#except for Final Pam

[honeybeehistorian]

Gosh, someone probably already said this so much better than me, but I absolutely love what Fallout did with the character of Barb Howard. She's this sort of subversion of both the doting 1950s housewife and the archetype of the wife who dies as character motivation, and you think that's the direction the series is going, but then you get to see bits and pieces of her outside of her marriage to Cooper.

Like these archetypes, she loves her family fiercely, but that love pushes her into an active role, not a passive one, and is one that encourages her to distrust humanity. Throughout the series, there's this ambiguity as to how much she's being manipulated by Vault-Tech and how much she's an active power player, especially when she suggests dropping the bomb in the first place. Maybe a combination of both?

I don't know, I generally dislike comparisons between Fallout and The Last of Us, because they go in very different directions outside of the general concept of a Western set in the apocalypse. However, Joel Miller and Barb Howard both embody this idea of love pushing us to be selfish, not selfless. It's a neat reversal of the theme of love as a source of redemption, and more as a love that alienates us from the rest of humanity.

ALSO, the choice of costumes and color for Barb's wardrobe! She wears these soft pinks that eventually transition into oranges, both shades that feel conventionally feminine, yet vibrant and powerful. The contrast between her dress and the meeting room in episode 8! Thank you, Frances Turner for bringing this character to life! Thank you, Amy Westcott for the costumes!

I'm crawling up the walls for a scene of the separation and divorce in S2. I want Barb Howard to be waiting for her moment in one of those cryogenic chamber thingies. Still in a very cool 1950s dress.

[radiocity]

The L Word: Lookbook ↳ 1.14, Limb from Limb

[breannasfluff]

Danny’s funds are becoming increasingly slim and cutting back on food would be his first course of action. Except now there’s DeeDee to feed. He heads back to the bulletin board.

There’s a new advert up, Weed Pulling. Gloves Provided. The first call gets a busy signal, but when he tries again someone picks up. 

“Hi, I’m calling about the weed-pulling ad?”

“Are you strong?” a female voice asks.

“Er…yes?” Danny could pull on his ghost strength if he wasn’t obvious about it . 

“Can you be at the warehouse district on 220 tomorrow at 1?”

Because this is Gotham, he asks, “AM or PM?”

“AM. The weeds are weakest in the dark.”

Well, that sounds… shady as shit, as DeeDee would say. Still, pulling weeds can’t be too bad. Even if it is at night. In the warehouse district. Actually, this sounds like a bad idea–

As if the lady can hear the doubts in his head she says, “I’ll pay you $100 an hour.”

“Done.” Danny might have standards, but they include eating. At worst, he’ll use his ghost powers to escape.

The lady on the phone didn’t specify which warehouse, but it’s abundantly clear when Danny arrives. Vines are growing rampant over one of the buildings. 

“Are you the weed puller? I’m Pam.”

Danny turns to greet the speaker. She’s got red hair, glasses, and a baseball hat on. “I’m Dan.” Then he turns back to the warehouse. “That wouldn’t be your weed problem, would it?”

Pam joins him with a sigh, pulling off her glasses to clean them. “That would be it. It got a little…out of control.”

He doesn’t even want to know what made it grow to this size. It’s a localized Undergrowth all over again. Speaking of which… “Does it regenerate when cut?”

Pam turns to stare at him for a long moment. Maybe that’s a strange question to ask, even for Gotham. But then she says, “Yes. It’s too big for me to handle when it keeps growing back.”

With his ice powers, Danny could freeze the branches or even the base. From there, it would be a matter of pulling the vines off the building. Neither of which were feasible in his current form. 

He grimaces at the building. “Are you sticking around?”

Another long look. “I don’t care how you remove it if that’s what you are asking.”

“It’s not.”

Pam sucks her tongue against her teeth, then shrugs. “I could take a break for some tea. The area is empty tonight.”

Danny nods, already running logistics on how much time he’d need while keeping his powers less flashy. He’s not in Amity Park to simply blow the plant sky-high and call it a day. “Come back in two hours?”

“That’s a long tea break.”

“That’s a big weed.”

Pam stares, but Danny doesn’t back down. Finally, she shrugs again and hands him a pair of gloves. “Have fun weeding.” Her heels click on the pavement as she walks away.

Who wears heels at 1 AM for weeding? Probably the same people with building-sized weeds. 

Read the rest here!

[saywhat-politics]

Some Senate Democrats have been willing to vote for Donald Trump’s less outlandish Cabinet nominees, but Pam Bondi’s nomination for U.S. attorney general was a qualitatively different kind of case. The Florida Republican is a scandal-plagued election denier and former lobbyist for foreign governments, who, even during her confirmation hearing, refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of Joe Biden’s 2020 victory.

Members of the Senate’s GOP majority were eager to confirm Bondi anyway, but there was no way that Democrats were going to go along with such a scheme. When the dust settled, the final tally was 54-46, with every member of the Democratic minority opposed to her nomination — with one exception.

Sen. John Fetterman of Pennsylvania voted with Republicans.

[reidswhre]

on your shoulder; spencer reid x fem!reader

sumamary: based on the episode of "the office" where pam falls asleep on jim's shoulder!

warnings: pure fluff!! early seasons spencer!

a/n: just a lil reminder that my request are open! you can go and send me some 🫶🏼 also english isn’t my first language, let me know any mistakes.

You loved Aaron Hotchner, no doubt he was an amazing boss, and you had no complaints about him. The problem started when he organized those... little meetings, which, well, could be kind of boring.

And honestly, you hadn’t been sleeping well these last few days either. There was a lot of paperwork left from the cases that had to be dealt with immediately, which didn’t really help your sleep schedule.

Right now, Hotch was giving a talk about... hmm, you weren’t sure. Maybe about victimology or something like that, but you were way too tired to pay attention.

“Hey, you okay?” A voice came from your left, it was Spencer sitting beside you.

“What? Yeah, yeah, of course,” you yawned. “I just haven’t slept well.”

“I figured. You should try to get some rest, not sleeping decreases your attention, concentration, and memory. Plus, it lowers your work performance. It can even cause anxiety or depression,” Reid explained.

Your eyes opened wide. “What?! Depression?! Spencer, no way. I’ve just stayed up late a few nights, I’m fine.” You chuckled and leaned back in your chair, almost looking like you were going to fall out of it.

“It’s okay,” he said, watching you.

He used to take his time watching you, not in a creepy way, at least he hoped not. It was more like you sparked his curiosity, he thought you were really pretty.

He saw you fighting to keep your eyes open, which you were definitely losing. Your eyes were closing, your lashes falling down, and your cheeks had a lovely blush to them that you probably added this morning. You looked beautiful.

Spencer felt your head drop onto his shoulder, and he immediately tensed up. The scent of your shampoo hit his nose, it smelled fresh and sweet, just like you.

He relaxed a little, letting you rest for the remaining part of Hotch’s magnificent meeting.

You opened your eyes after a while, feeling a bit lost. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” You lifted your head when you realized it had been resting on Spencer.

“Don’t worry about it, it didn’t bother me.” He gave you a small smile, the kind where he kept his lips closed.

You looked around and realized no one else was in the room except for the two of you. “Where is everyone?” you asked Spencer, confused.

“They, uh... well, they left,” he said, looking away. “The meeting ended.”

You gasped in surprise. “What? How long ago?”

“Not long... maybe half an hour,” he said, finally looking at you.

“Half an hour?! Spencer, why didn’t you wake me up?” You could feel the embarrassment filling every inch of your body. You had been asleep on him for more than half an hour?!

“I... well, you—” He stumbled over his words. “You looked comfortable and... you needed the rest, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me? I was bothering you! I’m so sorry, seriously.” You were too embarrassed to think straight.

“What? No, no, really, it wasn’t a bother at all, never would be.” He gave you a sincere look.

You smiled at this; he was always pretty sweet with you. “Thanks, really.”

He gave you a small smile in response.

“So...” You glanced around the empty room. “What did I miss?”

“You should’ve paid attention,” Spencer teased.

“Very funny, huh?” You rolled your eyes.

Spencer looked at you, and honestly, he loved the idea of having you this close all the time.

[riddlesrizzler]

This Could’ve Been an Owl

summary: somethings are left better as an owl... characters: jim! mattheo. pam! reader. dwight! draco. stanley! theo. kelly! blaise. andy! enzo warnings: none, just poor draco word count: 1.2k

The meeting was scheduled for 9:00 a.m.

At 9:07, the coffee pot was still sputtering like it was about to explode, Enzo had somehow broken his granola bar into four unequal, crumbling pieces, and Blaise was halfway through a monologue about how the new client’s assistant looked “mysteriously like a cursed Siren” and “definitely blinked sideways.” No one was listening. Except Theo, who stared blankly into his mug like it might transport him somewhere else.

You sat near the end of the conference table, doodling in the margins of the meeting agenda you had printed yourself - not because you cared, but because you were the only person who Draco didn’t openly accuse of being a spy. Your latest sketch was of a dragon incinerating a tiny stick figure labeled “Draco.” It was breathing glitter fire. You smirked and tilted the page slightly so Mattheo could see it.

He bit back a laugh - that sharp, breathless sort of grin he always wore when the two of you were silently conspiring. He leaned back in his chair, his quill spinning between his fingers. Cool. Careless. Definitely about to do something stupid.

Draco cleared his throat for the third time.

“Right,” he snapped, slapping a clipboard down with unnecessary force. “Now that we’ve all decided to grace the office with our presence-”

“I’ve been here since eight,” you said sweetly, not looking up from your doodle.

Mattheo coughed to cover his snort.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “-we can finally begin. Item one: someone - and I will find out who - placed an undetectable expansion charm on my filing cabinet. When I opened it, I was temporarily sucked into a dimension of-of-clowns.”

There was a long pause.

“Sounds like a personnel issue,” Theo muttered, deadpan.

Mattheo raised a hand. “Did you happen to see your performance review while you were in there?”

Blaise burst out laughing. Even Enzo wheezed around a mouthful of granola.

You smiled, pressing your hand to your mouth like it might muffle the giggle clawing its way out. Mattheo gave you a sidelong glance, and the shared triumph of this is going well passed silently between you.

Draco did not share that sentiment.

“I am compiling a list,” he said darkly, flipping to a page titled Suspected Troublemakers in aggressive block letters. “It will be submitted to upper management by end of day.”

Mattheo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Is that the same list where you put ‘Suspicious Soup Behavior’ next to Enzo’s name?”

“I knew that bisque was cursed,” Draco barked.

“It was from the breakroom,” Enzo offered helpfully. “Pretty sure it was labeled ‘Mattheo’s.’”

Mattheo blinked. “I don’t even eat soup.”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching all of this unfold with mild amusement. Honestly, Draco brought it on himself. He held these meetings like they were Auror interrogations, and somehow always ended up the victim of some minor magical sabotage. The fact that he hadn’t yet realized it was a two-person operation - orchestrated mostly from your desk and carried out with Mattheo’s charming recklessness - was a miracle.

Draco slammed his clipboard shut. “Enough. Item two: The break room incident-”

“Which one?” Blaise asked. “The cauldron explosion? Or the time the enchanted toaster tried to duel me?”

“The glitter bomb hidden in my teacup,” Draco hissed. “I’m still sneezing sparkles.”

Mattheo tilted his head innocently. “Are you sure it wasn’t your personality finally showing?”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that slipped out - sharp and warm and completely unprofessional. Draco turned his glare on you.

“Don’t look at me,” you said, shrugging. “I only printed the meeting agenda. Which, by the way, doesn’t say anything about glitter bombs.”

Enzo tried to raise a hand. “I kind of liked it. You looked festive.”

Draco muttered something about incompetence and stormed toward the whiteboard, where he began drawing a complex diagram titled “Office Sabotage Network.” He included tiny, cartoonish caricatures of everyone at the table - yours had a halo. Mattheo’s had devil horns. Blaise’s was winking.

You leaned sideways, whispering to Mattheo behind your hand, “Do you think he’ll realize the glitter was charmed to explode with sound if he yells?”

Mattheo grinned at you, wide and gleaming. “Ten galleons says he finds out in the next sixty seconds.”

As if on cue, Draco turned around. “Now-listen carefully-”

BANG.

A shimmering cloud of pink and gold exploded over his head, raining glitter down on the table in elegant, sparkling sheets. Draco shrieked. Blaise screamed in solidarity. Enzo applauded.

Mattheo casually dusted off his lapels and looked over at you like nothing happened.

You smiled at him - that slow, knowing smile that said, We’re the best team this office has ever seen.

Across the room, Theo sipped his coffee, nodded, and muttered, “Finally. Some entertainment.”

It was the next day, the morning after the glitter bomb incident, when Draco Malfoy arrived precisely thirty-seven minutes early.

He was wearing tinted goggles. His wand was gripped like a sword. His cloak had been replaced with what looked suspiciously like a dragonhide apron, and he muttered under his breath as he tiptoed through the office, checking doorknobs and breathing heavily through his nose.

You watched him from behind the reception desk, sipping your tea.

“Do we think he’s… okay?” you asked no one in particular.

Mattheo leaned his elbows on the counter, hair messy from the wind and lips curved in that familiar, conspiratorial grin. “He’s fine. He’s just been... glitter-traumatized.”

“Is that a real condition?” you asked.

Mattheo’s voice dropped a notch as he leaned a little closer. “Want to help me find out?”

You gave him a sideways glance, pretending your heart didn’t trip over itself. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re asking me to commit a crime before noon.”

He smirked, tapping the countertop between you with his finger. “Come on, receptionist. Live a little.”

Before you could answer, Enzo appeared, holding a suspiciously oversized croissant and wearing the expression of a man who knew far too much.

“Just to be clear,” he said, mouth full, “are we all pretending that you two aren’t in love, or…?”

You choked on your tea. Mattheo turned and gave him a long, slow blink. “Do you ever start a conversation normally?”

Enzo held up his hands. “I’m just saying - if I had someone looking at me like that every morning, I’d probably have proposed by now.”

Mattheo glanced at you again. His smile shifted, softened. Less teasing. More real. And for a moment, it felt like something charged and unspoken settled in the space between you - a question neither of you had asked out loud.

But before anything could come of it, a shrill, victorious laugh echoed from down the hallway.

“Oh no,” you muttered.

“...He’s sprung the trap, hasn’t he?” Mattheo asked.

“Definitely,” Enzo said. “And he’s way too smug about it.”

Sure enough, Draco reappeared seconds later, eyes wide with triumph and goggles slightly askew.

“I knew it,” he barked. “Don’t act surprised - I saw the glitter residue. The prank empire ends today.”

“Is that what you named this? A ‘prank empire’?” you asked dryly.

Draco ignored you. “I’ve installed anti-prank wards across the office. Invisible, advanced, and regulated by magical law. Any trickery, and-” He paused, then pulled out a little red orb from his pocket. “This detonates.”

You blinked. “Detonates?”

Blaise, walking in with a latte, frowned. “Like…explodes?”

“No,” Draco sniffed. “It alerts me.”

Mattheo tapped the orb lightly. “So it yells at us?”

Draco bristled. “It’s an alert system!”

“Right,” Mattheo said, turning to you with a glimmer in his eye. “Definitely not a glittery magical snitch.”

Enzo reached for the orb. “If I charm this thing to meow every time it goes off, does that count as sabotage or improvement?”

“Touch it and I hex your eyebrows off,” Draco snapped.

Mattheo, still watching you, leaned in close enough for your shoulders to brush. “Let me guess,” he murmured, voice low and sweet, “you’ve got a better plan already.”

Your cheeks warmed. “You think I don’t?”

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, eyes flickering to your mouth for just a second too long. “The real question is… do I get to help?”

Your breath caught slightly. The way he looked at you - like he already knew the answer - made it hard to remember why you hadn’t crossed that line yet.

Thankfully - or unfortunately - Enzo spoke up.

“Or,” he said casually, “you two could just go on a date already and stop setting the building on fire with your eye contact.”

Mattheo didn’t even flinch. He just turned back to him, still smiling. “What do you think the glitter bombs were? Foreplay?”

Draco sputtered.

Blaise nearly dropped his latte.

You blinked at Mattheo, somewhere between mortified and impressed.

He arched a brow at you. “Too much?”

You shook your head slowly. “Only slightly.”

There was a pause, and then-

BANG.

The red orb Draco had been holding suddenly burst into shimmering purple mist. It clung to him like fog, swirling and hissing, before erupting into a chorus of cats meowing furiously.

Enzo blinked. “Okay, so maybe I touched it a little.”

Draco screamed something about betrayal and stormed out, the orb still meowing behind him like a haunted nursery rhyme.

Mattheo turned to you again, grinning.

“So,” he said. “Lunch break prank planning?”

You smiled, eyes lingering on him longer than you meant to. “Only if you buy me a muffin first.”

He offered you his arm like it was an inside joke. “For you, anything.”

[floraltypes]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ psychic lies (🔮)

Pairing - jim halpert x fem!reader

Synopsis - a new woman has opened a psychic shop in the building, and Michael is determined to have her come into the office to showcase her talents. however, when jim mentions her looks, a twinge of jealousy starts to stir in Y/N. now, with the new woman in the picture, Y/N can't help but worry that jim might fall for her.

"Good morning, loyal citizens of Dundermill!" Michael cheered out, loudly entering the office with a slam of the front door and displaying himself right by Pam's desk. His hands were extended outwards to showcase his image, dressed in a tighter-fitting blue suit (maybe a woman's once again) adorned by his classic hair do of it slicked back but one side heavier than the other. He awaited in silence as you and your fellow coworkers were still getting comfortable in their respected areas.

Dwight popped dutifully out of the backroom, a hot cup of coffee in hand that slightly spilled onto the skin of his hand, resulting in a quick curse. Nonetheless, he still rushed towards Michael.

"Good morning, Michael!" He responded, giving him a large grin while trying to avoid the slight spill trail following him to the boss.

"Yes, hello, Dwight," He quietly regarded the man, his cheery demeanor dissipating in the slightest before he addressed the room once again. "Anyone notice anything new?"

"You got new insoles for your shoes so that you'd be taller?" Phyllis looked over at him, swiveling in her chair while squinting her eyes at the black pair.

"What? No!" Michael shook his head quickly, rolling his eyes slightly. "Look again; it might be tinner than you are expecting."

"Oo!" Kelly jumped from behind Stanley, raising her hand high up in the air.

"Ah yes, Kelly! The fashionista yourself would notice," He winked over at her while putting a little spin on his voice with the word 'fashionista'.

"You finally popped that large zit on your left cheek," she nodded with determination as whispers seemed to erupt around the office at that notice.

"What? You guys are so bad at this! And my zit is not big, not like the one on your nose" He laughed, looking around the room for acknowledgement of his words. "Roasted!"

"Oh Michael," Pam groaned from beside him, shaking her head in embarrassment.

"What? It was funny, she said-"

"Not cool," Oscar piped up, a look of disappointment on his features.

"Whatever," Michael lightly stomped, pinning the attention back onto him. "Okay, last hint, it's lower."

"Michael?" You spoke up, sitting at your desk with your steaming cup of coffee and loading the computer screen across from you.

"Ah yes, y/n! You got it; go ahead."

"Don't tell me you're referring to," your eyes widen, trying to show an indication to a lower area past his waistline far from being appropriate.

"I don't think you should be talking about enlargement medication in the workplace," Jim was quick to chip in, not before sending you a little glare and then delivering the sentence with complete seriousness and tone that seemed to represent concern.

Groans erupted around the room of disgust, shaking their heads or covering their eyes, besides an overly curious Meredith, who took a few steps forward.

"Michael, that is beyond being appropriate for work and truly very sinful." Angela emphasized.

"You all ruined this completely appropriate work guessing game! Now I'll just have to tell you which ruins all the fun." He grumbled, reaching up to hold out a small pin on his shirt. "I got a new pin to support the new business in the building. It's of the sign Aries because that is what I am!"

"That's great, Michael." You put up a fake, small smile, nodding to the man before spinning back to start typing at your screen.

"See! Thank you for someone understanding the excitement. Alright, now all back to work, except I will need to see my best man in my office." Michael shot finger guns in front of him, landing between the two men.

"Coming!" Dwight voiced, rushing to stand closer to Michael's new position near his office door.

"I was referring to Jim," his voice trailed off. "But you can come too."

"Would you want me to come too, Michael?" Kevin questioned, standing tall at his desk.

"Oh no, no, we are good," He waved his hands back and forth in means of denial.

"If I'm not out in five, I'll need backup," Jim muttered to you, a small giggle leaving at his comment. "I'm serious, L/N."

"No, of course, of course, I'll be there!" You jokingly saluted him.

"You're one of the good ones, he sent one of his classic looks to the cameras, moving to walk into Michael's office. 

"What did I mean by that?" Jim sits in the uncomfortable chair, opened blinds behind him as he speaks to the camera for the confessional. "Well, it's just a joke, a saying."

There are mumbles that errupt behind the camera and a slight zoom in to where you are seated at your desk, working diligently, hair falling a bit messily around your face.

"Y/n is just different from everyone else. I mean, that is pretty obvious; you guys have even seen these guys," He let out a small chuckle, scratching at the back of his neck. "She's kinder but not so kind that she can't make a quick quip back when needed. I mean, she's super dedicated and looks cute even—that doesn't matter. She's just different."

"So, I've gathered you both here today to discuss a very serious matter." Michael sat at his desk, hands clasped together, as he stared down at the two men in front of him. "The economy is turning into all these big companies, and it's not okay! We need to help the small business; it is our duty as a company for the people!"

"You do realize we are now a fairly large company ourselves?" Jim reminded his boss.

"See, that proves why we have to help the little man out. Lucille, the wonderful woman who created this specialty pin just for me -"

"It looks like a generic zodiac sign pin." Dwight put his hands on the desk, pushing his chest forward so that his face could get a more upclose look at the pin on Michael's suit.

"No, Dwight, it's a specialty. Men, Lucille needs our help, and luckily enough, for us, she can help us too. It's too tense in this office with all the ups and downs the bigwigs are putting us through. We need a little fun. She does special fortune-telling sessions and I think we bring her in."

"Michael, if I may?" Dwight raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"If this is done on company time, it is vastly irresponsible and also fortune tellers are fake."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Jim asked, highly interested in the conversation now.

"Obviously, my Aunt Sherlie's basement was haunted with her Uncle Lenord, my great uncle. He was a dangerous man so sparks always flew from the wiring down there."

"No more aunts and uncles," Michael waved his hand, snapping Dwight out of his thoughts before he kept rambling on. "Jim, what do you think?"

"I don't think it's great."

"Don't you want to know about your future? Who will you soon date? Who you'll be getting it on with?"

A knock at his door stopped the sounds of distaste leaving from those across from him. Michael got up and opened the door to where you stood with a kind smile, quickly eyeing Jim before looking back at your boss.

"There seems to be someone needing to speak to you at the front door of the building. He called on the phone and I answered it since Pam is in the bathroom."

"Oh, okay," Michael turned back to the men. "Alright, think long and hard!" He moved out of his office to go and find the mystery caller.

"Did they say a name? It could be dangerous if not," Dwight commented, concern etched on his features.

"Maybe you should go with him for protection," you innocently replied, moving over to take the seat Dwight once occupied with his frame rushing after Michael. "So, loyal soldier here to save."

"Quick on your feet, L/N, impressive," Jim complimented. "Things are getting dangerous. Michael wants to invite the new lady with the fortune business to do a fortune telling for the whole office."

"The one he got the pin from?"

"Exactly."

"That could be interesting; do you believe in that stuff Halpert?"

"Oh, I read my daily horoscope always in the papers." You both laughed at his sarcasm. "No, he just wants her because she's hot."

"Oh?" You questioned, your voice faltering in the slightest, which caused you to try and cough it off. "She's hot?"

"Well, you know?"

"What?"

"Micheal thinks everyone but Meredith and Phyliss are hot. Anyone under thirty-five."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?" It felt to Jim as if he were sweating at this moment, hands being wiped repeatedly against his pants leg as he prayed to get out of this sinking hole.

"Find her hot?" You leaned in very close to his figure, your face much closer to his and there was a slight expansion of the top part of your shirt, allowing more skin of the upper area to be exposed. Though you or him didn't say anything more as the door was swung back open and you quickly sat back with a fired-up Michael and Dwight rolling in.

"There was no one there!" Dwight was quick to tell you.

"That's so weird!" You stood up, walking over to the front door. "I swear there was this really convincing voice over the phone," you trailed off, pretending to be lost in thought. "Wait, you don't think...?"

"Think what?" Michael wondered in response.

"Well, that new girl has her business now; what if the spirits followed her and it was a ghost?"

"That seems highly plausible," Dwight nodded at your assumption. "They are known to follow those that associate with them. Michael, it could be dangerous messing with her."

It felt as though there was an awkward air between you and Jim the rest of the day. He would try to make little jokes but they just weren't landing the right way or had the same amount of comedic timing as all of his other pieces. It was so oblviant that even Pam had caught on to the off nature that Jim was exuding. Luckily for Pam, she could read her best friend like a book, cutting it up to an awkward interaction that he must've had with you.

"It isn't that bad," she shrugged, collecting a few leaves of the lettuce in her bowl and catching some extra dressing and tomato onto her fork.

"Really?" Jim looked at her as if she were lying, chomping on his tuna salad sandwich after. "She was not herself and I felt..."

"You felt what?"

"Weird."

"Would you feel weird if it was, let's say, Angela? Like if she seemed out of character?" Pam pointed her fork at him, now filled with a new bite of salad.

"Well, no, not really. What are you trying to say?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Pam laughed at the camera, sending it an incredulous look. "Obviously, I'm trying to get Jim to recognize his agonizing crush on the girl. I'm his best friend; of course it's plain in sight for me."

"Well, Pam," the camera panned over to where Andy sat, one eyebrow raised, and his legs crossed. "Tuna and I go way back. We are practically brothers in a way. So, I, of course, as his brother from another mother, can tell he digs her. One time Angela made a comment about her outfit and Jim was like some scary monster!"

"It wasn't that bad." Pam looked at Andy, shaking her head with a weirded-out expression. She then angled over back to the camera, "He was pretty angry though; put her on the spot real quickly!"

"I am thrilled you all could make it today!" Michael cheered, standing in front of the conference room with his hand wide and the classic white board written on with 'Let's go psycho for the psychic!"

"You said this was mandatory," Stanley commented, flipping to another page of his crossword.

"Well, you still could have decided not to come," Michael tried to explain.

"You said you wouldn't pay us if we didn't," Ryan reminded him.

"Actually, due to the business policies, Michael isn't allowed to withhold pay for those not attending this," Toby quickly explained to the group.

"If I could withhold pay, yours would be first," Michael grumbled, shaking his head before putting back on his cheery expression. "Okay, fine, if you don't want to be here, then leave." He sighed.

Immediately at his words, Stanley, Creed, Meredith, Ryan, Kevin, Oscar, and Angela left the room. Kevin was visibly disapointed in the lack of refreshments for the occasion, Angela with the unholyness of such an event, and the others all their own reasoning. You stood up to exit, but the man besides you—Jim—reached up to hold you by the wrist, sending a pleading glare to stay. Which you answered by taking back your seat.

"Well, fine, we don't need those haters!" Michael yelled the last word louder, hoping those outside of the conference room would hear. "Now, who came up with this?" He pointed to the whiteboard.

"I did," Phyllis shyly raised her hand, a small smile on her lips. "I was talking about it with Bob, my husband, and he thought it was pretty creative."

"Well, that doesn't mean anything," Michael rolled his eyes, crossing out the 'psycho' and rewriting on top of it 'happy'.

"Let's go happy for psychics?" Pam read the board.

"We want Lucille to know we are happy, not insult her." Michael explained, smiling proudly at his work.

"Isn't it true that all psychics are psycho?" Dwight had spoken up, though unfortunately his words were poorly timed, as at the same moment the woman in question opened the door into the conference room carrying a filled purple sack.

"Oh, really now?" she questioned, heaving over while trying to lift the gigantic bag, basically dragging it now into the room. Michael quickly stepped over, trying to take the bag from her and sling it over his own shoulder but instead was not met with such luck, leaving him to have to drag it as well.

"I have spoken to fellow friends apart from my laser tag group; they have been in a few runs with witches like you."

"Well, I do not classify myself as a witch."

"Yeah, she looks nothing like one! She's really hot," Andy mentioned from the row behind you. The girl in question brushed some hair away, smiling graciously at his comment.

"Thank you," she accepted the compliment and began to pull out different materials onto the table, a crystal ball, a deck of cards, and multitudes of other random items.

"Do we really know how credible she is?" You leaned over, cupping your hand to whisper in Jim's ear. "Why is there a random shoelace?"

Your breath felt hot on his skin, sending shivers up his spine along with a rising pink that brushed over his cheeks. He tried to cover up his subtle laugh, earning a rude stare from the bossman himself.

"Let's get started," she cheered, Michael jumping up to be the first person to get his fortune read and engage in all the different activities that she was offering.

"So? Is she the hot girl you were wanting?" You let one hand rest on the armbench of the chair, placing your other arm on top and leaning over to give him a little stare, narrowing in on his expression as if you could decipher if he sees such attractiveness in the blonde in front.

"Woah, I never said I was wanting one," he quickly declined, waving his hands all around in order to express his deep feelings about not wanting the connection to this being his goal. "This was all Michael, all him wanting a hot girl."

"Wouldn't you want one?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, trying to catch the slight twinkle in your eye—the way you stared so deeply and paid close attention to his words. Soon enough, the both of you were shushed, as apparently Michael 'was getting deeply distracted' enough, 'deeply affecting Lucille's concentration'.

His session definitely played out the longest, continually picking out different things or questioning a simple sentence she said just to keep her attention on him for as long as available. Though her gaze kept slipping through to where you and Jim tried to keep your giggles on the down low. You both wrote on spare pieces of paper from your notebook, playing tik-tak-toe, scheming different pranks to pull on Dwight, and commenting on Dwights incessant comments about the legitimacy of her practices, and noticing Phyllis's large interest and passion to get more involved. You and the man were always able to find little ways to connect in those boring, unkown moments that working at such a paper mill brought along.

"I would say I'm sensing some spiritual pull between Jim and Y/n over here," Pam finally spoke aloud, her expression filled with deep boredom as she tried to write down all that Lucille was saying to Michael due to his orders. "What would you say, Miss Lucille?"

"You know," the girl turned to watch once more as the two of you bonded, soon enough looking back at Michael, who was still wanting more. "Hon, there are more people wanting to go," she patted the top of Michael's hand. "We should let them enjoy; I will have to go soon too."

"Well, okay, but if we have extra time we can loop back to me," Michael nodded, staring down at where her hand once touched his own.

"Alright, time to switch!" She announced with much excitement, eyes scanning the crowd as if to choose.

"I would love to go." Phyllis raised her hand, setting down the knitting gear that once preoccupied her time to the empty chair beside her.

"No, not you," Lucille dragged her hand across the multiple empty chairs as if she were looking back, deciding on who in the crowd to choose. "You," she pointed at Jim, who was pointing at something on the paper. He looked up to Lucille in utter shock, which furthered even more as she got up from her own place to pull him from the chair and into the one by her own.

"Oh, I am okay," he shook his head, reluctantly following her to the chair, giving a couple look backs at where you sat with a concerned expression. "I know Dwight, this guy over here," he pointed over to where the man sat with a scowl. "He would love to get some information on your business."

"No, I want you. I am sensing a multitude of energy from you—very hot, red energy," she dragged on, taking a look at him by dragging her eyes up and down his body. "The spirits are calling to me."

"Well, that is a little frightening," he uncomfortably laughed. She took his hands in hers, taking them and then soon comparing her size of hand to his.

"Wow, such strong, big hands. Clearly you are one destined for greatness."

"Uh," it was clear to almost anyone—except the psychic trying her very hardest to flirt and Michael, who was widely jealous—that Jim was not in the best place and very much searching for an avenue to get away.

"Oh Jim, we have to go make that call to the sales rep of Rocky's reps, that fitness center." You stood up, walking over to try and offer an opportunity so he could have an out.

"Just take it yourself," Lucille was quick to speak up, now looking you over. "Do your job?" she turned to Michael, putting on her best pouty face. "Michael, right?" The man in question nodded with much enthusiasm and pride. "It is important that I do Jim," she turned back to the man in question, "Is it?" to which he just stared at her as she switched back to Michael, "So then I can do you," she said flirtaously.

"Y/n, go take the call," Michael demanded, shooing you away, leaving Lucille with a victorious smile. You followed your boss's commands, leaving the conference room to see the rest of the office empty, and went to begin packing your things for the weekend to come.

"I should really be on thi-" Jim had tried to speak before Lucille pulled his hands to now touch the crystal ball, her hands encasing his on the cheap plastic.

"I am sensing something about your romantic life."

"Alright, tuna," Andy cheered.

"It seems that today you will be offered to make a move on one special beauty. The confidence will overtake you once you touch hands with the one who you are to be more with," her eyes winked over at him, rubbing his skin. "You are a lucky man."

"Well, that is enough." He pulled his hands away from the woman, stuffing them into his pockets as he got out of the chair. "I do not want to take away all the time because Michael hasn't even gotten to see your trick with that.." he leaned over to look at the assortment of odd products on the table. "Bean can?"

"Yes! You are right, Jimbo." Michael stood up quickly, taking Jim's seat and giving her the tuna can. "Now this looks fancy."

With this opportunity, Jim made a quick exit, heading to the office in hopes of finding you sitting. Unfortunately, you were gone from the area, so in response, he speedily packed up his things and rushed to make it to the front of the building. Once making it out to the cold, he noticed you standing by the door, one earbud in, arms wrapped around your body as you tried to keep as much heat in as possible.

"She definitely is not a real psychic," Jim laughed, coming up besides you as he still tried to button up the remaining buttons of his jacket. "I mean, there was a bean can." He waited for your response—a little laugh or quick quip back—but instead he was met with silence. "What's going on?" He put his hand on your shoulder to where you finally turned around to face him, little tears falling down your cheeks. "Y/n!"

"I am fine," you shook your head, trying to wipe the tears away with your mittens. "I am sorry for being odd lately."

"What is going on?"

"I do not know how to explain without making it weird," you fidgitied with your mittens, trying to pull it on and off until you slipped your grip and the acessory hit the ground. Both you and Jim bent over to grab it, hands touching one another before he grabbed it for you.

"Let me help," he said, taking your hand in his cold one, opening up the mitten so that you could push your fingers in. "You always have such trouble once you have the other one on," he lightly chuckled, one you now returned.

"Thanks," was all you replied with, looking down at the ground that began to pile up with snow. "You can go ahead; I am just waiting for a cab."

"I did not think she was hot," Jim admitted, now catching your attention so that you noticed his concerned look resonating on you. "She is not my type. To be honest, I like someone who is funny, where we share a connection and jokes."

"Oh."

"Someone I work with, desk right next to me. Someone who is widely specific in the routine for how she dresses for the outdoors, who is meticulous about her sandwhich choices, has a waterbottle filled with random stickers, and actually listens to Phyllis drain on and on about her relationship with Bob. Somehow."

"It is not easy," you grinned.

"I like you, L/N. Not Lucille, the fake psychic, or a random bartender at Poor Richards. I don't want them; I want you."

And to his confession, you were quick to place your covered hands on both of his cheeks, leaning his face down in order to place your lips upon his, a small snowflake methodically landing upon both of your noses at the special moment. It was nothing long, but definitely said all that there needed to be, and with that, you two separated, cheesy grins taking over.

"I will admit, she is fake but she did say I would touch hands with someone beautiful and gain courage to express attraction. Maybe she knows what she is saying."

"Oh, quit it."

the office masterlist

[burkhaart]

changes i would make to that 70s show if i had the power

starting in 1970 so we can explore the full decade

we get to follow the gang into their early adult years

keep the socipolitical themes present throughout the entire show

buddy as a recurring side character

jackie and kelso's final breakup is s2's and then we just have fun with a slow burn zenmasters god bless and we actually get to see it

fez finally comes out of the closet once he graduates high school

fez would be a real character instead of a creep and we would explore him being an immigrant except we're doing it right

never dumbing down jackie. we love you overachiever popular mean girls

pam would remain a career woman instead of dumbing her down, this would explain her being an absent mother for jackie and also she can still be promiscuous because sex doesnt make women stupid

more exploration of jackie's broken family

i know this has more to do with the real life actors but in an ideal world laurie, midge and leo are permanent side characters

eric, donna and jackie are not obsessed with teenage marriage

hyde starts liking jackie in the prom episode but he obviously refuses to admit it

i'll keep adding more as i watch lol

[feyhunter78]

Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights

Art Cred: Kimmy_art0912 on Insta! Description: Among pulsating music, colorful lights, and a few girls who can't keep their eyes to themselves tensions rise, and your patience has finally run out. Happy Valentine's Day my loves!

The music is loud, blaring through the speakers, vibrating through the floor, multicolored lights spin, casting circles of neon colors across the walls of the bar. The smell of spilled drinks and perfume fills the air as you enter, your hand gripping Miguel’s bicep as you scan the room for Janey.

It’s been…a bit weird since your encounter in Miguel’s room a few weeks ago. At first, you were afraid you’d fucked up, that you had overstepped and ruined your friendship, but then it all kinda went back to normal. As normal as the tentative relationship between two people who almost kissed could be.

When you invited him to be your date for your sorority’s semiformal, on Valentine’s Day no less, you were so very afraid. What if he said no, what if everything you thought you saw, that you felt back in his room was all in your head? Which is why you said as friends right as he said yes. No going back then, so you—like a coward—played up the platonicness of it all, and tried to pretend like you weren’t avoiding eye contact.

Then everything got even weirder with the whole Ava thing. You swore up and down to everyone—except Mina—that you and Miguel are purely platonic, even when you gave him the cold shoulder and cried over him talking with his ex. Super embarrassing, no one but Miguel potentially believed you, and now you’re in a prison of your own making. You should’ve just grabbed him when he came to your door to apologize, should’ve kissed him when he stood in your room admiring his costume. Why didn’t you?

One of your sisters drifts by, bumping into Miguel, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she apologizes.

Right, that’s why, because you’re jealous and insecure and can’t stand to see other people flirt with him. So it’s better to just keep your distance so you don’t end up crying again.

Miguel’s bicep is solid under your grasp, so large your hand can’t even grip all of it.

The theme of the night was Great Lovers of History, which was a fancy way of saying dress like your favorite couple. It wasn’t hard to pick a costume, you, and Miguel both love the novel Dracula, even if it wasn’t as popular as the movie was. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making some undignified noise when you saw how good Miguel looked. Those stupid huge muscles bulging, his broad chest, his toned back, he somehow made the ridiculous costume look impressive, and he even wore red contacts to get that perfect vampiric look.

You of course looked hot as hell, dressed in a flowy, but scandalously low cut white dress, hair curled and bouncy. Bram Stoker had never named Dracula’s Brides, but there was one, seemingly the eldest, that he favored over the other, so you decided to claim her role for the night.

“I don’t see Janey yet, she said she was already here.” You yell over the music, throwing a smile to one of your sisters as she passes by with her date. They’re dressed like Jim and Pam from The Office, it’s cute, a bit basic, but cute.

“Maybe she’s at the bar?” Miguel suggests leaning down to hear you better as he guides you through the crowd.

You can see people’s eyes on him, drinking him in, and feel another stab of jealousy. You know he looks hot, but he’s your date, not theirs. They can keep their eyes to themselves.

Janey and her date Eddie are dressed like Elizabeth and Mr. Darcey. You spot them immediately, right at the bar where Miguel suggested they might be.

You gush over Janey’s outfit, and she gushes over yours, and for a while that’s it. It’s a nice night, you drink, have fun with your friends, dance with Miguel, try not to feel insane over the number of times you have to remind someone that Miguel is here with you, and generally have a good time.

Then someone starts crying. It’s a new member, one whose Big is currently more interested in making out with her boyfriend in one of the bar’s booths than paying attention to her Little.

The new member, Addy, has tears in her eyes and mascara running down her cheeks as you usher her towards the bathroom, promising Miguel you’ll be back as soon as someone is able to break Danika away from her boyfriend.

You dry Addy’s tears while she tells you that she’s just so overwhelmed. That she brought the guy she has a crush on with her, but he seems more interested in one of the other girls in her new member class than her.

“And then Kaley said, ‘oh we have a class together, I was just saying hi,’ but like why don’t you just say hi then leave, why is she trying to dance with him?” Addy sobs, taking the paper towels from your hands and burying her face in them.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but I’m sure he’s just trying to be nice and that’s why he’s dancing with her.” You coo, smoothing down her hair.

“And her boobs look so much better than mine.” Addy continues, flinging herself into your arms, and hiding her face in the crook of your neck.

“What? No, no way, you look amazing! And hey, if that’s why he’s dancing with her than he’s an ass, and you deserve better.”

“She literally brought her own date, and she’s been ignoring him! Spencer is a nice guy, we had Intro to Philosophy together last semester, and he took really good notes, so he would let me borrow them when I missed something or got sick. And, and he’s like super cute, I don’t know why she wouldn’t just stay with him.”

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you should go talk with Spencer then, if your date is going to be an asshole, then there’s nothing wrong with talking to someone who isn’t. You don’t even have to dance with him, just go say hi. I bet he’s feeling the same way you are.”

Addy sniffles and nods, wiping away the last of her tears. “Yeah, Spencer has a really big heart, I’m sure he’s upset.”

You give her an encouraging smile and keep your hand on her upper back, supporting her as she walks past her date, who is very clearly staring at Kaley’s boobs.

Spencer pops his head up when he sees Addy, a smile spreading across his lips. “Hey Addy, you doing okay? I um…I saw you crying, I wanted to go over, but…”

“I’m okay, how about you? We’re kinda in the same boat, aren’t we?” She says, taking the seat next to him.

He scoots over so she has more room, his head dipping down to hear her better, his body language screaming I like you; I feel safe with you. It’s adorable, you feel like Cupid, as you watch the two immediately fall into a deep discussion about emotions and the philosophy behind them.

Now that Addy was taken care of, you roll your shoulders out and stop at the bar before heading back towards the dance floor. You don’t really know how it happened but two shots later and everything you’ve been drinking the whole night is finally catching up with you.

The only thing on your mind is Miguel, how much you adore him, how handsome he looks, how every fake bitch in this room has been eyeing him like a hyena eyes a wounded gazelle. You have to find him; you can’t leave your wounded gazelle all alone in this pack of jackals.

You find him, but he’s not alone. Your sister, though not one you particularly care for, is talking to him, well, trying to at least.

Dana is dressed pretty basic, red dress, and heels. You’re not sure who she’s supposed to be, and she doesn’t look bad, but the dress is too small, it doesn’t fit her right, and the color makes her skin look washed out.

“So, who are you with?” Dana shouts over the music, clearly unable to see you as you approach from the side, basically hidden by the other dancers.

“Y/N.” Miguel answers, eyes darting back to the bathroom entrance, your drink still in his hand, his discarded somewhere.

Poor thing, he didn’t see you leave.

“She left you all alone? That’s so mean.” Dana says, giving him an overexaggerated pout.

“She went to take care of a new member.” He says, always so quick to defend you.

She trails a finger down his chest, batting her eyelashes up at him. “Still, she shouldn’t leave a handsome thing like you alone.”

Miguel goes red, taking a step back, sputtering. “I—um, thank you, but I’m here with y/n, and—”

“Yeah, but y/n’s not here now, come on, live a little.” She takes your drink from Miguel’s hand. “This yours?”

Before he can say anything, she drains it, and smiles at him.

“That uh…that wasn’t mine.” Miguel says, taking another step back as she loops her arms around his neck and tries to pull him down to her level.

“Oh, too bad, and it looks like y/n still isn’t back, obviously you’re not that important to her, so why don’t you follow me upstairs?”

“Upstairs is blocked off.” Miguel says, so sweet, so oblivious. “And I’m waiting for y/n.”

He tries to gently push Dana away, but she hangs on. “Ugh, come on, y/n is so lame, don’t you want to have fun? You can have fun with me.”

You’ve had enough, blood boiling, you tap her on the shoulder, making both her and Miguel jump.

“Dana, your date is looking for you.” You say, saccharine sweet smile on your lips, your voice dripping with honey coated venom.

She untangles herself from Miguel, who looks like you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Ugh, he’s so needy. Anyways, come find me if you need me, Miguel.”

The moment she leaves, Miguel turns to you, apologies spilling from his lips like water. “Y/N, I swear nothing happened, she just came up to me, and I told her I was here with you, but she kept going, and then she wanted me to go upstairs with her, and I told her upstairs is closed, and I was waiting for you and—”

You grab him by the neck of his costume and drag him off the dance floor, past the pitiful sign that asks people to stay away from the second floor, and up the stairs. Usually, the upper floor is open to the public. It’s a more secluded seating area with its own smaller bar and thick glass walls that block out some of the sound from below, bisected by cement pillars offering a modicum of privacy.

You’re tired of this, of watching everyone else get to grab him, touch him, flirt with him, he’s yours.

It’s darker on the second level, only a few safety lights, and the multicolored strobe lights flashing up from the first floor. It’s quieter as well, you can finally hear yourself think.

You keep walking until you find the corner booth and shove Miguel into it. Not for the first time you’re glad these damn booths are so big, Miguel can sit properly, facing you, without having to scrunch up. The alcohol in your system is making you brave, and a little horny, but mostly brave. You can see its effects on Miguel as well, the flush of his cheeks, the slight glaze in his eyes.

“Dulzura, please, don’t be upset, I promise, nothing happened, I wouldn’t—I’m here with you, and I know that we’re here as—as friends, but still, I wouldn’t…I didn’t—still don’t want to dance or spend time with anyone else.”

He looks so pretty, stumbling over his words, his hair all ruffled, his tone so sweet and pleading. You want him, bad. You know you shouldn’t. You were the one who said it was platonic, just friends, but when he’s here, looking the way he does, and everyone is circling around him like vultures, you just…

Fuck it.

You straddle him, grab his face, and kiss him.

Miguel short circuits, hands frozen in midair, body tense, and then it’s like a dam opens. His hands on your hips, pulling you closer, his lips moving in synchronicity with yours, warm, plush, the taste of tequila on his tongue, or maybe it’s yours, you can’t tell anymore. You’re practically devouring him with how desperate you are to finally, finally kiss him.

“Fuck, Miguel, I—I can’t be just friends with you, I can’t do it anymore.” You admit, breath catching in your throat when Miguel grabs your ass, his big warm hands hauling you even closer. “I need more, we have to be more.”

“We can be anything, anything you want.” Miguel says breathlessly, his glasses fogging up from the heat between you.

You tug his head back by his hair and attach your lips to his neck, biting down hard, intent on leaving your mark. “Don’t want other girls thinking you’re up for grabs, you’re mine, been mine since the first day of class.”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours y/n.” He whimpers, his hands caressing your body nonsensically, as if he can’t decide where to put them.

“Such a good boy for me, Miguel, looking so handsome, always so sweet, always saying just the right thing.” You continue your onslaught until his neck looks like a crime scene.

“Kiss me, please y/n, I need—please, please, I’ve wanted this for so long, please kiss me again.” Miguel begs breathlessly, looking absolutely wrecked.

So, you do, gladly, over, and over, and over again, until he builds the courage to tangle his hands in your hair, to venture under your skirt and grip your bare thighs, as he moans and squirms beneath you.

You can’t fuck him here, it’s too public, too rushed, especially knowing what you know, there’s no way in hell you’ll let Miguel’s first time be a drunken quickie at a bar. So, you pull back, cupping his cheeks, smiling softly when he whines and tries to chase after your lips.

You press your thumb to his lips, shaking your head. “We can’t, not here.”

“Why not?” He whines, pupils blown wide with lust, chest rising and falling rapidly, his grip brushing on your thigh and hip.

“Because I like you, and I respect you, so I won’t fuck you in a bar.” You tell him, pressing a chaste kiss to his kiss swollen lips before sliding from his lap.

Miguel pouts, actually pouts at you, and you nearly give in, but you steel yourself.

“Come on sweet boy, let’s go back to the party.”

He blinks at you as if he’s coming up from underwater, slow, liquid, then he bites his lip. “I um…I’m going to need a minute.”

You glance down and heat rushes to your face.

He’s hard, and huge, like massive, and your resolve starts to waver.

“What if I just?” You sit astride his lap and ghost your fingers over his covered cock. “Give you a hand?”

Nerd!Miguel Masterlist and the "part two" here

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425

[michaelscottsbreakroom]

Uptight – Jim Halpert

This is just a little cutesy one-shot with our favorite golden retriever: Jim Halpert. I think he needs more writings done with readers or even Pam. Honestly, it would just be fun to read about him more. I kinda wanna do a part 2 on this... idk... I hope you like it!!

Everyone knew Jim Halpert. Jim Halpert knew everyone well enough. He talked to people, smiled and laughed with them, and pranked stuck up asses.

Well… except you…

You were uptight, in a work way. You never slacked off, only took off when you were sick. Which was never.

You sat with Jim and Dwight, usually typing and helping clients set up their paper orders.

Jim thought you were beautiful. So average, so basic, so perfect. Sometimes, he would wonder to himself, as he glanced at you, how different would you act outside of work?

His small friendly crush was a secret to everyone, especially you. Jim knew I’d you found out, his life, with you, would be over. Forever.

Today was a normal day in the office— you working your ass off while Jim annoyed Dwight a little by talking louder than usual.

It annoyed you as well, but you didn’t say anything.

“Anyways” Jim said to nobody on the phone, “I cannot believe that that happened!” He half yelled, making you sigh.

Jim glanced at you, his face falling. You were annoyed. He could tell by the cute frown on your face and the face you were chewing your gum a bit harsher then normal.

“I have to get back to you,” he said quietly, glancing away, “bye,”

Although it was a fake call, he set the phone down.

Glancing over at you, seeing that you were already staring back at him, made his heart flutter softly.

“Thanks,” was all you said to him, the first thing you said to him since yesterday, and soon, the receiver was up to your ear from an incoming call.

Jim felt his heart warm at your cold statement. You were like a cat, he was like a dog. How funny.

——

The rest of the day went by smoothly, in your opinion. The room had finally been put at a comfortable temperature, since some people liked it colder than others.

You looked at the clock and hummed. Exactly five, so you got up and grabbed your old red leather purse and the cardigan you brought.

Without saying goodbye, you pushed in your chair and left the office, hearing scrapes from other people’s desk chairs as they left.

Leaving the reception, when you stepped out the rain that was forecasted earlier had come ten times harder than told in the weather news this morning.

Your umbrella was in your car, which was across the street.

“Oh my gosh…” you whispered angrily to yourself, watching the cloud.

Jim walked out a few seconds behind you, seeing that you were trying to drape your favorite cardigan over your head, now looking rather annoyed.

He could help but smile, seeing he could be the knight in shining armor.

“You want me to walk you?” Jim said to your right. You looked up slightly to see the sweet smile of Jim Halpert, holding a black umbrella in between the two of you.

You hummed, looking down to hide a smile. “Yes, please,” you whispered shamefully, “I didn’t know it was going to rain this hard…”

Jim laughed. “Nor did I. This is Michael’s umbrella,”

You gasped, your eyebrows furrowing. “Jim!” You said, about to tell him off.

With the happiest laugh you heard, Jim started chuckling, showing off his cute lopsided smile.

A warmth bubbled in your stomach, your heart beating ever so much faster.

“I’m just joking,” he said cheekily, “let’s go,”

The two walked in silence, you blushing like mad, Jim smiling like a goon. It was cute for the cameras to record.

Michael watched through the blinds with the cameras, sighing.

“Office romance: the sweetest kind of romance, in my opinion."

[remember-2-dismember]

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Music: Motörhead, Tank, Interceptor, Xasthur, Mayhem, Metallica, Darkthrone, Rammstein, Alice In Chains, Sabire, Bathory, KMFDM, Bulldozer, The Smashing Pumpkins, Venom, Underworld, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Slayer, Cocteau Twins, Kidneythieves, Lifelover, The Chemical Brothers, Napalm Death, The Prodigy, Whiplash, Nine Inch Nails, Hellripper, Black Sabbath, Sodom, Die Sektor, Abigail, Sisters Of Mercy, Pentagram, Satyricon, Rob Zombie

Movies: Pulp Fiction, Nosferatu (1922), Natural Born Killers, Cannibal Holocaust, The Matrix, Metallords, From Dusk Till Dawn, August Underground, 2 Fast 2 Furious, The Godfather, The Virgin Suicides, Dazed and Confused, Inglorious Bastards, Lords of Chaos, Ring, Easy Rider, Terminator, Carrie (1976), Deathgasm, The Lost Highway, Creep 2, Batman Begins

Shows: Dexter, Rick & Morty, Twin Peaks, Beavis and Butthead, American Horror Story, Breaking Bad, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Ring: The Final Chapter, Pam and Tommy, The Maxx

Video Games: Quake 64, Chrono Trigger, Cry of Fear, Fallout I & II

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Favorite cases: Columbine, Dreierschützengasse, Barbie & Ken, Nico Claux, Charles Manson, Bonnie & Clyde, Richard Ramirez, Nahir Galarza, Varg Vikernes, Bastian Bosse, Academy Maniacs, Skylar Neese, Jodi Arias, Ted Kasinsky, Diane Zamora & David Graham, Andrew Blaze

I'm into true crime since 2016 (I joined the community in 2024), I condone and love learning about the darker side of society. I might be a hybristophile but I don't really know, I have a very distorted self-perception and I'm still a teenager, so it could also be hormones or some shit.

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No dnis except for those fuckass gaza fundraisers, stay the fuck away from my blog you are getting on my nerves and I'm broke.

Feel free to spam my dms if you want, I love talking to people as long as it isn't face to face. Also I LOVE TAG GAMES, so please tag me in em ahh!

I don't wanna get into any beef on here. I'm not a hater, if you don't like what I say, please block me but don't report. I love this blog, and I don't wanna lose it.

ao3  pinterest spotify backup

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i'll be here just waiting for you i'll be under your stars forever neither here nor there just right beside you i'll be under the stairs forever

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[tedmustache]

hi ! i would be veryvery interested in a ben wyatt fic ^_^ im not very good at requests so im unsure how to specify ,, but possibly just some simple fluff of ben & the reader finally getting together or something after like everyone (except chris ofcofc) was secretly rooting for them in their own ways & stuff … idk ! just a random idea, & u can change it however u want ! thank u very much in advance <3

The Dating Pool

Pairing: Ben Wyatt x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Tension builds. Chaos unfolds. Love wins.

Requests are open

[...]

It started, as most mildly unhinged things in the Parks Department did, with Leslie Knope making a spreadsheet titled “Operation Get Those Two Adorable Dorks Together.”

“Look at them” she whispered to Ann, pointing across the bullpen. “They’re like Jim and Pam, but with more budget reports and less kissing! It's TRAGIC.”

“Do you think they know how obvious it is?” Ann asked, sipping her coffee.

“No” Leslie said, pulling out a binder labeled Ben + Y/N: Road to Romance. “That’s why we, as a department, must intervene subtly. With grace. With dignity. And also maybe with a fake work retreat where they have to share a tent.”

April, overhearing, added without looking up from her computer, “I already started a betting pool.”

“YES!” Leslie high-fived her. “That’s the spirit!”

The only person who remained completely oblivious to the romantic tension that had been simmering for nearly a year was Chris Traeger.

“I just want to say” he announced one morning, “that the synergy between Ben and Y/N is LITERALLY the most productive pairing I have ever seen in a government setting. Perhaps in any setting. Perhaps in history.”

“Cool, cool” Tom muttered, “Can I put forty on ‘Ben cracks by Thursday’?”

[...]

You had tried to be professional. Truly, you had.

But Ben Wyatt was infuriatingly handsome in a floppy-haired, budget-conscious, accidentally-charming way. And every time he adjusted his tie while blushing after you complimented his latest economic model, your resolve wavered like a raccoon at a salad bar in Pawnee.

It didn’t help that Leslie kept giving you and Ben joint assignments. Or inviting only the two of you to her weird, theme-heavy “Team Bonding Brunches.” Or sending emails with subject lines like “Just Two Smart Attractive People Needed For This Task – Others Don’t Qualify.”

Ben, for his part, was drowning.

He wasn’t exactly smooth. His flirting style could best be described as “mild panic" especially when you wore that blazer he once accidentally told Donna “radiated competence and charm and kind of made his knees feel weird.”

He thought maybe you liked him back. But what if he ruined things? What if you didn’t feel the same? What if he became the emotional Ice Town of your career?

So he stayed quiet. And longed. And ate his feelings in the form of an unhealthy amount of calzones.

[...]

Then came the Parks Department “Synergy Brainstorm” scheduled by Chris Traeger in a moment of extreme enthusiasm and a post-kale smoothie high.

“Ben! Y/N!” Chris beamed, placing two color-coded folders in front of you. “Your connection is LITERALLY the backbone of this department’s functionality. I would like you to remain here and brainstorm for an extra hour. No distractions. Just pure, focused, platonic synergy!”

And with that, he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ben looked at you. You looked at Ben.

And something shifted.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore” you said softly.

Ben blinked. “The synergy meeting?”

“No. This whole… pretending-not-to-be-slowly-falling-in-love-with-you thing.”

He froze.

“Oh my god” he said. “You too?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Ben, we’ve been dancing around this for months. I’m pretty sure April made a voodoo doll about it.”

“She did” he said. “It winked at me once.”

Silence. Then, awkwardly, sweetly:

“Do you want to go out to dinner sometime?”

“Yes. Like, desperately.”

And then, Ben kissed you. It was warm and tentative and wonderful, like everything that had been building up between you had finally found a place to land.

Outside the conference room, the entire department (minus Chris) let out a muffled cheer.

Leslie burst into the bullpen fifteen minutes later with two sets of color-coded champagne flutes.

“I KNEW IT” she shouted, waving a glittery binder in the air. “You beautiful government nerds are IN LOVE, and democracy has NEVER been stronger!”

Ben, still pink in the face, adjusted his tie. “Um. We were going to try and keep it low-key, at least at first.”

Leslie looked personally offended. “Excuse you. This office has suffered for eleven months and three days watching you two make heart-eyes over pie charts. We earned this.”

"You count it?"

Tom held out his hand. “Pay up, everybody. Ben cracked first.”

“No way” Donna said. “She said it first. I’m getting my mani-pedi on your dime, Haverford.”

April typed something into the betting spreadsheet. “This is the most emotionally invested I’ve been since I found that bird with one leg and named him President Screech.”

And Chris?

Chris walked in moments later, holding a tray of gluten-free muffins.

“What’s going on?” he asked brightly. “Is there a celebration?”

Everyone froze.

You and Ben looked at each other.

“Uh” you started.

“Just… high synergy” Ben added quickly.

Chris smiled, thrilled. “Amazing! I LITERALLY had a dream last night that the two of you became co-managers of a regional morale task force. The synergy was off the charts!”

The entire department burst out laughing.

Chris, still oblivious, grinned. “I love inside jokes!”

[...]

From that day on, the dynamic changed.

Ben brought you coffee in the mornings. You “accidentally” scheduled your lunch breaks at the same time. Leslie started planning double dates in a wildly overzealous Google Calendar labeled “Power Couples of Pawnee.”

And Chris?

He remained joyfully unaware for two more weeks, until he walked in on you and Ben making out in the supply closet next to a stack of Welcome to Pawnee pamphlets.

He gasped. “You two are… DATING?!”

You pulled away, flustered. “We were going to tell you!”

Chris blinked. Then his face split into the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

“I AM SO HAPPY I COULD LITERALLY DO A BACKFLIP.”

And he did. In the hallway. With perfect form.

Everyone clapped.

Leslie cried.

Ben turned to you, dazed. “Did that really just happen?”

You smiled. “It’s Pawnee. Of course it did.”

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Strings Attached” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Best Friends in the Afterglow of Chaos.

You wake up with someone’s leg draped over yours and a faint headache humming behind your eyes. Light spills in under the blackout curtains in ribbons, and the bedroom smells like lavender spray, old tequila, and the heat of two bodies still radiating from the night before.

Your mouth is dry. Your hair is half-up, half-disaster. And your phone — if that vibrating lump under your ribcage is your phone — won’t shut up.

You groan, shift, and that’s when you feel it.

Reneé’s hand on your waist.

Still asleep, arm slung over you like she owns the space, like she always has, breathing slow and deep into the side of your neck. One thigh is hooked lazily across your hips, and her cheek rests against your shoulder blade, soft and warm, like she forgot the line between friendship and whatever this is.

You don’t move.

Partly because you're exhausted. Partly because the weight of her is nice.

The night flashes in fragments: the club’s blue lights cutting through sweat-soaked air, bass shaking the floor beneath your heels, Reneé clinging to you at the bar with her lipstick smudged and grin slanted. She was three drinks past good judgment, teasing the camera crew with wild gestures, dancing like no one was watching — except, of course, they were.

And then the scrunchie incident.

You had leaned close to shout in her ear — "I need a hair tie." You were melting, your curls sticking to your neck, hands too clammy to fix them.

She’d blinked, all pupils and mischief, giggled something absolutely slurred, and said: “Babe, I got you.”

And right there — right there on the dancefloor in front of two backup dancers, a bartender, and some random guy who probably works in PR — she reached under her tiny black mini skirt and slid her underwear off like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Take it," she’d said, shoving it into your hand with a wink, "It’s just cotton, girl, we’re past formalities."

You were too stunned — too tired, too overwhelmed — to question it.

You tied your hair up with her string.

You actually tied your hair with Reneé Rapp’s damn panties.

And someone — someone — filmed it. Probably from the balcony. Definitely without shame. A second-long clip. Grainy. Flashing lights. Reneé's tipsy smirk. Your hand catching the underwear. And her whispering something against your ear with her mouth way too close to your jaw.

It hit Twitter like a hurricane.

#RENEÉGIRLWHAT was trending before you even made it to the Uber home.

Now, your phone won’t stop buzzing.

You finally fish it out, half-blind, and sure enough — dozens of texts, notifications stacked like a digital avalanche.

Mia Rodgers: OMG. ARE YOU SERIOUS.

Sophie Thatcher: ???

Kylie Cantrall: I don’t even know what to say. You’re art. Pam’s spirit lives in you fr.

Auli'i Cravalho: tell me this is fake. I NEED it to be real tho

Dior Goodjohn: Iconic behavior. Giving ‘90s bombshell chaosss 🔥

Unknown Number: Hi, I’m from buzzfeed! Can we talk about “the string moment”?

You nearly drop it on Reneé’s face.

Her lashes flutter, disturbed by the movement, and she groans without opening her eyes. “No phones. My bed, my rules.”

You twist toward her, one arm still trapped under the pillow. “We went viral.”

She hums sleepily. “Again?”

“This time... it’s your string.”

A beat.

Then she laughs — this soft, slow, delighted sound that vibrates through her chest and into your spine. “You used it. I forgot you actually used it.”

“I needed a hair tie!”

She opens one eye, squints at you like you’re the absurd one. “So you reached for my Gucci cotton coochie accessory?”

You slap a pillow over your face.

She keeps laughing, warm and wheezy and completely unbothered. She’s glowing in that morning-after way — her hair a mess, mascara ghosting under her eyes, cheeks flushed. She looks at you like she’s not even surprised. Like she’d give you the moon if you asked — or at least the rest of her lingerie drawer.

"You know this means we’re soul-tied now," she mumbles, propping herself up on one elbow. “Biblically.”

"You're not supposed to say ‘biblically’ at 10 a.m."

"It’s 1 p.m., actually."

You freeze. “Fuck.”

"You’re late for brunch. I’m late for damage control. My PR team is gonna put me on lock again."

You groan into your hands. “I’m deleting myself from the internet.”

But she’s still watching you, one corner of her mouth curled up.

“You looked hot, by the way,” she says. “All flushed, holding my... garment like it was sacred.”

You narrow your eyes. “Reneé.”

She only shrugs, rolling over and dragging the sheets with her, leaving you cold and confused and blushing like an idiot.

A second later, she throws one of her oversized hoodies at you. "Put that on. You’re mine now. It’s tradition."

You slip it over your head without thinking. It smells like her perfume and sweat and the stupid chaos that always comes with loving her like this — too close, too much, too late.

She throws her phone face-down on the bed and tugs you back in.

“Next time,” she whispers into your ear, lips brushing your skin, “I’m giving you my bra.”

You don’t say anything.

But your face is on fire.

[reality-detective]

More Tesla terrorism is planned and coming.

This will be the next boomerang coming on the democrats.

If they think that a Soros funded NGO can just commit terrorism against an American company and get away with it, they are sadly mistaken.

All our lives, violent leftwing (brown shirt) groups have been allowed to commit violence and destruction on private property with almost no consequences.

The democrat party and the leftwing CIA controlled media, have always tried to shield these violent crimes under the basis of protest and free speech.

The two tiered justice system has always protected them in the past.

Some violent low life’s getting paid by these NGO’s might get arrested, but the organizers and funding sources would escape scrutiny and justice.

But there’s a new sheriff in town.

“On Wednesday night, FBI deputy director Dan Bongino said the agency is investigating attacks targeting Tesla.

One day earlier, Attorney General Pam Bondi threatened "severe consequences on those involved in these attacks, including those operating behind the scenes to coordinate and fund these crimes."

“Elon Musk previously wrote on X that an investigation found five ActBlue-funded groups have fueled Tesla protests in recent weeks, including Troublemakers, Disruption Project, Rise & Resist, Indivisible Project, and Democratic Socialists of America (AoC's party).”

These groups, along with Soros, are targeted.

Trump has the right people in place to finally bring this fight public and make an example of the groups and people organizing and funding this terrorism.

What most people don’t realize is that, Trump gutted Antifa and BLM in his first term.

He’s about to do the same to these groups except now, Bondi and Kash, along with Bongino, are in charge of administering justice.

And it’s coming. 🤔

[raven-dor]

right where you left me pt.3

in which james sirius potter finally gets the girl back

PAIRING: james sirius potter x reader

WARNINGS: GIVEN LAST NAME (Edwards), making out, ANGST, james is freaking out, self-esteem issues, more making out, light arguing, fluffy ending

wattpad: raven-dor

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

🎶 : right where you left me - taylor swift

AN: ♥️💗 - this is directly pulled from my wattpad book, which has an oc, so don't be alarmed if when you read it on wattpad it says 'lydia' THAT'S JUST THE OC DON'T WORRY YOU FOUND THE RIGHT BOOK<3 ALSO - i had two people ask for more james sirius, so here it is, enjoy!!

The past two weeks had been a blur. You couldn't tell anyone anything about them if they had asked, including your latest test in DADA, or how you’d managed to stay sustained. 

You did have a sneaking feeling that Ophelia was filling your plate up for you.

Whenever something devastating happened, your automatic response was to go silent, concluding that it was better to be in the shadows, not drawing attention to yourself any more than you had to. You knew, however, that even with your silence, James was still watching you, insistent on making sure you were alright. 

Except you weren’t alright, because the one good thing that had ever happened to you had been ruined.

It hurt to say his name, to even think about him, to know that this was all your fault because of your insecurity issues and that James inevitably was going to break up with you at some point, so you were honestly doing yourself a favor—there you went again. 

Around and around, that is all you did for weeks. Your friends, who were (unfortunately) used to this coping mechanism, were becoming increasingly concerned the longer you went on.

Fred, who rarely spoke to you, had taken to studying with you in the library. (Roxanne joked that not speaking was throwing the whole world off its axis, as her brother had never once in his life studied.) Teddy even sent you a letter saying that he missed your teasing nature at breakfast and hoped you would visit again. That had James written all over it. 

Today was just another day that Fred wound up studying with you. You appreciated that he didn't talk to you, and instead chose to follow in your footsteps. You also knew that it was a matter of time before he broke. 

"Edwards, I gotta say, I'm impressed at how long you've remained silent. I think it's a new world record." 

You glared at the Gryffindor, looking back down at your notes. Of course, now that you’d begun to appreciate his presence, he opened his mouth.

"No, I'm serious." 

You smiled sarcastically, and he frowned. 

"I'm going to say it because no one else will. You've got to say something. We're concerned." 

We was code for James. 

"And no, I'm not talking about James, although he is concerned. Extremely, might I add. I'm talking about Roxie, Ophelia, Pam, Al, Lily- everyone. You're starting to scare us."

You glanced up, tilting your head. "I've spoken. Just not around you lot." 

His eyes lit up, and he leaned in. "Merlin. I feel like a father witnessing his child's first words-" He shook his head. "I can't say that I understand, because I don't. But, refraining from talking altogether because you're going through a-" He sat back, thinking. "Breakup? I don't know if that's the right word, but you get what I mean." 

You nodded. 

"You don't have to be a chatterbox, but please, speak." 

You nodded once more. "Fine." 

He smiled. "Thanks, Edwards." He looked back down at his book. 

You smiled, clearing your throat. "We're friends, Fred; don't call me by my last name." 

He was now fully grinning. "Terrific." 

Your bed was possibly the last safe place you had in the school. Everywhere you went, you saw reminders of James. Honestly, how many cousins did the man have?

"Y/N? Please come with us. You haven't left your room in weeks." 

You groaned, shaking your head. 

Ophelia crossed her arms. "That wasn't so much a request as a demand. You need fresh air." 

You turned over, glaring at your “supposed” best friend, your stomach in knots at the mere thought of leaving your room. "Technically, all air is fresh because of the-" A pillow hit your face, and you gasped. "Ophelia!"

"Don't name off facts to distract from the real issue. Get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes." 

You slammed your face into your pillow. "I curse you, Ophelia Scamander." 

Trudging down the Hogwarts stairs, you forced yourself not to smile at your friend's expressions. Instead, you glared at them. 

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with their presence," Roxanne scoffed. "The ogre lives." 

Pamela smacked her friend's arm, widening her eyes. "Rox. Ease up a bit, will you?"

Ophelia laughed. "Relax, Pammy. Y/N’s fine." 

Pamela rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath. You nodded, hooking your arms between Pam and Roxanne. "I'm fine, honestly. Tease me all you want." 

Ophelia laughed, hooking her arm through Roxannes. "You're going to regret saying that, Lyd." 

Unfortunately for you, Ophelia had been right. The fresh air rejuvenated your soul, and a smile lingered on your face. You hadn't been this happy for weeks, and giggling while your friends pointed out hideous clothes for you to wear (jokingly, of course) had lifted your spirits immensely. 

They stopped by the bookstore, but you hadn't found anything you hadn't already read. They'd quickly left, walking to their final destination, The Three Broomsticks.

You were three butterbeers deep, cackling at your friend's antics. Apparently, while you’d been moping, Albus and Jones had gotten into a public screaming match at breakfast. Smythe had had to drag Jones away, as she was basically seething by the end. 

Just as you and Ophelia had gotten up to get another round, James walked in, instantly finding your eyes. Ophelia grabbed your hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "Do you want to leave?"

"No, it's fine." You grabbed the tray from Madam Rosemerta, smiling gratefully. "I'll be fine." 

They sat down, passing out the drinks. Roxanne tilted her head. "You saw James then?" 

You nodded slowly. 

"Are we leaving?" 

You shook your head. "No need."  

Your friends looked highly confused. "Sorry?"

"We have the same friends; it was only a matter of time before I saw him again." 

Roxanne smiled. "That's nice, I suppose." James waved at his cousin, making his way over. "He's coming over."  

"Roxie, I really don't care." 

Pam grimaced. "That's good because he doesn't seem to either." 

Roxanne groaned. "Godric, that boy cannot take a hint." 

You almost laughed at how visibly uncomfortable Fred looked, trailing behind James. Roxanne stared at her twin, and you wondered if twins had telepathic mind powers. The brunette approached the table, his hands in his pockets. "Ladies." 

They all spout hellos.  

You nodded, taking a deep drink of your butterbeer. 

James smiled lightly. "Have any fun today?"

You couldn't bring yourself to look up from the table. 

Pam nodded. "We did, yeah. Went to the bookstore." 

James laughed, and you felt weak in the knees. "Coven Chronicles? All the classics there." You could feel his eyes burning into you, and your cheeks lit up at the thought. 

You took another deep sip of your drink, and James sighed, realizing you wouldn't look at him. "Well, it was nice seeing you." 

You looked up as soon as he turned his back, smiling sheepishly. "See? Not awkward at all." 

Pam snorted, covering her face with her hands. "Sorry- I just-" 

Ophelia shook her head in disappointment but also broke out into laughter. And then Roxanne cracked. "I'm sorry, Lyd. That was just-" 

You nodded. "Uncomfortable?" You snorted. "Rowena, I ruined everything!"

Roxanne held her stomach, bending over in laughter. "I'm never forgetting this!"

Missing out on two weeks of crucial information during one of your last years at Hogwarts made you realize you had to start paying attention in class. Catching up left no time to dwell on your horrible life, which was nice. You were so busy staying at the top of your class you’d almost forgotten how sad you were. 

But when it was late, and your roommates were asleep, you would stare at the ceiling and fantasize about your life. You would be married, a successful auror, maybe even Minister of Magic, and your loving husband-

Then you remembered you had a pop quiz in Potions the following day. 

It'd been a relatively nice day when you were on your way to the library, walking past two girls who seemed to not realize you were actively listening to their loud gossip. 

"Can you believe Angelica is dating Potter? And I thought he and Edwards were—" The other girl nudged her friend, pointing at you. They both widened their eyes and bowed heads, hurrying down the hall. It was unfortunate timing, you’d decided, and tried not to dwell on it. 

Until you wondered if Roxanna and Fred knew, and brought it up while they studied. 

"So Rox..." 

Your friend looked up, smiling. "Yeah?"

"Do you know any Hufflepuffs named Angelica?"

 She squinted, staring at her friend with a newfound interest. "Yes. Why?"

"Just curious." 

Roxanne laughed. "Promise?"

You nodded. "Promise." 

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the rumor that Angelica and James are dating, would it?"

Fred laughed, looking up from his paper. "Well, now you've done it. You've distracted me. What's this about James?"

She leaned over to her brother, whispering in his ear. His eyes lit up with mischief, and he looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes, glaring at the twins. "Stop talking about me when I'm right here." 

Fred crossed his arms. "Wish it was you?"

The Ravenclaw choked on air, coughing nervously. "What are you on about?"

"Why the sudden interest in James's love life? Miss him following you around like a lovesick puppy dog?"

"No-" 

Roxanne crossed her arms as well. "I don't think we're the people to ask about this." 

"I'm just wondering-" 

Fred shook his head. "I may be your friend, but James is my cousin. And you've hurt him-" 

"You don't even know why we stopped dating Fred." You hadn't even realized it, but you were now on the verge of crying. 

Fred looked downright ghostly. "Did he-" 

"No! No. He was perfect." You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "I broke up with him. I'm not good enough for him. He's Harry Potter's son, for Merlin's sake, and I'm-" 

"Y/N Edwards." Roxanne interrupted. "The smartest in our year, probably at Hogwarts. You're a muggle-born, meaning you have to work twice as hard. You’re a prefect and probably on track to become Minister of Magic. Poor Aunt Hermione." She took her friend's hand in hers. "You're just as important as he is."

You scoffed. "While I appreciate the compliments, try telling that to his fan club." 

Fred rolled his eyes. "You mean to tell me you broke it off with James because of his fan club?"

"They may have been a contributing factor..." 

"You don't have to tell us what happened, but you have to know that James would never leave you for fans he doesn't even know." 

"It's not that. They-" You laughed. "This is ridiculous." 

Roxanne shook her head. "No, it's not." 

"After we'd started talking, I heard his fans say how they think he's dating someone and how they’re probably a slag and not good enough for him. They went on and on about how they hate them already and-" You scoffed, shaking your head. "It's stupid." 

"Did you tell James this?"

"No." You stared at Fred. "And I don't want him to know." 

"Y/N, come on. If he knew about this, he would tell them off in an instant-" 

"Exactly. He doesn't need to do that. I- He should be with someone strong enough to endure people gossiping about them." 

Roxanne sighed. "That wasn't gossiping; that was two people tearing someone they don't even know." 

"Anyhow, we broke it off- well, I broke it off because I can't handle being talked about like that every day, and he wanted to be public. It's not fair to him or me." 

Fred sat in silence while Roxanne tried to come up with solutions. "Maybe we could talk to McGonagall about them and see what she can do."

"I'm not getting two students expelled over gossiping. Hogwarts would be empty if that were the case. It's honestly fine; just let it go." 

"You love him," Fred said, staring at Y/N.

"Excuse me?"

"You love James." 

"What's your point, Fred?"

"You love him, and he loves you, so if you brought this up to him, would you not figure something out?"

"Yes, but-" 

"I know. You already brought this up to him. But you didn't tell him the full story, did you?"

"Technically speaking, no, but you're forgetting one small detail." 

"What's that?"

"He's dating someone else." 

"You need to sort this out, and then once you're back together, you owe all of your friends butterbeer."

Roxie nodded. "Especially us." 

"Right. Especially us." 

"James!" You yelled out, waving at him from across the very public hallway. Students looked in between the two, shrugging before going on with their day. James pointed to himself, and you nodded, walking up to him. "You're the only James here." 

He smiled. "True." 

"Can we talk?" 

"Lead the way." 

The astronomy tower was quiet, and classes were done for the day. You stood at the edge, gathering the courage to tell him the truth.

"Y/N?" Your breath caught, and you turned around, smiling lightly. "As much as I love this view, why exactly are we here?" 

You smiled, walking towards him. "I need to ask you something, and you can't laugh."  

He forced down a smile. "Alright." 

"This is stupid, really..." You huffed. "Are you dating Angelica Stewart?"

He smirked, tilting his head. "Who?"

"Hufflepuff in our year, same height as me, brown hair?" You crossed your arms, annoyed at his face and how calm it looked. "Well?" 

"No idea who that is, love." He walked closer, staring down at you in amusement. "Is this your little ploy to get me alone? I have to tell you, your plan did not need to be this elaborate-" 

"Please focus. You swear you don't know who that is?"

"I swear." 

"On quidditch?" 

He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling. "On quidditch." 

You had a sneaking feeling that he was not thinking about quidditch. 

"James, I'm being serious." 

"I know." He leaned down, their lips inches apart. "It's very attractive, I must say."  

"Potter!" A smile cracked on your face.

He stood straight again, walking towards the edge. You watched as he looked out over the school. "Why are you asking?" 

"Call it curiosity." 

He shook his head. "Don't lie, love." 

You stood beside him, your hand inches away from his. "I could be slightly jealous." You smirked. "Happy?"

"Immensely." He looked over at you, his voice soft. "Why are you jealous?" 

"You said that I was your standard, that you loved me, and- and then you went and dated someone else. Like I was nothing. It hurt." 

"Y/N..." He was now fully facing you. "You had to have known that it wasn't true. That I wasn't dating her." 

"You're James Potter. I'm pretty sure everyone in this school is in love with you." 

He scoffed. "Everyone except the one person that I’m in love with."

"James..." 

He smiled, leaning down. "Yes?" 

"I'm scared." 

He sighed, looking back out over the railing. "Why?"

"You know why. My own sister hates me. If she doesn't even love me, then what does that say?"

"It says that she's a horrible person, and if I ever have the displeasure of meeting her, she’ll change her mind." 

"James!" You laughed, smacking his arm. 

"I'm serious." He laughed, staring at you. "That can't be the only reason stopping you."  

"How do you know?" 

"Because I know when you're lying." He tilted his head. "What aren't you telling me?" 

"You're only going to be upset." 

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm already upset." He took your hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb. "You can tell me." 

You sighed. "You said you'd protect me from the talk." 

He nodded. "I did." 

"Well..." You smiled sheepishly. "You didn't exactly." 

He looked angry. "What?"  

You laughed. "It was nothing, really-" 

He shook his head. "If it made you feel like you weren't good enough for me, it wasn't nothing." He scoffed. "Which, by the way, is insanity. If anything, I'm not good enough for you." 

"James-" 

"No. We're not starting this again." He took both of your hands in his, a look of desperation on his face. "Please. Just tell me what happened." 

"James... I don't want to open a healed wound." 

"Stop doing that. Merlin, you don't even know how much I love you." Your cheeks were red, but you still looked at him. "Stop running away! I love you. I'll say it until I can't physically form the words: I love you. And I know that you love me, so tell me, and let's figure this out."

"I'm not running away," you whispered, wiping the tears from your eyes. "I'm not strong enough, and I'd only become a hassle."

"Funny. You have this really interesting trick where when you open your mouth, your sister's voice comes out."

"James, I'm being serious."

"So am I." He looked helpless, squeezing your hands. "Tell me what happened."

"I-" You realized right then why you were not sorted into Gryffindor. This was scarier than anything you’d ever experienced. You looked down at your hands, rambling. 

"The morning before we broke up, I heard two girls gossiping at the top of their lungs. Some rumor about you that was going about who you were seeing." You blushed. "And I listened in. They said that they’re probably a slag and not good enough for you and that they hate them already.' It was petty."  

You looked up, your eyebrows furrowing. "James?"

"Who was it?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don’t see how that’s relevant." 

He glared. "Y/N, you are going to tell me who they are, and I am going to-" 

"Give them a serious talking to?" You scoffed. "It's not worth it." 

"They're quite literally the reason that I lost you. It is completely worth it."  

"Jamie..." You pulled your hands out of his hold, putting them on his cheeks. "You are such a protector; it's your most admirable trait..." His cheeks turned red. "But sometimes it's braver to do nothing." 

He shook his head. "Not when it hurt you." 

"James, I'm telling you, I don't want you to do anything." You leaned forward, kissing his cheek. "You being here with me is enough." 

His arms wrapped around your waist, and you gasped, looking down accusingly. "James Potter, what are you-" 

"I want to kiss you." His eyes looked dark, the brown, golden color of his irises barely visible. "I want to kiss you until my lungs give out." 

"James!" You giggled. "We can't."

"And why not?" He didn't find this amusing in the slightest. 

"For one, we're in public." 

He groaned, leaning his head back. You tried not to jump up right then and kiss the living daylights out of him. "When are you going to let me kiss you again?" 

You tapped her chin, thinking. "How about tomorrow?"

He held his head upright, nodding. "I can do that." 

You pulled yourself out of his arms, knowing that if you stayed any longer, you’d give into his charms. "I'll see you tomorrow."  

He grinned. "Tomorrow." 

Sleep hadn't come easy to you that night, but when you did finally close your eyes, you were caught in a deep deep slumber. Ophelia laughed at your rather uncomfortable-looking position. Your legs were off the sides, mouth wide open, snoring extremely loudly. 

Ophelia sighed, clearing her throat. You groaned, rubbing your eyes. 

"What time is it?" 

Ophelia laughed. "Breakfast." 

Your eyes shot wide open. "I'll be right down." 

Ophelia squinted her eyes, thrown off by her friend's enthusiasm. "Alright then. I'll see you in a bit." 

You jumped out of bed, putting on the cutest outfit you could conjure. Fixing your hair haphazardly, you flew down the steps, waving at onlookers. The doors of the Great Hall burst open, and you walked in, James's eyes meeting yours instantly. You practically ran past your table, straight towards his arms. 

He stood up, a boyish grin on his face.

You threw your arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. James let out an audible squeak before grabbing your waist quickly, his heart skipping a beat. The hall fell into whispers and gasps, all staring at the couple. They broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other. 

"I love you too, James." 

He laughed at your face, which looked positively crazed. "You actually meant tomorrow." 

You nodded. "I'm done being scared." You kissed the side of his mouth. "I mean it." 

He spun you around, kissing you once more. "Thank Godric." 

"Are you two done?" They looked over, laughing at Fred's expression. "You've positively ruined my appetite." 

You stuck your tongue out at the Weasley. "This was all your doing, Fred." 

James looked surprised. "Thanks, mate." 

Fred laughed. "I regret it now." 

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "Shut it." She smiled at the couple. "Congrats, really. It's about time. I was tired of all the moping." 

You glared at your friend. "Thanks for that." Looking back at James, you sighed. "I have to go-" 

He shook his head. "You're sitting here." 

"James..." 

"I'm putting my foot down, Edwards."

"Well," You laughed. "If you insist." 

Fred glanced in between the two. "Don't forget Y/N. You still owe us all butterbeer."

"You were being serious?" 

"No." He shook his head. "I was being Fred." 

Roxanne groaned, shaking her head. "Horrible joke, Freddie." 

James shrugged. "I was planning on going to Hogsmeade anyway." He looked over at Ophelia and Pamela, who were obviously trying to listen to their conversation. "Oi!" He yelled at the two. "Hogsmeade?" 

They nodded eagerly. 

The bookstore was never busy, but today, with their friends in tow, the owner looked like she would combust. You had almost felt bad; there probably hadn't been more than two students in here at a time. James held your hand, dragging you down the aisles. "What do you want?" 

"James, really, I've already read most of these books." 

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you have." He kept walking. "Any other books that your sister is holding hostage?" 

"The Great Gatsby." You perked up. "Although, I don't think it'd be in here. F Scott Fitzgerald wasn't a squib or a wizard." 

James hadn't been listening, walking up to the shop owner with determination on his face. "Excuse me, miss. The love of my life would like to find The Great Gazby-" 

You interjected. "The Great Gatsby." 

He nodded. "That one. Any chance you have it in stock?" 

The older witch looked positively fed up with James already. "Let me look in the back." 

"Perfect." He smiled. "Thank you." 

You laughed. "She's never letting you back in here." 

"Why not?" He looked clueless. "She loves me." 

"Oh, James." You put a hand on his cheek, laughing. "Clueless, clueless James." 

He kissed your hand, scoffing. "You have absolutely no faith in me." 

"Not true. I have so much faith in you. It's just-" The witch walked back through the door, and you whispered. "I'm typically right in these scenarios." 

The older woman huffed. "I have one copy."

James grinned, looking down at you with a look that screamed, 'I told you so.' "We'll take it." 

"Very well." She walked over to the register. "That'll be one galleon." 

James handed over the money, taking the book. "Thank you very much." 

She nodded, obviously wanting to be rid of him. "Have a good day." 

You pulled him out of the shop before the witch combusted. 

Fred hooked his arm around James's shoulders, obviously drunk. "Jamie, Jamie. You got a good one." 

He laughed at his cousin. "Thank you, Freddie." 

"I mean it." 

"I know Freddie." 

You giggled at the two, leaning your head on Roxanne's shoulder. "They're hilarious." 

"Don't let them hear that." Roxanne scoffed. "They already think they're Merlin's gift to this earth." 

You turned around, taking a quick look at Ophelia and Pam, who were trailing behind the entire group. "Any idea what's going on there?" 

Roxanne shrugged. "Not entirely, but something definitely happened this summer." 

You nodded. "No doubt about it." 

In your opinion, the light dusting of snow on the ground was the perfect amount. It wasn't enough to soak through your shoes and make your feet cold, but it was enough to make it feel like winter. It crunched when you walked, and most importantly, it was peaceful. 

"Love!" You looked up, smiling at James. 

"Yes, my darling?" 

Roxanne groaned. 

James left his cousin, and Roxanne walked up to her brother. He hooked an arm around your waist, halting your steps. "I love you." 

You grinned, nuzzling your face into his chest for warmth. "You're making me blush." 

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He laughed. "People will think you like me." 

"Let them think what they want." You looked up. "I do like you." 

He nodded, blush forming on his cheeks as well. "I know, love." 

"I like you so much that I'm going to give you a headstart." 

He tilted his head. "For?"

"Snowball fight, Potter." You grinned. "You and me. No magic." 

"You're going to lose." He smirked, kissing the tip of your nose. "You sure?" 

"Oh, I'm sure." You laughed. "You're going down, Potter." 

You broke away from his hold, giggling. "No mercy." Kneeling, you formed a snowball as quickly as you could before throwing it at James's face. He gasped, the snow melting from the warmth of his skin.

"You're going to regret that love."

You ran forward, using Pamela as a shield. "What are you doing Y/N-" A snowball collided with the back of her head, and she laughed. "Oh, it's on Potter!" 

James winced. "That wasn't meant for you!" 

"Too late!" Pamela was already forming a snowball. Fred ran to his cousin's side. 

"Don't worry, Jamie, I'll help you." He glared playfully at Y/N. "Someone obviously doesn't love you enough to protect you." 

You laughed, throwing a snowball at the Gryffindor. "Don't put words in my mouth, Fred Weasley!" 

Ophelia giggled. "I think I'll sit this out." 

Roxanne handed a snowball to you. "Let's do this." 

James groaned. "That's not fair. Roxie's a great shot." 

Fred gasped, looking over at his cousin like he'd been betrayed. "Jamie?" 

"You know what I meant, Freddie." 

Fred shook his head. "I don't think I do." He began to walk over to the girls, and James yelled. "Fred, come on!" 

You laughed, crossing your arms. "Looks like you're on the losing side, Potter. Want to give up?" 

He shook his head. "Never." 

Your breath could be seen thanks to the cold. Shivering, you glared at your boyfriend. "Fantastic idea James. Now I'm freezing." 

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, so now that you're cold, it's my idea?" You nodded, and he laughed. "Fine. You do know we have spells that fix that?" 

You nodded once more. "I know."

He put his arm around your shoulders, and you sighed, instantly warming. "How clever." 

"Thank you." You smirked. They clambered into the castle, sighing in relief from the warmth. You two, however, walked further down the hall, away from your friends. 

"Oi!" They turned around, and Fred crossed his arms. "Where are you both going?" 

You raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know." 

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously, that's why I'm asking." 

"I'll be up in a bit, Fred." James waved his cousin off. "You'll be fine." Taking James's hand in yours, you practically pulled him towards the kitchens. 

"How do you know how to get in here?" 

You smiled. "I figured it out myself, thank you very much." Reaching your hand out, you lightly tickled the pear on the painting. The wall folded in on itself, and they walked through. "I always come down here when I-" You stopped. "Jones?"

A figure sat in the chair and froze. A blonde girl stood up, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Edwards, happy holidays." 

James tilted his head. "How do you two know each other?" 

"Edmund Nott introduced us." You stepped forward, concern etched on your face. "Are you alright, Juliet?" 

The Slytherin nodded. "I'm fine." 

You crossed your arms. "Just crying for fun, I suppose?" 

'Jones' nodded. "I'll leave. Sorry for the intrusion." 

"Jones..." 

The younger girl walked quickly past James and out of the kitchen. He looked back at you, the same worried look on your face as before. "What year is she?" 

"Same as Albus." 

"Ah." James laughed, sitting down in the large leather seats. "That's the infamous Jones." 

You nodded. "The very same." 

"Albus talks about how aggravating she is all the time," he murmured. "I'm getting aggravated with him, to be honest." 

You smiled. "I'm sure it's very annoying hearing your brother constantly talk about someone." 

He scoffed. "Are you talking about me?" 

You nodded, smirking. "Now, cocoa or cider?" 

James laughed. "Cocoa, please." 

You approached the kitchen counter, conjuring them both up a steaming mug. You sat them down on the end table, staring at the fire. "I'm sorry, James." 

He raised his eyebrows. "What reason would you have to be sorry?" 

You looked over at him, her eyes glassy. "I'm the reason we weren't together this entire time." 

He shook his head, grabbing your hands in his. "You need to stop dwelling on the past. We're together now, yeah? That's all that matters." 

"But-" 

"Edwards, if you don't stop, I will kiss you." 

You laughed. "Oh no. Please don't!"

He nodded. "That's what I thought." He looked back at the fire. "Don't worry; next time you get spooked, I'm not letting you go." 

"Good." You smiled, kissing the back of his hand. "I'm holding you to it."

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[rtfics]

"'Beetlejuice 3' In The Works 'Imminently' According To Warner Bros."

The news comes from Deadline's interview with Warner Bros Pictures co-chairman/CEOs Mike De Luca and Pam Abdy who are both hot for proven IPs. When asked directly if they were developing sequels to "A Minecraft Movie" and "Beetlejuice Beetlejuice," De Luca answered, "Imminently. The ink might not be dry on the deals yet, but imminently."

OK.

I'd said I wasn't going to post again unless Beetlejuice 3 was going to be reality.

So it's going to happen. As I always knew it would.

If the story had ended with BJ2 I would have been content. Except for Lydia's ridiculous age gap comment. Even so, I'd have slept well for the rest of my life with that being the final Beej film.

But now there's the potential for Burton to well and truly fuck it all up. To ruin everything.

So, for now,