#every part of you šŸ„¹
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hayaku14 Ā· 26 days ago
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we should let kaito be angrier. that's boy's been through a lot let him lash out, let him be mad, let him say and do things he's gonna regret, and let him heal in the ugliest process possible. and let him realize that he will be loved despite it all.
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moonlightblues07 Ā· 1 year ago
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šŸ„¹šŸ„¹
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ashmp3 Ā· 4 months ago
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closing #heyteo šŸ’Œ
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i want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart who's ever tagged me in their posts! i can't put it into words how grateful i am for having such talented, sweet people around me that wanted to share their beautiful creations with me. i cherish them all and i hope yapping in my tags conveyed that. Honestly i could talk about them in great lengths (and mostly i did...) so this is why i feel like i think its right time to wrap this up - i feel bad when i can't sit down, talk my ass off and give my full attention to each and every single post. Sadly i don't think its possible for me to do it now which is why i am writing all this, with a tear in my eye honestly. I checked and saw i have 925 (and counting!) posts in this tag and first of all - that is CRAZY! I am so grateful you have no idea. I really, really cherished this little corner of the internet that i called my own so this is all bittersweet but i think it's for the best! Lastly, i don't plan on going anywhere just yet so of COURSE feel free to tag me in anything you think i shouldn't miss (especially Jeonghan and your selfies... of course) - you already know a block of tags will be coming your way! And for being my amazingly talented friends i wrote little thank-you notes for everyone that made #heyteo one of the best decisions i made on tumblr šŸ’Œ I appreciate you all SO so so so much!
@jeonwonwoo -> my angel and the reason i even made this tag miss zaynab! We would be here for weeks if i started talking about how thankful i am for your existence. My no1 source of Jeonghan gifs, someone who perfectly matches my freak - thank you the MOST! (And ofc you can still expect me to go on tangents under your gifs i mean... that's what this blog is all about!) Love you!šŸ©·šŸ«¶šŸ¼
@kimsuyeon -> my talented lili, with the most wonderful gifs that are just so YOU! Always so wonderfully curated and colored, your idol + era collection is for the HERstory books if you ask me. Thank you for sharing them with all of us. i am so happy to have you around and i am thankful that you have been one of Thee contributors to #heyteo šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ©·
@pink-vacancy -> i think it wouldn't be wrong to call you my yuna and mina supplier šŸ¤­ cherry yuna is for the history books and you are the biggest contributor to that fact! thank you so much for always tagging me and making my tag a tad bit spicier and sexier with the gorgeous, stunning women you gif! love you and appreciate you SO much šŸ’ŒšŸ’šŸ«¶šŸ¼
@scouped -> MAX you are such an integral part of #heyteo through your many sideblogs and i am always so so sooo grateful for it! i love everyone but of course i love svt just a tad bit more so seeing your sets always made me so giddy and excited šŸ«¶šŸ¼ again, one of the people that really pushed me to make this tag in the first place so i want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. love you!!! šŸ’–šŸŒŸ
@vcrnons -> j!!! my dear sweet darling J that wanted to kill me on more than one occasion. thank you so much for tagging me and sorry for all the things i said under your gifs its like they hypnotize me... And ofc i am excited to be annoying under your tags in the future šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ’–šŸ’–šŸ’–
@scoupsies -> my naya funniest sweetest most talented darling... You've been thee highlight of my user tag - and i promise i will still be yapping under your gifs like how could i not?! you best believe i will be checking you blog so i don't miss anything because well that would just be devastating for me. thank you so much for tagging me i love you & appreciate you SO much!!! šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ©·šŸ’Œ
@neonsbian -> my wayv supplier and source of updates šŸ¤­ thank you so much vinnie, for always tagging me in everything so far & i always enjoyed seeing my twin yangyang in the tag (for better or worse) šŸ’–
@no1boa -> lulu! absolute master of gifs thank you SO much for always tagging me in your dreamy, beautiful creations. honestly i will miss them SO much... so expect me to go through your blog like a morning newspapers and look for new sets šŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļøšŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ¤
@taeiltual -> i always say this in the tags but every single company would benefit from a BexTM master class on editing! Thank you so much for sharing your works and thank your for tagging me šŸ¤šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸŒŸ
@facethesuns -> em your posts always make me feel like ground is shaking... Thank you so much for tagging me in your stuff & of course i am excited to keep yapping in the tags in the future šŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļøšŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļøšŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļøšŸ’–
@ningtual -> MY SUNWOO SUPPLIER oh henna this is for the better or worse because my blood pressure rises whenever i see him... thank you for tagging me in your beautiful aespa edits (and nunulino...) love you mwah mwah!!! šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ©·
@talksaxy -> even though we haven't been mutuals for a long time, whenever you would tag me in sungchan you best believe i would kick my feet and get giddy... thank you so much for adding a beautiful fawn touch to my tag! & ofc expect me to be in your tags either way, and yeah this kinda reads as a threat but you can't blame me really can't you... thank you sooo much. mwah! šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸŒŸšŸ’–
@28reas0ns -> oh wwill first of all i want to say i love your vision and how we both sometimes make similar connections... You have such an eye for the aesthetics and it was such an honor to seen every post you made so thank you SO much for tagging me it truly meant so much to me šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ’–šŸ¤šŸ’–šŸ¤
@isabelleadjani -> first of all thank you for using it for its intended purposes (selfies!!!). and second of all thank you for tagging me in your beautiful, gorgeous gifs. You always go one level up and its so evident in the way you present your sets. I would still love to get tagged in your selfies of course thats a no brainer really šŸ«¶šŸ¼ Thank you so much & i really appreciate your presence on here šŸ¤šŸ¤šŸ¤
@junmail -> oh its been such a delight to see all the junhui in my tag (along with others of course) so thank you SO much for tagging me and sharing your beautiful gif sets with me (and everyone else)šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ’–
@doyeons -> BELLA!!! first of all. thank you for sungah and seohyun gifs that was kinda legendry don't you agree. Thank you for amplifying frommy gifs in my tag they made me so crazy but also... i am very thankful šŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļø And you best believe i will still be under your posts like a pathetic little guy. Kiss!!! šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ’–
@eightshotamericano -> elly my local jeonghan enthusiast i want to thank you for tagging me in your posts i really enjoyed them always šŸ’– and i appreciate you for thinking of me, love you!šŸ„¹šŸ«¶šŸ¼
@seonghwasblr -> I know there wasn't many but i still want to send my virtual thank you card for including me in your beautiful gifs of jeonghan my darling maja i really appreciate it!šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ’–
@jeonwon-wonwoo -> maddie thank you for tagging me in your lessera gifs back in the beginning of the year - it was so sweet of you! šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ’– again, a huge thank you to everyone whoā€™s tagged me in their posts. it truly means a lot, and Iā€™m so grateful for each and every one of you whoā€™s taken the time to include me. I appreciate you all more than words can express šŸ„¹šŸ„¹šŸ„¹šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸ¤šŸ¤šŸ¤šŸ¤šŸ¤šŸ¤
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suddencolds Ā· 1 year ago
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Small Price to Pay | [1/1]
you know all those posts about making out with someone with a cold and the associated consequences? This is that in fic form, ~8.8k words. I'm embarrassing myself typing this, so here it is.
This is an OC fic ft. Vincent and Yves - you can read more of these two here! :)
Summary:
ā€œSo,ā€ Brendon says. ā€œYouā€™re still dating him.ā€ Something about the way he inflects the word still makes something sour in Yvesā€™s chest. Yves frowns at him. ā€œIs that supposed to be surprising?ā€
Yves has a birthday party to attend and a fake relationship to prove. Vincent is nothing if not adaptable. (ft. fake dating, an argument, contagion)
ā€”
Hereā€™s the problem:
Francesca throws a party.
Itā€™s a birthday party, strictly speaking, but functionally itā€™s more of a college reunionā€”Francesca invites everyone from their year who rowed crew, which means that one: Yves will be surrounded by some of his best friends from college, and two: Erika will be there.
He thinks up an entire contingency planā€”if Vincent canā€™t make it that weekend, for one reason or another, Yves will show up, hand Francesca his gift, spend the rest of the hour avoiding Erika and Brendon, and leave early, citing some excuse or other. Itā€™s not that he doesnā€™t think he could handle talking to Erikaā€”itā€™s just seeing her feels like reopening a wound. A part of him is scared that heā€™ll see her, and feel the loss intensely all over againā€”or, worse, heā€™ll get ideas about forgiving her, about letting her into his life again, about accepting her explanations.
And Brendon, tooā€”seeing Erika means seeing Brendon, most likely, and Yves doesnā€™t want to justify himself to him any more than he already has.Ā 
The point is: the less of the both of them that he has to deal with, the better.
When he asks Vincent a week before the event, though, Vincentā€™s response is immediate.
V: You can fill me in on the details later. Iā€™ll be there.
Itā€™s a little strange, he thinks, that Vincent always agrees so readily. Vincent isnā€™t a fan of partiesā€”heā€™d been clear about that. He doesnā€™t seem interested in talking much about himself, eitherā€”heā€™s just the kind of person, Yves is realizing, who likes to keep his personal details close unless they offer some sort of utility.
Perhaps thereā€™s something else that Vincent is getting out of this, then.
But when Yves asks, heā€™s met with the same cryptic answer:
ā€œI donā€™t mind it,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œAnd you have something you want to prove to your ex. Ultimately, itā€™s a net positive.ā€
ā€œWhile thatā€™s technically true,ā€ Yves says, ā€œthis seems like an unfair arrangement. I mean, youā€™re only doing this because I dragged you into it.ā€
ā€œIf I didnā€™t want to be dragged into it,ā€ Vincent says, ā€œI would say so.ā€ as if itā€™s really that simple.
It canā€™t be that simple, Yves thinksā€”there must be more to his reasoning that heā€™s omittingā€”but he doesnā€™t press. Vincent is right. Vincent is the kind of person who knows precisely what he wants. If he really had a problem with this arrangement, he wouldā€™ve said so.
And, besidesā€”a little selfishly, perhapsā€”Yves has started looking forward to their outings as of late.
ā€”
Nevertheless, he doesnā€™t think about the party again until the Friday before it, when Vincent shows up at his desk.
ā€œDo you have a moment?ā€ he says.
ā€œYes,ā€ Yves says, saving the spreadsheet heā€™s been working on and shutting his laptop. ā€œWhatā€™s up?ā€
When he looks up, Vincent looks a little tired, though thatā€™s not unusualā€”itā€™s been a long week, and busy season always means long hours and little sleep.Ā 
ā€œWe can talk later if youā€™re busy,ā€ Vincent says.
ā€œIā€™m very free,ā€ Yves says. Heā€™s decisively notā€”and heā€™s sure that Vincent knows this, too, so whatever Vincent is approaching him with now must be important.Ā 
ā€œRegarding Francescaā€™s party tomorrow,ā€ Vincent starts. He looks a little sheepishā€”as if he doesnā€™t quite want to be the deliverer of bad news. ā€œI can still go. But Iā€™mā€¦ā€
ā€œIf something came up,ā€ Yves says immediately, ā€œyou donā€™t have to come.ā€ ā€œItā€™s not that,ā€ Vincent says.
ā€œOr even if nothingā€™s come up,ā€ Yves backtracks, ā€œand youā€™re just not feeling it anymore? Also totally fine. Seriously. I can always just go by myself.ā€
Vincent seems to consider this. Yves is starting to get worried that something might actually be very wrongā€”something that Vincent is hesitant to even bring upā€”when Vincent takes a generous step backwards, raising his elbow to his face as his eyes squeeze shut.
ā€œhhihā€™nGKTsHuhh-!ā€
The sneeze sounds harsh, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve; it tears through him with little warning, loud enough to echo slightly in the confines of the office space.
Thatā€™s when it all clicks into place: the tiredness. The slight off-ness to his complexion, the tension to the way heā€™s holding himself, the fact that Yves hasnā€™t caught him in the break room at all over the past couple days. The fact that heā€™s currently standing so far away from Yvesā€™s desk.
ā€œYouā€™re ill,ā€ Yves says, comprehending.
ā€œYes,ā€ Vincent says. His voice sounds a little off, too, now that Yves knows what to look for; it has that quality it often takes on after a long day of discussions with clientsā€”not quite hoarse, but getting there. ā€œIā€™m positive itā€™s just a cold. I just wanted to give you a heads up.ā€
ā€œDonā€™t worry about it at all, seriously,ā€ Yves says. He feels guilty, suddenlyā€”here he is, asking Vincent to spend his already-limited free time at a party, when Vincent probably has a high volume of important clientsā€”and a burgeoning head coldā€”to deal with. ā€œIf you want to take a rain check, you should. Iā€™m sure this week has already been rough for you as it is.ā€
ā€œWhen is the next time youā€™ll be going to an event where Erikaā€™s going to be there?ā€
That question makes him pause. ā€œI donā€™t know. In another month, or so, if I had to guess?ā€
ā€œSo this event is important,ā€ Vincent says, sniffling. Itā€™s the kind of light, liquid sniffle that implies that whatever heā€™s caught, heā€™s just at the start of it. ā€œIn that case, Iā€™ll go.ā€
ā€œWait,ā€ Yves says. ā€œThatā€™s not what Iā€”your health is more important than any event. You shouldnā€™t push yourself.ā€
ā€œI feel fine,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œNo headache, no fever. Itā€™s just a slight cold. I will be fine tomorrow if I make it a point to sleep early.ā€ he sniffles again, his expression growing hazy for a brief moment before he blinks, rubbing his nose on one knuckle. ā€œI just wanted to make sure you were fine with it.ā€
ā€œI am completely fine with it,ā€ Yves says, reaching for the box of tissues thatā€™s perched on his desk. He holds it out. ā€œI just feel bad about making you go if youā€™re sick.ā€
Vincent takes a handful of tissues out of the box, brings them up to cover his nose, just in time forā€”
ā€œhh- hHā€™nGKT-! snf-! hH-Hhihā€¦ hhā€™hiHhhā€™iiZSCHHh-uhh!ā€
ā€œBless you,ā€ Yves says, with emphasis, pushing the entire tissue box towards him. ā€œTimes two. Seriously. I think you could use the weekend offā€”you know, to catch up on sleep.ā€
ā€œAssuming that things havenā€™t changed from the event details you forwarded me, the party will be in the evening,ā€ Vincent says, taking the tissue box from him, a little hesitantly, and tucking it under his arm. ā€œIā€™ll have plenty of time to sleep in.ā€
Yves opens his mouth to protest.
Vincent says, ā€œIā€™m fine. Iā€™ll call a rain check if I wake up with a fever.ā€ He turns on his heels. ā€œOtherwise, see you tomorrow.ā€Ā 
ā€”
Vincent, as Yves is coming to realize, is very good at appearing presentable, even when heā€™s under the weather.
ā€œYou made it,ā€ he says. This time, theyā€™d driven here separately. Yves had thought, initially, that itā€™d be easier to just drive Vincent places, so that the only thing heā€™d had to account for was his actual presenceā€”but Francesca lives between them. I donā€™t mind driving, Vincent had said. Youā€™d be going out of your way to pick me up, but heā€™d coordinated a spot a couple blocks down to meet up, so that it would look like theyā€™d come together.
Itā€™s cold outside stillā€”itā€™s the sort of indecisive weather that seems to periodically hint at spring: a cold front, then a few warm days when all the ice thaws, a few flowers lining the grass along the road where the snowā€™s melted, and then another snowstorm. Itā€™s easy enough, then, to chalk up the slight redness of his cheeks, the redness at the tip of his nose, as another effect of the not-quite-spring weather.
Yves is carrying his present for Francesca under one armā€”a hardcover bookā€”a sequel to one sheā€™d read last year and gushed to him about liking; a couple fridge magnets, which she likes to collect; film for the polaroid camera her sister got her last year; and a letter, all wrapped up in a brown paper parcel.Ā 
Itā€™s nice to have an excuse to see everyone again, especially some of the members from crew whom heā€™s not close enough to invite to parties personally, that he knows Francesca was closer to.Ā 
ā€œIt was a pain to find parking,ā€ Vincent says. Heā€™s wearing a red scarf today, and a white overcoat with black buttons and a sharply cut collar. Personally, Yves thinks itā€™s unfair that someone can be down with an irritating head cold and still look so good.
ā€œNo kidding,ā€ Yves says. ā€œYou wouldā€™ve thought thereā€™d be more than one tiny parking lot for all those shops.ā€
Yves asks how he is (fine, Vincent saysā€”perfectly capable of spending a few hours at a party. Yves says, I feel like you would say that even if you were like, dead on your feet with a high fever, to which Vincent laughs, but doesnā€™t explicitly deny.)
Yves supposes he isnā€™t one to talkā€”heā€™d showed up to a crew event, near the end of the season, with the flu, just because it had been their then-captainā€™s last big event, and heā€™d been planning to give him a farewell speech. The speech had gone fineā€”and so had the first few hoursā€”but then all his symptoms had hit at onceā€”fever chills, exhaustion, a pounding headache, the likesā€”and Francesca and Erika had practically had to drag him home.
But that had been an important eventā€”a once in a lifetime thingā€”and heā€™d drafted that speech for two weeks. This is so much less high-stakes.Ā 
ā€œI prombise Iā€™m fine,ā€ Vincent tells him, lifting up the side of his scarf to muffle a cough into it. ā€œItā€™s just all the - hHIh-! all the annoyidg symptoms. I dodā€™t - snf-! - feel any worse than I did yesterday.ā€ ā€œAny worse?ā€ Yves says. ā€œDoes that mean you were already feeling pretty badly off yesterday?ā€
ā€œI barely even feel udwell at all,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œItā€™s justā€” I keep havidg toā€” hHih-! hihHā€™IIITshHHh-uuH!ā€
He sniffles, raising a sleeve to his face to cover the next, resounding,Ā 
ā€œhHihā€™iITTSshhā€™Uhh! snf-!ā€ He buries his face deeper into his sleeve, his shoulders trembling with another gasp. ā€œHhihā€¦. HIihā€™nNGKTā€”SHhuh!ā€
ā€œBless you,ā€ Yves says, laughing. ā€œOkay. Point taken.ā€
Vincent lowers his arm slowly with a curt sniffle. ā€œAre Erika and Francesca close?ā€
ā€œYeah,ā€ Yves says. ā€œI think they still keep in touch pretty frequently.ā€ itā€™s one of the reasons why he hasnā€™t told Francescaā€”or anyone else in the friend groupā€”about the specifics of their breakup.
It feels wrong, somehow, to paint her in a bad light, to give people reason to take sides, when itā€™s always been all of them together as a group. 5am practice was a hell of a bonding experience, she was part of all of that, too. He has no right to take that from her.Ā 
ā€œHow about Brendon?ā€
ā€œBrendonā€™s sort of an odd one out,ā€ Yves says. ā€œI donā€™t think most of us had met him until he started dating Erika during our senior year. He usually hangs out with a different crowd, so heā€™s only really around when Erika is.ā€
Perhaps thatā€™s better, tooā€”more mercifulā€”that when Erika had left him for someone new, it hadnā€™t been one of the people he knew and deeply trusted. If Brendon had been there too, at all those 5am practices, at all those oddly timed meetingsā€”if Yves had had that much time to look back on, to wonder when Erikaā€™s feelings for Brendon had materialized, to watch her fall for him firsthand, to look back and know that he was losing herā€¦
Itā€™s better, this way, he thinks, that at least he can look back on his time rowing crew as heā€™d always wanted toā€”not like the way he feels when he looks at Erika: heartbroken, and a little betrayed.
ā€œI guess Iā€™m in that positiod now,ā€ Vincent says.
ā€œIn the sense that you didnā€™t meet everyone through crew?ā€
ā€œIn the sedse that Iā€™m an outsider.ā€
Yves considers this. ā€œMy friends really like you, though,ā€ he says. ā€œI donā€™t think they think of you that way.ā€ Itā€™s a short walk to Francescaā€™s doorstep. Vincent really does seem to be okay, Yves notesā€”aside from the frequent sniffling, and the sneezes he turns away to direct into his sleeve, he isnā€™t shivering under his coat, and he doesnā€™t look more tired than usual.
Despite everything, Yves finds himself feeling cautiously hopeful. Something about Vincentā€™s presence has that effect on him. Vincent is always so sure of himself, even in situations Yves thinks he canā€™t possibly be certain will go well.
It makes Yves want to have faith in this too. Yves will see Francesca and his friends from crew, and he wonā€™t have to say anything to Erika and Brendon, his friends will like Vincent very much, and everything will be just fine.
ā€œWait,ā€ Vincent says, right after Francescaā€™s let them in through the apartment buzzer. ā€œWe should look like we actually like each other.ā€ He holds his hand out, expectant.
ā€œGood point.ā€ Yves takes it. Vincentā€™s hand is warm, and a little callousedā€”when Yves tugs his hand a little closer, Vincentā€™s fingers interlace nicely with his.
ā€œFor the record, I do like you,ā€ he adds.
Vincent laughs. ā€œYou kdow what I meant.ā€
ā€”
Itā€™s almost a relief, seeing everyone again. Yves used to feel a little apprehensive about reunionsā€”around the possibility for the people that heā€™d known and loved to have changed past recognition, to have internalized everything some way but to come back and see that everyoneā€™s moved on in their own ways, grown a little more into themselvesā€”and a little further from himā€”than he remembers them to be.Ā 
But when he sees Francesca, she still greets him with the same hug ā€” one arm looped around his shoulders, for a firm squeeze. He hands her her gift, and wishes her a happy birthday, and she laughs and says the only good part about getting old is having an excuse to have everyone back in her living room.
ā€œAnd Vincentā€™s here too,ā€ Francesca says, turning to Vincent, whoā€”after looking caught off guard for a secondā€”smiles back at her. ā€œIā€™m so glad you were able to come!ā€
ā€œItā€™s good to see you agaid,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œAnd happy birthday. You look great, by the way.ā€
ā€œThank you!ā€ she says, beaming. Sheā€™s wearing a cocktail party dress which slips elegantly over her still-bare shoulders. ā€œI needed to pick something out for the occasion. I swear, these days, half my closet is just business formal attire. Itā€™s depressing.ā€
ā€œIf that mbeans that the other half of your closet is filled out with idteresting clothes,ā€ Vincent says, with a quiet sniffle, ā€œyouā€™re doing a lot better than I am.ā€Ā 
Francesca laughs. ā€œItā€™s just for my sanity,ā€ she says. ā€œCanā€™t let the clients dictate everything I wear.ā€
ā€œItā€™s ndice that youā€™re celebrating your birthday, though,ā€ Vincent says. He lifts a hand to rub his slightly-reddening nose with one knuckle. ā€œMy coworkers are always sayidg that theyā€™re too old to want to ackdowledge it anymore.ā€
ā€œIt definitely feels that way sometimes,ā€ Francesca says. ā€œBut itā€™s a good excuse to have everyone here, while we still can. Speaking of whichā€”Yves is the worst at planning things for himself, which is ironic, because heā€™s always the one planning things for everyone else.ā€
ā€œThat is not true,ā€ Yves says.
Francesca gives him a pointed look. ā€œLast year, you were practically banking on having everyone forget your birthday.ā€
That is an exaggeration. ā€œIā€™m pretty sure you wouldnā€™t let that happen, even if I wanted it to,ā€ Yves says.
ā€œYouā€™re damn right.ā€
ā€œThe ndext time youā€™re planning a birthday for him,ā€ Vincent says, clearing his throat with a quiet cough, ā€œIā€™ll pitch in.ā€
Francesca brightens, at this. ā€œFinally another soldier on the right side of the war,ā€ she says. ā€œYou can definitely be part of the secret planning council.ā€
ā€œThadk god,ā€ Vincent says, playing along. ā€œI was starting to thidk I was going to have to do it all alone.ā€
ā€œItā€™s not a secret if Iā€™m right here,ā€ Yves says. Francesca ignores him in favor of having Vincent type his number into her phone.
ā€”
Halfway through the evening, Vincent disappears into the kitchen for a moment. When he comes back, itā€™s with two drinks in handā€”canned cocktails, Yves realizes, judging by the cans. He hands one over to Yves.
ā€œI actually donā€™t think Iā€™ve ever seen you drink before,ā€ Yves says to him. ā€œEven at happy hours.ā€
ā€œI donā€™t drink very often,ā€ Vincent says.
ā€œDoes this mean that I get to see you tipsy? Iā€™m sure our coworkers will be jealous.ā€Ā 
ā€œIf youā€™re expecting my personality to change,ā€ Vincent says, ā€œyou will be disappointed.ā€ he says it with such certainty that Yves pays closer attention to him after that.Ā 
Vincent does hold his alcohol well, as it turns out, with the exception of the slight flush to his cheeks a few drinks laterā€”though even then, Yves canā€™t be entirely sure it canā€™t be entirely attributed to his cold. He listens intently as Yves talks to Dianeā€”whoā€™s a couple years younger than Yvesā€”about how Crew has been ever since Yves graduated (mostly the same; the new underclassmen are good at showing up to practices on time, but thatā€™s partially because their captain this year is a little intimidating). He gives several of the crew members a candid summary of his relationship with Yves, when asked. He tells Marin how they first met and he tells Kenneth what itā€™s like keeping their relationship secret at work and he laughsā€”a little sheepishlyā€”when Sasha says they make a cute couple. If lying so openly is difficult for him, it doesnā€™t show.
If thereā€™s anything thatā€™s off, itā€™s subtle. It takes some time for Yves to noticeā€”
The next time Vincent sneezes, his breath hitches with a sharp, desperate, ā€” ā€œhHhiHā€”!ā€ Then he turns away, craning his neck over his shoulder for an uncovered, ā€œHIiiIKTshH-uh-!ā€
He blinks in the wake of it, as if a little dazed, before he seems to straighten, lifting a hand to wipe his nose on one knuckle. Itā€™s not stifled, as it usually is, nor is it neatly pinched off into his fingers, which is unexpected.
Itā€™s as if the sneeze has fully caught him off guardā€”as if all the systems he has in place to sneeze as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible are just slightly impaired by the alcohol. Not that it matters muchā€”Francesca has put some music on, and it sits in the background now, a low thrum, all but the percussive elements muted by the chatter of conversation.
ā€œBless you,ā€ Yves says, leaning over to grab a cocktail napkin from one of the neighboring tables. He hands it to Vincent, who blows his nose and emerges with a small cough. ā€œHowā€™s the cold?ā€Ā 
ā€œFide,ā€ Vincent says, with a sniffle. ā€œNdo worse than before.ā€
ā€œAre you just saying that to get me to drop the subject?ā€
ā€œIā€™m sayidg it because I actually mean it. Itā€™s a very tolerable cold.ā€
Yves laughs, and reaches for his drink. Heā€™s about to take a sip when he feels Vincentā€™s fingers close around his wrist
Ā Itā€™s only a brief moment of contact, but the warmth it leaves around his wrist stays, even when Vincent lets go.
ā€œSorry,ā€ Vincent says, a little panicked. He withdraws his hand. ā€œThatā€™s mine.ā€
ā€œWhat?ā€
ā€œThe cocktail.ā€
ā€œOh.ā€ Yves looks down to the can in his hands. He supposes Vincent might be rightā€”theyā€™ve both had a few drinks, so heā€™d lost track awhile ago. A lot of the canned cocktails taste roughly the same to him, anyways. ā€œIs it? I can get you another one if you want.ā€
ā€œNo,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œI drank from it.ā€ As if that explains everything. And thenā€”a little quieter, as if heā€™s embarrassed to say it: ā€œI donā€™t wadt you to catch this.ā€
Truthfully, the possibility hadnā€™t crossed his mind until Vincent mentioned it. It seems a little endearing that Vincent would be worried about it in the first placeā€”Yves has certainly shared food and drinks with friends who were worse off. ā€œIā€™m not worried about that,ā€ he says. ā€œItā€™s just a cold. Didnā€™t you say it was very tolerable?ā€
ā€œItā€™s stillā€¦ā€ Vincent trails off, averting his glance with a sniffle. ā€œ...an annoyance.ā€Ā 
He looks like heā€™s about to say more when his expression goes distant, his eyebrows furrowing.
ā€œHHihā€™IIIzSCH-uhh!ā€Ā  It sounds so thoroughly unsatisfying, half-shielded by a hand raised a few moments too late. ā€œhh-HIh-! Hhā€¦ā€ He pauses, his eyes watering, his breath still wavering, andā€”after a few seconds of nothingā€”sniffles; a forceful, liquid sniffle that practically emanates frustration. ā€œhIiIIhā€™kSHhhhh! snf-!ā€
ā€œBless you!ā€
Vincent emerges, teary-eyed, still sniffling. ā€œCase in point,ā€ he says.Ā 
ā€”
He doesnā€™t see Erika when she gets there. It isnā€™t until she passes him in the living room, halfway in a conversation, that she makes her presence known to him.
ā€œHi Yves,ā€ she says, and he looks up. Today sheā€™s wearing a pink dress which cuts off at her kneesā€”a strapless dress, save for a pink rose over her left shoulder which blooms into a sleeve. She is every inch as beautiful as she always is.
He smiles at her, cordial, tight-lipped. ā€œYou made it,ā€ he says. She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to say more, and he realizesā€”with a flash of panicā€”that he doesnā€™t know what more to say to her. He hasnā€™t kept up with her over the past few months. He knows that sheā€™s working as a quantitative analyst, at a company sheā€™d been hired at a couple months after theyā€™d broken up, but he doesnā€™t know if she likes her work, if she likes her coworkers, if itā€™s been busy as of late. If she works long hours, if sheā€™s taken up any new projects. ā€œGlad you found time. I assume workā€™s been keeping you busy,ā€ he says,Ā Ā 
ā€œAre you kidding? Itā€™s Francesca,ā€ Erika says. ā€œI wouldnā€™t miss this for the world.ā€
And there it isā€”that decisiveness. That same resolve that, back then, made everything with her seem so easy. Erika and Francesca have always been closeā€”through college, back when they met during crew, and even after, when all of them had been still settling into their jobs or going off to grad school or moving halfway across the country; when seeing each other no longer meant just a fifteen minute walk across campus.Ā 
ā€œYeah,ā€ Yves says. ā€œI know.ā€
They donā€™t speak, after that. Yves thinks itā€™s probably for the bestā€”he doesnā€™t have anything to say to Erika right now. Back then, he could talk to her about anything, even if it was pointless or insignificant or of no real importance, and sheā€™d make the conversation fun.Ā 
These days, he only tells her things on a strict need-to-know basis, andā€”given that the only times he sees her these days is at events like thisā€”thereā€™s not really all that much to talk about.Ā 
It had been difficult, at first. Heā€™d wanted to share everything with her, still, back when his work schedule had settled enough for him to take long walks downtown, to start to go to concerts and bars again; when heā€™d redecorated his apartment, when heā€™d gotten someone to mentor at work, when heā€™d gotten back into cooking. For some time after the breakup, it still felt instinctual to turn to her, to text her about something interesting thatā€™d happened, to ask her to try out something new that heā€™d found.Ā 
But he hadnā€™t. Something about feigning normalcy seemed worse, even then, than accepting that she was really gone.
Perhaps her avoidance of him tonight is merciful. Itā€™s easier, when heā€™s not thinking about her, to slip into the familiarity of talking to everyone, to enjoy all of it just as himself.Ā 
Itā€™s only when he excuses himself to get another drink that he runs into Brendon.
Yves has always been civil with Brendon.Ā 
Brendon isā€”well, to say that Brendon isnā€™t someone he considers a friend is a vast understatement. The less of Brendon Yves sees, the better. Yves avoids him when he can, but he is good at holding up small talk, when itā€™s necessary, and on most days, Brendon has enough good sense to not start a fight.
Today, it seems, is not one of those days.
ā€œSo,ā€ Brendon says. ā€œYouā€™re still dating him.ā€ Something about the way he inflects the word still makes something sour in Yvesā€™s chest.
Yves frowns at him. ā€œIs that supposed to be surprising?ā€
ā€œI guess Iā€™m surprised,ā€ Brendon says. ā€œI have to say, I wasnā€™t expecting it to last.ā€
ā€œWell, Iā€™m happy to have exceeded your expectations,ā€ Yves says. ā€œThough it doesnā€™t sound like they were very high.ā€
ā€œI donā€™t mean it like that,ā€ Brendon says, waving a hand. ā€œItā€™s justā€”new relationships can be fairly unreliable. Especially when youā€™re dating around.ā€
ā€œMaybe in your experience, thatā€™s the case,ā€ Yves says. ā€œBut personally, I tend to date people I can see myself with long term.ā€
ā€œThatā€™s the thing,ā€ Brendon says. ā€œIā€™m surprised you can see yourself with him.ā€
Yves sets the drink heā€™s holding down and turns to face him properly. ā€œIā€™m not sure what you mean by that.ā€
Brendon scoffs. ā€œIt doesnā€™t take a genius to see that you two are very different people.ā€
ā€œSo people can only date their clones,ā€ Yves says flatly. Heā€™s already tired of this conversation. ā€œMy bad. I mustā€™ve missed that rule somewhere in dating 101.ā€
ā€œObviously, I donā€™t mean it to that extent. Youā€™re blowing it out of proportion. I just mean that you can only be so different from someone before youā€™re incompatible. ā€
ā€œI agree,ā€ Yves says. ā€œAnd I donā€™t think weā€™re incompatible.ā€
ā€œAre you sure?ā€ Brendon crosses his arms. ā€œThis isnā€™t his scene, is it? Cocktail parties? I mean, heā€™s practically married to his work. Does he even like parties?ā€
Vincent doesnā€™t like partiesā€”Brendon is right about that point. But hadnā€™t Vincent been the one whoā€™d agreed to come here in the first place? To imply that heā€™s only here because Yves has dragged him along seems somewhat disingenuous.
Yves says, ā€œIf Vincent didnā€™t want to be here, he wouldnā€™t be here.ā€
ā€œSure, but from what Iā€™ve heard from Erikaā€”ā€ Yves doesnā€™t like this implication that Brendon and Erika talk about them behind their back, but he supposes itā€™s to be expected. ā€œā€”heā€™s not exactly the type of person youā€™ve tended to go for in the past.ā€
That sounds awfully like an accusation.
ā€œWhat exactly are you getting at, here?ā€
ā€œIā€™m saying that it sort of looks like you just picked the most convenient rebound you could find,ā€ Brendon says, quiet. ā€œBut usually people are honest with themselves when thatā€™s the case.ā€
That startles a short, indignant laugh out of Yves. ā€œYou have no idea what youā€™re talking about,ā€ he says.
ā€œDo you really not think thatā€™s the case? Wouldnā€™t you say youā€™d usually go for someone more personable?ā€
ā€œPersonable?ā€ Yves repeats. ā€œPersonable? Donā€™t make me laugh. Do you know how many clients Iā€™ve seen Vincent talk down to a pleasant resolution because heā€™s so good at negotiating? Do you know how many conferences Iā€™ve been in where Vincent is the one people come to after to privately compliment, because heā€™s so good at knowing how to talk to people?ā€ he thinks to Joelā€™s housewarming partyā€”to how compellingly Vincent had lied for him, then; to how good he had been at conjuring up a sense of history between them, of warmth. ā€œHis ability to answer difficult questions on the spot, with virtually no preparation at all, is something I canā€™t even begin to comprehend.ā€
Heā€™s not sure why the accusation from Brendon makes him so upset, only that it does. Only that he wants to do nothing but tell Brendon just how wrong he is. ā€œIf youā€™re trying to imply that Iā€™m settling for him, donā€™t patronize me,ā€ he says. ā€œVincent is one of the smartest and most thoughtful people I know. Do you seriously believe Iā€™d be dissatisfied with someone who holds himself to such a high standard?ā€
ā€œIā€™m happier than Iā€™ve been in months,ā€ he says, resolute. ā€œBecause of him.ā€
Through the adrenaline, Yves realizes, faintly, that he hasnā€™t lied about any of it. He certainly could haveā€”after all, Brendon would be none the wiserā€”but everything heā€™s said about Vincent is something he really, genuinely believes.
ā€œAh,ā€ Brendon says, knowingly, as if he has it all figured out. ā€œI got it wrong. This whole time I thought you were the one that felt lukewarm about him. But itā€™s the other way around, isnā€™t it?ā€
ā€œI donā€™t know what youā€™re talking about.ā€
ā€œYouā€™re so sure heā€™s the one that youā€™re willing to overlook all of your obvious differences,ā€ Brendon says. ā€œHave you ever stopped to consider whether he feels the same way?ā€
ā€œPresumably, he does,ā€ Yves says. ā€œOtherwise, we wouldnā€™t be in a relationship.ā€
ā€œThat doesnā€™t necessarily mean anything,ā€ Brendon says, as if Yves should already know this from past experience, whichā€”if Yves is being really honestā€”makes him want to punch him.
Instead, he takes in a deep breath, schools his expression into a smile. ā€œUsually, people in relationships arenā€™t still looking for other options.ā€
ā€œYes,ā€ Brendon says. ā€œUnless theyā€™re unhappy.ā€
ā€œYves!ā€Ā 
When Yves turns to look, Vincent is standing in the doorway. How long has he been here? Just how much of the conversation has he overheard?
ā€œSorry for the wait,ā€ Yves says sheepishly. ā€œI was getting us drinks.ā€ Evidently, heā€™s been away long enough for Vincent to come check up on him, so heā€™s already spent unreasonably long getting drinks, and now he doesnā€™t even have the drinks to show for it. ā€œOr, I guess I got a little sidetracked, but I swear that drinks are on the wā€”ā€
Vincent leans in, unprompted, and kisses him.Ā 
Yvesā€™s brain grinds to a complete halt.
Itā€™s only a moment later that Vincent pulls away, but the decisiveness with which heā€™s carried it out, the broad confidence on his face as he smiles, unwavering, isā€”
Fuck.
ā€œOh,ā€ Yves all but stammers. His face is most certainly red right now, and he canā€™t even blame it on the alcohol. ā€œUm. Did you need anything?ā€
ā€œNo,ā€ Vincent says. Thereā€™s something telling to his expression, some sort of quiet acknowledgement. ā€œJust wanted to see what was takidg you so long.ā€
Suddenly, it makes sense.
Vincent must have heard. Everything Brendon saidā€”or at least, the last part of it; the implication that Vincent isnā€™t as invested in this relationship as Yves is; the implication that their attraction towards each other is somehow one-sided. Vincent is doing this to cover for him, because he wants to make it excruciatingly obvious that Brendon is wrong.
The fact that he would go to such lengths to make a point makes something settle in Yvesā€™s chest.
ā€œItā€™s actually good that you showed up,ā€ he says, playing along. ā€œI donā€™t know what kind of drink you want. I was just going to get you something generic.ā€
He heads over to the ice box on the other side of the kitchen, and Vincent follows.
Theyā€™re far enough that theyā€™re separated from Brendon by the granite islandā€”and, beyond that, the cushioned high stools lined up next to it, but not so far that Brendon canā€™t still see them.Ā 
So he certainly can see, Yves thinks, this:
Yves leans in, reaching up a hand to cup Vincentā€™s jaw, and closes the distance between them.
Itā€™s nothing like the kiss at the New Yearā€™s party.
That one had been all nervesā€”brief, impulsive, all adrenaline. This kiss is much more involvedā€”Yves presses in closer, so close that he can feel the heat radiating from Vincentā€™s skin, so close that he can smell the faint, not unpleasant smell of laundry detergent on Vincentā€™s shirt collar. So close that he can feel the breath that Vincent exhales, warm on his cheek; can feel the softness of Vincentā€™s hair as he shifts. He feels Vincentā€™s hand settle on his chest, feels his fingers curl inwards to rest on the fabric of his shirt, andā€”
On the other side of the kitchen, Brendon is watching, and Vincent is hereā€”here, present, in the flesh, looking as put together as always, looking like someone out of a goddamn magazineā€”so Yves kisses him like heā€™s used to kissingā€”greedily, as if heā€™s been wanting this for ages. Itā€™s been awhile since heā€™s kissed someone like this. Back then, there was universityā€”the people at parties who heā€™d met and kissed out of momentary attraction, or out of alcohol-induced courageā€”though of course back then, neither party had harbored any delusions about how impermanent that connection was, or how little it meant. And then there was Erika, who, for the longest time, he thought was going to be the last person heā€™d ever kiss like this.
For months after theyā€™d broken up, he hadnā€™t looked for anything. It felt wrong to subject othersā€”even strangers, to which he had no allegianceā€”to the messy remnants of his feelings, to attempt to get into something he knew could only be half-hearted, at best, when there was a person in his mind who lingered so sharply.
But Vincent crowds up every corner of his mind, as if to say, pay attention, and Yves finds that for once, heā€™s not thinking about Erika at all.
When he feels the small hitch in Vincentā€™s breath, he thinks nothing of it.
Except, thenā€”abruptly, and with barely any warningā€”Vincent is wrenching away, craning his head over Yvesā€™s shoulder to let out a sudden, uncoveredā€”
ā€œhh-hIIIHā€™hH-IIKTshHuh!ā€
Their proximity to each other means he feels the way Vincentā€™s body jerks forward under his hands, his chest tensing. For a moment after, the rigidness of his posture doesnā€™t dissipate, tension still strung through the line of his shoulders.
ā€œBless you,ā€ Yves says, surprised.
Then Vincent curses under his breath, drawing away with a sniffle. ā€œIā€™mb sorry,ā€ he says, sounding really, honestly panickedā€”a reaction which Yves finds both disproportionate to the situation and a little endearing. ā€œThat wasā€” sorry, I shouldā€™veā€”ā€
ā€œDonā€™t worry about it,ā€ Yves says, with a laugh; ā€œI honestly couldnā€™t care less.ā€ Impulsivelyā€”and maybe to prove just how little it bothers himā€”he leans back in.
Vincent is less hesitant, this time around, when it seems to register to him that Yves really doesnā€™t mind. Heā€™s a surprisingly good kisserā€”Yves probably isnā€™t the first person heā€™s kissed, and he probably wonā€™t be the last, but the second Vincentā€™s mouth works around his, Yves feels himself nearly go weak in the knees.
Fuck. Yves canā€™t say he expected to spend this evening making out with his very attractive coworker-slash-fake-boyfriend, but at the same time, he isnā€™t complaining. Yves thinks he could do this for hours, given the chance. He kisses Vincent as if to say, thank youā€”for the New Yearā€™s party, for going along with this, for lying on my behalfā€”and Vincent kisses him back as if he wants this just as much.
It registers to him, faintlyā€”as Vincent pulls away with a sharp gasp before he pitches forward, smothering another abrupt, wrenching sneeze into the palm of his handā€”that heā€™s probably dooming himself to Vincentā€™s cold ten times over. But it occurs to him, too, that if he were really dating Vincentā€”if, after the party, theyā€™d head back to Vincentā€™s place together; if they were really close enough to share car rides and food and drinks on the regular, to see each other frequently both in the office and outside of itā€”he wouldā€™ve almost certainly caught this anyways.
Something about the intimacy of it, the false closeness it seems to imply, is a little intoxicating.Ā 
When he finally pulls away, Vincent is breathing a little heavily, his glasses askew, his hair slightly unkempt from where Yves hadā€”mid-kissā€”run his fingers through it. Yves looks over his shoulder to see that Brendon has, at some point over the last few minutes, slipped off. Presumably, heā€™s gotten the point, then.
Itā€™s a relief. Yves is glad to not have to talk with him for any longer than he has to.Ā 
ā€œGod,ā€ Yves says, with a laugh. ā€œWhere did you learn to kiss like that, anyways?ā€
Vincent smiles. ā€œIā€™ve had some practice,ā€ he says, which Yves thinks must be a massive understatement. ā€œDo you think it was convincidg?ā€
ā€œI donā€™t know what kinds of standards Brendon has,ā€ Yves says, lowering his voice so that heā€™s certain no one outside of the kitchen will be able to hear. ā€œBut Iā€™d definitely be convinced.ā€
ā€œHe seems strangely idvested in our relationship,ā€ Vincent says.
Yves sighs. ā€œI think he was just trying to make trouble. How much of our conversation did you hear?ā€
ā€œJust the tail end of it,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œIā€”ā€
His gaze goes distant, which is the only warning Yves gets before heā€™s turning away, steepling his hands over his nose and mouth with a forceful:
ā€œhH-! hhH-hHā€™iiKTsSHH-uhh! Hh-! Hihā€¦ HIIhā€™IzsSCCHhā€™hhh!ā€
ā€œBless you,ā€ Yves says.
Vincent is quiet for a moment, his expression still hazy, the irritation evident on his features, before heā€™s ducking away again.
ā€œhIiihā€™GKTTSHh-uhHh!ā€
The sneeze is loud enough to scrape against his throat. It leaves him coughing a little, his eyes watering.Ā Ā 
ā€œBless you,ā€ Yves says, with emphasis. He takes a small stack of napkins off of the kitchen counter and hands it over to Vincent, who eyes it for a moment. Thereā€™s a slight flush to his complexionā€”whether itā€™s from the alcohol, or from embarrassment, or from slight fever, Yves canā€™t tell.
ā€œI hope you dodā€™t regret this in a few days,ā€ Vincent says, carefully extricating one napkin from the stack to blow his nose softly into it. ā€œYouā€”ā€ His breath hitches, sharply, and then heā€™s pitching forward into the handful of napkins with a muffled, ā€œhiiHhā€™IZSSCHh-uhh!ā€
He emerges, sniffling, looking a little apologetic. ā€œYouā€™ll almost certaidly catch this.ā€
Yves laughs. ā€œItā€™s fine. I know what I signed up for. Besides, Iā€™m glad you stepped in.ā€ He kneels down, at last, to procure two drinks from the long-neglected icebox. ā€œA cold was a small price to pay for getting out of that conversation.ā€
He hands Vincent a drink. ā€œCan I have a sip of yours? Now that Iā€™ve doomed myself to it already, I suppose you donā€™t have to try so hard to keep me from catching it.ā€
ā€œThatā€™s not very reassuring,ā€ Vincent says, but he lets Yves try some, nonetheless.
Brendon is suspiciously quiet for the rest of the evening. Neither he nor Erika so much as look Yvesā€™s way, which Yves thinks is better than another confrontation. Vincent looks happyā€”a little tired, a little tipsy, but happy. At some point into the evening he resorts to crossing his arms as a means to keep warm (ā€œIs it too cold in here?ā€ Francesca asks, passing him from where heā€™s sitting on the couch, to which Vincent shakes his head quickly, his face flushing red. ā€œIā€™mb just slightly under the weather,ā€ he says. ā€œThe temperatureā€™s perfect.ā€ to this, Francesca brings over a quilt from one of the closets and drapes it over his shoulders. ā€œYour friends are very nice,ā€ Vincent says, pinning the quilt in place with one hand, and Yves laughs).
At some point, Francesca brings out a cake (ā€œearl gray with buttercream,ā€ she says, ā€œErika and I made a smaller one as a test run last week, and it was a little too dense, so weā€™ll have to see how this one turned out.ā€ which Yves thinks is very impressiveā€”heā€™s certainly better than average at cooking, but that expertise does not transfer well to bakingā€”truly, heā€™s not sure heā€™d be confident in his ability to pipe frosting in a straight line. When he tells Vincent this, Vincent laughs and says, ā€œIā€™m sure people would forgive you as long as it tasted good,ā€ to which Yves says, ā€œI think youā€™re underestimating how bad I am at decorating.ā€) Sheā€™s piped small blue flowers around the periphery of it, and leaves that curl around the edges of the cake. Diane says, ā€œthis is way too pretty to eat,ā€ and ā€œare you sure you want us to destroy it,ā€ while Kennethā€”their yearā€™s Crew captainā€”helps Francesca with setting up the candles around the periphery of the cake and lighting them one by one.
Francesca laughs when Erika tells a story about a series of errors pertaining to their last grocery store run and tears up when Marin gives a speech about how Francesca is the main reason she stayed in Crew. After that, everyone singsā€”for a brief moment, the clamor in the living room becomes strictly unified. Then she blows out all the candles in one go, and everyone claps.
All in all, itā€™s a good evening.
ā€”
Itā€™s really not a surprise when Yves wakes up a few days later with a sore throat.
Itā€™s not a surprise, either, when his nose starts running shortly after, or whenā€”a couple hours laterā€”a harsh, wrenching sneeze catches him off guard at work.
Itā€™s as if that first sneeze has opened the floodgates. After that, he finds himself muffling sneezes into his elbow, scrambling for tissues from the rapidly depleting stashā€”a travel sized tissue pack that he keeps in his briefcase, just in case. The persistent tickle that settles in his nose seems impossible to appease, no matter how many times he sneezes, or how diligently he tries to ignore it. Worse, the sneezes are forceful enough to leave his throat feeling tender and painful, and violent enough that he finds himself coughing a little after.
Vincent was right. The cold isnā€™t particularly miserableā€”aside from the sore throat, heā€™s a little tired, but he doesnā€™t feel strictly worse than usual. It is irritating, though, to deal withā€”and irritating, too, to be at the office as it settles in.
Itā€™s probably not worth taking a sick day for. Itā€™s more an annoyance than a tangible inconvenience. Besides, he has only a couple days left of work before itā€™s the weekend, when he can catch up on sleep.
Heā€™s scheduled himself for a morningā€™s worth of back to back meetingsā€”two meetings with clients, one with a coworker heā€™s been working with to go over her findings, another status update meeting to review the work theyā€™ve all done over the past few weeks.
Yves is prone to losing his voice when heā€™s ill. Itā€™s one of his most embarrassing tellsā€”itā€™d certainly garnered more attention than heā€™d wanted in college whenever he was under the weatherā€”but in a work setting where his participation in meetings is non-negotiable, with every meeting he takes, he can feel his voice get closer and closer to unusable.
His second meeting ends a few minutes early, which is a relief. But when he heads to the break room to make himself a cup of much-needed tea, he finds that the hot water machine is out of order.
Just his luck.
He pours himself a cup of cold water and looks through some of the storage cabinets for tissues, though he has no luck with that, either.
The office is always turned a notch too coolā€”air conditioned to keep everyone awake in the afternoonsā€”but today, it feels brutally, unnecessarily cold. He really shouldā€™ve dressed warmer. Yves heads to the conference room his next meeting is booked in, speaks on the material heā€™s prepared, and tries his best not to shiver too visibly. His meeting before lunch runs over, too, which is not uncommon, but today it just feels like insult to injury.
All in all, heā€™s exhausted. He eats a quick lunch in the cafeteria, downs two glasses of water, and goes through an embarrassing number of cafeteria napkins.
ā€œComing down with something?ā€ Stanley, one of his coworkers, asks him.
Yves smiles at him sheepishly. ā€œI wish it wasdā€™t so obvious,ā€ he says.
ā€œItā€™s just the season for it, I think. Vincent was just sick last week.ā€
ā€œOh, was he?ā€ Yves says, feigning ignorance. His cold is definitely, most certainly not related to Vincentā€™s. ā€œI was just goidg to grab a bottle of hand saditizer to keep at my desk,ā€ he says, with a small cough. ā€œI thidk thereā€™s somethidg going around.ā€
Thankfully, the afternoon isā€”for the most partā€”just occupied with work. Still, itā€™s becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on the financial statements in front of him, the slew of emails he has pulled up.
His nose is running fiercely, the trash can at the foot of his desk is close to overflowing, and the stack of napkins heā€™d taken from the cafeteriaā€”certainly not an ideal solution, but itā€™s the best one he can come up with at the momentā€”is almost entirely gone.
He grabs one off the top of the stackā€”heā€™s only able to unfold it partially before heā€™s jerking forward with a wet, spraying, ā€œhhEHhā€™iiiZZSCHhā€™EW!ā€Ā 
Fuck. The napkins, while infinitely better than nothing, are not as soft as tissues would have been. Given the frequency with which heā€™s been using them, heā€™s almost positive that his nose is redder than usual.
The next sneeze nearly catches him off guard. He barely has time to lift the napkin up to his face again before his breath hitches again, sharply.
ā€œHhehhā€¦ HEHhā€”ā€™IIDDSCHhiew! hEHHā€™iITSSHhā€™Yyew!ā€Ā 
His nose is still running fiercely, and worse, the sneezes are loud enough to scrape against his throat. He thinks his voice is never going to recover if he keepsĀ this up.
From behind him, he hears someone clear their throat.
Yves freezes. His first thought is that heā€™s probably being disruptive. His second thought is that even if he isnā€™t, whoeverā€™s behind him must have been waiting to speak to him for some timeā€”heā€™d just been too caught up with sneezing to realize, which is a little embarrassing.
His third thought isā€”whoever it is, he wants to face them looking at least marginally presentable. Heā€™s almost certain that right now, he doesnā€™t.
He blows his nose into the napkins heā€™s holding, runs a hand through his hair, and pivots around in his office chair with a smile that is admittedly a little forced. ā€œWhatā€™s up?ā€
He expects to see Cara, who heā€™s been working more with, or perhaps Laurent, who heā€™s been shadowing. But standing there, looking every inch as formal and as put together as he always does, is Vincent.
For a moment, Vincent just stares at him, as if heā€™s cataloging Yvesā€™s appearance in silence.
Yves tries not to fidget under his scrutiny. ā€œDid you ndeed anythidg?ā€Ā 
In lieu of responding, Vincent steps past him to set a box of tissues down at the edge of his desk.Ā 
ā€œI figured youā€™d want this back,ā€ Vincent says.
Itā€™s the same tissue box heā€™d handed off to Vincent last week, he realizes, when Vincent was the one who had a use for it. Vincent has taken care to set it down at the same spot where it was initially: at the right edge, next to his monitor.
ā€œThadk you,ā€ Yves says. ā€œIļæ½ļæ½ll treasure it.ā€
ā€œThis, too,ā€ Vincent says, setting a mug down in front of him. Whateverā€™s in there is hot enough to be steaming.
Yves muffles a cough into his hand. ā€œWhat?ā€
ā€œTea,ā€ Vincent says, as if that explains everything. ā€œChamomile, if it matters. I didnā€™t know if caffeine would keep you up.ā€
ā€œOh.ā€ Yves stares at it. ā€œYou got the hot water machide workidg. It was broken this morning. Or maybe Iā€™mb just really bad at using it.ā€
ā€œActually, no,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œI got this from the third floor.ā€
ā€œYou walked all the way up here from the third floor?ā€ Yves says, a little surprised.Ā  Heā€™s about to say more, but thenā€”in a progression that he should probably be used to by nowā€”he finds himself succumbing, with little warning, to another sneeze, which he muffles into a perhaps-too-generous handful of tissues. At this rate, he might run out of them, even given Vincentā€™s generous contribution.
ā€œIt was just two flights of stairs,ā€ Vincent says.Ā 
ā€œStill,ā€ Yves says, lowering the tissues from his face so he can take a sip. The thought of Vincent precariously taking the tea up two flights of stairs, careful to not let it spill, just to get it to his desk is so endearing that he finds himself smiling. ā€œThank you.ā€
Vincent blinks at him, as if he wasnā€™t expecting to be thanked. ā€œI donā€™t think it will keep you from losing your voice,ā€ he says, at last. ā€œBut it might help with your sore throat.ā€Ā 
Yves doesnā€™t remember mentioning that. ā€œHow did you kdow I had a sore throat?ā€
ā€œHow do you think?ā€ Vincent says. ā€œI had the same cold a week ago.ā€
Even so, the idea that Vincent already probably knows, and knows intimately, how heā€™s feeling right now, even though Yves hasnā€™t said anything about it, feels a little incriminating. Yves is under no illusion that his current affliction is subtle, by any means, but at the very least heā€™d thought that the less visible parts of itā€”his sore throat, the growing exhaustion, the pressure he feels building at his templesā€”were things that no one else would have to think about.
ā€œWas it this bad for you?ā€ he says. ā€œIā€™d feel terrible if I mbade you talk to all my friends if your throat was alreadyā€” Hh- heHh-! hHEH-heHhā€™iSSSchh-Iiew!ā€
Itā€™s a good thing, Yves thinks, hazily, that heā€™s still holding onto the tissues from earlier. His nose is running again, and the tissues feel traitorously soft as compared to the napkins heā€™s been using all day.
ā€œNo,ā€ Vincent says, frowning. ā€œI think you just wore your voice out at work.ā€
ā€œThat mbight be the case,ā€ Yves says. ā€œI had a lot of meetidgs this morning. Ndow itā€™s pretty much just heads-down work, thankfully.ā€ He muffles a yawn into one hand. Vincent is probably here for a reasonā€”but Vincent is usually very conscientious about the work he passes onto others, so whatever he needs Yves to do for him, Yves doesnā€™t expect it should take too long. ā€œDid you ndeed me to look over somethidg?ā€ ā€œI just wanted to see how you were feeling,ā€ Vincent says, which is not the answer Yves expects.
Yves blinks at him. ā€œHow did you find out I was sick?ā€
ā€œI heard from Cara.ā€
ā€œAh.ā€ He probably owes Cara an apologyā€”heā€™s sure that sheā€™d probably prefer to work somewhere quiet, and his cold is certainly making that difficult. ā€œYeah, she would kdow. Iā€™ve been like this all dayā€”well, sidce this mording, I guess.ā€
ā€œIt came on quickly for me, too,ā€ Vincent says. ā€œCan I get you anything?ā€
ā€œItā€™s just a cold,ā€ Yves says with a laugh. ā€œIā€™ll mbanage.ā€ He means for it to be reassuring, but Vincent just frowns, looking off to the side.
He looksā€¦ strangely upset, Yves realizes.
ā€œItā€™s ndot really all that bad,ā€ Yves insists, backtracking. ā€œAnd the weekendā€™s coming up soon. Iā€™ll catch up on sleep when I get the chance.ā€ Now is a really inopportune time to have to cough. He raises an elbow to his face to cough as quietly as he can, though the effort only seems to prolong the coughing fitā€”it leaves him slightly breathless, blinking away the tears that surface in his vision. ā€œSeriously, donā€™t worry about it.ā€
ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ Vincent says, quiet.
ā€œFor what?ā€
ā€œFor giving you my cold.ā€
ā€œI dodā€™t think you can even take credit for that,ā€ Yves says. ā€œI was the one who kissed you.ā€
Vincent does smile, at thatā€”a small, almost imperceptible smile. ā€œEven so.ā€
Yves wants to tell him that he would do it again, if he had the chance to. He wants to tell Vincent how easy it had felt to kiss him, how right.
How it felt to forget about Erika, and Brendon, and all of itā€”even if just for a momentā€”to feel so perfectly grounded in someone other than himself. To let himself experience the sort of closeness heā€™s been scared of seeking out, after the breakup, after Erika, in fear that no one would ever fit quite the same. To lean into the warmth of someone who still, even now, continues to be kind to him for reasons he canā€™t quite rationalize.Ā 
How long has it been since heā€™s been able to place his trust into someone, blindly, in the way he trusts Vincent to keep up this act of theirs, to lie on his behalf? Vincent is nothing if not competent, but Yves hadnā€™t expected that competence to extend to this arrangement of theirs. How long has it been since Yves has been able to lean on someone the way heā€™s leaned on Vincent, to trust someone to meet him where he is?
ā€œFor the record, I dodā€™t regret it,ā€ Yves says. He finds that he really means it.
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notbadforafailedvessel Ā· 2 years ago
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Batcina AU - Part III
Part I, Part II, Part IV
This is technically the last part I've planned for this AU since I want to write others. However, if you want to see a particular scenario for this universe, you are free to request it!
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It takes months for Alcina to have the possibility to go and do what she actually wants instead of following an agenda that isn't hers.
She had been surpised when, at her return, didn't find the castle in shambles. It felt too good to be truth so just to be on the safe side she had made her way to the other Lord's home. Thankfully with her abilities, she didn't need to interact with them directly to find out if they were alive.
Nevertheless, Alcina decided that the best thing to do is to tell Mother Miranda what had transpired in the last weeks. The only thing that Alcina doesn't mention during her tale is you.
She doesn't want Mother Miranda to know about you for some reason, even when she usually tells her everything.
Mother Miranda comes to the conclusion that Alcina must have killed a decent amount of humans to cause an impact into their plan, big enough to make them retract for the time being.
However, not risking it, Mother Miranda still decides to warn the other Lords about a possible future attack. She knows how humans can be and she doesn't want to lose any of her pawns before she achieves her goal.
Alcina tries to focus on her daily tasks, to go on with her life, but she finds herself lost in thought often, thinking of you, wondering how are you, if you remember her from time to time.
Whenever she realizes what she's doing, she gets annoyed, scolding herself for such weakness.
She might have forgive you and grant you an amnesty so you wouldn't face your demise anytime soon, but that was it. You aren't anything especial, just a human that apparently isn't as awful as the ones she was used to.
Even so, the only thing that is able to distract her from you entirely arrives a few days later, when Mother Miranda gifts her with three corpses and the free card to experiment with them.
It's not unusual for her to experiment, very early on Mother Miranda told her it was going to be one of her duties, but Alcina is the one who looks out for the specimens for it.
Alcina achieves something different this time, and the day she brings them back to life, as mutant humans and not the monsters she usually creates, and her eyes met three pairs, you come back to her mind.
"Is this how it feels caring for someone? It is what they felt while I was under their care?"
She has a purpose now though, so she dedicates enough time to nurture the girls she now calls her daughters, to teach them they were a family and always protect each other and their home before finally giving up to whatever she's feeling instead of trying to ignore it.
And the only way to get the answers to her questions is forcing them out of you.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
In retrospect your life has not changed and nothing bad has happened to you but you simply can't get rid of the unhappy veil that has fallen on you.
There's nothing you can do about it though. Aware it's a mourning period that would pass with time and you simply have to try to be patient with yourself.
A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts, causing you to frown because it's not as if you received visits. You don't have friends nor family and whenever a knock was heard, it rarely meant anything good for you.
You stand up to open the door though, knowing it could be worse if you don't, depending who was on the other side.
You face an off-white wall that is shifting softly, and shamefully, it takes you until the clear of a throat to realize it's a person.
You know right away who is after that, and such knowledge speeds up your heartbeat.
Living in this village, you are not a stranger to Mother Miranda and the Lords. You know villagers revere them though you have never being a devouted.
You are aware is mainly out of fear not because they respect or accept what they practice, though there were some exceptions.
But the first and only time you've seen Lady Dimitrescu on the town (before your isolation), your first thought had been "I can understand why some villagers are so devoted, I wouldn't mind worship her."
Her unique height was what draw your attention and fascinated you, but you weren't blind, she was an incredible attractive woman.
Despite the admiration you feel for her, you are apprehensive for the visit. What could you have done wrong for her to come look at you in person?
You have heard what people said about her and the other Lords, the comments whenever you had to go down to the village and even tough you weren't fond of believing rumours just because, you did notice the disappearance of some people over time.
You never actively cared though. Why would you feel bad for the people who never show any kindness to you after they labelled you as a freak?
Deep down, you even considered it like the Universe has sent you a dark guardian angel to punish them for the way they treated you.
"L-Lady Dimitrescu." You bow shakingly. When you straighten up, you look up to make eye contact, not wanting to offend the lady in any way though perhaps what you were doing is much riskier.
Golden eyes are already waiting for yours, and when they lock, you feel a shiver while a familiar sensation washes you over, which confuses you because you two have never had eye contact.
Alcina is convinced that this time when you look at her, your eyes won't reflect the tenderness and affection she had gotten used to. The prospect bothers her but she knows what to expect from a human. So she's is totally taken aback when it doesn't happen.
There's caution in your eyes but not fear, and a glow that makes her feel warm.
You swallow slowly. "It's an honor to have you here, my Lady." You have no idea what's the reason for it, but you are sincere.
Alcina's lips part slightly but she holds back the gasp in the last second. That was different. In her bat form, when you referred to her like that, playfulness covered your words. Now, your voice was full of awe.
All her plans for how this encounter was going to occur suddenly vanished from her head.
She frows. Maybe she should go back to consider your dismiss, it would definitely make things simpler. But the simple idea of killing you, upsets her. "What's your name?"
You blink with bewilderment. Why is she looking out for you if she doesn't know who you are? "[Y/N], my Lady."
Lady Dimitrescu nods once sharply, looking at the surroundings as she tilts her head up regally. "I'm here to thank you for taking care of me a few months ago."
The words don't make any sense to you at first, but when the Lady makes eye contact with you again and the sensation of familiarity repeats itself, your eyes widen with realization.
Alcina smirks, pleased to finally have the upper hand in your interactions instead of the other way around.
When you are capable of react from your shock, you notice Lady Dimitrescu is walking away and without thinking, you head into her direction, doing the most stupid thing you've ever done in your entire life when you are close enough.
You don't count with the strength to make her stop but Alcina stops when your fingers wraps around her wrist, most likely taken aback by your gall.
Torn between amaze and annoyance, she regards you questioningly.
Aware that you are pushing your luck, you let her go, fidgeting with your hands. "Are you okay, my Lady? There is not any aftermath after the attack, is it?"
Alcina's stance softens and she wonders if you are ever going to stop surpising her. "I healed perfectly. Thanks to you."
The words make you blush and it's a sight Alcina relishes so she reaches out to brush your cheek with her thumb, deepening your redness.
"I just did what anyone would have done, my Lady," you whisper.
"We both know that's not true."
You know she's right. For most people it's easier to 'put a creature out of their misery' than taking the trouble and time of look after someone in need.
"Yes well, many humans suffer from a lack of brains." You normally keep your thoughts about people to yourself, so you cover your mouth with both hands when you realize you spoke out loud.
Lady Dimitrescu blinks once, twice and then laughs.
It's a miracle you remain standing when you feel your legs tremble due to the heavenly sound.
The Lady's reaction gives your the courage to ask, "Would you like some tea, my Lady?"
Alcina caresses you other cheek with an amused smile. "All right."
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A routine develops between you two where Alcina comes to visit you at least once a week.
Since your cabin is too small for her to enter, you keep your meetings in the garden just like the first time. Reason why you started to give more attention to it, wanting to look adequate for your Lady, even though she had never mentioned anything to make you think she wasn't pleased with the place.
Lady Dimitrescu asks you questions to know you better and you are pleasently surprised that she allows you to ask too. But there's a line that's unspeakable even though you have never put a boundary ā”€ she never questions about why you live so far from everything and you never ask about the rumors.
In your case it was because you were certain having a confirmation or a negative wouldn't change things in any way.
You never know the day Lady Dimitrescu will come, but by now, any sound you heard from outside, you expect it's her.
Unfortunately, when you step outside, you encounter a group of men. You are able to recognize some of them but not others.
"Ah, none other than the freak. I should have imagine we wouldn't be so lucky to get rid of you definitely."
A man breaks through among the others but you don't need to see him to know who it is. You'll recognize that voice anywhere since it was the person who started the verbal attacks against you.
It only took a wrongful accusation from his daughter's part for him to start some sort of vendetta.
"You know her?" The man that seems to be the leader since he's at the front of the group asks him without looking away from you.
You grimace which makes your bully laugh. "Every town has a freak, though it seems we were blessed with more than one," he said sarcastically.
"A freak?" He scrutinizes you up and down. "Does she has any connection with her?"
"I think we all agree that that woman is an abomination but at least she has enough class to not get involved with this tasteless thing." He spits on the floor towards your direction.
Are they talking about your Lady? The words they are using are the last you'd use to describe her but it's more than clear that you don't have anything in common with these people.
"There might be a solidarity between freaks," a new voice from the group adds, followed by hoots of support.
"Lady Dimitrescu is not a freak." You know it's stupid to intervene. It's you alone versus at least ten men who only needed the label from one of their group to consider you unnatural and therefore an enemy. But you can't stand there listening them talk about the woman who has showed more interest and caring in you than your own race without doing anything about it.
If you die, at least there's going to be a reason for it.
And by the wrathful looks you receive, you know that's the only possible outcome. There's no opportunity to escape. Even if you are fast enough to go back to your house, it'll be easy for them to break in with the weapons they carried.
The only thing you lament is that you won't spend more time with your Lady.
Alcina is halfway from your house when she focus her hearing on you.
It has become almost instinctively for her to jump from hearing her daughters to you during her days to reassure herself everything's okay with each of you.
It amuses her the contrast between her daughters and you ā”€ where they are chaotic and loud, you are quiet and calm. Two very different spectrums with the power to soothe her.
However, she notices there's something wrong in an instant, noticing your apprehensive heartbeat followed by a scream that puts her on edge.
She turns into a bat to shorten the distance faster and she's back into her human once she visualizes the cabin, arriving at the moment you are struck on the cheek, hard enough to make you fall onto the ground.
She sees red.
Whenever Alcina fights, she's focused and centered, almost looking like she's involved in a violent dance. Not this time. She's nothing but walking wrath who slashes whatever comes in her way. Her only goal is to get rid of the filth who was foolish enough to come bother you and put a hand on you.
She doesn't want to stop and ask questions, people like that don't deserve a chance. And even though she would have preffered to take her time and make them regret what they did and beg for forgiveness, she wants this over as quickly as possible to make sure you are okay.
After the first hit, you were expecting the next one. There's a graze that makes you shrink on yourself but it doesn't go further.
You remain motionless until the screams startle you and make you look around anxiously.
The commotion only lasts a couple of minutes but it's tricky for you to understand what's happening since you can only see a white blur and the men falling, one by one, to the ground in pieces.
Only when silence falls and Lady Dimitrescu stops moving, her extended claws dripping blood and even a bit of human remains, you finally understand.
Your dark guardian angel indeed.
You don't care she's covered in blood, not bothered what you had just witnessed. You stand up shakingly, the sound drawing Alcina's attention in your direction, who retracts her claws, hoping she hasn't traumatized you for life.
There's a brief moment of hesitation and concern from Alcina's part while you two make eye contact before you run towards her, throwing yourself at her and your Lady is swift to catch you in her arms, pulling you against her body.
Your arms wrap around her neck and you bury your face in the crook of her neck.
You are safe. You know it, and not only of this dangerous situation. You know that now there is someone in your life who cares for you. Someone who is willing to kill for you if necessary. For the first time in years, your body is able to recognize it too, relaxing entirely, which brings tears to your eyes that you are not able to hold back for so long.
"You are safe now, dragă. I'll keep you safe now." She reassures you, closing her eyes as she hugs you and nuzzles the side of your face, needing the comfort of your presence.
You sniff, tightening your arms around her while you nod. You suddenly chuckle. "I saved you first and now you saved me." You pull back to look at her but without breaking the hug. Not that Alcina would have allowed it since her hold doesn't falters.
She smiles amused. "Indeed we did." She turns serious. "Though I would definitely prefer if we can avoid these situations as much as possible." You remember the terror your felt when you saw your Lady about to be devoured by an owl and you nod. You don't want her to feel that way again, imagining that's what she felt. "Which is why I want you to come live in the Castle with me and my daughters."
Even though your eyes widen, you are not surprised. You know Lady Dimitrescu is proprietorial, you have noticed it in her bat form and it wasn't any different in the human one.
She sees you as hers. You don't know her what exactly but you are okay with the idea of being hers.
You look at your cabin, expecting to feel some sort of dread at the idea of leaving but it doesn't happen. The truth is that after today's invasion, the place feels stained and the idea of staying here alone doesn't thrills you.
Looking back at Alcina, you remove one arm from her neck to caress her jaw softly. Your eyes showing your adoration.
You have never initiate any contact with her, even when you were desperate to do it. She's always the one doing it, prompted by the way you blush whenever she does it. Now that she has allowed it and it looked she was okay with it, you don't want to stop touching her.
"Of course, my Lady. It will be an honor." You smile at her before burying your face back in the crook of her neck.
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phoenixkaptain Ā· 3 months ago
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Really enjoy For My Derelict Favourite. It isā€¦ so funny.
I love Hestia. Hestia is such an asshole. She is the absolute worst. Sheā€™s like ā€œThe main characters made my boy sad, so Iā€™m going to make them both wish they were dead.ā€ Relatable. I love that.
(Defending your faves problematic actions? I would never do that. *quickly hides all of my Bruce Wayne, Anakin Skywalker, Will Graham, etc defenses)
Caelus is perfect. When people say he tried to off himself just because the girl he liked didnā€™t like him back, theyā€™re doing him a disservice. The girl he liked basically called him irredeemable and a monster, she cast him aside because he did something she viewed as going too far, even though she still benefits from it. He lost his relationship with his best friend, who he grew up with and who he considered akin to his brother. He was forced to question his own actions, he feels like he poured all his love out only for it to be worthless in the end, he gave up so much for his friends. And he still smiled at their wedding and congratulated them.
Like. Come on. She basically demonized him in the eyes of the entire continent. I would be a bit upset too if I gave someone every part of me and they threw it aside and called me a monster but still continued to use everything I gave them. Caelus is right to be depressed, he lost everything. He lost his best friend, he lost his father figure, he lost his first love, he lost his confidence, he lost his status in peopleā€™s eyes. It isnā€™t as simple as ā€œshe didnā€™t like him, so he tried to kill himself.ā€
And the romance being Caelus getting all the love and attention he gave his first love from someone? The romance being a parallel to how hard he worked for her, this person is working just as hard for him? All the times he stood up for her, now someone is standing up for him? All the times his friends left him to do paperwork, now someone is sitting down and doing the work with him? All the times she was unclear about who she liked more, and now this person is willing to confess their love for him even when heā€™s not around?
Itā€™s reallyā€¦ niceā€¦
I also really like Helios. His and Hestiaā€™s relationship is hilarious. They hate each other. Theyā€™re best friends. They canā€™t even look at each other without cringing. They spend time together constantly. And itā€™s like, Helios doesnā€™t even try to win her over once he falls for her? Because?? He knows Caelus loves her??? And heā€™s trying? To make up? For everything???? Meaningful, lovely, wonderful, let the boys be friends again, Helios is so sad.
I like the sort of obsessive, ā€œmy fave can do nothing wrong,ā€ narrative. Someone else pointed out that the story is similar in this way to Scum Villain, and I agree. The ultimate fanboy/girl gaining the affections of their favourite character by showing their favourite character the love and care nobody else gave them? I love it.
I also just really relate to Hestia fangirling every time she sees Caelus, like, I literally start stimming every time I see my favourite characters, she is so relatable, I, too, am unable to look my faves directly in the eye for fear of being blinded.
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kaidanalenkosprmanager Ā· 8 months ago
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THE BEST OF PRIORITY: THE CITADEL (PART 2)
Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Maj. Kaidan Alenko With: Councilor Donnel Udina, Councilor Tevos, Councilor Laiel Sparatus, Cmdr. Armando-Owen Bailey, and Kai Leng And a Special Guest Appearance by: The Illusive Man But sometimes the way a thing goes down does matter, Sophie. Later- when you have to live with yourself. Knowing that you acted with integrity- then it matters. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)
#mira makes gifs āœØ#sophie shepard#james vega#EDI#kaidan alenko#shenko#fshenko#mass effect#mass effect 3#me3#mass effect legendary edition#dailygaming#jamesā€™s panicked face as the shuttle goes down you will always be famous to me bc you are so relatable#at this point i just know the normandy crew is not letting shep EDI or james near anything mechanical anymore#(something mechanical explodes around them on literally every mission at this point- cars.. bombs.. ships.. you name it!) :)#the way i didnā€™t even realize EDI and kaidan were wearing matching armor on this mission until i got to the elevator and i- šŸ„¹ (blue crew!!)#but like- the way when soph gets off the elevator and kaidan has the gun drawn and she tells them to lower their weapons??#and EDI and james donā€™t even hesitate? THOSE ARE MY BABIES!!! THATS MY SQUAD RIGHT THERE!! THE LEVEL OF TRUST BETWEEN THESE THREE!! šŸ„¹šŸ„¹šŸ„¹#and they don't raise their weapons again?? not until soph raises hers?? like it's the level of trust between her and them for me šŸ„¹#i will say i talk a lot about how me3 shenko canon doesnā€™t really follow my own shenko canon (and my canon coup is MUCH DIFFERENT)#but something i noticed about the coup that i really liked? when kaidan has his gun drawn on shep you can see his hands shaking a little#itā€™s SO SUBTLE (and itā€™s easier to notice when youā€™ve got the video slowed down) but like?? the way his hands arenā€™t steady??#when he has the gun drawn on someone he loves?? i cried a bit making that gif ngl šŸ„ŗ#the soft little ā€˜you wonā€™tā€™ from shep after ā€˜i better not regret thisā€™ makes me šŸ„ŗ every time.#thereā€™s a canon reason soph doesnā€™t take the renegade interrupt but part of it is bc i like kaidanā€™s convo on the docks better :)#speaking of the docks the intro to the convo is a bit nonchalant but i like kaidanā€™s speech about integrity/living with your decisions#and the conversation between him/shep about what happened on the landing pad (though i wish it was a tiny bit longer!!)#thereā€™s no ā€˜i feel like you would have taken me outā€™ line in the sophā„¢ļø canon but we supplemented it with some rewriting bc loose canonā„¢ļø#(she never draws a gun on the landing pad either but thatā€™s a story for the actual canon šŸ™ƒ)#and yes i gifā€™ed the ass shot. thereā€™s only one valid ass shot in the series and itā€™s this one! and you can quote me on that! āœØ
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skitskatdacat63 Ā· 11 months ago
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Thank you guys so much for all the cute picrews you replied with šŸ„¹šŸ„¹šŸ„¹ im obsessed seeing what you've come up with!!!! Here are some I made šŸ¤­šŸ¤­
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+ ones my friends who know nothing about f1/vettonso made:
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Friend on the left: why did she make Fernando into such a fuckboy šŸ˜­šŸ˜­ and i was like "...hahaha yeah that cape outfit is from another thing I made :)"
Other friend of the right: she said she was trying to make them look like other characters. I think she said Fernando was one of the Three Musketeers and Seb was Luke Skywalker djkfkgl. And she also forced me to give a "presentation" on the racesuit ref PowerPoint I made šŸ˜­šŸ˜­šŸ˜­
I love how they didn't question the shipiness of it at all hahaha, one of them was like "oh are these your gay racing drivers? Very cute :)"
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choices-and-voices Ā· 1 year ago
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Assorted screenshots from The Cursed Heart Book 2, part 20 of ?
(Subtitled: The Bath Scene, a.k.a. The Romantic Poetry Continues)
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warriorfujoshi Ā· 1 year ago
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good morning everybodyā€¦ i had a dream i started working on a beautiful document abt envyautumn vn containing character bios, themes, plot points and inspirationsā€¦ and then I woke up and executive dysfunction exists
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teafiend Ā· 6 months ago
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#靖蓉#å°„éµ°č‹±é›„å‚³#金åŗøę­¦äæ äø–ē•Œ#郭靖#é»ƒč“‰#legend of the condor heroes#all adaptations are lovely in their own ways#the best part is that each and every adaptation I have ever watched still gave me the squee(s) when it comes to JingRong#an evergreen OTP#they never fail to make me high pitch squee in fangirl-shipper excitement#they are so adorable and sweet together#their harmonious and respectfully egalitarian qualities are forever THE STANDARD#and reminds me that no male fictional character gets me like Guo Jing#what can I say except that ā€‹I have boring tastes#all those sexy villains/antagonists only get me so far before I lose interest after a while#I just swoon over how staidly dull GJ is in his unexciting displays of virtues#and his exceedingly respectful care and consideration for HR#no bells-or-whistles in his expressions of love#but you really know this man loves HR to bits#although he made some mistakes obviously#and well HR loves her earnest Jing-GeGe a bit too much#and they were young and foolishly in love LOLāœØšŸ„¹šŸ„°šŸ«”šŸ™‚ā€ā†•ļø#and despite their final fates#I do agree that (relatively speaking) they had a fully realized HE for their circumstances#for which I am very thankful to 金åŗø先ē”Ÿ#enjoying the 2024 adaptation and having so much fun fangirling over this forever OTP#JingRong OTP/CP#and I canā€™t stress enough how much I love the latest adaptationā€™s Huang Rong#she is just so adorable and cunning (as HR should)
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leenaur143 Ā· 6 months ago
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"If you're feeling the same way, I wish you better than our time together. Leave everything behind, hope you come across something more than better"
If anyone tells you Empty Box lyrics don't cut deeper than a knife they're lying to you and you should run the other way. This song is such an underrated gem of lyrical and emotional awareness its insane.
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quill-pen Ā· 2 years ago
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Ebenezer sending Bess flowers in the middle of the day with notes like, "Thinking of you", "For my greatest happiness", "You are the love of my life", "Because I love you", "These flowers pale in comparison--I send them to you for lessons on beauty", or "Just because".
And Bess just getting all blushy and bubbly and being tickled with butterflies for the rest of the day because she feels so romanced and appreciated and so, so in love. šŸ˜She will most definitely be thanking Ebenezer for the flowers later.
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goldenhypen Ā· 1 year ago
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,,,,,thinking about how one of the scariest things you can tell a fanfic writer on here is that you think you know them irl. at least thatā€™s just my personal opinion. hbu? šŸ˜€
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loudmound Ā· 1 year ago
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haven't been able to stop thinking abt mary very likely tying her worth as a woman to her beauty and productivity and how the illness thoroughly ruined both of those for her.
the incumbent loss of self-esteem combined with her growing anger and helplessness at her situation, leading her to lash out at those closest to her. feeling guilt for not only causing her loved ones pain in that way but for her even being angry in the first place because a woman takes her pain with grace and poise and with a smile on her face. (a real woman isn't pathetic and ugly like her).
the tragedy of it all in mary's failing to realize that her anger was probably the most justifiably human response to her situation that she could've had, and that while she felt genuine guilt for the pain she caused with her anger, she shouldn't have relentlessly chastised herself for something she fundamentally couldn't help in her being terminally ill.
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4giorno Ā· 11 months ago
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and yes im replaying my otc (one true character) again 1. because of the clown make up but 2. bc when i looked at astarion in a thumbnail of a yt video recommendation i thought 'i dont even know you anymore'
#hkddidkdk it is that serious!!!!!#none of my other characters have him in the party so seeing that image i was truly like 'šŸŽµ whooooo is that girl i seeeešŸŽµ'#and thank GODDD i did bc this way i discovered that all the other times getting gale was overriding some camp dialogue with astari0n#and shad0wheart AND bc having gale and getting that overriding scene triggers astari0n sneaking into the woods which THEN overrides#a brief scene of introspection from your main character#so yes by long resting somehow EVEN MORE frequently i was able to get even more dialogue with my faves that i missed#and to me extremely importantly a scene that adds more development to my beloved aka my character#but listen...... i dont know if i can do this...... idk if i can have wyll being a warlock šŸ¤§šŸ¤§šŸ¤§#i like to have pure class builds for everyone in my (one true) characters campaigns to keep it more authentic to me#but i just cant make myself play warlock a single time more it just sucks every bit of joy from my being āš°ļø#like i gotta do 4 warlock/8 paladin right? its lore accurate right šŸ„¹šŸ„¹šŸ„¹šŸ„¹#(okay i just read these tags and the sentence structure/grammar is actually unforgivable#but in my defense its 8am and i havent slept and writing tags on mobile is hard bc you cant see what youve written āš°ļø#maybe you can still get what i was trying to say even tho some of the parts of sentences dont connect šŸ„¹)#(actually no its not understandable at all. the 'thank godddd i did' in the beginning is referring to me starting this replay. this is#the only correction i have the energy to make hjffkjdkdkd)
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