Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
New to the Spotify Channel While on tour with his band mates Thom Yorke is in a tour bus crash. Fortunately an Airbag saves his life but his bones are still seriously inured. Using the newest advanced technology a mysterious organisation known as the Karma Police rebuild him with bionic technology. Is he the new Six Million dollar man or just dollars and cents gone to waste? Lucky to be alive and assigned a plucky female partner, the earnest Ms. Honey Pablo, Thom uses his new senses to solve crimes while touring the world. Enhanced abilities, such as climbing up walls, innumerable calculations in his scatterbrain and with a new iron lung the melancholic singer fights for what is right and Just. This is: NEW YORKE, NEW YORKE Created by Donald P. Bellisario & Glen. A. Larson While generally fitter and happier this new agent codenamed, the King of Limbs, must face a plethora of new threats, bodysnatchers, the mysterious spy (over)dubbed the Creep and a criminal kingpin known only as Mr. Magpie. Has Thom become a super enhanced human or is he just a Paranoid Android in a shaky House of Cards? "Bullet Proof I wish I was." HE IS NOW! Episode 1: "Everything in its right place" Newly re-built and operating at pitch perfect levels Thom's first case involves protecting a child prodigy known only as Kid A from the clutches of assassin The Eraser. Episode 2: "Hail to the Thief" A case involving corporate espionage as an Electioneering process goes awry for a high up political leader plagued by a campaign informant. Thom and Ms. Honey resolve to not let down their newest client. Episode 3: "How to Disappear Completely" People are going missing at Radiohead concerts and Thom is optimistic he can solve the case. Will he need to call on his OK Computer hacker friend Idio-Tech to help him out? Episode 4: "Life in a Glasshouse" Abducted by a foreign government, Thom is forced into gladiatorial contests against Hunting Bears to test his feral abilities. (Part 1) Episode 5: "You and Whose Army?" Concluding part. Thom is liberated by army forces and must discuss his time in Limbo with a new psychiatrist a Ms. Sarah Treefingers. (Special guest star Bjork) Episode 6: " Fake Plastic Trees" The band find themselves in a mysteriously perfect town while promoting their newest album. What dark secrets are concealed in this town when the band go to sleep? Episode 7: " We Suck Young Blood" A Halloween Special as Thom faces an industrious vampire cult who are mass-producing victims in a warehouse packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box. Episode 8: "Amnesiac" Following an Amp explosion Thom loses his memory and joins Muse as a backing musician. Can the band convince him that anyone can play guitar for Muse and that he certainly doesn't belong there there?
Episode 9: "Jigsaw Falling into Place" The identity of the Mysterious Mr. Magpie is revealed at last as...Phil Selway!? Yes Radioheads most underestimated member has his knives out and attacks our hero. Episode 10: "Blurring the Lines" Part of Spotify Channel crossover week. The band tour with secret agent act Blur. An Al-barn storming action packed episode. Episode 11: "Where I end and you begin" Having long denied his feelings for Honey, Thom must find a way to serenade his beloved or be left high and dry when she settles down with her mystery fiance. Episode 12: "Exit Music (for a tv series)" The season finale sees Ed O'Briens career hang in the balance as Thom and Phil have a bitter fight that culminates in a Punch Up at a wedding... Honeys wedding to Johnny Greenwood!! Will Thom stop whispering his feelings for her and tell her the truth before it's too late? "No Surprises this is a show that won't make you sulk, as pleasant as a (nice dream) but with enough bends in the plot to keep you guessing. True love waits and it was worth the wait in this case!"- Tuning(in)fork (not affiliated with Pitchfork) Authors Note: This is a dedicated to Paula Larkin for her birthday! one of the biggest Radiohead Heads I know!
High and Dry | ch. 2
thomas j. x reader
Warnings: swearing, overuse of italics, title drop (shit was NOT tough at all pls don’t judge me too hard)
Wc: 2.7k
Holy moly this took longer than expected
EDIT: LESLIE ODOM JR RETURNING TO HAMILTON??? HELLO??!????
Out of everyone Thomas anticipated to be working with, you were the last on his list. He didn’t think he’d ever see you again after what happened in high school.
He had been best friends with you since birth, two peas in a pod. You did everything together: lost your first tooth, the awkward middle school phase, and the first steps into high school. Where one was, the other wasn't far behind. Near the end of junior year, he had a promising chance at a scholarship for a prestigious university. It’s not like he needed the money anyway, he was already filthy rich and took yearly trips to Paris for fun.
So it was only natural you were jealous of him. At least, that’s how he perceived it. To him, you envied his wealth and intelligence, always making snide remarks or rolling your eyes when he’d talk about being future Valedictorian. It got to a point where he snapped. He ignored you for days. And when you called him out on his chickenshit behavior, he proceeded to list out every reason why you shouldn’t be friends anymore, and ended the most valuable friendship you’ve ever had.
After breaking connections with you, rumors began to spread. There were some smaller ones, like you sleeping together, but that died down pretty quickly. Those were unimportant, everyone knew they were untrue. The biggest one is that you intentionally tried to ruin his chances at the scholarship. His then-girlfriend had told him you reported him for academic dishonesty in all of his work.
Which you didn’t, by the way. But he was convinced you did. He decided to trust someone he’d known for only a few months compared to the person he’s been attached at the hip to since diapers. It’s not like they stayed together, either. Two months later they called it quits. Something about her cheating on him with the Basketball captain. Once he successfully got half the grade turned on you, he randomly packed up and left for France—for good this time. He abandoned you in a difficult situation which you couldn’t do shit about; he left you high and dry.
It broke you.
He was supposed to be the one who helped you when times were rough, not the one who brought you down. And yet he did. He betrayed any ounce of trust you had, and you endured a year-and-a-half of whispers and stares in the hallway, lingering eyes, and petty comments.
“I can’t believe it’s him, of all people,” you groaned.
Alex gave you a sympathetic look, putting down the papers he had in his hands. You told him what happened to an extent. He would never know the full story, mostly because you’re bad at opening up and you’ve only just met him yesterday, but he was aware there was bad blood between you and Jefferson.
“He didn’t even want to be an English teacher! He wanted to be a lawyer! So why is he here?” A huff escaped your chest, built up from years of undiscussed trauma.
“I’ve been asking that for years, trust me. Waltzing in like he owns the place and stealing my friends,” he scoffed.
“God—how did I not realize… I should’ve known he would be out to get me. One final ‘fuck you’ by being my partner for the entire year.” You shook your head, a defeated slump in your shoulders.
“He doesn’t have to win this battle, y’know,” Alex hummed. You quirked an eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. “Just be petty, he hates that. He’s pretty obsessed with this one specific parking spot—the one under the tree. Where there’s the most shade,” his eye twitched, “I’d know because I parked there one time, and the whole day he was after me. The next morning, he was there 30 minutes earlier than normal.”
“Sounds like something he’d do,” you nodded. “That parking spot will be mine. I will do literally anything if it means pissing off a man.”
A devilish grin spread on Alexander’s face. “I’m so glad you hate him as much as I do, if not more. I swear, he’s been terrorizing this school for years. It’s about time he gets what’s coming!”
“I don’t even know how I’m gonna be able to talk to him every day. Let alone look at him. And why is it required for us to collaborate on lesson plans? That’s so stupid,” you grunted, rolling your eyes.
“I know, I’m not happy about it either,” he empathized with the struggle, “but it’s because you’re both Honors English teachers, and all freshmen are supposed to be learning the same thing. Prepare for state testing and whatnot.”
You grumbled under your breath about how stupid it was. For another 20 minutes or so, you went back and forth about stories regarding Jefferson. Spoiler: none of them were good. It’s like somehow your mind blanked, and you couldn’t think of a single positive experience with Thomas. Between you and Hamilton, he was a symbol of evil, something you could bond over. Was your friendship entirely fueled by hatred? No, of course not. But it was a strong part of it.
Although something about being unjust to Thomas because of the past struck you as immoral.
There was a side of you screaming to forgive and forget, but with everything going on in your life, how could you? It seemed like every relationship you had was fucked. You’d barely speak to your mother, only when the ward called, and you had basically no friends (Hamilton is still under examination.)
But there’s nothing like the taste of sweet sweet revenge, right?
—
“She’s still pissed about it, James. It’s been years, I don’t know why she hasn’t gotten over it yet,” Thomas scrunched his nose in disgust, a scowl creeping on his face as he laminated posters for James Madison’s classroom.
“That sucks, man. You talk to her today at all?” James went through the repetitive motion of cutting excess laminated paper, listening to Jefferson talk about you.
“Hell no. She won’t even look in my direction when I pass by her. If she wants to be immature—“ Thomas drew in a sharp, frustrated breath. “She can go ahead. I’m perfectly fine bein’ the bigger person.”
James coughed before nodding in agreement. “Don’t let her stop you from having a good year,” he warned. “She’ll come around eventually.”
“Yeah, well she doesn’t seem too keen on forgiveness anytime soon,” Thomas scoffed, “I don’t think she ever will.”
There was a long falter in his motions. The longer he thought about it, about you, the guiltier he felt. Despite the desperate attempts in trying to convince himself he wasn’t wrong, wasn't a bad person, he still felt immense shame when you popped in his mind. He hurt you. He knew that. But he moved to France and forced himself to forget about you. Facing you was a whole other dilemma; all it did was resurface the shrouds of guilt that haunted him in Junior year.
By the time college rolled around, the remorse had controlled itself, only manifesting in the back of his mind when he said anything fucked up. But he didn’t plan on seeing you again, no.
“You just have to give her time. Women will be dramatic, Thomas, we both know that,” James laughed a little.
Jefferson let out an uncomfortable chuckle, going back to the mundane task of helping Madison make posters. He hated the statement of you being some dramatic woman when he knew you were so much more than that. He wanted to scream at James for even suggesting that. Against every ounce of anger he felt, he missed you. He missed the adventures you’d go on, he longed for the sound of your laughter again, to see you smile because of him rather than someone else.
He missed his best friend.
And here you were, the nerdy girl who wore bulky sweatshirts, all grown up. He couldn’t deny how beautiful you matured. It wasn’t weird to think that; it was a simple observation. You’re attractive, nothing wrong with him acknowledging it. That doesn’t mean he has to automatically like you.
“I suppose,” he sighed. “She’s gettin’ all buddy-buddy with Hamilton, though. Not too excited about that. Hamilton is a shit influence.”
“True. I bet he’s gonna manipulate her into believing you’re the most horrible, evil villain ever.”
“She already does,” Thomas barked out a bitter laugh. “He doesn’t have to do anythin’.”
“But he will.” James gave him a pointed look.
Thomas’s lips quirked downwards. “Yeah. He will.”
—
The door to your classroom flung open, and a mildly pissed-off Jefferson walked in. He gripped his bag so tightly his veins strained, and the coffee he held looked like it would burst at any second.
“We have to make lesson plans for the week,” he grumbled, setting his bag down and taking out his laptop.
You quirked an eyebrow, examining his actions of pulling up a chair next to your desk. “And we have to do this together…? Right now?”
“Yes. Right now,” he said through gritted teeth. His jaw clenched as he opened his laptop.
You scoffed, crossing your arms. He was acting all pissy for no reason, and you were having a rather pleasant morning, having snagged a parking spot in the shade. You even treated yourself to an iced coffee. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Someone took my spot, that’s what crawled up my ass,” he spat.
“What, the one under the tree?” You smirked. His eyes immediately snapped to yours. A sickening grin spread further across your features, relishing in his anger from one simple action. He narrowed his eyes, scanning your appearance at how much you changed in the time not spent together.
His nostrils flared. “You must’ve gotten here early to steal that from me. Already tryin’ to piss me off, L/n?”
“Bold of you to assume I care that much about you.”
Thomas couldn’t deny the slight sting that went with your words. He stiffened, irritation bubbling in his chest. “You’re right, we both know you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“Yeah? Is that why you destroyed my reputation then left me for France?” You cocked your head to the side.
Thomas winced at the memory, hating the fact you were still stuck on it. An exhausted sigh left him, and he ran a hand over his face. He knew anything he said wouldn’t make it right. Healing is a gradual process. You both knew that. So why is it that after years of what he thought was healing, it still pained him to think about it?
“That was years ago,” he mumbled, “do you have to bring it up now?”
“Figured I might put it out there,” you shrugged, not entirely satisfied with his poor response.
Thomas pursed his lips, fixing his gaze on the screen before him. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. It would hurt less to pretend like it never happened and move on. A long, tense silence filled the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife. He slumped in his chair, an uncomfortable frown stuck on his face. “We need to be workin’, not arguing.”
You stared at him a moment longer. Was he seriously brushing this off? Was he for real about to ignore the years of pain and suffering you went through because of him?
“Whatever,” you grunted. There was no point in trying to fight him on this. You knew how stubborn and defensive he could be. “What do you normally do for your students at the beginning of the year? I can’t imagine it’s anything fun.”
He leaned back in the crappy plastic chair, rolling his eyes at your petty comment. “I go over the rules, and usually have them write about themselves from a prompt.”
A thin line formed on your lips. “You give them work on the first day? Asshole…” you grumbled.
“Fuck off, they get rowdy if we play games,” he laughed airily. For a split second, it felt good to hear the sound of his laughter again. Then you remembered why you hadn’t heard it in so long.
“Rowdy because they’re having fun,” you gave him a pointed look. “It never hurt anyone to feel joy once in a while. You should try it sometime.” A wide, teasing smirk grew on your face again.
Thomas so desperately wanted to wipe that smugness off your pretty little face. “Have you ever been told how insufferable you are?”
“Only by you, Thomas, only by you.” You batted your eyelashes in a mocking way, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hands. A flicker of amusement flashed in Thomas’s eyes, and a slow grin spread on his lips. For some odd reason, it made your stomach flutter.
“I’m just sayin’ what the rest of the world is thinking,” he teased. The familiarity of his southern accent brought a wave of nostalgia with it.
“Funny,” you scoffed.
“Awh, no more witty comments?” He tilted his head, an innocent expression on his face.
You raised your eyebrows, not amused by his antics. “You are such a dick, Jefferson. Thought I might remind you of that.” You said, tone flat with a hint of teasing.
He feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “How dare you, L/n. I am a saint.”
You rolled your eyes. Something was so familiar about the back and forth, playful banter. For a moment it felt like nothing was wrong, it felt like when he was still the first person you’d go to with good news.
“Congratulations for being the first and only person to think that.”
He bit back a chuckle, finding his eyes wandering over you rather than focused on the amount of work he needed to get done. “No need to be jealous because I’m beloved by everyone.”
“‘Beloved’ is an interesting choice,” you mumbled, pulling up some past lesson plans to reference.
“I think it’s an appropriate descriptor for me. That and dashingly handsome,” he snickered. Getting on your nerves was proving to be a success.
“Oh yes, because you’re the epitome of charisma and charm.” A mocking snarl went with your reply. Thomas seemed to be thriving at all the arguing, something that only pissed you off more. Weren’t you supposed to be working on lesson plans?
“I’m glad you finally noticed.”
You scoffed, about to tell him how you’d rather die than classify him as charming, but your phone rang, interrupting your thoughts. A sigh left your lips when you checked the caller ID. It was your mom’s psychiatric ward.
“I have to take this,” you muttered, standing and walking to the hallway for privacy.
Thomas held a concerned frown. He hadn’t seen who the caller was, but he knew it must’ve been something important. Having grown up with you, he met your bipolar mother multiple times, and he knew the troubles that went with it. He witnessed firsthand the pain she caused you, the trauma from her episodes reflecting upon you. And he was there for you throughout it all. So he wasn't at all surprised when he heard the word “mom” come out in a distressed tone.
A couple minutes later, you entered again, silently slipping into your seat. Your whole demeanor changed. What once was feisty was now solemn, as if life had been drained from you, leaving an empty shell of a human. It bothered him, but he knew the best bet was to leave you be, even as much as he wanted to ask what happened. You weren’t on those friendly terms anymore. He didn’t get to comfort you or know anything happening in your life.
Besides, one of the last things you said to him when you split up was “I hope you have a great, successful life, and I hope I never have to hear anything about it.”
The silence was deafening.
It was always, always silent in your life.
The silence that came after hearing Thomas talk shit about you for the first time. The silence that came after not getting to explain your side in an argument. The silence of no one understanding what you’re going through, and the one person you had decided his life would be better without you in it. And what could you do other than play along? Put on a facade of rivalry, go-with-the-flow mentality and tough it out?
The silence was killing you. It would’ve been better if he said something. Anything. Even if it meant aggravating you.
And yet he sat there, motionless, wordless, silent; leaving you wondering what he was thinking.