#tomorrow is a latter day
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WHEN I TELL YOU I AM FUCKING SOBBING MY EYES OUT OVER TOMORROW IS A LATER DAY... THIS SONG DOES THINGS TO ME MAN...
LOOK AT THEM THEYRE SO CUTE /p
+ bonus of kevin getting booped
#i do NOT ship arnold and kev#i just love their friendship#besties forever#i ship mcpriceley lol#the book of mormon#tomorrow is a latter day#also what happened to that one bootleg with pierce cassidy as elder mckinley he ate that up#i miss him#bring him back as mckinley please#the book of mormon musical#tbom#bom#bom musical
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things i just wanted to point out about tomorrow is a latter day and why it makes it so good:
kevin saying âfuck himâ about the mission president (ik this is technically before the song) which is just major character development and a real liberating moment for him
obviously the âi am here for youâ reprise
the repetition of the choreography from âtwo by twoâ except the movements are looser and more carefree than they were before, showing how they once again are starting a new and unknown journey, but one which is less restrictive and confining
âthe only latter day that matters is tomorrowâ
everyone sorta saying what being a âlatter day saintâ actually means to them. however âlatter day saintâ isnât really referring to an actual mormon but rather they are saying their purpose in life and who they strive to be as a person/community
mckinley saying âwe love to dance and shout, and let all the feelings outâ is also extremely liberating and a beautiful moment of development. there is a hint of true joy as we see the first instances of his journey towards self acceptance
just everyone dancing together
kevinâs âi believeâ reprise is just uggggh. like not only does he sound so good but it sounds almost like heâs accepting and coming to terms with the fact that he is believing in something but something new and outside of the mormon church
the âhelloâ reprise but the instrumental made up of (presumably) ugandan sounds
itâs also more upbeat than âhelloâ
when everyone comes on stage and sings âhelloâ together
âweâll show you how you can belongâ instead of âweâll show you how it can be doneâ because this new âfaithâ they have is about embracing the true self while mormonism surrounds changing and mouldings yourself to fit the ârequirementsâ of the faith
the final harmonies. heaven. joy.
#thatâs all bye#tbom musical#the book of mormon#tbom#the book of mormon musical#tomorrow is a latter day#tâbom analysis
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The Book of Mormon musical:
. Portrays black people as stupid, uneducated, dirty, unhygienic, violent, baby-raping, primitive, savages, who thing raping babies is a magical cure for AIDS and have maggots in their scrotums and have never heard of Disney or texting even though white western missionaries visit their town EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. YEAR.
. Makes fun of African accents.
. Portrays white supremacist colonialists and imperialists as harmless, innocent, charming, lovable, naĂŻve, well-meaning, nice, goofballs, with individuality and complex personalities and character arcs. (And significantly more lines and stage time).
. Is directed and produced by an almost entirely white crew who did not hire a single African consultant.
. Doesnât properly subvert the white savior narrative and instead just plays the traditional trope vaguely âironicallyâ
. Only includes cis-het, abled, white men in all advertisements so you donât know itâs about Africans until youâve already bought your ticket. Instead the ads just have a picture of a random doorknob???
Eclipsed: play by Danai Gurira
. Is a powerful play about the Liberian civil war told from the perspective of Liberian women (writtten by Danai Gurira of The Walking Dead and Black Panther). Starring Lupita Nyongâo from Black Panther, The Woman King, 12 years ago slave, and US; itâs historically and culturally accurate and has a message about the ethics of different strategies of activism.
#book of mormon#book of mormon musical#eclipsed#danai gurira#lupita nyong'o#black history#black panther#black power#blacklivesmatter#blm#black lives matter#black stories#anti racism#anti colonialism#broadway#black women matter#fuck racism#musical theatre#liberia#liberian civil war#Uganda#we are Africa#spooky mormon hell dream#all American prophet#Sal tlay ka siti#hasa diga eebowai#tomorrow is a latter day#African culture#african history#the walking dead
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All the missionaries wearing ties with African patterns on it in the Hello reprise at the end of BoM is my favourite little detail in the show
#just imagining the villagers picking out ties for everyone đ„č#the book of mormon muscial#broadway#musicals#tbom#tbom musical#bom#book of mormon musical#bom musical#tomorrow is a latter day#book of mormon headcanons#elder price#kevin price#elder cunningham#arnold cunningham#elder mckinley#connor mckinley#nabulungi hatimbi
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Guess what!
BOOM!
(Click for better quality if needed)
Your honor, theyâre perfect for each other!!!!
Frank likes butterflies and facts and nerdy passionate men! Passionate poet Butterfly boyfriend!
Eddie has a literature partner that he can chatter and listen to!! Frank has many books! Theyâre all fruity!! And Latter needs all the love, tooooooo!
Yellow and purple! yellow and purple!! YELLOW AND PURPLE!!!! AAAAAAAAAA
#ok iâm normal again#caallllmmm#it struck me on my outing today and I had to draw it!#its my day off too!#not the poly ship I was talking about in an earlier post but Iâll get to that tomorrow#aaaaaa#I mean likeâ#you canât say you donât see it like come on!#my art#welcome home#art#fanart#drawing#digital art#welcome home arg#welcome home fanart#eddie dear#frank frankly#latter pillar#welcome home latter#what would their ship name be tho?#hmmmmm#ship art
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heâs so stupid (affectionate)
tomorrow is a latter day. good luck tomorrow soldiers đ«Ąđ«Ą
#irls#texts#the book of mormon#monica lewinsky fan club#tbom#elder price#kevin price#elder cunningham#arnold cunningham#elder mckinley#connor mckinley#tomorrow is a latter day#lds church#lds#latter day saints#college board#ap scores
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Congrats, now all I'm going to be able to think about all day long is Chifeng-zun being stunned into silence by the sight of Meng Yao's braids, the same as if he had never left. His hand reaches out and clenches in mid-air, while Jin Guangyao stands shell-shocked and panicking, or blissfully oblivious to how Nie Mingjue's world is tilting on its axis. He could be mad, the rage that almost let him call the Unclean Realm home making Hensheng thrum: because what right does Nie Mingjue have to want him now, when he finally has a place he belongs? And why does want to quit it all for him?
Anyway, now you can share in my brain worms~
In that moment, something was communicated
unfortunately, neither knew exactly what it was
#i'm right there with you anon i'm constantly rotating these two in my head#mdzs#jin guangyao#nie mingjue#nieyao#jgy#nmj#perpetually obsessed with jgy's nie braids#''i am going to the effort of - every single day - doing up my hair in a way that directly reminds me of you. which very directly ties me t#you and your family. and then i am covering it up completely to ensure that no one - least of all you - will ever know they exist.#and then i'll take them out and do the exact same thing tomorrow. i hate you. i fear you. i want you dead. i will continue to do this.''#hi what does any of that MEAN#what does it MEAN meng yao???#and lord knows that nmj would never know. does jgy actually do it just for himself? if so what does that mean?#or did he do this with the INTENTION that nmj should ''accidentally'' see them? and if so what does THAT mean?#is this real? a ruse? if the latter how many layers deep does it go? is it worth figuring out? or is it easier just to get angry?#i feel so normal about it#what would he do if something dislodged his hat and nmj actually saw them? no idea but i want to read 100 fics with that premise#and see every possible permeation#my art#i'm not sure why i felt like going with this black and white style but i haven't done anything like this in years so it was fun#normally i do them with actual markers so this was honestly relaxing like easy mode
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Atypical Occurrence [1/?]
Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3
this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything Iâve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)
Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)
â
Vincent is late.
Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meetingâtheir first meeting of the dayâstarted five minutes ago. If thereâs anything Yves knows, itâs that Vincent always comes in early.Â
In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.
Itâs five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.
Siennaâwhoâs presentingâstops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where heâs standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.
Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him.Â
âSorry Iâm late,â Vincent says, quietly. âIt wonât happen again.â
Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, itâs nothingâor it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, butâto anyone elseânot anything worth dwelling over.
It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didnât know better.
Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is sayingâsheâs giving a review of a clientâs current investment strategies; heâd reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.
Vincent asks good questions throughoutâhe always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.
Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if itâs taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meetingâas if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, heâs already exhausted.
Itâs subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if heâs just reading too much into itâif, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.
â
He doesnât see Vincent again until lunch.
Or, more accurately, he doesnât see Vincent again until heâs headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.
âYouâre not going to eat here?â Yves asks.
Vincent doesnât look at him. âI have some work to get done at my desk,â he says. He clears his throat again, like itâs irritating him.
âOkay,â Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.
âYou look tired,â he settles on, instead.
He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isnât true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if heâs surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.
He doesnât deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.
âThe sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,â he says. Yves supposes he canât argue with that.
âI guess Iâll see you around, then,â Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like thereâs more that he should be saying. âDonât work too hard.â
Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.
â
Yves is probably overthinking it. There isnât anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.
Vincentâs lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm heâd forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effectâof recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects heâs on, of last-minute demands from clients.
The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the buildingâtheyâre ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.
Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, âHHihHâiKKTSh-hUH!â
A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if heâs too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.
He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket forâsomething. When he doesnât find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again.Â
âBless you,â Yves says.
âYves,â Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.
Itâs only a few seconds later that heâs turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth forâ
âHh-! hHiHâHIHhâDZSSschh-uhh! snf-!â
âBless you again.âÂ
Vincent sighs. âDonât bother.â He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, heâd already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.
Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and thereâs a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looksâwell, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if itâs been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.
Yves frowns, taking this all in. âYou look kind ofâŠâ
âTerrible?â Vincent finishes for him.
Yves winces. â...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.â
âIâm⊠feeling a little off,â Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if itâs not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. âYou should keep your distance.â
The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside.Â
âFirst floor?â Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.
âYes,â Vincent says. Then, quietly: âThanks.â
âYou know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,â Yves tells him. âEven if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, Iâm sure something could be arranged.â
Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. âI must look pretty bad if youâre saying this to me.â
âYes, I was lying,â Yves says. âClearly, you look terrible.â
It isnât true at allâeven here, even like this, Vincent doesnât look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at thisâa tired smile.
The elevator doors slide open.
âText me if you need anything,â Yves says, impulsively. âSeriously. Tissues, soup, medicineâwhatever. Itâs not far of a drive.â
âThatâs very considerate of you,â Vincent says. âI will see you tomorrow.â And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.
â
The next day is rainyâa constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldnât be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.
Back in uni, when he rowed crew, theyâd practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he canât complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.
Vincent doesnât show up.
âI think heâs out sick,â Cara says, when Yves asks. âYou know, itâs funny. I donât think Iâve actually seen him take a sick day before.â
âFor how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,â Garrett says.
âHe seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,â Cara says, with a shrug. âProbably came on quickly.â Yves nods.
But that isnât quite right, is it? Vincent hadnât seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things heâd noticedâVincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear heâd been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?
He finds some time just before lunch to text.
Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterdayâs offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!
He doesnât get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case heâs missed a notification.
âAre you expecting a text from someone?â Cara says, looking a little curious.
âJust a friend,â Yves says, which is and isnât true.
To make a pointâto Cara, and possibly to himselfâhe shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.
Itâs not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.
V: Sorry to get back to you so late.
Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.
V: If itâs not too much trouble, thereâs a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.
Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.
Y: youâre asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting đ€š Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??
V: I meant to pack them yesterday.
Y: thatâs like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me
V: As a genie, youâre quite judgmental
Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller iâll be over around 8pm with folder 2-AÂ Y: you need anything else?Â
V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my doorÂ
A beat. Then Vincent sends:
V: Sorry to trouble you
Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.
â
Itâs a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.
Outside, the rain hasnât even begun to let upâit falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.
Yves has only ever been to Vincentâs apartment onceâto pick him up for the New Yearsâ party Margot hostedâand even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.
For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincentâs door and taking his leave.
But itâs windy, and heâs afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.
Itâs silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum.Â
Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.
There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.
He looks tired. Itâs the first thing Yves registersâthe unusual fatigue to his expression, which he canât quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, thereâs a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.
Itâs only a moment later that heâs taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harshâ
âhHihhâGKkTTâ! Hh-!! iHH-âDZZSCHh-uuUh!â
The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once.Â
âBless you,â Yves says.
Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. âI thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.â
âYou did,â Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. âBut itâs windy, and itâs raining. I figured youâd prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?â
Vincent blinks at him. Heâs leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise.Â
âAlright,â he answers. âThanks for making the trip here. I⊠it mustâve taken longer, in the rain.â He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. âIf you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.â
âYou donât owe me anything,â Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincentâs forehead.
The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. âHave you taken your temperature?â
Vincent shakes his head. âI donât think I have a thermometer.â
âHave you eaten, then?â
Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. âI⊠was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,â he says. Planning to.
Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, heâd talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Iâm feeling a little off, heâd said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as âlittle.â I will see you tomorrowâas if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work.Â
âSo I take it that thereâs nothing in the fridge, either,â Yves says.
âIf itâs any consolation, youâll be pleased to know that I slept,â Vincent says, in lieu of answering.
Then he shiversâthe sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the coldâand Yves is immediately reminded that the door theyâre speaking through is open.
âCan I come in?â he asks.
âYou probably shouldnât,â Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and heâs ducking away with aâ âhhâ! hHih-IIâTSSCHHh-UH! snf-!â, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. âThis came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.â
âItâs fine,â Yves says. âI got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, Iâll be careful.â
Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, âIâd feel terrible if you caught this.â
Thatâs the least of Yvesâs worriesâhe doubts heâs going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincentâs faceâVincent looks upset, as if heâll really canât think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.
Yves shakes his head. âDonât worry about it, seriously.â He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. âHere, Iâll set these down on your desk. Where is it?â
âDown the hallway, to the left,â Vincent says.
Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside.Â
Vincentâs bedroom is small and organizedâitâs the kind of bedroom thatâs tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. Thereâs a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincentâs laptop, its lid halfway to shut. Thereâs a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.
There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.
Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincentâs desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.
âYouâre not going to work on these until youâre feeling better, right?â he asks.
âOnly if I canât sleep,â Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough.Â
The cough is harsh and gratingâhis entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.
If itâs upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, itâs even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. Soâif only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that thereâs something he can doâYves ducks out into the kitchen.
The pantry is meticulously organizedâglasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom.Â
By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.
âHere,â Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take.Â
âThanks,â Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then anotherâhis hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. âYou - snf-! - should really go.â
âIâm not entirely convinced youâll be fine on your own,â Yves says.
âOf course I will be,â Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. âI have been fine on my own for years.â
Itâs meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesnât feel reassured in the least.
âThank you again for bringing me the files,â Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.
âYou couldâve asked me to get you groceries,â Yves says. âThereâs a supermarket not far from here, right? And youâre out of cough drops.â He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. âTheseââ He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. ââare expired.â
âJust because youâve extended this kindness to me,â Vincent tells him, âdoesnât mean I should take advantage of it.â
Yves blinks, a little taken aback. âItâs only groceries. I wouldnât have minded, really.â
âSee,â Vincent says, with a note ofâsomething in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. âThatâs just the kind of person you are.â
Yves doesnât know what to say, to that.Â
Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincentâs breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.
[ Part 2 ]
#snz fic#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz kink#snz#i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so#please take this for now đ#my fic#it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T#i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future!#yvverse#ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two đđ and i hope it's#okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!
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happy birthday! đđđ»
I really hope itâs a lovely one!!!
Oh thank you! ;-; đ§Ą
#answered#cursehole#the latter part is an idiom so you don't need to listen to this but let me ramble a little since it's been on my mind all day#birthdays always unnerve me for some reason#it's not even the getting older part#I just get hella tense about the pressure to make the day *special* in some way because that's how it's supposed to go#and I often just don't wanna do anything too out of the ordinary I'm pretty happy with mundane forms of enrichment#but I can't enjoy those boring things I actually like to do since they don't have that âspecial once-in-a-yearâ feel to them#so it's more of an annual mandatory âsurvive through the executive dysfunction" day#I know the curse will be lifted overnight so maybe tomorrow will be better
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hellooo, I hope you're feeling well! I was wondering however if ouroboros was still being worked on or if it's on hiatus. Hope I wasn't rude in asking
I don't feel it's rude, after all, I have been keeping the development close to my chest. It is still being worked on, edited and transferred into renpy with graphics and soundbytes galore! However, right now, since about three weeks back, I left my partner of 8 years in the middle of the night with just a change of clothes, my dog, and a laptop. I'm struggling hard but putting on a brave face-- right now I'm coming up with a concept of something else to work on until I get a proper apartment and can get my stationary PC back so I can get back to work on ouro. I'll make a proper post about it tomorrow, so keep an eye on this space!
#ouroboros-if#interactive fiction#in all honesty i forgor the password to the louroth tumblr so ill just stick to my personal for now đ#everything is up in the air. i cry all the time. and when im not crying im writing. LMAO#it'll all work out though it will just take some time to get back on my feet#the ouro book 1 is like 65% done and a demo is even closer. i just haven't found a reasonable stopping point+ some of the most intense edits#and rewrites are in the first chapters and I've been wanting to finish the latter parts first so i don't have to run myself in circles tryin#to line everything up properly. yk?#im so grateful for my patreons for being willing to support me because money is such an issue rn. if I can't make it monetarily on writing i#will have to put it all on complete hiatus and go back to work full time#which I dread bc doggy daycare is so damn expensive. alas! only time will tell what happens next. tomorrow is a big day when i find out#what exactly i will have to do.#thanks for the ask nony<3 i have several other asks i will try to get to during the week!!#please block the 'ouroboros-if' tag if you don't wish to see them dear mutuals<3
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Just explained tumblr holidays and the like to my retired dad. At ten o'clock I told him what time it was on October the 24th, if he wanted to know. My dad, the world's biggest Tolkien nerd, was absolutely delighted, and I told him he had you lot to credit for it. This led to an explanation of the Ides of March and Sweet Fat of the Hog and You're Out of Touch, and I have never seen a man so charmed in my life.
#He also wants to make sure you all know that tonight is 'A Little Touch of Harry in the Night' (Henry V) and tomorrow is St. Crispin's Day#I told him I was confident that people would come through on the latter
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canât tell if Iâm getting sick or the exhaustion has compounded enough and is catching up with me
#most likely the latter#but anyway I feel like shit đ#and have for the past several days đ#and work is tomorrow of course đ
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Cozytober - Day 31 - Feast (for my eyes!)
đHappy Halloween , 2023 đ
#Cozytober#Margot's RF Art#Rune Factory#RF1#RF#FINALLY *I* GET TO GET ON THE NEW GRAFF ART#I had a choice of draw multiple very simple characters or choose one and do as much as I can. I did the latter. Because. My Pirate QUEEN.#She will accept your complete and unconditional surrender#Hoping to sketch some of the others at some point because those RF1 and 2 Halloween drops made my day. Blew up my phone#Thank you to everyone who told me/chatted with me about them#And with this... Cozytober is DONE! I've done 3 whole years of art challenges!!#Time for some relaxing and then some sleep. And a very lazy day off of work tomorrow#I hope all who celebrate had a Happy Halloween as I had a ton of fun handing out candy tonight#â„â„â„â„â„#Rune Factory Lynette#RF Lynette
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I NEED. TO DO. OR MAKE SOMETHING. PLEASE
#actually I havenât had this overwhelming creative energy in a while it feels TERRIBLE thank you very much#okay the thing is. thereâs like many things actually so I am going to go Explode in the tags now#the first thing that I am like painfully terribly aching to do is Write something#I talked about this the other day but like. first of all I havenât added anything to my poems collection for a while and the other day I re#d this beautifully beautifully written story and now Iâm like. INEED. TO WRITE A FUCKINGN BOOK#and then thereâs also Knitting. a few months ago we impulsively purchased a bunch of knitting tools and now itâs just sitting in my house b#cause I tried it once and I couldnât do it so I kind of. gave up. now suddenly I want to like. knit a scarf AND ITS EATING AWAY AT ME#I NEED TO LIKE. SIT DOEN AND WATCH A YOUTUBE TUTORIAL AND MAN I COULD TOTALLY DO THAT BECAUSE IM ON HOLIDAY#BUT LIKE. THERES A MILLION OTHER THINGS I WANT TO DO SO IF COURSE THE OPTION MY BRAIN PICKS IS#DO NOTHING AT ALL.#also this is a bit of a silly one but like. I have this long long loooong list in my notes app that I started in 2021#and itâs just Big words. and like. the thing is they used to stick in my brain. I used to be able to add them to the list and use it whenev#needed. now I just write it down and itâs GONE and that makes me want to put myself in an oven because WHY.#I NEED. TO BE THAT PERSON. WITH THE USELESSLY ABYSSAL VOCABULARY#SO I REALLY JUST WABT TO SIT DOWN FOR 2 HOURS AND MEMORISE AND STUDY BUT then again. my brain is all or nothing and#usually it is the latter#another thing is my sketchbook. havenât added to that in a while and I want to do that but then I will have to wait til sunset or daylight#because I physically cannot create art with artificial electrical light. but then Iâll have to wait til tomorrow and#I really also want to go outside and just exist before I have no time to after break ends#so Yeah.
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My favourite musical of all time is the book of mormon and every once in a while I listen to the OST again and then I spend the rest of the day with hasa diga eebowai stuck in my head. Which um, is a little awkward when passengers with crucifix necklaces come through due to the
#my favourite songs from it are tomorrow is a latter day#and man up#but the funniest is definitely hasa diga eebowai and spooky mormon hell dream#actually im adding joseph smith american moses to that#'my name is joseph smith and im going to fuck this frog!'#ramblings
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. anyway after writing the tags 4 this post i told my research partner i will no longer follow his dreams lmao. still helping w it but i need to engage in research that i find satisfying
#i think ive been waiting for something for a while and i will spend the next year waiting for it too#i thought i felt panic but i have decided to read it as anticipation. the thrill of rejection or of moving forward or the latter as#a result of the former. i left you with your backpack unattended in the cafe because on fridays i am done#putting my life on hold for another whim-without-a-warning#this cross country service is delayed by 26 minutes so i will grab a bucket and start shovelling the water away from the tracks#everyone is moving on in some different way and im sorry if you think im mean for telling you getting so drunk will disable you from#recording your brainwaves effectively but it seems like you think i owe you an awful lot. one year ago in four days my friend got me hegel's#science of logic for my birthday and i thanked him for proving to me the existence of things this is what i do he said#and then he will spend the rest of his life breathing philosophy and i dont want to spend the rest of my life#breathing someone elses dreams i wait for the moment of realisation. this is now a 30 minute delay. i was supposed to worship beautiful#things and that is what i will do. i think i have a best friend and i know i have a lover and i know to#restrict my love the way you have. im sorry. i hope you understand when i tell you. i am now sitting on the floor in the luggage section of#this incredibly busy train and i saw a photo of her with her boyfriend and her hair in braids smiling like a fool this is the#except a week ago you told me you almost took too much this time to live. you are a beautiful girl with a beautiful soul and you know you#have already changed the world and it somehow was not enough. now you are smiling without any makeup on next to him#and yesterday you cried in an airport in the states when you were too full of love. this is the most extraordinary human being i have met.#tomorrow he heads off to princeton while his best friend heads to harvard. he goes there to make the world a better place. he is the most#extraordinary person i have ever met. the issue with human beings is that we are incredibly good at almost dying and keeping going.#you try to kill yourself and publish a paper and give a talk. you negotiate the seperation between your own parents and submit another#phd application. i am surrounded by extraordinary people with extraordinary minds and incredibly broken happy hearts.#i only see you smile when you talk about robotics. i still dont know how manifolds work and i love the concept anyway. i dont know.#i do know that i refuse to live unsatisfied.#you can keep drinking. im going to drink this reality up#i think i was a horrible person and i refuse to engage with that mentality again no matter what it takes.
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