are something - I need more info.  Pleeeeeeaaaase? Pretty please?  And are definitely modeled on more ‘realistic’ versions of angels e.g. not looks like a person with a pair of wings. And more in the this angel has a fuckton of eyes all over it and weird creepy manifestations, extra wings, heads, faces etc etc etc.

Does this mean that Knives is into a weird from of cannibalism?  He tried to absorb Vash as well but obviously since they are diametrically opposed to each other’s viewpoints we know that isn’t going to happen.  Isn’t he supposed to respect the other plants that he’s essentially using as an extension of himself?  How is this fair to them.  Hello plant ladies (?) allow me to rescue from your human oppressors - to serve me as a giant melded mess. . . . 

These aren’t my most organized thoughts - just the general feelings and questions that really pop to the surface.  I’ll try to reorganize my thoughts for the future.  I’m thinking of:

1.) Wolfwood analysis - I know lots of people have their own interpretation of him, but I’d like a crack at it too.

2.) Tone of the anime vs the manga.  Right now, I’m leaning towards preferring the anime; by no means is the manga bad, just they have different ways to get to the same sort of end.

3.) Review each episode (or two) of Trigun Stampede.   I’ve seen other commentary online which is being a little more gentle to it.  Not that I want to skewer it, but more point out where it works and doesn’t work in the context of the manga and previous anime.  I purposely, went ahead and rewatched the original just to prepare for watching Stampede.  I’m also getting the vibe that some people are like me and have done this while many other people’s commentary are coming from “I watched it on Adult Swim.” or “I’ve never seen it but it was apparently popular.”  Making me feel even older with the Adult Swim comment since I saw it before then on fan sub VHS.

4.) Why Trigun Maximum is a type of seinen that works for a female audience.  I think this also applies to Golden Kamuy.  The series do have some overlap and I’m beginning to wonder if there are other elements of these two fairly violent series that allow for them to have a more equal gendered fandom.

That’s all for now.  I need to put all my thoughts together and start cracking.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun manga #trigun anime #trigun stampede

[outrunningthedark]

Maybe it’s just me but I’ve never really had hope for buddie to be confirmed in the first place. Like I do ship them and if they did I would be happily surprised but really it’s just never something I’ve entertained as a possibility and I don’t know where the people who believe it will happen have been but we just don’t get ships like this imo.Maybe there’s a few exceptions even if I can’t think about this right now but when a character’s introduced as straight or nothing has been said so we assume straight and then fandom ships them with an equally assumed straight person the show and networks and all that don’t want them together because they’re ‘normal straight people’. Like in LS from the beginning TK’s introduced with a bf he wants to propose to, they don’t lose their normal character since that was him from the start. Also if it’s acknowledged that all the buddie moments were building up to a romantic relationship then it sheds light on other similar relationships in other shows or films that we were ridiculed for shipping when really it’s not so different. I really don’t know if I got my point across here and I’m sorry this got so long winded, maybe I’m just a cynic but I think my buddie dreams will have to be contented with fanart and fic.

It's definitely not just you who has felt that way, lol. We hear it all the time, just more aggressively. To expand on what you said, the biggest piece of "evidence" in favor of this argument is that it's been six seasons and neither one's sexuality has been altered or allowed to evolve in the slightest. And it's not the opportunity wasn't there, right? Maddie and her "boy crush on Eddie" remark or saying she wouldn't want Josh to date her little brother. Then TK (falsely) assuming Buck was being flirtatious. Tim (he was the main show runner those years) could have said any of that meant something moving forward (maybe a "Buck is canonically bi, but we haven't explored that part of his story...we're waiting 'til it feels appropriate"), but the only part he addressed was the TK thing, and he connected to Tarlos since Carlos wasn't physically present. Compare that to Nancy becoming the first bi character of the 911verse. She came out while in a relationship with Mateo. She is still in that same relationship now. The show isn't trying to "prove" she's bisexual by having her hook up with or date a woman. It's just a part of who she is. And then there's the fact that all four (technically five, with David) queer men of the 911 verse (Michael, Josh, TK, Carlos) are written as gay, not bi. Tim & co. appear to have some *opinions* (thus far) about bi men, it seems. If they date a woman? Straight. Date a man? Not into women (never were). I will continue to say, though, that people are giving the network too much grief. The canon couples very rarely do anything intimate as the seasons progress, with Henren as the outlier because 6x06 was a flashback, so *if* anyone with influence was concerned about the optics, Tim has an "excuse" not to push things too far - that's not what the focus is anymore. And even *if* someone at the network was all "idk about this :/" that's still on Tim for dodging the discussion six years in. Get out ahead of it and the message would have been received much sooner - if you're against even one of these guys getting with a dude...this ain't the show you should be watching. Move along. (Tim has no problem putting LS fandom down, so I don't see why he'd act different with OG. TBH, it's either his own biases about Buck and Eddie as men that is keeping him from making them canon or it's similar to his reaction when the Tarlos fandom "complains" - he knows what's gonna happen if Buddie goes canon; they will dominate the discussion - he doesn't want the fandom giving their opinions or asking for content more than they do already.)

#anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #buddie

[pepperbox]

What are your thoughts on the Trigun reboot?

the big tl;dr is that i'm enjoying it a lot!! there are a couple things that i'm like, not suuuuper thrilled about but overall: it's a yes from me!

(for clarity, i was a huuuuuge fan of the '98 anime and watched it with my mom as a kid! i read trimax later in life and adored that, and now the og anime is like. fine?? but comparatively falls flat for me now as an adult in my 30s. i've rewatched the anime only once as an adult but i've reread trimax uhhhhh three times in the past year alone lolol)

i'm gonna bullet point this bc that's just how my brain works best:

i love the animation! there have been a few instances where it felt off, but overall it's been a feast for my eyeballs

I'M SORRY BUT I LOVE THE NEW VASH DESIGN transmasc icon, he's perfect. i am absolutely not biased, ignore my undercut--

also it updated his look for the 2000s?? the broomhead was a Look in the 90s but it's so dated now i'm SORRY LMAO

also who out here is making hair gel on this fucking desert planet, i s2g,

the inclusion of roberto at first i was kinda ??? about but i quickly adjusted to him, esp as he started throwing soon-to-be-dead-mentor flags all over the fucking place. he cracks me up but i'm legit just waiting at this point for him to die to further meryl's development and to pass the torch derringer on to her

i do hope millie makes an appearance for meryl (so they can be girlfriends, as is only right) but her absence really doesn't break trigun for me bc uhhhh y'all, her and meryl have relatively minor roles in trimax and straight up disappear for like, volumes at a time

also i really hated her random romance with wolfwood in the 98 anime even as a kid and i will never forgive it for that

but ymmv!!!

i do think the pacing is a bit fast and i wish they either had longer episodes or more episodes to let it breathe a little! not entirely plot-wise because i actually like the reveals so far we've gotten because it's keeping even long time fans guessing for what's coming, but just for the relationships between the characters

like i would like more casual interactions between the four protags, and more vash & wolfwood getting to know each other before we jumped right to them butting heads so aggressively over morality and killing

but i do love that it also heavily showcases the consequences of vash's actions (or inaction)

because as meryl pointed out during the nebraska fight, he isn't actually doing anyone a kindness, he's just running away from pain

i am also sad that they took wolfwood AND livio's tits by the looks of it

rip 😔

also i am. not thrilled about elendira? i was really excited to see my wife on screen but instead they did that to her :(

ANYWAYS

i am curious about where the story is going to go!! because lost july hasn't happened yet but we're walking towards it, but when?

is it going to be mid-season? is it going to be the end of s1 if we're getting more than one season? will there be a time skip?

will [redacted manga spoilers] arrive?

will we get to see chronica and domina??

there's still SO much to cover, but i know they're mashing some things together (like jeneora rock was a couple different settings smashed into one, and it seems like the gung-ho guns and the eye of michael are even more woven together??) so we'll see but

I HAVE QUESTIONS

BUT YEAH like!!!! i am enjoying it a lot overall!! i have a few gripes with it but i am so fucking happy to be watching trigun again, and as much as i would adore a 1-to-1 trimax adaption like they did with fma, i am really enjoying it being a retelling because i genuinely don't know what's going to happen!! it's fun!! i'm having fun!!

also there's a really emo thought i had about all trigun adaptions just being different lives for everyone and they're just caught in a loop

history doesn't repeat but sometimes it rhymes

but!!

i also love the fact that it's screaming that it's a passion project. that people who love the source material are all working on it, with nightow. they're bringing back VAs for both japanese and english versions, fans are animating and voicing it, it's amazing and shows how much love is going into this series, and i'm so glad to be able to experience it again

#trigun

[msfbgraves]

All the three main men in Daniel’s life (Pop, Michael, Terry) all love him intensely, and all hurt him deeply, and all truly suck. 

He’s his Pop’s favourite pup, he totally adores him (to a disturbing extent) and he dotes on him and spoils him. Lavishes him with love. Yet Pop’s the one that bartered Daniel off to Terry. Used him as a living, breathing pawn to save the family. His youngest, his baby, only 18, looking 14, hardly more than a child—sold to a man 10 years his senior who threatened murder. That’s a promise broken on so many levels. 

Then there’s calculating, reserved psycho Michael. I get the impression that Daniel is his favourite sibling, yet he’s also totally willing to use him to further the family’s means. He encouraged the match with Terry, he thought it best, and he was partly responsible for the horrific night and what came of it. Indirectly, he caused/causes(?) so much pain and misery in Daniel’s life. 

And Terry. Good god, Terry. Loves and adores and craves Daniel to a psycho amount, more than anyone or anything and is also the one that wounds him the most, and the deepest. The rape, the cheating. The constant undercurrent of lust and violence, love and cruelty towards his own spouse. Buys him jewelry and a collar to thank him for letting him fuck him like a whore. His, again, willingness to use Daniel and his own pups to gain an empire, despite Daniel not particularly wanting this for himself or his babies. Forcing Daniel over and over to take a more active role, controlling him in every way, ruthless in his loving and his fucking. The definition of the monster is in your home. 

I mean!!!!!!!!!

This poor, sweet boy. Just always going from one mess to another, and never allowed to truly make his own choices. Any choice he makes is just such a small defiance it hardly counts. He really is someone’s son, someone’s sibling, someone’s mate—and always a pawn in someone else’s game. Sometimes I wish he had just run away with Kumiko. Hell, even Johnny Lawrence, haha 😭 Daniel needs to be petted and loved, and not given love at the sharp end of a knife. He’s such a sweetheart! 🥲 Lmao but despite saying this I still want Silverusso to  be together forever. 

😭 What’s wrong with me 🙃

Beautiful analysis.

I think it would make Daniel sad to hear that his choices "hardly count", though. The problem is more that he has very little space to manoeuver, and every choice would have enormous consequences.

I don't know who of you actually play chess, but Daniel's position is like a pawn deep at the enemy's end of the board. If you get a pawn there, backed up well - even when it can hardly attack anyone far and not move unless the other player allows it, man, can that pawn make it hard for the enemy to play or attack well! If that pawn could say (and it can't) "nope, I'm out! I'm just a pawn anyway!" the King would be like "What?! You're keeping the enemy at bay simply by being there, doing nothing! You aren't going anywhere!"

That's Daniel. All around him, war is raging, and he can't move, he's blocked from all sides, but if the enemy makes a wrong move or two suddenly he becomes a Queen, which is as close as chess has to a weapon of mass destruction. And he isn't safe, but at this point he can usually only be killed at insane cost to the enemy so a smart player will try to avoid that. So he's all position and great potential threat. So, how do you deal with that position? Become a weapon of mass destruction? Sacrifice yourself to take on a far grander enemy? Or bide your time, hoping the big shots fight it out themselves?

And Michael - Daniele is his brother, his blood, and inside information on a potential enemy. He loves him. And he sometimes needs to tell him things straight when Pop won't. He knows better than anyone how to play the game while not being Alpha, but he doesn't know how deeply his little brother loves. He loves too, but it's always power he seeks without really asking why. And that is lethal. Nessa is not on the game by choice, Louie is a hands on guy, Michael is an excellent Don but he needs his little brother where he is for maximum impact. And Daniel has had to grow around this impossible position. He knows his potential, but he has to be very careful on how to use it and in what phase of the game.

#knights and pawns #mob au #omegaverse

[cruelsxmmcr]

♡ beach hut prompt 05: dylan michaels

how are you feeling in your current couple?

“It’s going ace, mate. It’s all good. We’re focused on each other and getting to know each other. I feel really good about Naomi and how things are progressing. We talk, we joke, we laugh, we fool around. So much happened for us to get here and I’m not saying there are zero challenges now, but we’re on the same page and we’re working through them together whenever they arise. That’s what matters, right?”

is there anyone outside of your couple that you’re still chatting to? do you think your head could be turned?

“Are you asking about Rhys?” He looks straight at the camera with a suspicious expression on his face. “Rhys and I are in a good place for the first time in forever and I’ll always care for him, whatever happens. I’m focused on Naomi and on developing what we have. Unless something major were to happen and it has to do with her, I don’t see myself looking to get to know anyone else or my head turning.”

what are your thoughts on the last recoupling? are there any couples that surprised you?

“Nana walking was a surprise. I thought she was here to further her career? So, it kinda beats the point to walk. Plus, I thought there was something there between her and Seb. But I suppose after her words being aired like that, it’s probably in her best interests to walk.” A pause. “I don’t think any of the couples surprised me. I feel like it was inevitable and expected. There’s a few of them that are not actual couples.” Like Maddox and Seb, and Dejan and Max. “I thought Marcus and Romi would work things out since they got coupled up again, but apparently not.”

did nana or kenny’s departures affect you at all? out of everyone left, who would you be most upset to see go home next?

“It sucked seeing Kenny go. I liked her a lot and she grew to be a good friend here in the villa. It always sucks seeing people go, especially those you’re close to. But I suppose with Callie finding a better match with Frankie... well, you know.” He shrugs. “I’d be gutted if Romi or my sister were to go home, honestly. Frankie, as well. It goes without saying I’d be most upset about Naomi, too, as we’re developing things.”

a lot happened at the cowboys and aliens party. what were the highlights of the night for you?

Dylan blows on his cheeks. “You just had to ask that, mate, huh? A lot is one word for it. It’s definitely not a highlight, but Josh and Naomi kissing left me very uncomfortable, but I’m okay now. We talked about it and Naomi reassured me where her head’s at. It’s tricky situation for all of us, being under the same roof with Josh and Rhys, you know? Finding out Marcus tried to kiss Naomi, too wasn’t fun, but it’s not Naomi’s fault. Anyway, all’s resolved, which is what matters.” A pause. “Rhys and I had a really important talk in the bathroom, it came as a surprise, honestly, but after everything, it was a needed talk. I’m glad I could be there for him.”

which couple do you think has the best chances of lasting to the next recoupling?

“I’m confident in what Naomi and I have, despite everything. Callie and Frankie are very solid so far. I know they’re still in the very early stages, but I have a good feeling about them. I hear Rhys and Bash seem to be going well, too?” A pause. “I hope Marcus and Romi figure out what they want, because I know firsthand how challenging this can be.”

#｟ 𝐃𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐒 ｠ ⸻ task. #crackon:prompt #mason has sm good content but most of it is b&w </3

[ingravinoveritas]

So, it is now three days into Pride, and the gayness just keeps on coming. This is a screenshot from 2019 of Michael responding to a piece of Ineffable Husbands fanart of Aziraphale and Crowley at the cinema in the 1980s.

For those who may not know (as I didn’t, not being from the UK), La Scala was a cinema in King’s Cross, an area of London that (pre-Soho) was a haven for all things LGBTQ, and showed many LGBTQ-themed films throughout its notorious run.

But the extra special thing about these gay all-nighters (and which Michael would have undoubtedly known when writing that tweet) was that all sorts of debauchery (a.k.a., gay orgies) tended to ensue among its patrons:

...So, not only do we know that Michael has thought about Aziraphale and Crowley fucking, we also know that he has thought specifically about when and where they would fuck...and it’s in a place nicknamed The Sodom Odeon. On top of all that, we now have GO season 2 coming out with a scene filmed in the Bo’ness Hippodrome and Michael looking incredibly smug on the day of filming said scene. In a dark cinema. With David. I just don’t even know what else to say...

(Also...What were you doing in King’s Cross in the mid/late ‘80s, Michael? Is this knowledge all from firsthandjob experience? Because I would not be at all surprised...)

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #at this point i hope anyone who still thinks Michael is straight #can just disabuse themselves of that notion #because dear god #i think Michael has been telling us exactly who he is for a long time now #bless his bisexual Welsh chaos #also i have a head canon involving Michael and David at La Scala in the late 80s #which i think i need to turn into a fic now #because yes #can't wait for the second season #i'm not saying they have sex #but #🌈👀 #happy pride month indeed #discourse

[slashingdisneypasta]

(May I join T or D game? 🦊)

1) I'll eat the whole thing in one bite and risk a brainfreeze! Then I'll look him straight in the eyes as I snap the stick in half! Hopefully he'll get the message...

2) If I brought a boy home then he must be a very good friend! I wouldn't bring just anyone home! I'll find someone else for Jenn (seems like a good way to get rid of some creep/douche/sleezebag lol)

3) Bubba better sit his ass down and go nowhere near that thing! I'll handle the feeding!

4) Are noise conceling headphones an opinion?! Or playing music on speakers so loud I don't hear my own thoughts?! If not, I'll shut him up myself! He'll feel the rage of an s*x-repulsed asexual who didn't get a good night sleep in weeks! I will put a fear of God into him (even if he's not religious)! *Angry tired ace noises*

5) I'm pretty small and skinny so I could probably slip between Jason and Michael with them barely noticing me! Or I'm sure Jason would be polite enough to step aside for a second if I ask nicely, his mother did raised him right after all! There's no point in asking Michael, he'll either just continue to stare or even attempt to stab me, so no thank you!

6) Call me crazy but BJ! I'm not familiar enough with Drayton. Besides, my special talent is being able to ignore someone completaly no matter what they do! He'll be wondering if he's invisible again 😈

7) *runs into the kitchen at lighting speed, grabs the snacks and runs out*

8) I'll do my best to try calm Carrie down! I'm pretty sure she's more scared then I am! Such powers can be overwhelming and it's not her fault if she still sometimes can't control them! (If I fail, I'd like INK and Aurelio Voltaire to play at my funeral)

9) (I picked the Slasher before I saw the list) So now Jason is fighting Pennywise! Damn!! I wonder how that would end?!

10) There's absolutely NO WAY I'm getting any help from Freddy! I'll admit what I did to Pam! It was a honest mistake and hopefully she'll understand. Ofc I'll clean all the mess and pay to fix/replace if anything is broken

11) I'll choose truth! I'm super honest (sometimes too much) and don't mind any question they throw at me!

12) I like Jerry's style more, so I'll pick him! He better not mess it up though, or Elijah will be hearing about it!

13) The Clown does not scare me at all! I think the idea is hillarious and choose opinion B *evil laughter* I have camera ready 🎥 ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ

You can always join, Fox Anon!! Hey! ^^

Omggggggg, I love your answers so so much XDD

Omg, I think he's got it!!! XDDD

You make a VERY good point... And they're going to a better place anyway XDD Jen's stomach.

You're so brave!! But yes lets protect the Bubba XD

Get him, Fox anon!! I've got your back. From way back here, far far away from Patrick... I've got your back... but I've got it!!

Y'all have so much faith in the manners of a man who's forte is just flingin' people out of his damn way

6. Oh!! You took that class too?? XD Haha. Omg XD I love the little devil emoji you put at the end, too, so funny XDD

7. XDDDDDDDD Zoom

8. I've got you.

9. Oooh, I dunno- but I hope Jason wins!

10. Good news! That was a test- and you passed. Pamela likes you and you may befriend Jason XD ^^

11. Hey, at least people know where they stand with you! I love honest people!

Hmmmmm, here's your truth from Billy and Stu: If you had the choice to leave this universe and jump into the A Nightmare On Elm Street universe... and you got to be a dream demon with all that power, as well... but you had to spend your eternity with Freddy- would you go?

12. Oooh, do you mean the original version?? He does have good style. The red scarf?? Perfect accessorization XD Which Chucky then copied.

OOF, Jerry better do his best then!

13. Ohhhhhhhhhhh this one made me cackle XDD Freddy's is going to DIE, man!!

Thank you for playing and sharing your answers!! They're great!! XD

[daughter-of-melpomene]

I was just looking through your master list and automatically clicked on Will Welton bc Ted Lassooooo!!! Now I’m obsessed and also wondering… do you have any musings about Will and Colin interactions??

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!! Will is definitely one of my most underrated OCs, and I always love getting to talk about him. <3

As for interactions between Will and Colin, I think that Will, the same as Trent, would have sensed that Colin was queer pretty quickly after meeting him and known for a while. Of course gaydar isn’t really a thing (at least not for straight people), but most queer people are pretty good at picking up on vibes and subtle signals, and especially since Will’s had a while of experience picking these things up, he can tell pretty quickly with Colin.

And since Will likes helping people, and Colin’s really awkward and seems to be struggling with who he is, whenever Will has occasion to talk to him he tries to drop subtle hints that he knows about Colin and is there to talk if he needs it. Never enough to push or make Colin uncomfortable, just enough that it’s clear what he’s saying if anyone listens, but Colin always ignores it and eventually Will drops the subject.

However, directly after Colin has his talk with Trent after Trent catches him making out with Michael, Colin goes to Will and finally comes out to him, telling him that he’s grateful for Will’s quiet support all this time and that Will and Ted’s relationship (which is still fairly new at this point) has actually given him hope for being able to come out and be with his boyfriend publicly one day. Will gives him a big hug and reiterates the point he’s been implying to Colin all this time; that he supports him and will always be there for him and proud of him, no matter if he ever comes out publicly or not.

Will is also in the locker room after the game where Isaac nearly gets into a fight with a spectator for calling him a slur, and so is there when Colin finally comes out to the team. He’s smiling proudly the whole time, especially when Moe mentions that the team has never had a problem with Ted and Will, so why would they have a problem with Colin being gay? The two of them have a little talk afterwards, where Will once again tells Colin how proud he is of him and reassures him about Isaac, reminding him that if Isaac is really his friend he will support him - and later on, when Colin kisses Michael in celebration and drags him into the celebration with the team, Will is definitely watching them, beaming like a proud dad at the whole thing.

That’s about all I’ve got for that, but thanks again for asking about my boy!!

#asks about my ocs #oc: will welton #fic: london boy

[cyarskj1899]

I’m so glad that Jimmy jam and Terry Lewis are being recognized by the rock and roll hall of fame. If there’s anyone who deserves this honor it’s definitely them

The Rock Hall of Fame opens to Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis

“It's all about taking people — young, old, white, Black, straight, gay, Democrat or Republican, whatever — and for the time we’re on stage, bring all of them together,” said Jam. “If you could do that, that to me is the magic of music.”

Associated Press

Nov 2, 2022

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NEW YORK (AP) — The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame this year will induct Eminem, Dolly Parton, Lionel Richie, Carly Simon and two guys in sunglasses who have scored more No. 1s on the Billboard Hot 100 than all of those other acts combined.

Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis are the rare songwriting and producing team to get into the prestigious hall, and they hope it will lead to more artists like them being inducted.

The duo’s chart-topping pop hits include Janet Jackson’s “When I Think of You;” Mariah Carey’s “Thank God I Found You;” George Michael’s “Monkey;” Boyz II Men’s “On Bended Knee;” Janet and Michael Jackson’s “Scream;” and Mary J. Blige’s “No More Drama.” They have five Grammys and went into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2017.

“I don’t know if you could ever recognize songwriters enough. I mean, they are the fuel that fuels everything,” said Lewis. “There are great songwriters out there that never get the shine that they deserve.”

One song in particular might typify the Jam and Lewis range — “Got ’Til It’s Gone,” which combines a folk sample from Joni Mitchell, the hip-hop of Q-Tip and Janet Jackson’s R&B voice. “We’re kind of at a crossroads or an intersection of a lot of different music,” said Jam.

Jam and Lewis started out in competing bands and became part of Prince’s band, The Time, in Minneapolis. After parting ways with The Purple One, the duo established a recording studio and production company. Their collaboration with Janet Jackson on her monster albums “Control” and “Rhythm Nation 1814” solidified them as hitmakers.

The Rock Hall on Saturday will also induct Eurythmics, Duran Duran, Judas Priest, Harry Belafonte, Elizabeth Cotten and Pat Benatar. Jam anticipated that one act closely associated with the duo would be the one who inducts them but didn’t go into specifics, raising speculation that it will be Janet Jackson.

They grew up listening to different genres. Jam was a pop fan, soaking in Seals and Crofts, America and Chicago. Lewis leaned more toward Parliament-Funkadelic and Earth, Wind & Fire. “Terry liked the funky bottom. I like the pretty top,” said Jam. You can hear that combo throughout their career, starting with their first hit, S.O.S. Band’s “Just Be Good to Me.”

They’re responsible for more than 50 Billboard No. 1 songs on the pop, R&B and dance charts for everyone from Rod Stewart and Sting to Patti LaBelle. They tailor the song to the artist and choose for themselves a non-nonsense wardrobe of black suits and sunglasses. Next year, they celebrate their partnership hitting its 50th anniversary.

“We’re kind of at a point of our careers where we don’t have anything to prove, but we still have a lot to say,” said Jam. “We just want to leave music in a better place, whether it’s through technology, whether it’s through the songs we make, whether it’s the people we influence that are making music now.”

Turn on the radio and you will likely immediately hear the influence of Jam and Lewis. Famed Swedish producer Max Martin channeled the duo while crafting hits for Britney Spears, the Backstreet Boys and NSYNC. Charlie Puth is a fan, and Bruno Mars gave the pair a shout-out on the Grammy stage for paving the way when he won album of the year for “24K Magic.”

One thing Jam and Lewis would like to see change is more recognition for the folks behind the tunes. Lewis worries that music today is often seen like a utility, a faceless service like water or electricity that’s taken for granted. Jam misses the days when a record sleeve included tons of information about the music makers, like the name of the engineer and mixer.

These days, it’s hard to find credits on streaming sites and the duo think that’s a problem. “What it does is it devalues the music because it communicates the idea that music just comes out of nowhere. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. There’s people in this,” Jam said.

After decades of making music for other people, Jam and Lewis last year made their debut album as artists, “Jam and Lewis, Volume One” featuring Babyface, Toni Braxton and Mariah Carey. They plan on more such albums and hope to perform live next year, too.

The goal then — as it always has been for these men who push the sonic envelope — is to build a musical bridge in this time of divisions.

“It’s all about taking people — young, old, white, Black, straight, gay, Democrat or Republican, whatever — and for the time we’re on stage, bring all of them together,” said Jam. “If you could do that, that to me is the magic of music.”

TheGrio is FREE on your TV via Apple TV, Amazon Fire, Roku, and Android TV. Please download theGrio mobile apps today! 

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[magentamedicines]

Magentamedicines (Pt.10)

-------------------------

"Lizzie! Can you braid my hair? I want it to be pretty like yours," Cori wriggled her way up onto her older sister's bed, not quite waiting for an answer before shoving a brush into her hands.

"Mhm," Elizabeth was a lot more soft-spoken now, ever since whatever it was that happened to Charlie.

Everyone noticed it, everyone except their father that is.

But then, William Afton never noticed anything about his kids did he?

This was uncharacteristic when it came to Elizabeth however, considering her status as the favorite child.

Cori sat quietly as her sister worked through the long black curls of her hair, her fourth birthday present clutched tightly under one arm.

She was pretty sure it used to be Evan's, a little stuffed golden bear, there was something red that stained its muzzle, her mother never gave her a straight answer about what it was.

"We're visiting Circus Baby's today, maybe I can help convince father to let you go see her-" Cori muttered, hoping it would improve her sister's mood.

"I hope so, she can make balloons!" Elizabeth said, perking up as she put the finishing touches on the braid.

"I've heard she can do a lot of things- maybe we'll be able to see them together," Cori responded.

But time and time again, the answer was no.

No, she's not ready yet

No, she needs maintinence

No, we have to leave now

No, no, no, no, no

Cori could tell her sister was starting to get antsy about it, Cori wanted to see Circus Baby too, but she was a lot more scared of their father than she was curious.

"Daddy isn't watching," they were visiting Circus Baby's again for Michael's birthday, William had left to check on something in Ballora Gallery.

"I don't think we should go- what if he catches us? He'll get mad. . ." Cori whispered, still holding onto Elizabeth's hand. She wasn't sure where Micahel had gone.

"He wont- come on!" And with that Elizabeth took off toward Circus Baby's room.

The animatronic was impressive, tall with pointed clown shoes and red pigtails, she had blue eyes.

"She does look like you," Cori whispered.

"Mhm!" Elizabeth spoke in an excited manner, Cori felt happy for her.

But she also felt very hungry.

"I'm gonna go get snacks-" she said, though she regretted leaving almost as soon as she stepped through the door.

Cori heard something mechanical from inside the room, like a hatch opening, then a gasp.

Cori poked her head through the door again, not quite processing what she was seeing.

There was Elizabeth, standing on her tiptoes and leaning closer to the stage, hand outstretched for a cone of vanilla ice cream being offered by the animatronic.

Then there was a scream and a screeching sound, Cori let out a little squeak and a cry as she watched the spot where Elizabeth had been seconds before, now stained with blood.

"Dad! Mama!" Cori took off down the hall, tears staining her face, blurring her vision and burning her cheeks.

"Shh- what is it sweetheart, what happened? Where- where is Elizabeth?-" Rose's expression grew worried almost as soon as she set eyes on her youngest.

"Sh-she went to go look at Circus Baby and I went with her because I told her not to and she didnt listen and now she's gone and there's blood on the stage and- and-" Cori took in a shaky heaving breath.

"You didn't stop her?" Cori froze at the sound of her father's cold voice.

"I-I tried-" Cori whispered.

"So it's your fault then, isn't it?" William continued.

"William she's a child," Rose shot back, holding Cori closer to herself.

"What happened? Where's Lizzie?" Michael had evidently gotten back from whatever it was he'd been busy with.

"Dead," William said nonchalantly, Michael's face went pale.

The drive home was quiet. It had been a gas leak, that's what they were to tell anyone who asked.

That night Cori felt more dread than usual, she'd had strange experiences beforehand, but tonight felt. . . Worse.

"Goodnight Evan," Cori whispered to the stuffed bear as she closed her eyes.

She opened them up again in a room she didn't quite recognize. It was familiar in an odd way, but never anywhere she'd been before.

There were two doors, a closet, and her bed.

And all she had was a flashlight.

The other creatures, she was used to. The foxes living in the closet, the creatures roaming the hallways, the angry ones that rested on the bed.

But the music box was different, she could hear it by the doors, so, as she had when it came to the breathing sounds.

It was only when she turned her attention to the bed that she noticed the difference.

Joining the nightmarish Freddy-esque creatures on the bed, was what looked to be plush versions of Circus Baby.

She'd been so caught off guard by the discovery that she'd forgotten to check the closet, and was promptly surprised by a white and pink fox creature with distorted mangled limbs.

She woke up seconds later in her own room, tears already staining her face.

But, that was routine for her after all, and now she had one less sibling to comfort her when she found herself crying because of them.

#oc x canon #fnaf oc #michael afton #fnaf ocs #cori writes #oc: rose afton #william afton #elizabeth afton #oc: cori afton #tw child death #tw blood #tw gore #tw nightmares #tw gaslighting #tw psychological abuse #tw psychological torture #tw neurotoxins #tw hallucinations #tw child abuse #magentamedicines