#So now its been three months and a day…

[thescarletfang]

SPINNING OUT [part one]

Dr. Jack Abbot x ex!freader

Summary: You left Jack three months ago, convinced he'd given up on your marriage. When you're hit by a drunk driver, you're taken to PTMC, and what was supposed to be an ending gives way to a new beginning.

Word count: ~4.7k

Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but it just works better in 3 parts! This is part one - the other two parts are outlined! First time really writing a multi-chapter fic, eeeep.

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+, MDNI

Warnings: Angst, fluff, car accident, therapist reader, widower Jack, dead wife mentioned!, no smut in this part but eventual smut. Eventual happy ending. Slight age gap (reader is 38, Jack is 49). If I missed anything, let me know!

NOW

It starts again because of an accident. 

You’re driving home from work and you’re the kind of bone-deep tired that settles inside of you like lead. Your chest feels heavy and your shoulders ache. You grip the steering wheel, blinking bleary eyes to try and stay focused on the road. 

You dream of home. Stepping out of your heels. A glass of pinot noir in your favorite long-stemmed glass. You dream of putting the day behind you; of closing the tab on all the clients you saw today. All the words you offered them, and the space you held between your body and theirs; your mind is tired. It is fulfilled, yes - as it always is. You know being a therapist is your calling, and you’ve never been more grateful for work than you are at this particular time in your life. 

But you’re…exhausted. 

You can’t remember the last time you slept through the night. Likely in the before. Before your home was cold and lonely. Before everything felt so fucking hard. Before you slept alone in your bed and only brewed one cup of coffee and only made enough food for you.

You just want to rest. 

More than that? You’d like to hide. Your brain is all static and fuzz. It’s flipping its channels at a rapid pace and you’ve lost the remote. You think about the Xanax you have at home and think maybe tonight is the night you take one. 

You just crave peace. 

Everything changes in the span of a breath.

There is the screeching of metal-on-metal, your driver’s side door crunching in on itself. Your neck feels like it snaps. Your airbag deploys and then all you can feel is pain.

It hurts. Everything hurts. 

You feel like you can no longer breathe. You try breathing, you try opening your eyes but everything feels blurred, like you’ve taken your fingers and smeared the paint that makes up your vision. 

You cannot see. You cannot feel anything other than a burning pain that goes from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. 

You think you might be dead. You think of him, for just a moment. 

You do not know how much time passes.

In the ambulance, through the fog and haze of it all, as you lie on the gurney with your head, neck and limbs secure, you beg them to take you to a different hospital, anywhere but the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center because if you go there you’ll see him and you just fucking can’t. 

They ignore your pleas and they tell you to hang on. They tell you a drunk driver slammed into you and t-boned your car. You can barely process anything they are telling you and you feel yourself drift in and out of consciousness. 

A nap. A nap would be so good right now.

They ask you to keep your eyes open but you screw them up tight. It’s too bright in the ambulance and you don’t recognize these voices. 

You can’t see him. Not like this. Not after everything. 

You’re fading, feeling yourself pulled under the current of a dark blankness and then the gurney is being taken out of the back of the ambulance. You keep thinking not like this, not like this, like it’s a broken record in your head and you’re desperate to get to the next track.

You understand that your gurney is moving quickly and you know, despite really being aware, that they’ve taken you to PTMC. The doors slide open and there’s so much noise but your ears are buzzing and ringing. 

Everything feels far away. 

You catch snippets of dialogue in the trauma bay. “Unidentified 38-year-old female. MVA. Somewhat responsive. Severe blood loss. Possible lung puncture, difficulty breathing.” 

Then Robby’s face is above you and his brown eyes grow wide, rounding at the ages as he sees it’s you. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, harshly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” and then he barks an order at someone else and you manage to grab his sleeve. He turns back to you. 

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he says, voice low and raspy as he wheels you quickly into the trauma bay. “Just fucking hang on, okay?”

“Don’t tell him,” you rasp. “Robby, please, don’t—” you gasp, trying to catch your breath but it feels like you’re drowning. Blood splatters out of your lips. “Don’t tell Jack—”

A heartbroken look flickers across Robby’s face but then you gasp and you can’t finish your sentence because everything goes black. 

* * * 

Jack rolls his shoulders, shutting his locker and heading into the ED. Fuck, what he’d give for a quiet night and the ability to get through this shift without feeling like he’s white-knuckling life. It’s bad enough he had a fucking panic attack on the way in here. He’s been having those more and more often, despite being on his daily dose of an SSRI. His therapist tells him he needs to take a break, to finally cash in on all his accrued time off but he just grinds his jaw and says no. 

Work is good. When he works, he can focus on anything but the absolute trainwreck that is his life. 

When he works, he can stop thinking about you. 

It’s a lie, of course, but Jack’s always been good at lying to himself. 

He sees you in everything he does. Misses you with an ache that feels like a stone on his chest. On the really rough nights, where he feels like he’s barely treading water, he gets closer to the edge of the roof than he ever has. 

Jack shakes his head, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck, holding on to the ends of it like it’s a tether that can keep him sane.

One moment at a time, his therapist told him. One shift at a time. One second, every single day, at a time. 

Jack takes a deep, steadying breath. Losing himself in his work is enough, if only for tonight. 

Jack knows something is wrong the minute he steps into the ED.

Robby is rushing in through the trauma bay, rolling a gurney and barking orders at Shen and Ellis. He looks up and locks eyes with Jack. 

“Get him out of here,” Robby yells to Dana, who has just thrown on her jean jacket to head home. Dana’s eyes go wide and as the gurney rolls past her, she looks at whoever is on it and pales. She beelines for Jack. 

Jack’s heart thuds painfully against his sternum. He picks up his pace, gently brushing past Dana and making his way to Robby.

“It’s my shift, dunno why I’d need to get out of here,” he says calmly to Robby, trying to remain in control but he already knows who’s on that gurney. He already knows because the universe fucking hates him. 

It isn’t enough that you left him three months ago and the last three months have been a living hell every single day. It isn’t enough that it was his fault you left, that he’d pushed you to the end of your rope by pulling away, by shutting down, by letting those voices in the dark consume him. It isn’t enough that he continually put his work before you because work is the only thing to make him feel worthy of anything, and he regrets it, will regret letting you slip through his fingers every single day for the rest of his fucking life. 

It isn’t enough that you’re the love of his life and he’s such a stupid fucking old man, forever convinced he never deserved you in the first place. Self-sabotage has been his best friend a long time, lurking over his shoulder and shadowing every move he’s ever made.

It isn’t enough he’s been through this once before. He’s not even officially fucking fifty-years-old and he’s already lost a wife and he’s about to lose another. Jack Abbot doesn’t get second chances.

Jack Abbot reaps the fucking karma that he sows. 

“Dana, get him out of here!” Robby yells again, rolling you into T-1. 

“C’mon, honey,” Dana tries. “You don’t wanna see this.”

But it’s too late. Jack’s quick on his feet, even with the prosthetic, and he sees you lying there, unconscious, blood-matted hair and it’s dripping from your mouth and he can’t believe that this is happening, that this is real, that it is happening to him again.

Robby steps to him at the door of the room. “You can’t be in here.”

There’s a sharp ringing in Jacks’ ears, high-pitched and drowning everything out. His voice is gravely and broken. A desperate plea rather with no real bite. “Like fuck I can’t, man. Get out of the way—”

“Jack, I mean it, brother.” Robby blocks him again, his nostrils flaring. “Get out.”

“That’s my fucking wife!” The words silence the ED, cutting through the chaos sharply. Ellis and Shen look up, shock over their faces. They’ve never heard their attending lose his cool like this. Jack is the calm one. While Robby is the attending who is more inclined to raise his voice, Jack never falters. Residents and students and the nursing staff follow him blindly because they know he never loses his cool.

Well, he’s losing it now.

Dana puts a hand on her chest like it hurts. 

Robby’s cold facade slips for a second and for a moment he’s just Jack’s friend, his brother, and the pain is written in his face, a pain mirroring Jack’s own. 

Jack’s breathing heavily, his voice cracking on the last word because it’s true, you’re still his wife.

He can’t lose you. Not when everything is so wrong. 

* * * 

BEFORE

It’s Robby who sets the two of you up in the first place.

Robby went to high school with your older brother. While back then, you were the baby sister always trying to play with the big boys (literally, you were two and Robby and your brother were 17), the two of you reconnected when you became a licensed therapist and moved into the city. Despite being fifteen years your senior, Robby became a good friend. 

The two of you tried dating – briefly – but after a few dates, you realized you were much better off as friends. It always felt forced, too platonic, and you were honestly relieved when you both confessed that the romance wasn’t there. 

“I just can’t kiss someone who I knew when they were a toddler,” Robby told you bashfully, face beet red, after you’d both pulled away from a rather lackluster kiss. You hadn’t even been offended; you’d just laughed and called him an old pervert.

He’s been a best friend ever since.

You’re grabbing a coffee with Robby before his shift and your first client of the day when you finish complaining about your latest string of bad dates. 

“He venmo requested me when I got home.”

Robby chokes on his sip of coffee. “No.” 

You laugh, nodding and playing with the plastic lid of your cup. “Yes! You know what? It’s on me for agreeing to go out with a guy who still lives in his mom’s basement. I am grown enough to admit that that’s on me.” 

“Jesus,” Robby mutters. “What a dick.” 

“I think I’m done. I’m too old.” You know you’re being dramatic, but it’s so easy to bitch to Robby. “You’d think being a therapist I’d be able to spot emotionally intelligent men, but I can’t. Can’t even find someone who’s in therapy himself.” 

Robby snorts into his coffee and rubs his jaw. “Yeah, you’re a fuckin’ old maid.” He pauses, lifts an eyebrow. “I know a guy in therapy.”

You purse your lips, studying Robby as you sit at the little cafe table in the coffee shop. “Oh yeah? He an ER doctor too?”

Robby smirks. “Yeah, he is.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I can’t do that again.”

Robby laughs, holds a hand to his heart like you’ve wounded him. “Ouch. Was it that bad?” 

You grin, bumping his coffee cup with your own. “Yes, it was that bad. Even if we–yanno, had actually been into each other in a real way, your schedule is atrocious. ER doctors are walking zombies. I can’t date another one!”

Robby studies you in that quiet way of his that makes you feel like he’s seeing through whatever bullshit you’re spouting. 

“His name’s Jack Abbot. He’s an attending on the night shift. He’s in his 40s, was a medic in the army.” Robby pauses. “He’s a good man.”

You take a moment and absorb the information. “Is he even looking to date?”

Robby grins, draining the last of his coffee. “When he meets you, yeah, I think he will be.”

* * * 

Falling in love with Jack Abbot starts out slow and then happens all at once. 

You meet for the first time at a little bar around the corner from your apartment. You’re nervous. If you were being honest, you didn’t think Robby’s colleague would be interested in a blind date. But you’d gotten a text from an unknown number that read, “Hey, this is Jack Abbot, Robby’s better half. Would it be okay if I called you? Not a great texter.” 

He’d called a minute after you said that was fine and the deep gravel of his voice had warmed you down to your toes. Robby had shown you a picture of him, the two of them at some hospital fundraiser gala a year or two back, and yeah, he was fucking handsome. Thick, gray curls. Broad shoulders. Crooked smile. 

Apparently, he hadn’t been opposed to whatever picture Robby had shown him of you, because you found yourself talking on the phone with Dr. Jack Abbot for over two hours that first phone call. The conversation flowed easily, winding between work and family and it began to sketch the shape of you to each other. 

It’d been natural. Scarily so, if you were honest with yourself. 

You’re still nervous to meet him in person. That phone call was a few nights ago, and your hands tremble a little as you open the door to the bar. You run your hands down the fabric of your little dress – a casual, first date number that makes you feel sexy and like yourself all at once – as you walk into the bar. Your eyes scan for a moment. 

Your heart is thumping. 

This feels weighted in a way that other first dates haven’t. This person is in Robby’s orbit, which automatically makes you trust him. 

Your eyes meet across the room and it feels like a little lock sliding into place. You’re taken aback by the feeling.

He’s standing at the corner of the bar, casually leaning against it, hands in his pockets and Jesus Christ, he’s gorgeous. The salt-and-pepper curls look even better than in the picture you saw, and your fingers itch to run through them. He’s in nice jeans, a black sweater, expensive as fuck looking Nikes, and he’s…well, he’s staring at you in a way that nearly makes you stumble mid-step. 

“Hi,” you breathe when you’re in front of him. Jack’s smile is a little crooked and it’s so charming you feel flustered.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice sounds just like it did on the phone: warm and raspy. “It’s really nice to meet you—uh, in person.” Oh my god, he’s so cute. He seems nervous and oddly, it sets you at ease.

You smile at him and fiddle with the strap of your purse. “It’s also nice to meet you in person.” Jesus, you sound like a robot. 

But Jack grins again and it makes him look boyish. 

“I’ll be honest,” Jack tells you, and he steps a little closer. His scent wafts over to you - like clean, fresh soap - and it’s very nice. “I uh…I haven’t been set up in awhile. I’m a little rusty.” 

You laugh. “Rusty’s okay with me.” You pause. “You don’t live in your mom’s basement, do you?”

Jack narrows his eyes. “Tell me you’re joking. The bar’s that low?”

You purse your lips. “In the ground.”

Jack lets out a disbelieving breath and shakes his head. He rubs the back of his neck. “I promise I don’t live in my ma’s basement.” 

You grin and he grins back crookedly and it’s so nice. He asks you what you’re drinking and after you both have your choice in hand - a pinot noir for you, a whisky on the rocks for him - you find a little table. The bar is one of your favorites, a charming little place with low lighting and a relaxed crowd. 

You’re once again surprised by how natural it all feels. You pick up right where you left off on the phone, and you’re grateful that Jack seems to enjoy talking. You’ve been on plenty of dates with men who can’t carry a conversation or seem physically incapable of asking you a single question about yourself, so this? 

This is just…lovely. 

The candlelight dances across Jack’s face, highlighting his cheekbones and the gray stubble. You…simply cannot stop looking at him. And he cannot seem to stop looking at you; you may not know him well yet, but an hour in his presence and you realize this man loves eye contact. He’s unafraid to hold it, and it keeps you grounded and in your body in a way that is calming to your anxiety. 

You find out Jack grew up just outside of Pittsburgh, that he’s a born and raised Steelers fan. You learn more about his time as a combat medic (you’d touched on it on the phone). You learn that he prefers the night shift, that it calms and quiets his mind. You learn that he’s been seeing his current therapist for two years after his previous one retired. You learn that he’s the oldest of four kids and has three younger sisters. A bunch of nieces and nephews that he — adorably — shows you on his phone. 

He learns that you’re prone to anxiety attacks. That you’ve wanted to be a therapist since high school. You tell him about your friendship with Robby and he laughs when you tell him about your ill-fated attempt at dating. He learns that you want to travel more, dream of going back to Sorrento, Italy and sipping limoncello while the briny sea breeze of the marina plays across your face. He learns about your family, and how much you love them. 

A lull in the conversation as you sip your wine and he studies you. You blush, looking into your glass.

“What?” you ask out of the side of your mouth. When you look back up at him, you notice he has a dimple in his cheeks when he grins. 

“I just didn’t think it’d be like this,” is what he says. Your heart thrums once, twice, a thudding in your chest.

“Like what?”

He doesn’t blink when he stares at you. “Easy.”

You smile at him and he lets out a breath like that smile is what he’s been waiting for. 

“I uh, I should tell you,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’ve been married before. My wife passed ten years ago.” His jaw clenches once, twice. “I never know how to uh, bring it up.” He clears his throat. 

Your heart clenches in your chest. “Thank you for telling me,” you say softly, genuinely. And you mean it. 

He looks at you then like he’s a little surprised. “You didn’t say, ‘sorry for your loss.’”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh. Do you want me to?”

His cheeks dimple when he gives you a small, gentle smile. “Fuck no. I’m just…everyone says ‘sorry for your loss.’” 

“It is an unthinkable thing to lose a partner, a thing that forever changes your entire chemistry as a human being,” you tell him. “And I hate that it happened to you. And I’m very thankful that you told me.” 

Jack taps his thumb against his whisky glass, and seems to study the melting ice within it. “She’s—she was the best person I ever met. She made me better. I think about her all the time.” He adds roughly, “I hope she’s proud’a me.” 

You resist the urge to take this man’s hand in your own. Your fingers itch for it, but you don’t want to assume he’s okay with that, especially during such a vulnerable moment. You sit in his words for a moment, letting them rest between you. 

“I’m so glad you had her. That you still have her, in a lot of ways, I’m sure.”

He nods and doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then he lets out a breath and when he looks up at you, his eyes glisten a bit. 

“This what it’s like dating a therapist? You always say the right thing?”

You bark out a laugh because you can’t help it. “God, if I always said the right thing, I’d be a shitty therapist. I tend to believe you learn by failing and fucking up.” Your cheeks warm as he continues to look at you. “And this isn’t dating. This is our first date.”

He raises a teasing eyebrow. “Oh? First and last?”

You bite your lip and his eyes track the motion. He swallows. “That what you want? First and last?”

“Hell no,” he says immediately, voice so sure that it warms your entire body. The glisten in his eyes has given way to a brightness and you think, I like this.

I like you.

“Good,” you tell him, draining the last of your wine. “Me either.”

* * * 

You get tacos from the taco truck around the corner, and in between bites of carne asada and tinga de pollo, Jack tells you about work at PTMC.

“I like the teaching aspect of it,” he tells you after taking a sip of his water. You sit at a little folding table in the parking lot where the truck is set up. “I didn’t think I’d like that part, but as cheesy as it sounds, I think it’s part of what I’m meant to do.”

You’re smiling as you say, “I see why you and Robby are friends.” 

Jack barks out a short laugh. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

You swallow the last bite of your taco, lick the salsa from your fingertips. Jack’s eyes linger on the movement and you feel a buzz in your blood. 

“You both can’t help but lead. It’s in your DNA.” You pause. “It’s how I know you’re a good doctor and I just met you.”

“Hey now,” Jack says, wiping his hands on a napkin. “You keep talkin’ like that and my ego’s gonna get too big to fit through the trauma bay.”

You grin and he grins back and you feel silly and light and…happy. 

“I wanna see you again,” Jack tells you. It’s so straightforward that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

“You’re seeing me right now,” you say to deflect from the nerves you’re feeling. 

Jack shrugs. 

“Not enough,” he says and you think you might actually swoon. “I like schedules. You wanna see me again?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then. I’m off in three days and I wanna make you dinner at my place. Would that be okay?”

You try to contain your excitement, to play it cool. You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“I thought you were rusty at the whole dating thing,” you tell him. His eyes flash with something you want to name as mischief. 

Jack rubs his scruffy jaw. He puts his elbows on the table and leans forward. “You make me wanna be good at it.”

You think your smile may be so bright that it outshines the streetlight above. 

“Dinner at your place in three days sounds perfect.” 

* * * 

There’s an energy between you that wasn’t there earlier in the night as Jack walks you home. You can feel it. It’s heavy and pulsing and it makes you feel untethered in a way that is intoxicating. 

Your hands brush as you walk down the quiet, dark street. Shoulders swaying into each other. You can feel the heat of Jack’s body, how close he’s walking. You clock that he’s walking on the outside of the sidewalk, that his eyes scan your surroundings, like he’s making sure he’s aware of everything going on.

The two of you don’t speak much as you walk, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s…anticipatory. It feels like you’re on the precipice of something and whatever happens in the next few minutes will determine something very important. 

You reach your duplex, a sweet little place with night-blooming jasmine bushes that have been there since you moved in several years ago. You stop at the gate and turn to him. He stops walking, hands in his pockets as his eyes hold yours. 

You both don’t say anything for a moment. You just look at each other and it’s comforting to know that you can exist with this man, just as you are. 

“This is me,” you say after a moment and it makes laughter bubble out of both of you. He grins boyishly, the apples of his cheeks pushing upward. A chorus of cute cute cute chants in your brain.

“Yeah, I figured,” he teases. “Unless you’re in the habit of just stopping in front of random people’s houses.”

“You don’t know me,” you tease back. 

Jack steps closer to you and you look up at him. He’s not really tall but he’s taller than you and his entire presence is so broad and commanding that you feel swept into it. 

“Hopin’ to change that, though.” His voice has a husk to it. “If you’ll let me.”

You take in a breath as he studies you like he’s trying to memorize your face. 

“Yeah, Abbot,” you say, your own voice soft. “I’ll let you.”

He huffs out a breath, hazel eyes clear. “Yeah?” 

His right hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek for a tender moment. You nod as he leans down. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, right before his lips meet yours. 

It’s the best first kiss you’ve ever had. 

Light at first, both of you learning one another’s mouths. Jack’s other hand comes to your face and he’s cradling your head like it’s something precious, like it’s something to be cherished. You step closer to him, your own hands fisting the front of his sweater and pulling him closer. 

When your tongue traces his bottom lip, Jack groans and it lights you up from your scalp to your toes. 

He opens his mouth immediately, his tongue licking into you and you’re on fire. 

You’re in your thirties and you’re making out with this man with a mop of silver curls and it’s so heady that you feel like you’re floating. You feel like you’re a teenager again, sneaking kisses before the porch light comes on and you’re found out. 

You don’t know how much time passes, just that when you both break apart you’re equally short of breath. You’re seconds from inviting him up to your place which is not your typical first date move but that’s simply because nobody’s been worth it before. He grins down at you, lips kiss-bitten, face flushed, and plays with a loose strand of hair framing your face. He rubs it between his fingers, then tucks it behind your ear. 

“Three days. My place. Dinner,” he says, voice husky and wrecked and you smile up at him, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. 

“Can’t wait.”

Later that night, when you’re in bed about to drift off, you get a text from Robby, asking how the date had gone. You respond with a simple thumbs up, knowing it’ll piss him off. He returns your text with ????????? and you snort. You put him out of your misery with your response: It was wonderful. He is wonderful. Seeing him in a few days. Robby sends back a thumbs up in retaliation, which in return makes you annoyed and then you engage in a battle of emojis (middle finger, gun, skull, etc.) until your phone buzzes with an incoming text.

Jack Abbot: Had an amazing time tonight and can’t wait to see you again. Sweet dreams.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you think maybe—just maybe—this is the start of a real good thing.

There’s no way you can know that in four years you’ll be separated from Jack and fighting for your life in a cold, dark hospital room.

[gds-daisy]

track 3: BANG BANG BANG

part 3 of made (atties version)

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!jiyong, sub!reader, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, teasing, praise, dirty talk, pet names, angst, friends to lovers, cheating.

a/n: i am so honored to be part of this collab with some of my lovely writer friends so i hope you guys enjoy the fic! also, the end is fluffy which is unexpected especially since i was assigned bang bang bang, but i didn't want to throw away the entire plot so please don't kill me yall

Tonight was supposed to be a distraction from reality…more specifically from your boyfriend, Jake.

He had been acting like a dick all week and you didn’t know what his deal was. The two of you were supposed to go on a date tonight that had been planned weeks back, but he was already 15 minutes late. Maybe he had gotten stuck in traffic or maybe he was still getting ready. He wouldn’t stand you up, would he? Wrong.

When another agonizing 10 minutes passed by, you knew something was up. Sure he was sometimes late when it came to picking you up, but he never blew you off entirely. This was unlike him, that much you knew for sure. That’s why you had sent him a chain of texts to make sure everything was okay.

“let me know if you’re running late”

“how far away are you?”

“did you forget about our date?”

“hello?”

Nothing. Not a word.

Okay fair enough. Maybe he really was on his way and couldn’t text you back. After all, he had to be careful while driving so he wouldn’t get into a car accident or any other serious situation that would prevent him from not being able to make it to your apartment. Perhaps calling him would be a better alternative.

As you pressed on the phone icon next to his contact, you could feel yourself become more worried. The trilling sound that came from the phone was practically mocking you. Just as you were about to hang up entirely upon the second to last ring, the trilling stops entirely.

“Hello?” Jake answers groggily.

“Hey! Are you on your way? I mean it's already 7:30 and you were supposed to be here about 25 minutes ago,” you remind him, trying not to get so worked up so quickly.

“Shit that was tonight?” he asks as if it’s the first time he’s hearing about this.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you say with a frustrated look on your face as your hand finds its way to your forehead, now rubbing away at your temples.

“Look I’m so-” he starts to say but just before he can finish, he’s cut off by a feminine voice in the background.

“You can join me in the shower if you’d like, baby,” you hear the voice say.

And just like that, you felt your heart sink within a matter of seconds of hearing those words. You didn’t know if your ears were playing a cruel joke on you when you heard the pet name escape the girl’s lips on the other line. No. It couldn’t be. This had to be a dream…a really fucked up dream. What you just heard wasn’t a misunderstanding, but you desperately wanted it to be more than anything. Sure, he had been an asshole to you sometimes, but this? This was a new low even for him. This was the same man who told you that he wanted you and only you forever…the same man who had told you not even three weeks ago that he wanted to marry you one day. But he was also the same man who had just made you look like an idiot. God, how could you be so damn blind? Now it all made sense…the way he had been distancing himself lately, the way he stopped complimenting you, the way he started giving you less than the bare minimum. You had cried over him so many times when he treated you like shit but would always want to be in his company whenever you had those crying episodes. It made no sense whatsoever.

That’s when a switch went off in your brain. He would never change. The cycle was constant, especially these past few months. He was constantly making you feel like you were in the wrong for feeling the way you did about certain things he did. It seemed like no matter how many times you told him how you felt about his unacceptable behavior, the more he would indulge in it. Not only did your sadness build up these past few months, but so did your anger. You couldn’t even count how many times you had gone to bed angry at him while he didn’t have a care in the world about how you felt. The next part of the cycle was you begging for the two of you to fix things. You hated begging for the bare minimum, and it was starting to get draining. As much as you always wanted to resolve issues whenever they arose, it was starting to be a more common occurrence than not. You were done. 

“Don’t you dare even try to explain yourself,” you seethed with venom that was practically dripping from your voice.

“Baby please! It was a stupid mistake!” he pleads. 

“The only stupid mistake made here was me wasting so much time on you,” you angrily say before hanging up on him entirely, not letting him have the last word for once.

You still couldn’t believe it had come to this. It was just too much to take in. On one hand you felt angrier than all hell, but on the other hand, you were in mourning. The guy you had once known was now just a stranger. A ghost of his former self. You should’ve seen this coming especially with all the telltale signs being right in front of your face, but like an idiot–you had chosen to ignore them even when it didn’t serve your best interests at heart. You had fallen for his whole “I-want-to-change-just-for-you” act. Hell, you were even an investor. 

The anger and sorrow were now plaguing your mind and heart. You couldn’t take it. You needed a distraction…a healthy one. One that would ease your mind even if it were just for a few hours at most.

That’s how you found yourself at your best friend Jiyong’s apartment for an early in the week movie night.

Jiyong and you had been best friends for years. You guys met at YG Entertainment when both of your groups were preparing for their respective debuts in the music industry. To say that period of your life was stressful would be the understatement of the century. It was filled with dance lessons and vocal practices that would drag into the long hours of the night. But that's what brought you and Jiyong closer together. Both of you shared the same experiences which brought great comfort to one another. Before you knew it, you had started hanging out with him outside of the walls of YG Entertainment. Whether it was a laughter filled movie night on his couch or a night out on the town, you always had a fun time with Jiyong.

There was something about it that made it so special. Maybe it was the fact that you could be yourself around him or the fact that you guys were always able to find new movies to watch, even if they turned out to be god awful. It also gave you something to look forward to each week, especially if it was a rough week. It was the only sense of normalcy you had ever known.

“We’ve got options tonight!” you hear Jiyong say from the hall before entering his room.

“I swear to god if you suggest The Human Centipede again, I will kill you myself Kwon Jiyong,” you warn, loud enough for him to hear.

“You know I was joking!” he responds back.

“Mhm sure you were, Ji,” you say with a scoff. “Now tell me what your brilliant mind has come up with this week”

“I was thinking we could watch either Scream, The Conjuring, or Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he suggests.

“Wow Ji, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” you say with a laugh, no malice behind it.

“And I’m almost offended…now pick,” Jiyong says.

“Let’s go with Scream…can’t go wrong with Skeet Ulrich. I mean have you seen that man?” you ask him rhetorically, a smile now spread across your face. If you weren’t completely caught up in your laughter, you would’ve noticed the look of disappointment that had taken over Jiyong’s once calm face. He knew it was stupid to be upset about, but that didn’t stop him from feeling that way. Jiyong knew he probably wasn’t your type, which always left a pit in his stomach. I mean for god's sake; he was in love with you. How could he not be? You made him feel like he mattered when nothing else did. You were his confidant, his support system, and most of all—the woman he loved. He hated feeling this hopeless. He had fame, money, and you…but not in the way he wanted. He wanted all of you, but he knew he never would be able to so what was the point of telling you at all? 

Shaking off his thoughts, he put all his focus back into the present moment. “Alright let’s get this movie night started!” he says, hoping it seemed enthusiastic enough to you so you wouldn’t suspect that anything was wrong. When you didn’t respond, he almost felt relieved. He let out a sigh before he drew his eyes to the screen and dug his hand into the bowl of popcorn, hoping the movie would distract him from this fucked up reality.

The final act of the movie had you on the edge of the sofa. All hell had broken loose as Skeet Ulrich’s character Billy was revealed to be the killer when he shot Randy and sent him flying through the table. The sound of the gun going off scared you half to death and made you jump backwards into Jiyong’s arms. His arms cradled yours in response and looked at you to make sure you were alright. “Are you okay?” he softly asks, the sound of the movie becoming nothing more than pure background noise. 

“No! He just shot Randy!” you let out melodramatically. 

“I totally saw that one coming…I mean how could you trust a guy with greasy hair like that?” he scoffs. All you could do was playfully slap his arm in response. “I really thought he was innocent, not to mention he betrayed Sidney too,” you pout.

“So, are you Team Randy or Team Billy then?” he asks out of curiosity. 

“I have no idea, Ji. I mean Billy’s hot, and Randy is sweet and geeky. It’s hard to choose. What about you?”

“I would have to say I’m Team Randy here,” he says without hesitation.

“And why’s that?” you ask teasingly, eager to hear his reasoning. 

“Well Randy is kind of an underdog…I mean think about it. He’s the shy and nerdy comedic relief and he seemed to really care about Sidney…not to mention that his hair is actually clean,” Jiyong explains.

“Kwon Jiyong, you softie!” you say as your mouth falls agape from his shocking response.

“If I'm a softie, then you're a scaredy cat for jumping at that gunshot," he mocks.

“You know what? I take back what I said. You’re just an asshole,” you say jokingly, now pulling your body away from his. 

“I’m so mean I know…” Jiyong trails, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes simultaneously. 

“C'mon let’s get back to the movie! We’re missing all the good parts!” you groaned.

And with that, both of your guys’ eyes returned to the screen, anticipating the rest of the movie.

As the end credits rolled onto the screen of Jiyong’s TV, the both of you sat there in shock, unsure of how to feel about everything that had just happened within the last quarter of the movie. 

“Holy shit…I did not see any of that coming…did you?” you ask him, still dumbfounded and trying to collect your thoughts.

“I knew that Stu was probably gonna be the second killer anyway, but I did not expect Gale and Dewey to still be kicking,” he shares. 

“Right?! I thought Gale was a goner when she wrapped her car around that tree,” you let out with a laugh.

“Plot armor at its finest, I’m telling ya,” Jiyong laughs back with a smile entrapping his face. “I’m still mad Randy didn’t get with Sidney; I will admit that.” he adds on.

“I mean to be fair look what she just went through…Billy was a damn psychopath,” you chuckle softly. 

“I think we both know another psychopath boyfriend,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear, earning him an unreadable facial expression.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct him. 

“Does he know that?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure I made my message loud and clear,” you clarify with a laugh.

“Good. That asshole deserves to have his ass handed to him after what he did to you,” Jiyong says defensively.

Jiyong knew he shouldn’t be acting like this, but he couldn’t help it. He hated seeing you upset whenever you told him the newest thing your now-ex had done to make you cry. He had been there for all of it even when you wanted to shut everybody out in the process. In his eyes, you were the best thing to ever exist. You were his entire world even if he wasn’t yours. You made him better. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, Ji,” you say, sounding more bashful than ever as a pink tint takes over your cheeks.

“No, I'm saying that because I love you!” Jiyong suddenly blurts out before he can even comprehend what he just said.

Within a blink of an eye, the room fell silent. The two of you could only stare in shock as the both of you were trying to process what the hell just happened. Jiyong couldn’t believe himself. He had just confessed his feelings for you when he didn’t even mean to. It was just as shocking to you, maybe even more. This was the second time today where you felt like your ears were deceiving you. There was no way this was happening.

“You what?” you ask still in disbelief. You needed to know for sure.

“I love you…I always have,” he confesses with raw passion. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you how I felt. It was eating me alive…consuming me.”

So, this was real. This wasn’t the universe playing tricks on you. All of it was authentic. You could tell from the way the words fell from his mouth…the same way his song lyrics sounded. They were also full of longing and soft passion. It all made sense now.

“Please say something…anything. I just need to know what you’re thinking,” Jiyong pleads softly.

“I think I love you too Ji,” you admit, the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I think somewhere along the way I fell for you even if I didn’t want to admit it. I felt so ashamed especially since I was still dating him,” you let out.

“He never deserved a girl like you,” he says, almost sounding a bit harsh. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find his words to be attractive. Hell, you didn’t even realize your thighs were now clenched together as a result of his words. With each passing second, you were becoming more aware of the aching pain that resided in between your legs. You had enough.

“Ji…if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to god…” you trailed, your voice laced with both neediness and lust.

That was all he needed.

Within seconds, his lips attacked yours and all you could do was fall deeper into the kiss like it was some sort of magnetizing trance. You knew you should pull away, tell him to stop, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. It felt right. The kiss was one of desire but also longing. You had been wanting to do this for ages, ever since your relationship was on a downward spiral. Your ex wasn’t the one comforting you after a bad day. Jiyong was. Your ex wasn’t the one who helped you pick up the pieces after a mental breakdown. Jiyong did. It was all Jiyong. How you couldn’t see that sooner was beyond you, but you didn’t care about any of that when your lips were currently locked with Jiyong’s with no sign of stopping.

His hands slowly trail down your body before they take their final resting place at your hips. The contact was one sparked by greed but also angst. As for your hands, they were now cradling his face like the crane of a claw machine. You could feel how desperate the kiss had become with his tongue now practically down your throat, almost like he was trying to prove something. He wanted you and only you.

Your bodies are practically flush against each other at this point, so much so that you can feel his clothed hard on through the material of your pajama pants. Just feeling it against your clothed heat was enough for you to become embarrassingly wet. You were never so needy before tonight. Your ex never knew what turned you on, let alone try to even learn what you were into. Every time the two of you slept together, it had ended with you feeling unfulfilled and dirty. Hell, he never even gave you an orgasm. Not even once.

“Ji…I need you,” you let out against his soft lips.

“I need you more,” Jiyong says with raw desire. 

“Then take me,” you challenge, your hand now brushing against the tent in his pants which makes him buck directly into your hand. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing to me, sweetheart…” he warns with no real threat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you innocently say as you plaster a shit eating grin across your angelic face while still palming him through his pants. 

That was it.

Before you knew it, your legs were now straddling his lap with a cobra like vice. His hands found their way to your hips before making you rock back and forth on his lap. You could practically feel his erection brushing away at your now needy cunt, almost like he wanted to tease you for the little stunt you had just pulled. “Now do you see what I’m talking about, baby?” Jiyong asks bluntly. He doesn’t stop there, no. His pace quickens just the tiniest bit, but it proves to be enough to have you moaning into his mouth which earns a smile from him. “You’re making it so hard to be gentle with you…” he warns.

“Who said I wanted you to be gentle?” you say mischievously.

Oh my god. You were going to kill this man.

It was like an invisible yet existent switch went off in him that made him crave you even more than he already did. Suddenly his lips draw themselves away from your mouth before they attack your lips. He starts harshly sucking away at the supple skin, which only makes your head tilt back in response. You knew that hickeys were inevitable with the way he was nipping at your neck with his warm mouth, which was slowly making its way towards your collarbone. He decides to strip you of your shirt in the process, now sliding it over your head before discarding the fabric to the floor entirely. Jiyong’s brown eyes are introduced to the sight of your perky tits, which makes him feel like he could come untouched any second now. He doesn’t waste anymore time before laying you down on the bed and pulling himself off of you to strip himself of the clothes that made him feel like he was being suffocated.

Once he’s down to wearing absolutely nothing, he gets back on top of you and immediately latches his mouth onto your pebbled areola. He drags the sensitive skin with his teeth, making you gasp in response. “Fuck you’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen…everything about you is perfect,” he mutters softly while still sucking away at your nipple. “These are fucking perfect,” he groans.

He switches over to your other breast, giving it the same treatment he gave the other one. This time however, he sucks even harder at the skin with the intention of leaving a trail of hickeys that would later be littered all over your exposed chest.

“You want me, jagi?” he mumbles both confidently and teasingly against the nape of your collarbones. 

“More than anything…” you plead almost sounding pathetic as you did so. 

“Let’s see how true that is then,” he teases. You were confused by his words at first. That was until he slowly slid his hand down your plaid pajama pants, earning an airy gasp from you. His fingers run over the lace fabric of your panties only for them to trace the now wet spot that had formed. “You’re drenched f’me and I’ve barely even touched you…poor thing,” Jiyong tuts. “Wonder what I would find if I just…” he continues before experimentally sliding two fingers inside your panties, slowly rubbing away at your clothed cunt with his fingers.

“Need more…please…” are the only words you manage to get out at this moment.

“Only since you asked so nicely…gotta get you ready f’me anyway,” Jiyong says with a pleased look on his face. He gets off of you for a second so he could properly discard your pants. Once he does so, he brings his fingers back to your heat and continues rubbing away at your heat, all while keeping a steady pace. He didn’t even have to pull his hand out of your panties to know that his fingers were already drenched with your slick and creamy arousal. Jiyong decides to take it one step further and slides two fingers inside your tight cunt as a way to gauge a reaction from you. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades which only encourages him to set a quicker pace. He manages to curl his fingers just right and finds that sweet spot deep inside you that even you didn’t know existed. All you knew was that it had you rutting your hips upward in an attempt to gain more friction. “Such a good girl…taking my fingers so well,” he praises. 

Jiyong knew his words got to both you and your cunt went he felt you tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t help but flash a cocky grin at this fact. It was also a telltale sign that you were close to reaching your high, which Jiyong wanted to give to you more than anything. “Cum on my fingers baby…I know you want to,” he coos into your ear, practically encouraging you to do so. With a few more harsh thrusts of his fingers, you finally came undone, your release creating a sticky mess on his fingers. Jiyong continued to finger fuck you through your orgasm, making sure you were fully satisfied.

Once you finally come down from the mind shattering orgasm he had given you, he pulls his fingers out of you just as fast as he did when he first inserted them inside you. You laid there panting as you tried to catch your breath after what had just gone down. While you were doing so, you see Jiyong insert his fingers into his mouth, now getting a taste of your sweet release. He closed his eyes as he relished the taste that had taken over his mouth. He knew one thing for sure. He wanted more–no. He needed more.

“You did so well for me…I think that deserves a reward, but only if you want it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he says a bit softer this time. 

“I’m sure Ji, I promise…just need you,” you confess, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” Jiyong says as he kisses you on the lips once more. “Can I take these off?” he asks, referring to your panties. You nod at his question, which makes him feel more at ease.

Finally receiving permission from you, he slowly strips you of your drenched panties before throwing them onto the bedroom floor. You’re now leaning against the headboard as you anticipate his next move. The thought of it alone was enough for goosebumps to form on your skin. “Open your legs f’me,” he coos to which you comply with. His face is now nestled in between your thighs all while kissing the supple and soft skin. He takes in the sight before him and swore he was in heaven right now. It seemed too good to be true, almost like he was having a surreal wet dream. Just being so close to your bare pussy was enough for the blood in his body to rush directly to his already hard dick. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to devour you. 

And with that, he teasingly licks a long stripe against your glistening and aching folds. He lets out a guttural groan as he tastes you. The tip of his tongue disappears as it makes its way inside your core entirely. The sudden intrusion has you tugging at his hair for support, which only eggs him on further. You could feel every flick of his tongue as it brushed against your swollen clit ever so skillfully. It was as if devouring your cunt and taking in the smell of you were the only things keeping Jiyong alive in this moment. He was a man starved and now here you were–all sprawled out for him on his bed and squirming with each stroke of his tongue as it lapped away at your poor little pussy. Even the sound of your juices being extracted with his tongue was music to his ears.

“Just like that!” you exclaim with a pornographic moan, now grinding against his face in order to gain more friction. Jiyong’s tongue continues to assault your cunt at the pace he had previously set. He was getting drunk on your pussy already, but he didn’t give a damn. 

“Fuck jagi…tastes so sweet,” he garbled, his mouth still flush against your warm flesh. Suddenly, you felt him sucking away at the lips of your labia, almost as if he was trying to make out with your pussy entirely. You wouldn’t be wrong. Your cunt was the best thing he ever tasted in his life and he would gladly die in between your legs if it came down to it. Jiyong violently started shaking his head in an attempt to lick up all your juices that were smeared against your delicious cunt. The sensation of his tongue dragging up and down your sore folds had you curling your toes in response.

 You didn’t know if it was because of how sensitive your last orgasm had left you or not, but you could feel a coil start to form within the walls of your tummy, the pressure becoming too much to bear. Nevertheless, Jiyong could feel how clenched your pussy had become for him while his mouth was still consuming you.

“I’m gonna cum Ji!” you moan ever so pathetically.

“Come on aein, give it to me…make a mess all over my face,” he softly orders you. “Show how good of a girl you can be.” With a few more flicks of his tongue, your second orgasm of the night hits you like a freight train, your release now covering his gorgeous face. His tongue works you through your orgasm by lapping away at any remaining juices that may have escaped his tongue the first time around. He finally pulls away from your heat before wiping his chin with his fingers. After doing so, he makes sure to slide his fingers into his mouth before cleaning them entirely, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

After laying on the bed motionless for a hot second, you somehow muster the strength to sit up straight and get close enough to Jiyong until your lips are practically brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper seductively, but also with a hint of vulnerability.

“Is that so?” he implores, awaiting whatever answer you would give him. 

“Mhmmm,” you hum.

“I think we can arrange that,” he says before he connects his lips with yours and positions the two of you flush against one another, now laying down on the bed. You can feel how hard his erection is against your bare and exposed pussy. His cock is practically brushing against your drenched folds and it’s agonizing. 

“Please…need your cock inside me…can’t wait any longer,” you beg out of impatience.

“How do you want it? You want it slow or fast, angel?” Jiyong asks you.

“I want it fast,” you claim.

“Okay baby, it might hurt at first. Just let me know if you want to stop at all and I will. Your pleasure is just as important as mine,” he says, placing a peck on your lips. 

Before you know it, he slides his cock into you all at once, giving you almost no time to adjust to his size. The stretch was one that burned, but also felt so fucking delicious. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and he hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Ready jagi?” he asks with a grin on his face. You nodded at his words, which was the only green light he needed. He had immediately started thrusting into your tight hole at an ungodly pace, one that made a string of moans expel from your plush lips. Your hips were grinding against his, which made it easier for his cock to brush your g-spot in a way that Jake never did. “Fuck baby…you feel so good squeezing me so tight like this…bet he never fucked you the way you deserved, hm?” he asks mockingly.

“N-no he didn’t,” you cry out as his cock continued to pummel into your abused cunt.

“What a fucking shame…had the most beautiful girl ever and couldn’t please her,” he says in between grunts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as the headboard was practically hitting the thin walls of his bedroom. He didn’t care if the upstairs neighbors could hear the two of you going at it like rabbits in heat. All he was focused on was fucking you like his life depended on it. “But it’s okay baby because your Jiyongie is here to help you.”

“Harder!” you cry out as your eyes screw shut. 

Hearing how desperate you were only made Jiyong more turned on. The fact that he was the one making you feel like this. The fact that  he got to hear your pleas escape your pretty lips. He knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. Just like you wouldn’t. 

His thrusts had become more erratic and messy at this point. Both of you could feel his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass perfectly, only adding to the eroticness of it all. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you as he pounded into you with his fat cock.There were so many sensations coursing through your body to the point where it was overstimulating for your brain to process them all. It felt like you were on cloud nine, but in a more exhilarating way that had you gripping at the sheets due to how intense it was. 

All of a sudden, you feel yourself clench around his cock once more as he continues his movements. Yeah, you were definitely close.

“I’m gonna cum…oh fuck,” you warn him.

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Let go for me…I wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” he says almost in a hushed whisper. 

With a few more slams of his hips, you felt a jolt deep inside you, resulting in your third orgasm of the night. The feeling of you gushing all over him propelled him to slam into you a few more times before eventually emptying himself inside you with a groan, all hot and sticky. His movements finally slowed down as the two of you came down from your shared climaxes. Eventually, he pulled out of you and laid down on the opposite side of your body. The two of you were now looking directly into each other's eyes, almost with the intention of staying lost in them forever. 

His hand finds its way to your cheek, now cradling it softly with admiration. “You did so well for me…I’m sorry if it was too much,” he apologizes.

“Are you kidding me? That was amazing.” you assure him with a tired smile.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, his voice above a whisper.

“I appreciate it, Ji. I really do. You made me feel so special and cared for,” you say.

“That's because you are special. You’re the most special girl I’ve ever met and will ever meet,” Jiyong replies. “You’re my everything”.

“You’re my everything too…you always have been,” you confess.

“C’mere,” he says while motioning you to come closer with his free hand.

You do as he says and within no time, your lips reunite with his in a slow and tender kiss. Not one filled with lust or greed. Just a pure kiss. The kiss lasts for a few seconds more before Jiyong pulls away.

“I meant what I said earlier…I love you with everything I have,” he says sheepishly.

“And so did I,” you say with a laugh.

Things were finally right.

writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @burningheartdetective @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @ttturnitup

[cometomecosette]

The Different Eras of "Les Misérables," the Musical: Part 1

In honor of Barricade Day, I'm drawing inspiration from @theseerasures' posts about "The Periodization of Wicked."

By now, I think I've watched and listened to enough bootlegs and cast recordings of Les Mis that I can start to identify the different "eras" of the musical's history, and how they've differed from each other in both content and tone. So I've decided to trace those eras from 1985 to the present day, a little at a time

Of course the real first era of the musical – the real Les Mis 1.0 – was the original 1980 French version of the show, as first heard on the Original French Concept Album, then staged at the Palais de Sports arena in Paris the same year. But since that version of the musical was so very different from its later form, and since five years passed between that production and the premiere of the English version, my focus will just be on the familiar version of the show that premiered in London in 1985.

Les Mis 1.0: 1985-86.

The first year and a half of the original London production, featuring the original London cast and their first few replacements. This was definitely a "work in progress" phase, with many different lyrics and some significant musical differences from the show as we know it today. The notable differences include Cosette's brief solo "I Saw Him Once" (later replaced by her solo verse in "In My Life"), Gavroche's full-length version of "Little People," a completely different version of "Valjean's Confession," and a different ending and different orchestration for "Stars," which was also placed before the nine-year time skip rather than after. Much material was either deleted or rewritten in the early months, until the opening of the Broadway production in 1987 finally settled the show into its "definitive" form. Yet this initial phase didn't fully end in 1987: some of the smaller music and lyric differences remained in the London production through the early '90s, even when no other productions used them. Some were also carried into foreign languages (e.g. the German, Hungarian, and Israeli productions), where translations of the 1985 lyrics are still heard when the show is performed in those countries to this day.

Les Mis 2.0: 1987-1996.

This was the version of the musical that premiered on Broadway and which went on to "sweep the world" in new productions throughout the late '80s and '90s. It was solidified by being preserved in full on the Complete Symphonic Recording in 1988. Its new features included (but weren't limited to) faster and more energetic orchestrations, the show's orchestral opening now consisting of the "Look Down" motif, the omission of "I Saw Him Once," the reduction of "Little People," revised versions of "Stars," "In My Life," "Drink with Me," "The Final Battle," and "Valjean's Confession," and assorted lyric changes. It wasn't an entirely uniform or stagnant phase, however. Small differences in the lyrics effectively became "regional differences" between British and Australian productions vs. American and Canadian productions. (For example, "And so it must be" vs. "And so it has been" in "Stars.") And as time went on, small yet significant new lyrics and staging details were introduced in certain productions. The first UK tour in the early '90s was an especially innovative production, and some of its changes were carried over to the last new production of this era, the 1996 German production in Duisburg.

Les Mis 3.0: 1997-2000.

In honor of the show's 10th anniversary on Broadway, and to breathe new life into the show, the NY production received an overhaul, with many small but significant changes in staging, costumes, lighting, and lyrics, and with the addition of the Well Scene between Valjean and Young Cosette. Soon afterward, these changes were implemented in productions everywhere: London, the US 3rd National Tour (the last of the original three US tours from the '80s still running), and new tours in the UK and Australia. Though, again, this new phase wasn't born suddenly: many of the changes had first been introduced in the early '90s UK Tour or in Duisburg in 1996. Nor was every aspect of it implemented everywhere: or example, the Duisburg production never added the Well Scene. At this point, IMHO, the show also became slightly more melodramatic in tone. In the name of adding more energy, the revised staging featured more wild running around, more violence, and more chaos among the ensemble than before.

To be continued...

[chronophobiaclown]

Price is your older brother and he adopts you! then its the end of school and you have a shitty report card to give him :/ my guess is teen!reader but not specified.

1443 words, not re-read/proofread because i'm tired and can't be bothered

( if you’d like more notes a few reblogs are from before the edit!)

————————————————————————

It’d been a few days. Mainly sitting alone in your room with all the blinds closed, occasionally having headphones blasting every single thought out of your head until the lyrics replaced your actual thoughts. “But it was the weekend”, you repeated once more, convincing yourself that you were fine, that this was normal.

You knew it wasn’t.

By now the candle you had been off and on lighting up through the long weekend had fizzled out, the almond scented wax silently turning opaque as it cooled into funky little squiggles and drips directly onto your already messy nightstand, and ruining a book you were supposed to read for school.

Not that you wanted to think about that.

Last Thursday every kid in school was getting their quarterly report cards back. It’s not that you didn’t like school, you just didn’t like the work. And it was currently biting you in the ass.

A fantastic first semester passed but now it was that stupid third quarter rut you got into every single year. It’s not like you asked for that. You just got bored, and tired, and didn’t want to even move.

This of course, caused you to shoot a small glance at something on the floor. Your schoolbag with a host of sharpie drawings, slumped onto the floor and next to it- the crumpled letter, encasing the report of how shitty you were, as if you needed a reminder.

Sitting there staring for a bit, you forgot about time in general, until a few moments later- or an hour who knows- a small knock at your door-

Oh. God damn it.

Of course your brother was back from duty. And obviously it slipped your mind.

A few months ago your parents had passed away from a car accident. It didn’t affect you too much. You were an accident, after they were much too old to be having more kids. They didn’t care, were barely around anyway.

Your brother, John, had gotten the news rather late, or maybe he didn’t check the mail often. So after you already went through three foster care homes he said he’d take you. And honestly-

It wasn’t that different.

He’d leave for most of the week, come back home sundays and stock the fridge, pay rent if need be, and make sure you weren’t throwing parties or setting his house on fire. Basic needs, and basically what your parents were like by the time they got left with you.

Snapping out of your thoughts and grabbing the closest large hoodie on your bed to hide the old tee shirt and shorts- you hopped up from the bed a little too quickly and giving yourself some vertigo but shrugging it off, and grabbed the door. He was on the other side, bread a little longer, looking tired, and still in his uniform.

“Kid?” The small British accent with a touch of age and the smell of war and dirt clinging to him. He smiled like usual, trying to be nice and not really paying attention to what might be wrong. “Heard you got your report card today.” He almost spoke proudly, like he thought you’d gotten all As or some shit.

Well- he probably did think that.

You didn’t move for a second, choice or not. Just paused, and eventually grabbed the letter from by your feet, half torn and stained with something or other left in your bag, and handed it to him.

He nodded, not paying attention to your demeanor or the idea that you might not be totally thrilled by the little letter. He opened it without much thought, looking ready to compliment and praise you for your “good work”. But instead, he was met with less than ideal tiny black letters.

A wave of silence swept over the room as his eyes grazed over all the comments and critiques, all negative or just describing how you were a rather bad student in general. As the smile left his face and was replaced with a frown, his brows furrowed, confusion creeping onto his expression.

John always got good grades. You guys were raised the same, weren’t you? Same parents, same town, and yet here was a clear stark difference.

Gently lowering the paper to his side, he glanced back at you, darting a bit before landing back. He wasn’t totally sure what to say first. What did he say? He assumed this would be simpler. Your last report card had been… much better. You basically like a roommate when he got you. Fed yourself, cleaned, stayed quiet, did your work… bloody hell did he actually have to be a parent? He didn’t even know you that well.

Your hand waving in front of his face snapped him out of the endlessly spiraling thoughts and back to reality. You were just standing there kind of awkwardly, trying to figure out if he was gonna yell at you for the grades or just get annoyed in general. Looking back at him to try and attempt to read his expression or somehow guess what he was gonna do.

As you silently slumped your shoulders and your head almost subconsciously tilted down, he could tell you expected him to reprimand you. But instead, you suddenly felt him …pat your head? You looked up, silently accessing what he was doing, and met with the face of a man who clearly has no fucking clue what to do in this situation. Almost cringing at his own gesture, he pulled his hand back, moving it to his own face, letting out a groan and rubbing his eyes.

You watched quietly, just rather bewildered. After a moment of silence he removed his hand, and knelt down to your height, knees and joints cracking like he was elderly even when he was only 40. A huff left him once he was down, and turned back up to you, giving you a small smile. “You know I'm not mad, right?” he asked quietly, receiving a small, befuddled nod in return. You were obviously not expecting him to react like that.

Quietly you put back on the facade that you were expecting him to react like that, and questioned- “why not?”, earning a small chuckle from your brother and a grin completely meant to cheer you up “because grades aren’t everything” he gently held your shoulders while you continued to stand there confused

Another moment of silence proceeded before he patted your shoulder and suddenly stood back up, a swear you’d never heard before leaving his mouth as you stayed silent. He darted his eyes across the room, and landed on a book. Clearly a school novel, and the spine wasn’t even cracked once yet, and he could see how much you stiffened when you realized that’s what he was looking at. He let out a gruff, amused huff and pointed at the book “were you s’posed to read that?” at your nod he swiftly headed over and snatched the novel. Some random historical fiction story.

Grabbing it and flipping the pages, it was easy to tell it was completely untouched. The way you tensed he could see you, once again, thought you were in trouble, despite him just saying you weren’t. He carefully put the book under his arm, and went over to you, the fact that you were so stiff made it incredibly easy to pick you up.

It’s not like you were going to try and fight anyway he was like twice your size

With ease he brought you downstairs, still carrying you like a plushie, and plopped you down onto the couch next to the book, before heading back into the kitchen.

You just sat there for a bit, in all honesty. What were you supposed to do? You had no fucking clue what he was doing and- he walked back into the room, interrupting your confusion, and carrying two cups of tea. He sat himself next to you, the look on his face clearly reflected that he was mentally preparing himself for trying to deal with a kid, took a breath, and looked down at you.

“This looks like some bloody boring bullshit so we’re gonna read it together, got it?” He tried his best to make it not sound like he was talking to a soldier. You gave a small nod, a huff coming from him as you two got settled to read for the night.

The rest of the night was wonderful. The both of you read until you finished the book, throughout the night you slowly got more comfortable, until by midnight, you had fallen asleep on his lap.

[hikariyaps]

synopsis ☆ satoru gojo, most popular boy on campus, has had loads of flings i mean, it's not his fault girls are all over him right? he has everything he wants, everything he needs. so when he meets you, shoko's best friend plain and unassuming he brushes it off, however one random thursday something happens. something that changes the way he thinks of you entirely. and then he just has to have you, but you won't let up that easily.

☆series masterlist

Chapter Seven

things started to go back to normal. well almost normal. that's crazy because normal for you around six months back was you and shoko. just you and shoko. now normal for you includes a lot more people. gojo, suguru, shoko (obviously), occasionally nanami and haibara would be dragged along.

ever since the evening that sukuna made his reappearance, things between you and gojo have changed. you've gotten a lot closer. it's just been a week but it feels like that day was forever ago.

you opened up more, once you realized you trusted these people. you talked about your likes and dislikes, even started talking about your family.

you started having fun like actual real fun with them. in the past week there had been three mall trips and they'd tried to convince you to go to a party with them, but you had a shoot the next day so you couldn't. instead of going without you, they stayed in and you guys ordered pizza.

satoru loved this side of you. the side of you that talked so excitedly to him about the most random things. the side of you that flashed him those smiles that made his heart stop. the side of you that started laughing at the things he said. he realizes that maybe this isn't just a side of you, but maybe this is you. and truth be told, he had never felt this way about any girl. you really were something.

‘good morning guys’ you say and take a seat next to him, shaking him out of his stupor.

‘well someone woke up on the right side of the bed today.’

‘ha ha, suguru. looks like you got your beauty sleep’ you retort playfully.

‘wait’ satoru gasps dramatically. ‘how come you call him by his first name but me by my last?’ he asks all pouty.

‘we have a long way to get there, sweetie.’ you say patting his cheek.

he doesn't know if its the physical contact or the nickname that has his cheeks burning. he's left dumbfounded.

‘did you order yet?’ you ask him. all he can do is shake his head no. ‘i'll order for you?’ you ask, getting up. he nods yes. you smile at him and leave after mumbling out a quick ‘be right back’.

it isn't until shoko speaks that he snaps his eyes away from you.

‘whoah’ shoko gasps ‘that was scary’

‘right?’ suguru agrees ‘she's never been that nice to me’

‘to you? fuck that. she's never ordered coffee for me!’ shoko breathes out.

‘is there something you want to tell us about satoru?’ suguru teases.

‘what? n-no! satoru stutters out. ‘there's nothing to tell’

‘are you sure?’ shoko droned.

‘mm hmm’ satoru says nodding rapidly.

suguru and shoko both eye him up and down, so in sync that it's almost comical.

god help him, satoru does not know how to act at all.

by the time you come back with the coffee, suguru and shoko have almost got poor satoru to tears.

‘here’ you say, placing his takeaway cup in front of him and setting down in to your seat. it was a lazy friday. none of the teachers had any energy left in them so you guys were basically free the entire day.

‘so, what're the plans for today?’ you ask, taking a sip of your own coffee.

while shoko and suguru try to come up with something to do, satoru takes a sip of his own coffee. it's probably the best thing he's ever had in his life. he lets out an audible noise of delight and turns to you ‘what magic potion did you get me?’ he asks.

you let out a soft giggle. the sound echoing in satoru's brain, oh how he wishes he could listen to it on repeat.

‘it's a caramel latte, with two extra pumps of caramel.’ you explain softly to him, so that you don't disturb the very heated conversation going on between the other two. you lean in slightly so he can hear you and so does he. ‘i know you like sweet things, and since this is my go to, whenever i'm craving something sweet, i thought i'd get it for you.’

‘well you have excellent taste’ he says and you actually blush.

shoko captures this moment very discreetly with her phone.

‘so um’ suguru says loudly, making you both spring apart and return to your own seats bashfully. ‘me and shoko have some errands to run, satoru and you should spend some time together’ he says. shoko nods along and before you both could say anything the two idiots, who actually do not have any errands to run, leave.

you and satoru just sit there in silence for a bit, sipping on coffee, when you get a call from yuki. apparently she messed up and you actually had a shoot in an hour and while she was apologising profusely, your eyes lit up and satoru regrets not taking a picture of your face in that moment. after you tell her it's okay and hang up, you look at satoru.

‘would you perhaps be interested in coming to a shoot of mine?’ you ask him, a little shy, knowing very well, what the answer would be. he is actually overjoyed that you are comfortable enough to invite him to one of these and immediately agrees.

that's how he finds himself an hour and half later, blushing at the way you were killing that outfit. he swears that he's died and gone to heaven because that full white dress you were modelling with that halo definitely portrayed you as an angel.

after the shoot, satoru takes you out for dinner (you had lunch in the studio) and what starts as a silly conversation, turns into a deep exchange about passion and love and heartbreak. and since the other two weren't here (well they were spying on you from the other table but you had no idea) the conversation didn't stop.

satoru asks you what being in love was like and you talk about it with such passion that it makes him want to fall in love.

that night, lying in bed, satoru can't sleep. because he can't stop thinking about you. and that's when he remembers something he read online once ‘when you're in love, sleep is hard to come by.’

and that's when he realizes.

he's in love with you.

and lying awake in your bed, you realize you're in love with him.

a/n: aaahhhhhh!! i thought i posted this yesterday but i just saved it to drafts apparentlyy

©hikariyaps2025

[mikyyxx]

Yandere Armin x You

NSFW 18+

Includes: Stalking, breaking in while your'e sleeping, stealing, masturbation, honestly really freaky so dont read if its not your thing :D

Art by Art of Neight

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵　

Managing my labored breathing would be a task I would oversee even if I rehearsed this plan a million times in my head. Now that I was here my body was stunned-- no in awe-- of the sleeping beauty in front of me.

You slept so peacefully. Even your snores were like small hallow breaths that escaped from your lips that were inches apart. It was such a contrast to the anxious nights I had planning and overthinking how this night would look--how you would look as the moonlight danced on your skin.

Could this be my reward?

For all the days of hiding behind trees and watching you from afar?For restraining myself from the fantasies that urged my body to want more...take more.

It must be.

This was your invitation. You knew of my presence outside your window, in your room when you were absent, at places you visited that would conveniently pay for your meals every time.

You left your window unlock for three weeks and on the fourth, I would test the lines that blurred between fantasy and reality tonight and confirm if I was your admirer or a creep that was lured into a perfect trap.

So be it.

Nothing that I've ever done from a distance could compare to the proximity in which we shared now. I could see your chest rise and fall. See your body twitch when the cold breeze hit your skin. Finally see the face that I yearned for.

Forgive me for being a coward, I was never born with confidence or the amount of forwardness it took to ask you on a date like a true gentleman interested in your time. But this is far more romantic is it not? Being your biggest fan from afar. A silent supporter when you thought you had none.

Maybe that's where we were similar

No one to love. No one to cherish.

As much as I want to show how much I adored you. It couldn't be in a state where you were so peaceful. I had imagined this night. Sitting on the window seal waiting for me to finally tell you--show you-- how you could be loved. And you'd let me taste you, devour you in a way that didnt feel like I was taking, but only giving, and worshipping what was so perfect.

But I will take what I am given for tonight and take the only open drawer of your dresser as a sign for me to investigate.

I made slow and quiet strides across your room, you shifted to the side where your window was, as if you made sure I took the invitation into your room. Once I counted your breaths and noticed the way they slowed and became more rhythmic, I opened the drawer further to reveal rows of neatly folded underwear, all different fits and prints that automatically burned into my mind.

A reward for being patience. Waiting for you to make your move, I would gladly take this and cherish it until the day I could rip something like this off your body and be so deep inside of you that the only words you could form were my name.

My name...

This would be what I would return. As a token of my appreciation and something you could hold over me. Giving you my name could solidify a lot between us. You could use it to turn me in and rid of the disgusting man that stalked you for three months.

Or

My name could be my invitation to you. To look me up, to see if this distant admirer fit your tastes, to stalk me instead.

I grabbed a pen and paper from your desk so quietly that only the wind that occasionally blew from your window could be heard.

"Armin Alert"

I wrote in cursive and stared at it for a beat before returning to your underwear drawer that you made so beautifully for me. I'd pick whatever was in the middle, a teal thong that reminded me of the ocean. It would be impossible to not notice someone had been here and looked at all these pretty things you laid out for me.

My work here was done and I'd play the waiting game once again. Hopefully you would grant me an even bigger reward.

I made my way to the window seal and stopped before exiting. I could've sworn I could see a silver of white in your eyes, so I gazed back right into them. A bold move, yes but I wanted you to see me. To see that this wasn't a dream and that there was someone out there rooting for you.

Loving you.

After I saw that silver fade to black I made my exit. I had been so wrapped up in my mind that I didn't even register my erection that yearned to be released from the restraint of my pants.

I guess I could give you one more thing tonight after already giving you so many whispers and signs of me in your room.

I leaned against the wall of your apartment, maybe a foot away from your window. My cock sprung out instantly after releasing from my pants. I took your beautiful thong out of the pocket of my jacket and slowly stroked my cock.

You felt so good around me like this and I could barely contain the moans that left the mouth as I covered it with my hand. A part of me hoped you were hearing the way you unraveled the most depraved parts of me. The parts that I didn't even know existed until months ago.

I thought of my hands roaming your body, cupping your soft breaths, and finally spreading your legs apart for me. And I thought of the sounds you'd make when I was inside you. Pumping you, as your slick folds squeezed my cock and drained every single ounce of me.

My lips would never leave your skin. Whether it'd be silencing your moans or leaving marks on your neck that claimed you as mine.

Fuck you really were going to be the only thing that I couldn't get enough of.

With on final thrust in your thong spurts of hot cum were all over you and my hands, and I wish it was more than a piece of cloth that welcomed it.

For now, I'd wait for you to either end this exactly where it is or allow me continue admiring you from afar and hopefully up close soon. Until then, I'd cherish the only fragment of you that I had and would keep doing so as long as you'd let me.

[seastarblue]

WriteCamp Day Three!

Day Three of @agirlandherquill ‘s challenge!

Featuring little Felix yay <3 aged 12 or so! he was so sweet :(

the prompts I used for today were:

(setting) a wilting willow

(setting) a swathe of sky

enjoy!

———

According to the gardener, the old willow tree had been in the gardens for years, longer than Felix had even been alive. Longer than his parents’ lives, or even his grandparents’. He promptly decided such an old tree should be preserved for as long as possible, and so he went to tend to it every morning himself.

This morning was no different. Felix had woken, freshened himself up, eaten breakfast, and promptly dodged his social duties in favor of caring for his willow tree.

The morning was slightly damp, surely a result of the rains that had fallen over the past months. Felix tsk-ed as he saw his willow was drooping more than usual, some of the leaves starting to wilt once again.

Whatever would he do? Nothing he tried worked; watering it more, or less, or bringing an artificial light. Even when he tried magicking the tree to better health it returned to its wilted state.

Frustrated, he slumped down under the swaying branches, pressing his palm against the rough, flakey trunk.

“What do you need, Miss Willow?” he asked, gently patting it. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to. Why aren’t you getting better?”

His hand dropped from the tree’s trunk dejectedly. Why couldn’t he fix the willow? What was missing? Plants needed water, soil, and sunlight, and the gardeners assured him that the soil surrounding the tree was perfect. If this tree had everything it needed, why wouldn’t it heal?

~~~

The next day Felix didn’t go to his willow tree. Not the day after, or the day after, or for the week, then the month…

~~~

One month passed, and Felix decided to take another shot at the willow. Determined, he marched along the now-dry path, a pail in one hand and a small book and pen in the other.

He dropped both when he saw the state of the tree.

One of the branches had strange white liquid oozing from it. After a panicked search, Felix deduced that there were no other strange liquids in any other area of the tree. How strange! He had never seen this before, even on other plants.

He quickly sketched out what the branch looked like and trotted off to find the gardener. Perhaps they would know what this was?

~~~

Felix sat under the newly-cut branch, a swathe of sky contrasting the green canopy. Apparently the white gunk was an infection!

Provided, he didn’t know much about trees at all. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying to help.

“I had no idea trees could get sick,” he started. “I really thought I was just doing a horrible job at tending to you! It’s nice to know you’ll be doing better now.

“… you will be doing better now, right? Gardener Tia said you hadn’t been getting the water you needed because of that white ooze. Now that the infection’s been cut out, you’ll do okay!”

He hummed happily. The tree wouldn’t die, it would stand here forever and ever and ever and nothing—not an infection, nor bad weather—would ever take it down. Felix was happy with that.

It seemed that sometimes, problems would start deep within something, and no one would see what the issue really was until it burst through the cracks and revealed itself. He wrote that in his journal. It was an important lesson, to him at least.

———

me when I do actual research into willow trees.

I hate writing /joke

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[shay-awenydd]

A great, warm smile draws across the face of the writer. "Glad to hear it.", he hums contently, "It's three weeks of foot travel north-eastward. We'll be headed east for four days until we get to..." The name of that place escapes him, even though, embarassingly, he had only been there a few days prior, "Augh christ, what was... right! Riley's reach! It's a litte outpost lived in by a few dozen drones, sheltered from the wind by a big hanging rock looming above them. A trade convoy should pass through it every week or so, we'll join the first one we see and get to Berghardt that way, traveling north along secured routes for some time. All in all, we should be away for two months at absolute most, taken nothing out of the ordinary happens."

Viva and C look at each other, an unmistakable unease festering in the gloomy workshop as the prospect of such a timescale becomes clear to grasp. Does C have it in him to keep his family safe? What if something happens to Shay and Viva, and nobody could come to tell them? What if the hound found them out here, all alone? And can Viva keep from spoiling her true intentions to the unforgiving, volatile clergy? Questions upon questions, each with a flurry of dreadful possibilities to serve as their hurried answers, but none more concrete than a worrisome whisper in the wind. She will have to try, as will everyone here, and hope to whatever deities still listening that she comes home safe.

"Gather your things, prepare for a long trip. We'll be out a while, so take some extra oil for the journey - the cold cares little for those unprepared, freezing joints and coagulating oil. Don't worry, I've some extra packed here if you need any - Special Berghardt Blend™, for greater resistance against the frost (includes anti-coagulants!)"

Blank stares meet Shay's sudden and uncalled for advertisement. He excuses himself and puts on a serious face, explaining: "Get ready, I'll be waiting outside for you. Take as long as you need and, most importantly, don't rush. Forgetting something and then remembering it when we're in Berghardt would be unfortunate. Now, as to you," he turns to C and reaches out his hand, "it's been a pleasure meeting you. You'd be welcome in Berghardt if things were different, but seeing as you've duties to attend to, I can only commemorate your honour." He and C give each other a firm, respectful handshake.

"I'll be going now, see you soon." He says to Viva as he enters the flickering light of the elevator, fumbling around with the controls until they bend to his will. As the doors lazily begin to close, he spares one last glance into the shadowy basement, its floor and walls stained in black, sludgy oil, in the midst of which stand Viva and C, looking back.

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[hyperfixated-maybe]

*runs to you with a microphone like a news reporter* Sam Sam! The people wanna know: What are your thoughts on the reptile characters? Ushari, the skinks, Kenge, Ora, all of them!

OKAYYY HI NIKKI!!!!!! we ignore how old this ask is.

All of them, you say??

Ora and the fellas - B tier villains at best.

Kenge - An asshole. not a very interesting character to me, sry Kenge fans. I don't hate shipping him with Ushari, but u all know what my #1 Ushari ship is.

Ushari - LMAO. Where do I even begin. Hoooooly shit. Doomed by the narrative much? One of the most tragically misunderstood characters. Abused in life, mocked in death. He's like my infant son if my infant son was a depressed snake.

Kongwe - Somebody should give her a cookie for dealing with Fuli + Makini. I think she would thoroughly enjoy an extra crunchy Chips Ahoy. Old lady ADHD confirmed.

Mystery Cobra - plot device… Them x mystery lion is excellent. Scar’s entire origin story just being that he wanted into a toxic mystery polycule and being rejected by the original members is actually so upsetting lmao. He came out with mental issues and made everyone else suffer for it./j

Kinyonga - I LOVE HER I LOVE HER- "Now you see me, now you don't!!" I love he so much. Plus I always think of that one honeybird clip from Undercover Kinyonga that Rahm posted.

Hodari - Omg the bestest boy. golden retriever vibes. My favorite crocodile/JKJK (my real fav is makuu)

Pua - Um, DILF!? Jesus possibly GILF!!?!/j lol. But actually I love him for giving Makuu a chance when nobody else would. When everybody else was like Makuu is terrible Pua was just like "He'll learn. It may make time, but I'm old and it's time for a new float leader. He will learn. This is the crocodile way." and I love him for that.

Makuu - Wonderful arc I love his character so very, very much. My absolute favorite croc of all time. He is so, so, so, so, so, so, so cool.

Kiburi - Honestly just a little shit. Kill him.

Nduli - Hah. Dumb.

Tamka - Oh, and there's dumber!

Neema - I can’t believe they never gave him a name. ☹️. Neema is a good one though, and we all use it so whatever. Who came up with it again?

Shupavu - Absolutely my favorite. She’s not evil. How dare you. ISTG She's like a fae, she just wants mischief.

type shit. She is my wife. given she is also Ushari's wife but like. I love her.

Njano - Every village need a village idiot I guess… Actually has he ever actually been stupid? I don’t think so actually. He just looks it. He's just an asshole to Ushari sometimes. I feel like they were trying really hard to make him one of the idiots but then he ended up just being an asshole like the rest of Scar's army.

Nyeusi - Ooooohhh sneaky boi! Sneaky, sneaky boi!!!

Waza - All I remember is Shupavu hissing "Waza! Nyeusi!".

Nyata - Couldn't put a face to this name if I tried.

I am. SO. sorry.

Nikki.

[fabuladorah]

3 days to Silverborn and I can feel the nevermoor obssesion dying down... life is so fucking unfair

[deoidesign]

I can't wait for this to come back!!! >>> when is this coming back?

[phagodyke]

7hrs into my work day lets play a fun game of how much overtime will they make me do 🥰

[retros-artandstuff]

vriska + a transmasc dave doodle

[joelletwo]

v theee [boring car selling in nc details] theee to junk ur car the company wanted me to go ahead and sign the title and leave the buyer info blank which is having an open title (bc if u drop it on the way to sell ur car anyone can pick it up and fill in their info and own ur car) and is like. STUPID illegal in nc. like people still do it esp in just third party-to-third party sales. and junker services do it so if they can sell the car again they dont have to deal with two transactions of paperwork and fees [<- which is why its illegal so nc can capture those fees]. but like. they shouldnt be able to tell me on their publically available site that they want me to break nc law

and also nc law wants me to get that title notarized which because of open titles being illegal. most notaries wont notarize u if the buyer isnt also there filling in their info.

most notaries are also. either like banks or other m-f 9-5 type businesses. or just some random person in their house. and random person in their house is more likely to break the law for me but i dont want to ask some random person to break the law for me

(the dmv will also notarize and anecdotally from reddit some of them totally will just shrug and let u do it with only you the seller/you the buyer there instead of needing both but thats arbitrary depends on getting someone who doesnt care lol)

AND also. even if im selling to a person not trying to get me to break the law just buying my car regular. and i work m-f 9-5 or we both work hours where theres no way to get us both in the same place and certainly not a bank or a dmv except like, sunday evening, when no banks or dmvs are open.

do we just go fuck ourselves????????? like what do they want. they want me to die?????? i think my government wants me to die and sterilize myself

[hwsforeignrelations]

RANT

[immortalsins]

ive lasted. checks watch. 3 days