#i am so sorry if it feels uneventful 😭

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [3/?]

part 3 (6k words)!! you can read [part 1] here! (it gets worse before it gets better). this chapter is more character-centric (sorry again 🙇‍♀️). i wanted to post this before work eats me alive this week T.T

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

It’s fine, until it isn’t.

—

Yves gets home, showers first (only after Vincent insists that he shower first), heads out into the living room, and shuts off the lights. The lights in the bedroom are still on, bleeding in from the doorframe. 

His head hurts. Every part of him feels cold. He burrows deep into the covers on the pullout bed, rearranges himself until he finds a sufficiently comfortable position, and shuts his eyes. 

Tomorrow, he’ll be away for most of the afternoon—with the wedding rehearsal, and then the rehearsal dinner with the rest of his family—and Vincent will grab dinner and drinks with some of Genevieve’s friends in the meantime. Yves will probably be home late. They won’t see each other for the entire day—at least, until he gets back from dinner some time in the late evening. 

Everything for the wedding is ready. His suit jacket is ironed, his shoes polished; his speech has been written for weeks and rehearsed first alone, and then in front of Leon and Victoire, who’d told him how to make it funnier (Leon) and more concise (Victoire). Two days from today, Aimee and Genevieve will be married.

All he has to do, now, is just see it through.

—

Yves wakes up coughing.

He feels distinctly wrong. His head is throbbing. His limbs feel strangely leaden, like they’re weighing him down, like it’d be a considerable inconvenience to move them—he isn’t sure if he’d be able to sit up properly.

He presses a hand to his forehead, in an attempt to gauge whether he’s running a fever. It’s no use—his hand is warm and clammy. He can’t tell.

Fuck. This is not good. 

One wrong breath leaves him coughing, harshly enough that the coughs seem to reverberate through his frame. His throat burns. He reaches blindly through the dark in an attempt to find one of the waters he’d bought yesterday night, at the convenience store. Had he left a bottle on the nightstand? Or had he gotten rid of the one he’d drunk from last night? His breath hitches, so sharply that he has practically no hope of holding back.

“Hhehh’YISHh-CHHiew! hhHEHH’iIDTSSHh-iiEW!”

The sneezes tear through him with little warning, leaving him flushed and shivering. It’s not warm enough in the living room. He doesn’t know if it’s the air conditioning in the room, or the relative thinness of the blanket he’s under, or if perhaps the window is open just a crack, or if perhaps he just hasn’t been moving enough to get warm. He’s not sure he could pinpoint the cause if he tried.

The only thing that seems evident to him, now, is that he feels immediately, uncomfortably cold. He could get out of bed and look for something to wear—he hadn’t packed any thick jackets, because Provence in March isn’t especially cold, but even one of the dress jackets would be better than nothing, so long as it’s one of the ones which can withstand getting a little wrinkled.

But when he sits up—or, rather, when he attempts to sit up—he feels the world tilt, uncomfortably. He braces himself on the frame of the couch, propping himself up with one arm up on the armrest. 

He definitely has a fever, even if there’s no way for him to verify that right now. Otherwise, it would be strange for him to feel so cold. Even now, only half-vertical, he finds himself shivering so hard he can barely move the blanket back up to sit comfortably around his shoulders.

One wrong breath sends a painful twinge down his throat, and he finds himself coughing, gripping the armrest tightly to keep himself upright. He should get out of bed. He should find water, put on a jacket, make an attempt to get back to sleep.

For now, all he can do is muffle the coughs as best he can into a cupped hand. His chest aches with every cough. Every breath he takes in feels like it only manages to irritate his lungs further.

Through the haze of his exhaustion, he thinks he hears footsteps. The knowledge that he’s keeping Vincent up is the last thing he needs, right now. 

Through the crack under the doorframe, he can see the line of light from the hallway, which is lit even at night. Maybe if he’s going to be up anyways, he should spend the night out in the hallway—at the very least, he’ll be a little quieter out there.

Someone presses a bottle of water into his hands.

“Drink,” Vincent says. “It’s uncapped.”

Yves brings the water to his lips and takes a short, tentative sip, and then another. His throat is sorer than it had been yesterday—the water burns against the back of his throat as he swallows.

Vincent steps past him, past the edge of the couch, to do—something. Yves doesn’t know what. He hears a click, and the lamp on the cabinet by the sofa flickers on, floods the living room with dim yellow light. Vincent regards him carefully, his expression unreadable.

“Sorry,” Yves says. The next breath he takes in exacerbates the tickle at the back of his throat, and he twists away, muffling cough after cough into a tightly cupped hand. “I didn’t mbean to wake you.”

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. He looks… upset, somehow, though the light is dim enough that his expression is hard to make out. Yves tries to think of what else he should say, but his head feels heavy.

He tries to re-cap the bottle of water, though his hands are shaky enough to make it a little difficult. Vincent takes the bottle from him and screws the cap tight in one fluid motion. Yves tries and fails to think of something to joke about.

Vincent presses a hand to his forehead. His hand is comfortingly warm, and a little calloused. It’s strange, how good it feels to be touched—he knows and knows well that it means nothing, but the gentle press of Vincent’s fingers to his skin—when he’s spent the past few days trying to keep his distance from everyone—is strangely comforting. Yves leans into the contact, despite all logic.

Vincent pulls away, too soon. “You’re—”

“Warm?” Yves finishes for him.

“Feverish,” Vincent clarifies, with a frown. “Did you already know that?”

“I had a hunch,” Yves answers, honestly.

Vincent just stares at him, for a moment, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. Yves repositions the blankets over his shoulders, a little self-conscious. “It’s fide. I’ll take something for it,” Yves says. “You should go back to sleep.”

“We slept early,” Vincent says. “I’m not tired.”

“What time is it?”

Vincent glances at his watch. “5:34.”

“That’s still early enough that you should be asleep.” Yves sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. His head hurts, and there’s a prickle in his nose again. “Sorry. I can be quieter.”

His breath hitches. In a frantic attempt to keep his promise, he lifts the blanket to his face and stifles—or, rather, attempts to stifle—the sneeze into the fabric.

“hh—! hhEHH’NGKTSHCH-iiew!”

It’s still not very quiet, despite his best efforts, and the attempt to stifle leaves him coughing a little. It’s a good thing they’re not sharing a bed, he thinks. He hasn’t exactly been careful about keeping this illness to himself.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, rising to his feet. He ducks into the bedroom, only to be back a moment later with a box of tissues, which he tucks into the crook between the pullout bed and the sofa armrests, conveniently in reach. “Was it like this last night?”

“What?”

“Were you unable to sleep last night?”

It’s not an accusation, but Yves freezes at the question, nonetheless. For a moment, he worries—that Vincent knows precisely how little sleep he’s gotten since they landed in France. That Vincent was awake last night—or worse, that Yves was the one who kept him up—which is why he’s asking this question now.

But if he knew, wouldn’t he have said something about it yesterday? 

“I slept fine,” Yves says. 

There’s a cold breeze coming in from somewhere—from the hallway, or from one of the air conditioning vents, he can’t say. Yves tries his best to suppress a shiver. He can tell, by the change to Vincent’s expression—the way Vincent’s eyes linger on him a little too long—that he doesn’t do it well enough.

“You should really have taken the bed,” Vincent says, with a sigh. “It’s warmer.”

“It’s warm here too,” Yves says. There probably wouldn’t even be a problem if he weren’t feverish—it’s just the relative temperature difference that’s making him shiver. “Are you goidg to stop interrogating me ndow?”

“If you stop giving me reasons to be worried,” Vincent says plainly, “Then I will.”

Yves sighs. He’s cold, and exhausted, and he wants this argument to be over. He doesn’t want to have to justify all of this to Vincent, who should be enjoying this vacation instead of worrying about Yves and whatever cold-slash-flu he’s managed to pick up this time. “This is not the first time I’ve been under the weather,” he says. “I—” he veers away to face the opposite direction from Vincent, pulls the blanket up to cover his face. “hHeh-!-hHEHh‘nGKTTSHH-iiIEw!”

“Bless you.”

“—I kdow what I’m doing, snf. I don't even feel that—hh… hHheh'iiDDZZCHH-iIIEW!” The sneeze comes on too quickly for him to stifle. “—that udwell,” he finishes, sniffling, though that’s not entirely truthful. He lifts an elbow to muffle a few coughs into it, blinking through the tears that are surfacing, irritatingly, in his vision.

“So you’ve said,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “You can trust me on this.”

Vincent looks at him for a moment. For a moment, Yves waits for him to refute this, waits for him to point out just how unprepared he is, just how little of a plan he has aside from sticking this out until he has the chance to crash and burn.

“What do you need?” he says, instead.

Yves blinks at him. It’s not the question he expects Vincent to ask.

“Nothidg,” he says, honestly. “Seriously. It’s just a cold. I’ll take somethidg for it when I wake up.”

“Cold medicine?” To Yves’s nod, Vincent says, “I can get it for you, if you want.”

“No need. I’ll probably just — hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh-iiEW! Ugh… I’ll pick somethidg up from the codvenience store on the way to breakfast.”

Vincent turns aside to muffle a yawn into a cupped hand. Yves is unpleasantly reminded that he’s probably the sole reason why Vincent is awake right now.

“You should sleep, seriously,” Yves says, insistent. “Maybe you’ll be able to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be okay.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, softly. 

Then he stands, sets the bottle of water on the cabinet by the sofa, switches off the lamp, and heads back into the bedroom. Yves listens as his footsteps recede. His sinuses are starting to feel like they’re slightly waterlogged, and the pressure from behind his eyelids is back, throbbing.

The tickle in his nose heightens, momentarily, and he finds himself muffling another set of sneezes into the bedsheets. He desperately hopes it’s quiet enough to not be disruptive. It’s hard to be fully quiet when whatever he has leaves him sneezing so forcefully, but he’s determined to try. 

The coughing fit that follows leaves his throat feeling like it’s been nearly scraped raw. He clears his throat quietly, though that hurts, too. He takes another small sip of the water, though it goes down his throat with such difficulty he finds himself coughing again.

Two more days. He just has to make it through. He’ll grab a pack of cold and flu medication from the convenience store downstairs—the kind that’s supposed to smother all the symptoms—and then he’ll be good as new, he’s sure.

Yves shuts his eyes, turns to the side, and tries his best to get comfortable. He’ll be less disruptive if he’s asleep. It’s just getting there that’s the problem. He’s exhausted—that fact only seems to become more evident the longer he stays awake—but every time he finds himself drifting off, he’s jolted awake by another untimely sneeze which wrenches him back into consciousness.

In college, whenever he was up unreasonably late for some reason, Erika used to tell him to Stop worrying, Yves, I can hear you overthinking from the other side of the room. Ask anyone else and they’d say that Yves has his life reasonably put together—being the eldest of three does that to you. He’d spent his formative years growing up trying to be the sort of person Leon and Victoire could lean on—the kind of person impervious to the sorts of stressful situations he’d gotten regularly thrown into—and for the most part, it’d worked.

He’d learned, early on, that it is not really that difficult to keep things from people. He likes to think of himself as reliable, even if that means that whenever something does come up—something that feels frustrating and insurmountable—it doesn’t really hurt any less when he goes through it privately.

Erika had always been good at seeing through his bullshit. It was one of the things he liked about her—that he could lean on her if he needed to, without worrying that it’d take its toll on her. That she’d take a look at his problems, which always felt so all-consuming in the moment, and make them seem simple and solvable and almost trivial.

It’s hard not to miss her, now, when he’s alone in the dark, devoid of any and all distractions. Or maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was just having someone he didn’t have to hide from.

Yves wonders, faintly, what Vincent would’ve said if he were more honest with him. He and Vincent aren’t actually dating, but he thinks maybe Vincent would understand. He thinks that they’ve been getting along well, as of late—he might even consider them friends.

But then again, hasn’t Vincent agreed to do all of this—lying to Yves’s friends and family, falsifying their relationship, letting Yves drag him from one celebration to the next—because it’s easy? Because he is willing to tolerate going to a party, or a housewarming, or a wedding, where there are no strings attached, when after the night is over he can drop the act cleanly?

It’s a lie that they’re telling, but it’s a self contained one. The moment they step foot out of whatever event they’re attending, there’s nothing left to pretend. Yves can go back to living his own life, and Vincent can go back to living his. Would Vincent really have agreed to do any of this if that weren’t the case? 

It’s going to be fine, Erika would have said. Just breathe. She’s not around to tell him this, now, but he still tries.

The medicine will be enough to get him through today, and the day after. It has to be.

—

When Yves falls asleep, it’s the kind of restless sleep that sits somewhere in between unconsciousness and wakefulness. He dreams in fragments of scenes—him at Aimee and Genevieve’s wedding, the details hazy and illogical and unusually bright, the weddings he’d been to in the past all superimposed into one.

When he wakes up to the sound of his alarm, it’s to a pounding headache and what he’s certain must be a fever. He can’t seem to stop shivering. It’s already bright out—the curtains in the bedroom are pulled shut, but light streams in from the sliver of space between them.

He feels too cold and somehow entirely devoid of energy, though he doesn’t remember doing anything particularly tiring. Sitting up makes the throbbing pain in his head sharpen, so painfully that he has to grip the side of the couch to steady himself, blinking against the dizziness. If Aimee saw him right now, he thinks, she’d send him straight home—he’s in no state to attend a wedding, and he’s not sure if he’s in any state to pretend that’s not the case.

He breath hitches. He raises an arm to shield his face, habitually, even though there’s no one here to witness—

“hhEhh-’iZZSSHH’Iew!” The singular sneeze is, unfortunately, far from relieving. The tickle in his nose is irritatingly persistent, even when he reaches up to rub his nose, which is starting to run. “Hh-! hhEH-!! HEHh-’IDDZSCHh-yYew! hHEHH’iDDSCHh-iEWW!hhEhH-! H‘IIDzZCH-YIIIEEew! Ugh…” The sneezes scrape unpleasant against his already-sore throat, leaving him hunched over as he muffles cough after cough into his arm.

There’s a small packet of cold medicine on his bedside, along with an uncapped bottle of water, and Vincent is nowhere to be found. The medication is a relief. It’s strangely thoughtful—a part of him is a little worried that Vincent’s only gotten this for him out of a sense of obligation—but he’s grateful for it, nonetheless. 

It’s exactly what he needs. Surely if he takes something for this, his symptoms will be, at the very least, tolerable enough for him to function as usual.

He picks up the packet, squints down at the instructions. The text is inconveniently small, and he’s always been better at speaking French than he is at reading it, but he gets it eventually. It’s supposed to last six hours. If he times this right, he can take a dose that will last him until the end of the rehearsal dinner tonight, and then—if he’s not feeling better by tomorrow—take another before the wedding starts. 

It will be fine. He uncaps the bottle by the cabinet, downs two pills, squeezes his eyes shut, and sits there for a minute, forces himself to breathe, waits for the uncomfortable pressure in his temples to subside.

Then he shoots off a quick text—

Y: thanks for the cold meds :)

Y: sorry i essentially left you with some strangers (again)

Y: this seems to be a theme for me huh

Vincent texts him back just a few minutes later:

V: No problem. I hope you feel better soon

V: Leon and Victoire invited me out for lunch

Yves blinks. That’s a little surprising. But come to think about it, Vincent’s plans with Genevieve’s friends aren’t until dinner time, so it makes sense that he’s out doing something else.

His second thought is: he is definitely in for an earful from both Leon and Victoire.

Y: jealous! have fun! 

His phone buzzes not long later with Vincent’s response.

V: I considered waking you, but I figured you could use the sleep

V: Do you want me to bring anything back?

Sure enough, when he checks his unread texts, Leon has texted him, are u alive????? And then, a few minutes later, ur sick? dude worst fucking timing ever 😦, to which Yves types back, thanks for your glowing reassurance

Victoire has sent him, vincent told me you’re sick :((( and, feel better soon (preferably before 3pm tomorrow!!), to which Yves says, thanks, fwding this to my body. hope it gets the message ✌️

Then he sends back to Vincent:

Y: i’m good, but thanks for asking! enjoy lunch 

Vincent doesn’t say anything, to that, which means that he’s probably busy. Yves makes a note to thank him in person later. And again, much later—when all of this is over.

He just has to get the next day and a half to go according to plan.

—

The wedding rehearsal is mercifully uneventful. They walk twice through the processional, and then twice through the recessional. Yves picks a seat near one of the back rows, shivers through thirty minutes of run throughs, and tries to cough as discreetly as he can. He stifles every sneeze into a vague approximation of silence—he’s never been good at stifling—and does his best to ignore the mounting congestion in his sinuses, the persistent ache behind his temples.

It's easy enough to ignore all of those things in his excitement. He’s happy to be back—here, in France, surrounded by his whole extended family A part of this still feels unreal to him. He’s really here, in a place that feels familiar and simultaneously so novel, to watch someone who’s influenced him so fundamentally get married. 

They’re all dressed for the spring weather. For the wedding rehearsal, Yves picked out a gray blazer over a dress shirt, chinos, and dress shoes. It’s not quite as formal as what he’s planning to wear tomorrow—the shoes are the only item he’s planning to rewear—but he finds himself distinctly grateful for the blazer jacket when the wind threads through the trees, knocking his tie slightly out of alignment.

It’s not unusually cold out—this would probably be considered temperate weather here, in March—but the wind is cold enough to offset the otherwise agreeable temperature.

The cold medicine helps, too—it keeps him feeling well enough to stay upright, which is already an accomplishment. He’s congested—his sinuses hurt a little, like everything’s a little waterlogged—but at least he isn’t sneezing as much as he was last night. His head still feels heavy, but the pain is a little duller, a little more muted; he’s tired, but he thinks right now he could stay awake on pure adrenaline alone.

“Dude, you sound awful,” Leon says, after the rehearsal ends.

“Thadks,” Yves says, muffling a fit of coughs into his elbow. “You always kdow just how to flatter me.”

Leon looks him over with a frown. “Are you sure you’re good for tomorrow?”

Yves doesn’t know. “Let’s hope so,” he says. “I don’t have any contingedcy plans for if I’m not.”

“I’m sure Aimee would understand if you told her.”

“I’m sure she would.” Yves looks over to where Aimee’s standing—she’s in the middle of a conversation with Yves’s parents and some of the adults on Genevieve’s side of the family. He’s too far to make out what she’s talking about, but she looks happy—she’s gesturing animatedly, her eyes bright. Every so often, he sees her flash a smile at Genevieve, as if to make sure Genevieve is following along.

Leon seems to understand that Yves has no intention of telling either of them, because he sighs. Yves changes the subject before he can say anything. “How was ludch with Vincent?”

“I like him,” Leon says, brightening at the question. “He’s surprisingly pretty funny. I hope you guys stay together.”

“Just because he’s funny?”

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” Leon says, grinning. “But you work with him, right? If he’s a nice person while he’s looking at like, tax forms, or whatever, he’s probably a great person when he’s doing anything else.”

“Yves! Leon!” someone waves them over. When Yves turns, he sees it’s Roy, one of his younger cousins from his dad’s side of the family. “Pictures!”

“Coming,” Leon shouts back. 

Yves has no idea why there are pictures happening today when the wedding is tomorrow, but he fixes his tie hastily and heads over to join them both.

—

When dinner rolls around, Yves finds he has no appetite, but he eats what he can and spends the rest of the time making conversation with some of his aunts and uncles. He’s always found this kind of small talk to be more enjoyable than it is tedious. They ask about his job, about his workload, about life in the states, about his parents, about Vincent—all things that he knows intimately, and has no problem speaking on. He thinks that speaking in French makes him a little more deliberate with his answers, partially because he has to spend some time formulating the sentences when they get more complicated, and he likes that, too. It has all the camaraderie of a family gathering—warm and crowded, welcoming, a little chaotic.

He finds Genevieve after dinner, sitting out on the steps.

“Hey,” he says, in French. She looks up, and he motions to the steps beside her. “Do you want some time alone before you get swamped with codgratulations tomorrow, or can I crash your alone time early?”

She smiles up at him. “You can sit here,” she says.

He takes a seat on the steps—a few feet away from her, because he doesn’t want to risk passing whatever he has onto her. He doesn’t know Genevieve very well. He knows her best through Aimee—through the stories Aimee has told about her, through the way Aimee’s entire disposition seems to change around her—but he’s exchanged very few words with her outside of that, all over the summer during their yearly family reunions in France. His extended family is large enough and the family reunions hectic enough that he can probably count the number of conversations he’s had with her in person on one hand.

“So,” he says. “How are you feelidg before the big day?”

“Do you want the good answer, or the honest answer?”

“The honest one,” Yves says. “hit me with it.”

For a moment, Genevieve doesn’t say anything. Yves zips his jacket up a little higher, just to have something to do. Genevieve pulls her legs in towards her chest.

“I’m terrified,” she says.

“You think somethidg might go wrong?” Yves asks, surprised. “You guys have planned this all out so thoroughly.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “It’s more like—this is probably going to be one of the most important things I’ve ever done,” she says. “You know, when something is really important to you, so it’s just that much more crucial that you don’t mess it up?”

“You’re the bride,” Yves says, clearing his throat. “I don’t think you can mess up. Unless you like, hheh-! hHheh… HEH’IIDZschH-YIEEW! snf-! Unless you get cold feet and say no when you’re supposed to be saying your vows. I wod’t forgive you if you do that, by the way.”

She laughs. “God, no. I’d never do that. It’s just—there’s all this perceived… I don’t know. Like, fragility around the moment. Like you’re just waiting for the moment to crystallize, and once it sets, it will be like that forever, so you have to make sure that it crystallizes right.”

“I’m guessing you’re ndot a fan of, like, pottery,” Yves says. He tries thinking about what other kinds of art carry the same lack of tolerance for backwards revision. “Or sculpting.”

“I haven’t tried either of those things,” she says. “Though I would probably be bad at them.”

Yves looks off into the distance, towards the countryside, the rows of verdant green hills which unfurl before them, the white cobblestone paths, the houses lining the winding roads all the way to the horizon.

“I think you don’t have to be so concerned about what it’s supposed to be,” he says. “You can give yourself permission to just—live it. Enjoy it, free of expectations. Who cares what you think about it after, right,” he says. “You’ll have a ring on your left hand. That’s good enough to offset any—well, awkwardness, or clumsiness, or anything, because as the bride, you are sort of incapable of doing anything wrong, by default.”

“I guess,” Genevieve says.

“It’d be a disservice to Aimee if you spent the wedding worrying about how to get things right idstead of like, just living,” Yves says, turning to face her. “What’s the worst that could happen? Like, you spill your drink during the wedding toast, or your mascara smears a little, or you trip on your wedding gown and you have to be helped up by the woman you love most? I think that almost makes it more romantic,” he says. “Because however the moment crystallizes, it’ll be you.”

“Did you learn all of this through pottery and sculpting?” Genevieve asks, wiping at her eyes. She looks a little better than before—she’s sitting up straighter, and the tension in her shoulders is less pronounced.

Yves grins at her. “I have a younger brother and a younger sister,” he says. He clears his throat again, though it doesn’t really do a good job at making his voice sound less hoarse. “It’s exactly as bad as you think it is. I have to be the one to talk them out of their stage fright like, all the time.”

Genevieve laughs. “It must be lively,” she says. “Your whole family is very accommodating.”

“They’re certaidly a handful,” Yves says, with a laugh that tapers off into a short cough. “I love them to death. And I’ll be happy to have you as part of them.”

She smiles at him. The evening light strikes the windblown strands of her hair gold. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah,” he says. “No problem.”

They sit for awhile in silence. Yves crosses his arms in an attempt to conserve warmth and tries his best not to shiver too visibly.

“How did you kdow it was her?” he asks—a sudden, impulsive question.

As soon as he says it, he feels the urge to take it back. Genevieve is already stressed out enough about the wedding without him asking her difficult, abstract questions the day before the ceremony. He opens his mouth to apologize.

“There was never any doubt,” she says.

When he looks over at her, her expression looks a little wistful.

“Like, one day I woke up and I realized that whatever future I imagined for myself—in Marseille, or elsewhere; as a copywriter, or a journalist, or a director, or something entirely different—she would always be there.” Yves understands that—back when he’d been dating Erika, he’d felt like that too. That she was going to be the last person he’d ever date. That there was no conceivable future for him that didn’t involve her.

“Those kinds of revelations would come at the most insignificant of times,” Genevieve says. “I’d look over her halfway through morning coffee, or I’d watch her pick groceries from the aisle, or I’d watch her fiddle with the radio as she drove, and then it would strike me.”

“That you wanted to be with her?”

“That I was happy.” Genevieve tilts her head back to face the setting sun. “I’m really happy. It sounds like such a simple thing, and it is, but even a few years ago I’m not sure if I could’ve told you that that was true. And I think that finding someone who makes you feel that way—like they’d guard your happiness under any circumstance—is really something special.”

“You were the one who proposed to her,” he says. He remembers Aimee texting him about it, the night after it’d happened, remembers how he’d excused himself from dinner somewhere or other, ducked out of the room to get on call with her. She’d sobbed recounting it, the engagement ring on her finger.

“I was,” Genevieve says. She smiles. “I knew that if I gave up this chance I’d be kicking myself for it for the rest of my life.”

—

When he gets back from dinner at last, it’s late.

The cold/flu medicine he took from earlier is starting to wear off. His whole body aches—spending the evening outside in the cold probably didn’t help with that—and even in the relative warmth of the hotel room, he finds that he can’t stop himself from shivering.

He takes a hot shower, which feels pleasantly indulgent in the moment, but not long after he shuts off the water, he finds himself shivering again. The absence of the hot water makes him a little dizzy—he finds himself gripping the tiled wall, pausing for a moment behind the shower curtain to catch his balance.

His head really hurts. It’s the kind of sharp, throbbing pain that makes him all too aware of his heartbeat. He gets changed, towels his hair dry, and steps out of the bathroom.

Vincent is sitting on the bed, reading something. He must’ve gotten back at some point while Yves was showering. At the sound of the door, he puts the book down and looks up.

“How was the wedding rehearsal?” he asks.

“Great,” Yves says. He clears his throat, but clearing his throat irritates his throat enough that he has to muffle a few coughs into his elbow. “How was dinner with Genevieve’s friends?”

“They were very nice,” Vincent says.

“Ndicer than my friends in New York?”

“I felt less like I was being evaluated,” Vincent says, with a smile. “But if they were to express their disapproval of me in French, I would be none the wiser.”

Yves laughs. “I’mb sure that even if you learned the ladguage in full, you wouldn’t hear any disapproval from them.” He takes a seat on the couch, if only because he can’t quite trust his legs to keep him upright for the entire course of the conversation. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Lots of things. Life in France,” he says. “Life in the states. Individual freedom and the formal institution of marriage.”

“Do you believe in mbarriage?”

Vincent looks at him. “I think I believe in it just as much as everyone else does,” he says. Then, after a moment: “It worked out for my parents.”

“The busidess competition proved to be a good edough reason?”

Vincent traces a finger down the spine of the book, over the gold lettering. His shoulders settle. “They weren’t in love when they got married,” he says. Hearing him state it so plainly comes as a surprise to Yves. “Strictly speaking, I’m not sure if they ever were in love. But I think they came to love each other eventually.”

“What about you?” Yves asks. “Do you think you’ll fall in love someday?”

“Is that really something I’d choose?” Vincent says. “It either happens or it doesn’t.”

“Sure, but there are plenty of ways you can seek out love actively.” 

“If I found something worth pursuing, I’d go after it,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “That’s very like you.” he wonders what kind of person Vincent might be drawn to enough to see as worth pursuing. Wonders if, after all of this is over, he’ll even be in Vincent’s life for long enough to know.

His head hurts. The slight prickle of irritation in his sinuses is already tiringly familiar.

“hHEh… HeHh’IIDZSCH-yyiEW!” The sneeze snaps him forward at the waist, messy and spraying. He reaches for the tissue box Vincent left him this morning, still nestled into the crook of the couch, and grabs a generous handful of tissues. “Hh… hehh-HEh-HhehHh’IIzSSCH-iEEw! Hh…. HEHh’DJSCCHh-IEew!”

The sneezes leave him coughing, afterwards. His throat feels raw and tender—he raises the tissues back up to his face to blow his nose.

“You sound worse than you did last night,” Vincent says, with a frown.

Yves opens his mouth to speak, but he finds himself coughing again. He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to be seen when he’s like this by someone who’s usually so well put together. “I’b a little prone to losidg my voice when I’m sick,” he admits. “It’s pretty incodvedient.”

“I’m probably not making it any better by talking to you,” Vincent says. That might be true—Yves is half sure that any time he does lose his voice, it’s because he typically makes no effort to converse any less than usual—but Yves likes talking to Vincent. Besides, they haven’t talked all day. 

He opens his mouth to say as much, but then Vincent asks: “How are you feeling?”

“Good as new,” Yves says. When Vincent raises an eyebrow, at that, he amends: “Good enough for tomorrow, at least. The ceremony doesn’t start until three, but I’ll probably be up earlier to see if there’s anything else Aimee and Genevieve ndeed help with.”

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “If anything comes up, I can help.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering.”

“I can handle it on my own. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I— hHHEh’IDJZSCHh-yyEW! snf-! I’mb really fine. I swear.”

“Yves—”

“I’ve done this before,” he insists, which is true, too—he’s certainly been through worse. It would be wrong to put himself first, to take things easy when he might be needed still. “It doesn’t have to be your problem.”

For a moment, there’s something there, to Vincent’s expression—a flash of something that looks suspiciously close to hurt. Then it’s gone. When he blinks, Vincent’s expression is carefully neutral, as usual. He wonders if he’d imagined it.

“Okay,” he says. He sets the book gingerly on the bedside counter, and pulls the cord on the lamp. Darkness engulfs the bedroom. “You should sleep soon, if you’re able to.” A pause. The rustling of sheets. “Goodnight.” Yves wants to say something. He has a feeling that he’s messed things up, somehow, though he’s not entirely sure how. 

But what can he say? He just—he just wants, desperately, for all of this to be okay. He wants the wedding to go just as planned, wants to be as present and as reliable as Aimee deserves for him to be. All of that responsibility falls on him and him alone, doesn’t it? 

“Goodnight,” Yves says, instead.

[ Part 4 ]

[writingbirdy]

can i have a storie where Larry is a bit sad because it’s the birthday of his dad and the S/O try to comfort him (gn if possible) (sorry if it don’t make sense 😭😭)

Yeah I understand what you mean!

both characters are 18+ unless specified ^^

Forgotten birthday Larry Johnson x gn! reader

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

today had been quite uneventful, you had recently gotten off work and were looking forward to chilling and watching movies with your boyfriend... Larry Johnson. but as you entered the bedroom you spotted a large lump under the covers of the shared bed.

"Larry? you okay sweetheart?" you ask setting your bag down and taking your shoes off. you slowly walk over when you get no response. "Larry please talk to me what's bothering you..." once you reached the side of Larry, you carefully remove the coves to find Larry face down on the pillow lightly crying.

"oh darling..." you reach your hand to his face and slowly stroke his face to give comfort. he slowly turns and gives a sniff and says "today would have been my dad's birthday..." "oh Larry come here" he moves over to let you lay in bed with him. you wrap your arms around his waste and pulled him close to you. You let him talk about everything he was feeling. He talked about how he felt his mother didn't care he was gone, that took a while of you explaining that Lisa probably dealt with the grief a lot differently than he did as Larry was only a child when he lost his dad. After some time Larry fell asleep in your arms feeling slightly better than that morning.

It was currently 7 pm when you last looked at the clock, as you slowly started to fall asleep until Larry woke up jolting you away. “Hey babe..” you say, giving a small tired smile. “Hey” he says, staring into your eyes. You giggle as you lean down and kiss him on the forehead. "I love you so much {y/n}" he said smiling into your neck as you giggled. “I love you too Larry! Now how about we have a bunch of snacks, ice cream and order takeaway while watching movies?" you suggest sitting up in the bed smiling. “Yeah that… that would be nice!” he responds. The two of you rushed out the doors of the bedroom to the kitchen. As Larry grabbed the snacks you made the effort of looking through all the takeaway menus until you found one that both you and Larry love. After a few movies it was 2 am and the two of you decided to finally go to bed for the night, as you both snuggled into the covers Larry let out a small “thank you” before you both drifted off to sleep.

[creedslove]

sorry this is literally my 2nd ask of the day/evening lmaoo but I was wondering if anyone was also thinking/feeling like they aren't socialising enough and just being more extroverted and 'out there' (especially when it comes to college/uni!). yesterday I saw an old friend of mine who goes to a different university than me (I moved quite far from home and in some way escaped from everyone lmaoo). anyways, she told me all about how she goes out to parties, has a boyfriend etc and then here I am just living quite an uneventful life (normally go to coffee shops with friends, the library and study, write or spend time on here or pinterest and maybe drink a bit once in a while). it feels like Im just wasting years by not doing things that she is and its so stressful for some reason 😭 😭 😭 idk this is a bit of a rant but yeah thanks for listenining to my ted talk!!! 😌😍

Jules baby, first of all, you are ALWAYS welcome here, you can send me as many asks as you'd like and I'll always have a smile on my face ☺️

Also, I see that you are so young 🥺💖 and as I'm a few years older than you, I must tell you this is a complete normal feeling; I don't know if it is normal for EVERYONE but for A LOT of people (me included) it is! I don't know, I guess it has to do with the fact adulthood usually goes way more different than what we expected as kids/teens, so maybe there's that, also the fact that we compare ourselves too much with other people and that can have a negative impact in our lives, for example in my age, I feel like it's a transition period in which we are going through changes, so a some of my former classmates/friends are getting married, having kids, while others are finishing college or working, and some have done none of that!

I think the key point is: do you like your lifestyle or do you think you should be doing the same as your friend to be happy? If you are happy that way, then you do what you love, you have plenty of time to enjoy your stuff or simply change interests... I don't know if I am explaining myself well enough, but that's it! Overall, don't worry about it, do what you want, try new stuff and adventures and don't be afraid of it, love you honey ❤️❤️❤️

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Not a question but instead some much needed praise: I just finished what you've written so far for "Can you hear my heartbeat" and may I just say that your thoughtfulness and writing are wonderful. I read your notes at the end and I can understand the insecurity you've vocalized to the extent that I can (I've only read your work and don't know you but I also am an artist and live with insecurity as well). Really what I want to say here is that your writing for this fanfic has brought me a lot of joy; I have a hard time putting it down once I've started a chapter. But how much I enjoy your art will never be as important as much as how you are enjoying your art or the act of making it. I hope that you continue to love every piece of writing you create, and I look forward to reading the next chapters <3

Thank you so much for reaching out! ❤️

Your words touched a place deep within me. To be completely honest, I tend to assume that due to the fact that a novelisation only provides so many degrees of freedom for adding events without overthrowing canon, this story must come across as an uneventful concatenation of slice-of-life events no matter how hard I try to fill it with life and love. In this sense, knowing that someone (you) has made a totally opposite experience means more to me than I can process or put in words right now. Until today, I didn't even know this was possible. 😭

I'm sorry to hear that you feel insecure about your art as well; it seems a common experience among artists (or at least those I've talked to) and it shouldn't be like that. Creativity cannot truly thrive where doubts prevail.

Originally, I had planned to post the next chapter in late October, but besides a lack of time to read and edit it one last time, I didn't dare doing this so close to NaNoWriMo as I was afraid this might put my goal to enjoy the process of writing at risk (I'm currently working on one of the sequels to CYHMH). Therefore, the next chapter will hopefully come within the first two weeks of December. Thanks to you, I'm looking forward to this day a bit more.

I hope that your own artistic struggles won't keep you from loving every piece of art that you create ❤️

[jinouchibhue]

Literally nobody asked but hear my thoughts on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory vs Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

The people feel like Dr Seuss Who's I don't know how to explain that.

Poor Augustus is only crime was snacking 😭

I don't like the scene where Charlie finds the ticket. it's better in the original. that shopkeeper had no reason to help him and it was just weird and uneventful.

Gene Wilder's tumble is forever 😘 🤌🏾 but that song and him just appearing is so funny to me. He is so awkward I'm sorry I love him.

I am giggling so hard I forgot how much I like this version of the character. ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ He's so mean lololol.

There'a something about his teeth that unnerves me.

His stupid girl giggle plzzz

The chocolate room is a little too Tim Burton I understand it's a Tim Burton movie but it bothers me. Like why so dark.

Oh yeah that reminds me Charlie's house being all sideways annoyed the shit out of me. that was also Tim Burton as hell and it annoyed me because of it.

The way Veruca says "da-Di" makes me want to kick her.

The Oompa Loompa origin is way less racist. That's always a plus. Loved it.

I like that they're not little people but literally shrunken people.

Oh NO he has trauma. ☠️ This wanka is a petty child it's so funny.

The blueberry scene🤮 I just know that gave people inflation fetishes. 😭

Ohhhhh that's why his teeth are so unnervingly perfect. Wow. Ok that's funny

Every time I see Grandpa Joe I think of this guy

Also there's a Jeffrey Dahmer ass dad

This is just twink Willy Wonka with daddy issues.

The ending is so wholesome bye 😭

[wave2tyun]

IM SORRY FPR TAKING LONG TO REPLY MY DEAREST ALEX

but I hope you got to rest and I also hope you're doing fine:(C( you'll rock this semester, and if that's not the case l'lI gladly beat college up for you😾😾

and I’ve been good :0

I was so so scared about the job and ngl im still a little scared but everyone is being so sweet to me :( and willing to explain how to do the things there. Plus, it’s been kinda tiring but also really fun! I’m not rotting in bed and being depressive anymore, that’s a good start😀

And ummmmm I’m crushing on this boy but we don’t go to the same college and we don’t live in the same city. He’s kind of a low profile type of guy and I’m praying really hard to god let me have one chance with this boy bc I swear I’ve never been this interested IN A BOY like I am now😔

Anyways that’s enough how are you doing my deares Alex?

MY DEAREST LIA IT'S OKAYYYYYY!!!!😔🩷😔🩷😔🩷

i think it's natural to still be a bit scared about the job, it's just a matter of getting used to the environment and the workflow :0 you'll probably ease up after a few more days, and it will probably get a bit less tiring too as you start getting the hang of things, the fact that you're surrounded by kind people as you're learning matters a lot!! :D and cheers to your good start!!!!😼😼💓💞��💘💓 i'm so SO proud of you for your progress🫂🫂🩷🩷 if those feelings start to come back, i'm here for anything!!!!<3

alsoooooo HELLO i need more details about the boy??????!!!!! how did you get to know him??? have you talked??? have you met????? i NEED you to give me all the deets!!!!😳😳😳

i did get some good rest and i am also doing fine!! :D these days have been pretty uneventful, just cooking, playing games, and trying to write!!! but i am honestly happy about it😌 i have a few more free days and i'm planning to maybe start thinking about my responsibilities from tomorrow asbshja (or maybe in 2 days.....who knows....). and also i just came back from grocery shopping and i got myself some hot chocolate!!!!😋 i don't know if you are a coffee enjoyer :0 but if you are let me put you on something:

put a packet of hot chocolate mix in a mug

add one shot of espresso and stir (or two if you're feeling frisky)

heat up 200 ml of milk (optional: once it's done use a milk frother to create some foam)

add the milk to the mug

sprinkle a little bit of cinnamon on top!!!

and VOILÀ!!!! you've got the best coffee ever!!!!😼😼💞 i started drinking this around christmas and i am so addicted to it- like every day i wake up excited just thinking that i am going to make this and drink it again adsbhjasbd

and just like you said about your job, i'm also still a little bit scared about this semester asbdsj but it hasn't even been that long since it started, and if take things step by step, i hope i will be fine. though i'm very stressed about a retake i'll have to do in march cause i don't want to fail this course and i don't know what exactly will happen if i fall behind on my credits....😭😭😭😭😭

[exauhstedsunflower]

Ok so, I saw six on Broadway

First three thoughts in order, and I will never forget this:

“They’re taller than I thought they’d be”

“Holy shit those costumes are shiny”

“THEY SOUND EVEN BETTER IN PERSON”

-

Now here is a word vomit in the form of a list!

• first of all we have Jane Seymour all wrong Bc abbey muellers version of Jane Seymour has keeping it all together by a thread and then twerks at the club vibes

Also I knew abbey mueller was attractive but I didn’t know that I was attracted to her until today and the gay panic that her squatting in get down caused will affect me for the rest of my life

I started crying immediately when the show began

Ex wives is so good and the HARMONIES (they’re amazing all the way though but the build up and life altering feeling of LLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE almost killed me on the spot

It’s no secret that Aragon and parr are my favs but you know that part where Aragon is like “I hit that high c so donde esta my crown por favor” ??? She’s right she should win specifically Bc of that fucking note oh my god oh my god oh my god

Adrianna Hicks kept looking at me and laughing Bc I really was just acting like my soul was being extracted from my body the whole time and you know what it was a very religious feeling my religion is Adrianna hicks’ voice thank you

Maria on the drums is fantastic and that drum solo needs more hype petition to make that longer

I’ve made a post about Adrianna hicks having great characterization and her facial expressions and mannerisms comedic timing being fantastic and I stand by it even more now that woman is so talented and she does a great job. Aragon has such a personality with her I love it

She also sounds even better in person and has great control of her voice

She makes Aragon so DRAMATIC like she’s already dramatic but like she’s VERY dramatic to the point that the other queens are like 🙄 here we go

Andrea’s Boleyn is so good her voice is so good and her delivery is so good she is so good

I like the way she delivers literally everything she says it’s perfect 10000000000/10

“IM NOT SORRY” “just saying hi 😊😉” “oH mY GoD ThReE MIstReSsEs. g e t o v e r i t .” “JANE CHILL OUT! It’s not her fault that no one remembers her Bland and Uneventful Life…” “yea there WAS that one time where I had a daughter and then he cut my head off…” “HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA………. what?”

Ok back to Abbey for a sec y’all Bc if we’re talking line delivery, “it’s funny because when I wanted to hold mY NEW BORN SON,,, I!!! DIED!!!!!” AND THEN SHE PHYSICALLY CALMS HERSELF DOWN, LOOKS AT THE CROWD AND GOES “sorry about that😊✨”

Adrianna’s FACE AFTER THAT SHES LIKE WOAH WOAH OK SORRY PLEASE WHAT THE FUCK CLEARLY I STRUCK A NERVE

“EVERYONE NOTICES JANE CANT DANCE!1!2!1!!!” *extremely offended* “UUUUUUUHHHHHMMMMM????”

Anne and Aragon calling each other babes ✨💕

Haus of Holbein is so good it’s a masterpiece

So funny

Jane Seymour IS the pun queen and like I found it funny and the queens were consistently like telling the audience not to laugh they were like this is not funny n o .

But then she was like hahahaha and then she would turn around and see the others are not laughing and be like oh, ok. :( Well I thought it was funny anyway. :)

Abbey mueller is the kind of person to squat Bc it feels nice and I will be extending that trait to my headcanons for Jane.

Anna!!!!!!!!! Brittany Mack !!!!!!! Amazing

She’s so funny!!

“It was just 😭😭😭…….. tragic 😉”

Opera voice made my soul ascend for a sec

The way that she interacts with the crowd is so good and makes me so genuinely excited

I FORGOT IN NO WAY WHEN THEY SING LIKE A CHIOR BITCH I AM DECEASED THATS ONE OF THE TIMES A CAST MEMBER LOOKED AT ME AND LAUGHed

Brit was having so much fun and the band was also having so much fun and the audience was having so much fun that shit was such a party

“Henry?” “Nope haha” “Nuh uh” “you can’t. Stop. Me! because I’m the queen of the castle GET DOWN YOU DIRTY RASCAL get down!!!!” THE DELIVERY! The comedy!!! She’s beautiful!!!! I’m dying her voice is so strong and amazing. And everyone was partying and I was vibing so hard

Again I will mention abbey mueller squatting during get down Bc it’s important the the plot

Also??? Can’t believe I didn’t mention this but abbey mueller shakes her ASS in get down Jane Seymour more like Jane see my ass wowoeoeoeowowoiwisiwi

I’m the gayest person alive I apologize

Ok but like that aside everyone always talks about the choreo in no way and they’re right but the choreo in get down had me shook asf and deserves more from us

The tinder scene had me ROLLING those accents are so good so funny I’ll die rn

The part in get down where the music stops for a beat is actually a comedic thing which I did not know. The music stops and everyone stops like ahh 😯 and they look like momentarily embarrassed and confused before the music starts again and they’re like YES and continue to kill it

Brit is lovely and picks the people in the front row very carefully and like pokes fun gently if they don’t seem happy about it

SAM is amazing

Her portrayal leaves me absolutely speechless every time

The last verse especially is just heartbreaking and she’s like crying and I’m crying and the theater is silent

“I wanna thank all the powerful men who got me where I am today!” Is such a dark joke Bc powerful men literally got her dead and being reanimated in a musical talking about how horrible her life was,

K Howard roast was even fucking funnier in person

She’s very good at like picking up awkward silences when a joke falls a little flat and making people laugh which didn’t happen often but she was so adept at it I’m so impressed

“Are you sure you don’t wanna just stick to backing vocals where you belong?” Is now “we won’t mind if you want to sit this one out. You must be so tired from all those backing vocals😉”

Cathy parr then proceeds to kill it and hold a long ass riff while making eye contact with k Howard

It was very funny and also very pretty

Also Anna Uzele is so cute as Cathy parr and I love her

Her comedy is literally so physical like when she pops back onto the stage toward the end when Anne is like “this is our show and we can have whatever ending we want :)” she holds the funniest pose until the last second and it’s so cute and hilarious

Her little smile aw

During the argument scene she’s trying to stop them from fighting and she just like please don’t I get that you’re upset but o h m y g o d please.

The whole show they’re all being assholes to each other and she’s in the back like Jesus Christ will y’all just s t o p

“MISCARRIAGES!!!!!” Cathy: “. 😳Woah hold on a sec that’s a lil far”

Her facial expressions kill me

“I said, WE HAVE A VOIOIOIOIOIIIIICEE!” STOP IT ILL DROP DEAD TO HEAR THAT AGAIN OH MY GOD

So Anne goes “MY SIXTH FINGER!” And Aragon is like “put it away babes” but what was hilarious is that Andrea was like offended asf she was like “woooow” like how dare she believe I have a sixth finger I do not ACTUALLY have a sixth finger it was a JOKE

Seriously I could not stop laughing the whole show

Six is so good and the super high harmony was so loud it filled the theater and i was freaking out in my seat I can’t believe real people make these noises like they actually sound like angels and they’re human people holy shit they don’t seem real

But they ARE REAL AND ITS INSANE

They’re all beautiful

The audience participation in six was so good and so fun and made me happy

The band were having a blast and killing it!!!!!

During the mega six they took a selfie!!!!

Everyone was jumping and clapping and dancing during the mega six

I was so excited about the mega six I dropped everything I owned and danced like I was at a party

I felt like I was at a party like this was one hell of a concert my dude

I got three pieces of confetti

Adrianna interacted with the audience a LOT but especially with the top rows and especially during the mega six

Actually speaking of, during dlyh she keeps looking at the audience and being like “do you see the shit I’m dealing with here??? God I hate her” and she tells the people in the front row “she’s crazy” when Andrea puts an arm around her

The part where she starts saying “don’t be bitter cause I’m fitter” Aragon goes to keep singing the “oohhooo” but stops when Anne starts talking to her and her face is very “oh. We’re doing this now. Alright.” And then she stands there with a forced smile and let’s Anne talk shit because it’s Anne’s turn and she’s not going to interrupt and I love that. It’s such a good way to act in that moment Adrianna is an amazing actress.

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Don’t mind me I’m just so happy I got to see six

I was on the edge of my seat the whole time and I could not stop smiling

They couldn’t stage door Bc of Covid but people did wait to see them walk out and like everyone cheered every time the door opened

Andrea definitely interacted with the fans more than she was supposed to when she came out and she’s so TINY and she was wearing a cute yellow beanie and I love her

They payed the organ version of Havana several times before the show started

The theater was beautiful!! It was the perfect place for it

The LIGHTING OH MY GID THE LIGHTS IT WAS MAGICAL AND THE FUCKING LIGHTS WENT WITH THE COSTUMES SO WELL BC THE SEQUINS MADE IT SO SHINY AND FLASHY AND BEAUTIFUL AND EVERYTHING ABOUT THE DESIGN WAS INCREDIBLE BUT THE LIGHTING OH MY GOD

The playbills were funny but I think I’m gonna make a separate post for that Bc I have thoughts

[faerociousbeast]

news for now that i am back

- we arw FINALLY done the tsunade dream filler

- onto holy fuck itachis childhood was. something else filler

- i think im morphing into a gilf liker and idk how to feel about that. liking the OTHWR madara that way was fine its normal. old man madara tho...? 😕 Sorry. idk why im doing this. but hes kinda..

- i have joined zero clubs this year for literally no reason. i have nothing better to be doing i just think Hmm i should do that. (and then i didnt do any of that)

- theres probably more but i do Not remember 😭😭 mostly ive been ranting on twitter its been pretty uneventful tbh. i think

- i forgot the new update was today so no i have not attempted to pull for myself/c.yno yet. remind me to do it once i post "HOME!!!!!" bc i will NOT remember otherwise if left to my own devices

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Finished piofiore, and since I’m partially to blame for your interest I will be giving a non-spoiler review, imho a lot of the routes can be very boring and uneventful especially since the sub-plot for why the MC is caught up in between the three mafia families is the thing I hate the most, for the most part I enjoyed 2 routes out of 5 only because I really like the love interests and think the MC was the most active in those two routes.

My faves are like this: Yang>>Orlok>Gilbert=Dante>Nicola

I’m not a huge fan of fluff and overly romantic stuff which is why those two are my favorite. Funnily enough they’re on the complete opposite sides of the spectrum lol. And Nicola was the most boring which is a bit of a downer since he’s recommended to be played first.

I’ve only played the best endings of each route so far, but I will commend that the gaming mechanic was difficult and each love interest value different character aspects such as yang’s affinity for wisdom in contrast to orlok’s affinity for kindness. I have a feeling you’ll also really enjoy yang since he basically upped my expectations in otome now lmao. What can I say, I guess I have a thing for trashy love interests (and because I relate to his cynicism on some level and love how he’s unapologetic about how horrible of a person he is in comparison to the others who try to act nice from the get-go, and maybe bc I was getting tired of the Italian mafia that the Chinese mafia was wholly welcomed to me XD)

the order in which you should play if you DO end up buying the game would be: Nicola, Yang (only available after finishing Dante or Nicola), Orlok(only available after finishing Dante or Nicola), Dante, Gilbert(available after finishing all four) and finally the mystery route (which I haven’t played yet). The best endings save you from most of the dark/worst things that can happen. But from what I’ve watched on yt some of the LI’s can be very shitty to the MC esp in other LI routes or if you get their bad endings. Though it’s not ‘Quieta’ level of dark and twisted since the r//ape scenes aren’t written as vividly or in-detail as your stories at least (phew but still 😬) despite that, I do enjoy the game though ended up only caring for less than half of it. I think Amazon is selling this game for around $30+ which is better than GameStop’s price of $50 btw!! Save money lol

Sorry for the huge wall of text 😭😭

Thank you so much for submitting this and so generously spoiler-free, and I'm tagging it #piofiore so more people can see it.

Reading this was very illuminating and I totally get what you're saying--from your descriptions so far I am ABSOLUTELY in love with Yang so far cause I love my trashy men (though I'm also angling towards Orlok ). I'll definitely take your words for the character routes in sequence! I adore when MC gets to kick ass so I totally agree with you there, I'll be sure to aim towards those routes!

Let me know what you think about the bad ends too!! I'll definitely be consulting this when I get and start Piofiore. Thank you ever so much anon!! I'm twice as excited to start it now.

[tetsutits]

julia luvviee m sorry to hear ur day isnt going great ;c here ! have half of my sugar cookie . . u get da side w more frosting ^__^ ! tis only 11 am here but it looks like my day will be mostly uneventful . . starbae j came down w covid this mornie so i’ll be taking care of him :”3 we had plans for tn but we had to cancel on those sawb sawb . . i j hope he doesnt get rly rly sick ;;n;; wbu ,, hav u got any plans dis wknd ? anything coming up soon that ure looking forward to ?

omg COCO !! hiiii !!! thank you for the cookie :< omg is he okay? oh nooo i hope he doesn’t have it too bad! covid sucks honestly the fatigue you get is INSANE 😭 but aw it’s so cute how you’ll be staying in for him i hope he gets better soon!!!! <3 and for me, i don’t have anything planned yet but i have a midterm this coming monday that i’ve been studying for :( ew but today was just not it for me sobs i think it might just be burn out :( butttt i might be going out tomorrow to buy manga and plushies to make myself feel better hashwhaha