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gold-pavilion · 3 months

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Toman and Buddhism + Tenjiku and Taoism

Another post to cover references in Tokyo Revengers!

This time, I'll be covering the links to two religions to be found in two gangs in the series, reference by reference, with the according explanation of each.

Some of these may be already known, I know one of them sure is (the whole buddhist manji confusion thing yeah yeah) but still, for the sake of a tidy compilation and of providing more detail, I'll go through them too. Some others are a lot less noticed, like Tenjiku's lean towards Tao, so it'll be best to lay down eeeeeeverything I've caught during my time enjoying this series. Plus, I'm pretty excited to get some of those less-known facts out here!!

Warning though, it's lengthy.

Let's start with Tokyo Manji Gang:

- Firstly, the gang's name and how it's written.

Despite Mikey suggesting the name as a short form of Tokyo Manjiro Gang, putting himself front and center, the kanji that ended up forming the name of Tokyo Manji Gang show that it went in a different direction of meaning. The manji used for the middle part ended up not being the same one from the name Manjiro, but a manji written as 卍. Aloud it's read the same way (many, many, many kanji are homophones), but has a different meaning.

卍 (manji) is an extremely common buddhist symbol (not even limited to japanese buddhism, but in hinduism and other aligned east-asian religions too), which represents the path of Buddha and the endless cycle of rebirth through samsara; the pursuit of leading a more spiritually balanced existence until the soul can reach enlightenment. In other words, it's nothing but deeply buddhist.

(To answer a common question around it: can it be called a swastika? Yes. The symbol in general, with each of the million variations that have popped up in different cultures, can be called a swastika as a broad term. There are a fuckton of swastikas. They mean a fuckton of different things. The tilt and the direction in which this one "spins" makes it different from other swastikas though, and it's always best to be precise and call this one manji.)

Moving on,

- Reunion spot.

The Musashi Shrine (based, but not exactly taken from any of the real-life shrines and temples of similar name in Tokyo, as far as I know) is a shinto-buddhist temple. And, apparently, a place where the founders hung out from time to time, but I'll add to that later!!

It's cute to me that the Toman members seem to use the temple very respectfully. They always meet in it at night waaay after it's closed (daytime meetings have always taken place in different locations, never the temple during visiting hours), they've never once set foot even near the oratory/sanctum/other buildings, never been seen bringing the motorcycles anywhere they shouldn't, and the one time a character was seen using the public temizuya (the little stone fountain where visitors purify their hands and mouth), he was proper about it in terms of pouring water into his hand to rinse his mouth with, not getting the ladle or the rest of the water dirty, as one should always do.

A fun fact: in Google Maps, buddhist temples are marked with the manji symbol!

- Gang's manifesto.

Embroidered on the chest of the gang uniform, you can see the text 天上天下唯我独尊 ("Above the earth and below the heavens, I alone shall be honored"), which is the gang's manifesto or motto. Sounds just like something Mikey would choose, yeah.

That phrase is also of buddhist origin; famously, the words spoken by Buddha Gautama Siddharta (bear in mind that buddhism isn't a religion with one god or anything like that, anyone enlightened can become a Buddha and many figures have been granted that status, but Gautama is the first and main one, the creator of the doctrine) when he was born. To be honest, this is very much interpretative, but I've come to get the impression that it's not so much a power or ego statement, but rather an expression of cultivating and honoring yourself…? It's absolutely up to personal reading and I'm absolutely not an expert. But those are certainly THE Buddha's words.

- Ceremonial sash.

Another part of their uniform that bears a slight reference: the sash worn by the commander, vice-commander, captains and vice-captains during important fights.

These are tasuki, sashes originally worn by shinto-buddhist priests during ceremonies, in order to keep long sleeves and such in place. However, eventually, they also began being worn by samurai and all sorts of warriors, 'cause of their convenience. In modern times, they even started being used by just about anybody who wears traditional clothing but also does manual work and needs the sleeves out of the way. So it can be concluded that, over time, they stopped being strongly linked to religious practicers. In fact, even biker gangs in general ended up adopting the use of tasuki! Not for their religious origins, but for the warrior part; a bōsōzoku gang member wearing one would look very prepared and determined for a fight.

That's why overall, Tokyo Manji Gang having them is only a relative reference; they could be paying homage to their reference religion, as they could be only honoring gang traditions.

- Additional notes about the leader.

I feel it's important to add up all these little factors of Mikey's choosing, with other little details about him as a person that kinda make it all make sense.

If I say "Mikey seems to be religious, to an extent", I understand this can carry a bunch of tricky connotations. Japanese religion isn't exercised the same way it is in other places, someone being religious SURE AS HECK doesn't mean the same things it means in the christian west. Shinto-buddhism is so commonplace in Japan, most people partake in all kinds of religious practices without even thinking of them as strictly religious, such as new year's celebrations, casual prayer during shrine visits, purchasing and giving charms and such. Religion is integrated in life in a lot of extremely chill ways.

And we can observe a lot of things about Mikey that put him quite above the average in terms of his relationship with local tradition and religion. His house is a huge traditional-style family home, his family is hinted to be active in religious practice (remember Emma's appearances during the Christmas Showdown arc? How she mentioned that their family does a lot of temple visits, and even she considered it weird at that time of the year?), he's much more prone to wearing traditional clothing than his peers, his motif in extra clothing designs is the lion-dog (temple guardians; statues of these can often be found in them), his personal beliefs around death and relationship to the dead run deeper than others' to the point they find him disturbing when he talks about Shinichiro or Baji still being with him... many little things that aren't that deep on their own, of course, but when added up they paint a pretty coherent picture of the guy.

And so, it does make a lot of sense that, even from childhood, a temple was a regular place for Mikey to hang out with his friends, leading to the birth of Toman in one. And it makes a lot of sense that he made all those little choices about the way the gang would be styled. In my opinion, it's likely that those things just all came natural to him because they're a part of his background and worldview. Of course, how actively religious he is, how much he believes in the things he happens to know and how much exactly he might know about buddhism are all up to headcanoning and interpretation. Personally, I'm just a roleplayer that takes it as a relevant part of his character.

- Following a Buddha?

A little out-of-TR-universe element that I love to bring up, 'cause it's just hilarious and cool as hell, is the creation of this statue:

This part of the 2022 Tokyo Revengers exhibition straight up imitates the famous Reclining Buddha in the Wat Pho temple, Thailand.

The ENORMOUS statue depicts the moment Buddha reaches nirvana, and his enlightened soul is at rest. The golden Mikey statue that imitates it very much intentionally likens him to a Buddha; funny to note that the exhibition staff even prayed to the statue, as you can read in the tweet itself.

What does this mean about Mikey's character? Well, this isn't within text in Tokyo Revengers, just a little outside factor, so I wouldn't take it too literally or too seriously, but it's interesting nonetheless. Personally, I see it as a hint that Mikey was supposed to be on his own little quest to enlightenment, or had the potential to be. Grappling with morality without having a natural sense of what's right, wrong, too much or enough is a major thing with his character. I can also imagine it might just be meant to represent the godlike view others have of him, the guidance they sought from him. Take it as you will!

The important thing is just that it exists, to confirm that there is an intentional connection of some type between the Buddha and Mikey.

Thaaaaat concludes the Toman and Buddhism section of this post.

Whew!! That was a whole lot.

The Tenjiku and Taoism section coming now is shorter, but I'm sure it contains interesting and less-known things (at least, I've never seen anybody talk about these)!

So let's see, Tao references in Tenjiku:

- Gang name.

Tenjiku is a now-obsolete word that translated directly to "heaven", while simultaneously being the japanese word for the country India (as taken from the chinese pronunciation, Tianzhu).

In modern times, it can be found mostly in ancient literature, the most prominent example being Journey to the West. Given that Kakucho and Izana mentioned this book and seemed to have knowledge of it as kids, we can conclude that's where they got the name of their gang from.

Why would they use the word for India to name their kingdom? What does this have to do with Tao? I'll get into that properly now:

- Kakucho, Izana & Journey to the West.

Journey to the West is one of the four great chinese classic novels (along with Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Outlaws of the Marsh, and Dream of the Red Chamber) which are enormous, ENORMOUS influences on east-asian literature and fiction in general. Journey to the West, itself, is considered the most popular east-asian literary work overall; of course, being super well-known in Japan, too. (To give my favorite funny example of just how omnipresent it is, y'know Dragon Ball? Hit anime series Dragon Ball? Unabashedly based on Journey to the West, which was to thank for most of its initial local popularity.)

It's the story of the buddhist monk Tang Sanzang, who travels to Tenjiku, to India, to that certain heavenly kingdom, to obtain sacred texts for Buddha Gautama Siddharta (the guy I described as THE Buddha in the Tokyo Manji Gang section above). The quest doubles as a search and exercise of enlightenment, as Tang Sanzang is aided by three protectors that are atoning for their sins and learning from him. The main guardian and arguably the true protagonist of the book is Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, a fighter "so strong he could carry a mountain on each shoulder, and still dash as fast as a meteor". It's a huge, epic, 100-chapter monster of a book, in which each chapter is already a fantastic and entertaining anecdote about the characters or what happens in their travels, but also a long spiritual journey that pretty much serves to subtly teach the principles of Tao (term that can be translated to "the path", chinese religion and philosophy).

A tangent: let me just show you how large it is (and why I haven't been able to finish it, 'cause I cannot take this brick of a book anywhere lmaoooo).

(Cover says Journey to the West: The Adventures of the Monkey King. It's in spanish.)

My guess is that Izana and Kakucho studied about it or read some chapters in school, 'cause dang, there's no way they read all of this at that age?!?! BUT ANYWAY.

While there's obviously quite some buddhist influence in the story, most of what it works with throughout is rooted in chinese folklore and Taoism. The edition of the book I have even begins with extensive notes and introductory explanations about Tao, as its themes of harmony with the universe, self-cultivation, internal alchemy, its main ethics and values, etc etc etc are the basis from which the book is built up. The characters very actively engage with Tao. Sun Wukong is an ardent student of Tao who obtains a bunch of powers through it, for one.

I've gone into this much into detail because Kakucho and Izana make it pretty explicit that, to them, Izana is like monk Tang Sanzang leading to Tenjiku, and Kakucho is like his guardian of unmatched strength, Sun Wukong.

In the end of Journey to the West, it's both Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong that accomplish their goal and also obtain enlightenment, finally ascending to buddhahood. Had Izana and Kakucho's journey with Tenjiku reached their original destination (not "to become a criminal syndicate that controls Japan" but "to build a kingdom where everyone without a home could exist"), had it been like Tang Sanzang and Sun Wukong's pilgrimage… they would've learned true balance and they would've found the necessary enlightenment.

Again, I find this little connection with characters that could've been on a quest towards buddhahood, but as far as things went in the main TR timelines, all failed.

- Uniform & logo.

Finally, something lighter and quicker to add, haha.

There are symbols and references that are so so so widespread that they become more of an aesthetic detail than a symbol with meaning, in the eyes of the general public. The yin-yang is one of those symbols that just… appears in a lot of places, fashionably, and one kinda gets used to seeing it without thinking much about it. Sometimes it's not meant to stand for much more than a decorative detail, yes, that definitely happens, but sometimes it's very much a thoughtful choice. With Tenjiku, given its connection to Taoism, I'm gonna treat the yin-yang as a meaningful choice.

So! On the back of the uniform we have a yin-yang, Taoist symbol that represents the balance of the two complementary and opposing forces of the universe (note: it's not a good vs evil type of thing, as tends to happen with western black-white dualism, but rather… the fact that reality needs to be composed of push and pull to get anywhere, hard and soft things with their own function, sun and shade. A common comparison is how a mountain will have a sunny side and a shady side when looked at in a certain moment, but the sun and shade will switch over at another time of day, in a needed cycle). Other features of the uniform are a mao collar instead of a more common style for gang jackets, and an intense red color, the main auspicious and prosperous color in chinese culture. These last two little features could easily be coincidental, but when paired with the yin-yang, I feel like it's intended to lean towards chinese aesthetics.

And with that,

I end this reference post!

Did you learn anything you didn't know? Did you enjoy learning it? Any thoughts? I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS, SO FEEL FREE TO DROP BY MY ASKBOX with any comments or questions or such!!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers meta #tokyo manji gang #toman #tenjiku #kurokawa izana #sano manjiro #izana kurokawa #manjiro sano #mikey #kakucho #thoughts and talk and so #tokyo rev #wanted to write this one forever #just never quite got around to it

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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i broke so here's from crowley to his angel

I danced through all the fires, and I was so free

I was so unfettered, I was so unheld

Angel, I only stumble when you look at me

Why won't you touch me with more than eyes

Do more with your lips than just smile

It's only for you that I would ever plead

Angel, don't ask me to follow you to heaven

I don't need your forgiveness, I need your love

I don't need them to save me from damnation

Because when I fell from heaven I fell for you

And if you'll just for once try to understand

You've tempted the tempter and stolen the thief

So when after thousands of years I find the courage

To reach for you, to hold you to my dark heart

Forget the world that came between you and me

Don't choose to save it, choose to save us

The world will end in fire or ice, heaven or hell

But all that will matter is that we could have been us

So when they ask you to leave for heaven

Don't walk away, promise you're staying with me

Angel, tell me you said no

-Asmi

@neil-gaiman expecting that therapy money any day now, sir.

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cerealboxlore · 9 months

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you know those posts where cap’s seen as a dad figure? what if one of the reasons why the other superheroes think that way is because when league members bring up there kids or need cap to cover for them when their kids need them cap is just super understanding, empathetic and gets oddly proud of them for being with there for their kids

the actual reason why he’s like that is because billy just really values those things as an orphan and is proud to work with such great people

Whenever someone mentions or even breathes the implication of Cap being mistaken as a dad or seen as a father figure, I lose my marbles, because, oh cheese and crackers, I just can't express enough how much I adore this headcanon! I'm doin' a little happy dance :D

Billy Batson is someone who has always yearned and wished to be a part of a family again since his experience was cut short due to tragedy and made sour thanks to his uncle Ebeneezer being crusty dusty, so it's easy to see him respecting those who appreciate the family they have. He had to grow up and mature far faster than any kid his age, and compared to most adults, Billy is actually more mature and responsible than they are, unfortunately. It's reasonable to see that this would be reflected in Captain Marvel; someone who's immature at times, but ultimately a good-natured person with a golden heart and good intentions, who others can depend on anytime and anywhere (much to the sacrifice of his personal life).

Billy has been in enough foster homes at a young age to know the difference between a good parent and a rotten one, so seeing members of the league prioritize their family members and kids would make him really happy. He's the type to take on any shift or mission in the place of another member if they had something important to do with their family. What you said about him being very proud and empathetic towards parents in the league made me realize that Billy would have loved to have parents like them had his own not perished. In a way, he's not just proud of them, but a little bit envious.

This also brings up another headcanon of mine, where Captain Marvel is the unofficial designated babysitter of the league when emergencies come up. Because despite not knowing who he is/his secret identity, people trust him enough to let him know theirs. Like, it all starts with the Captain in the watchtower break room drinking apple juice, and is suddenly bombarded with a group of children or sidekicks being thrown at him by the other heroes, saying that the Captain was in charge while they were away before teleporting away.

All these kids and teenagers that he suddenly has to help look after, and while Captain Marvel is calm on the outside, Billy Batson is freaking out on the inside. Some of those kids are older than he is, and there's some hilarity to it. Shenanigans ensue in the Captain Marvel: Adventures in Babysitting day, but it all turns out okay in the end. As a kid, Billy would know how to talk to them and keep them busy with fun/educational stuff. Might even teach them a thing or two about good morals, manners, archeology, or ancient magic stuff.

I imagine some of those kids would want to be babysat by him again, and Billy would welcome it (with warning ahead of time). Captain Marvel is just someone people like being around with his good dad vibes. Some of them even ask if he has kids of his own, but are met with an empty room immediately as the man zooms off whenever people ask him questions about family.

Gosh I went rambling again, but I loved this ask!

#this was such a lovely ask #tysm for the ask!#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #justice league #cap is a good dad figure #imagine before batman knows captain marvel is really just billy he asks him to babysit damian and jon while he and superman go on a mission #Now that is a fic i want to write #the chaos #the fun #the angst when billy wants to be their friend but has to be the adult first #this kid can hold so much power and responsibility on his shoulders #So sorry I havent answered this one in forever!#stuck in my drafts for a while #ask me anything anytime!#I love answering asks!#sorry if there's any spelling errors

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fyncherly · 1 month

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Uh, hey, here's but a snippet of a character sheet I did not completely forget about and have totally finished. :)

I'm still working on things, it's just a lot of things and executive dysfunction is laughing at me from the corner of my room. But I will do them! Maybe I should make a poll where I let other people decide what project I work on at that moment? Might help me stick to one at a time hmmmm

#jrwi the suckening #the suckening #the suckening fanart #jrwi shilo #shilo bathroy #my art #just roll with it #jrwi #just throwing this out there so it doesn't sit in my folders forever #haven't felt well past few days so art has taken a backseat but i am still working on that episode 8 animation!#also that animatic is on hold for the moment #i have two wolves in me #one wants to always write #and the other wants to do art... sometimes #and still they fight

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peachirambles · 5 months

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I'm doing these two together because of their similarities and figured it would just be best to answer both of them at once.

As a preface: Qiu and the MC do have a crush on each other but neither of them have acted on it. So right now they are Very close friends but Tamarack and the MC are best friends. I went with a more fem leaning MC but they are still using they/them pronouns and are still nonbinary. Just because of who will be showing up in this drabble 😭

With that out of the way, here's the drabble! Hope yall enjoy Qiu being a certified #asshole

Qiu wasn't a jealous person. In fact, they were quite the opposite, growing up as the residental young boyish heart-throb of the young population had other people jealous of them for many reasons. Popularity, good looks, funny, and with a perchant for being kind to everyone they meet; they had heard the rumors of how some of the "friends" Qiu had were secretly trying to push others away from them just to horde their affection. Of course, Ren and Baxter always snuffed out those particular people's issues. Though that didn't stop Qiu from finding out that they unknowingly made people jealous of them. For a while, they had grown accustomed to it.

But then they moved in.

With their sincerity, kindness, and love; they ruined Qiu so thoroughly, down to their very being. Yet, Qiu couldn’t even complain. They would absolutely let the MC do it again and again to them. They were everything to them, and all they had to do was look pretty and bat their eyelashes at them to get them to do anything. They were completely head over heels screwed for them.

And it's what led them here now, sitting at the lunch table, silently fuming on the uncomfortable bench.

Fuming because they were the reason they were completely and madly green with envy at the sight of the MC being so close with Tamarack.

"Tamarack, your hair is so silky and has such gorgeous curls!" The MC preened as they started to make a small braid with some strands of Tamarack's hair.

"Ah, are they really?" Was Tamarack's reply, soft and questioning. For a second, it would have sounded truly genuine, and it might have been, but Qiu knew better.

Tamarack had lost all of her boisterous energy and know-it-all attitude that she wielded back in 2010, replaced with insecurities about everything and anything about herself. It was like watching a turtle shrink back into its shell, and a part of Qiu understood why.

But as they watched the MC comb and weave their beautiful fingers through Tamarack's sparkling hair; a much louder, nastier part of them yelled and screeched.

She's obviously fishing for compliments, she knows her hair is her best quality!

Her hair isn't even that pretty to begin with!

Why is the MC braiding her hair? She doesn't deserve it.

Is my hair not good enough to be braided?

Why her and not me!

"Anddd done!" The MC squeaked, snapping Qiu out of their momentary spiral as the group cooed and awed at the small braid, dangling next to Tamarack's ear. Much to Qiu's utter displeasure, Tamarack had the nerve to be bashful.

"It's so cute!" Serenity, one of Tamarack and the MC's friend, piped up. "Now you have two braids!"

"It does look very nice." Vianca hummed in approval, which made Tamarack fidget in place.

"You did a good job MC." Renee or Ren for short, the only ally Qiu supposedly had at this godforesaken table and the only reason why they were even sitting there, smiled at the both of them.

Why the hell was she on Tamarack's side?Almost everyone here don't even know she's a girl! Why are we even here?!

Qiu couldn’t help but grit their teeth in pure frustration. They couldn't even lie, it was a perfect braid and it suited Tamarack perfectly. But, if they were being honest, they had rather Tamarack have no-

"Qiu."

Qiu, once again, snapped out of their thoughts and turned to the source of the voice. It was Vianca of all people, with a smirk on her face. Usually, they didn’t a single shit about her, but for some reason, that shit eating smirk made Qiu's stomach drop.

"Aren't you going to... you know? Join in on the conversation or compliment the braid? You havs been staring at Tamarack for a hot minute now." She sneered at them, and Qiu's eyes widened as they realized she was completely right.

Tamarack had noticed Qiu's stare on her. Otherwise, she wouldn't be fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her smile dropping into an uneasy line, and her plucked eyebrows furrowed. God, she made them truly sick sometimes.

"Qiu probably thinks it's fine." Ren chuckled, though it was obvious that there was nervous energy coating each sound. They felt a small jab on their foot, and they looked up to see Ren's hazelnut eyes staring back at them.

"Right, Qiu?"

Qiu knew what was happening. They made Tamarack feel bad, and now they had to sit there and pretend that they thought her and her stupid mini braid that the MC made was cute to save face. Their hands balled up into fists on the table for just a second before they took a simple breath in and exhaled, and their hands relaxed once more.

The MC is in front of them for fuck's sake, they can pretend to be fine.

"Sure. It's cute." Was Qiu's stiff reply.

There was a collective breath of relief from most of the table's patrons, and Tamarack glanced up at them for just a second, her eyes searching for something before-

"I'm so glad!" The MC nearly squealed before pulling Tamarack into a close hug, giddy from all the praise, and all poor Tamarack was able to muster out was a solid squeak.

"I been practicing and practicing with Tamarack's hair the past few days after school. I love messing with hair, and once I get better, I want to do-"

There was a solid slam that reverberated on the table that not only silenced them but silenced most of the chatter in the cafeteria. Qiu's palms stinged and burned from the impact of the force, but they didn't care.

Why should they when all they been hearing was just bragging and idolizing someone that wasn't quite frankly worth the MC's time?

"I am sooo happy that you love to do Tamarack's hair and that you just loveee to do everything with her." Qiu laughed but it wasn't remotely happy or earnest, but instead filled with a deep malice.

"Qiu-" Ren snapped but Qiu pressed on.

"But I quite frankly don't give a fuck enough to be caring about her damn braid to be complimenting it."

There was audible gasps and even some giggles from the other students who were listening in. Vianca, Renee and Serenity's faces were twisted in a state of shock and disgust. The nasty pit in them were reveling in it.

At least that was the case until their eyes wandered on Tamarack's face, flushed hot with embarrassment and shame. Her head was ducked down but they could hear her eyelashes furiously batting away the tears that were starting to form beyond the drumming of Qiu's heart in their ears.

And if that didn't make Qiu falter, then the look on their face certainly did. It wasn't shock, it wasn't anger; it was pure and unfiltered hurt and disappointment. That was easily enough for Qiu to stop, but as if feeling like they were controlled on strings, they spoke again.

"Now if all of you excuse me, I'm going to do something better with my time."

The poison in their words even shocked them, but before they could even process that, they felt their limbs run on auto pilot.

They snatched their bag and stormed out of the cafeteria much to the confused shouts of the group, but Qiu didn't care.

They had to get out of there! They had to!

Qiu felt the blood rush to their face in so many emotions, eyes stinging as tears filled their vision. As they side-stepped both faculty and students as they ran up the stairs, thoughts were running at them a mile an hour.

Why did I do that?!

Why didn't I do it sooner?!

Did you see the look on their faces!?

I made Tamarack cry!

It was so funny!

What is wrong with me?

It was great!

As Qiu barreled past the door and onto the rooftop, stopping to take a breath of fresh air, one single though ruminated in their head.

I hurt them. I hurt my best friend.

Qiu wasn't a jealous person. That's what they thought. But as they sat down on a bench, holding their head in their hands, that thought just wasn't true anymore.

They realized that maybe, just maybe something nasty had taken residence within them underneath their watch. Whatever that nasty thing was, Qiu thought, it had rotten them to their core.

Or worse, that nasty pit was there the entire time and Qiu was too tired to fight back anymore.

#our life now and forever #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #renee murray #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #olnf renee #olnf vianca #olnf serenity #candy drabbles #yeah this one kinda got away from me?#i really liked exploring the nastier side of qiu #especially since That part of them rears its ugly head when their jealous #but i also wanted to write them realizing that they Do have a nasty side #way more than their inital cold front leads on #sm sm they let the intrusive thoughts win badly

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chase-ing-shadows · 1 year

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AU where Atreus gets stuck as a bear and him and Sindri have to go on a brother bear style adventure to make him human again.

also open to the idea that this happens after Ragnarok and this is the story of how Atreus and Sindri reconnect

#god of war sindri #sindri #god of war atreus #god of war #god of war ragnarok #i like the idea that this happens after Ragnarok alot #sindri is so consumed by grief and wants everyone to leave him the hell alone but this godamn bear keeps following him #and of course the godamn bear is actually Atreus #Hasn't he done enough already??#but he so clearly needs help and Sindri can't fight off a bear that just refuses to let up #they make a deal that if he helps atreus become human again then he will leave him alone forever #obvs they end up making a fantastic tag team #freya tells them they have to travel to a high mountain and preform a spell in order to change him back #one adventure and some begrudging bonding/healing later and they get to the mountain #wacky bear shenanigans included #the spell docent work though #because Atreus is stuck this way because of his guilt #the spell only breaks when Sindri tells him that he's got to let go of his guilt #he finally listens to his brother's last words #godamnit i wish i could write coz this could be such a cool fanfic

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doverstar · 27 days

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actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

#did you want her to...not end up with the doctor?#she ended up with the doctor. she ended up with the doctor and they get to AGE together #they get to have a real honest relationship the way they both always genuinely wanted #it's hard that the full time lord version has to carry on without her but that is the way that character's story ALWAYS goes #the doctor does not get to keep ANYONE. it would be a different show if he did #meanwhile there is a version of that same face of his - the one that was MADE for love? particularly born out of love for ROSE? the one 1/2 #2/2 that always wanted a FAMILY? and stability? and a normal life? the tenth doctor longed for that specifically because of rose #now he gets to have it AND be part-human so he doesn't have to watch her get old. he gets old WITH HER #and they're canonically growing their own Tardis so you don't even have to be sad that they're not adventuring in time and space as usual #because they ARE. it's the kindest ending for either character. and if the full time lord hadn't left without either of them-#-he would have had to lose them eventually. lose Rose because she's human? hello? painful? but instead he was selfless and left her-#-with a proper happy ending. which she CHOSE to have so you can't be like “he tricked her!” she chose to kiss one of them and it was Tentoo #they are the same man. Rose won in this scenario.#and I GET IT I am with Billie Piper I think it will always feel a little off that she was left with Tentoo and not the full time lord #I understand. it still makes me a little sad. but I know it's a good ending writing-wise. really the ONLY ending.#yes I know about the popular idea of Immortal!Rose or Bad Wolf Rose or whatever and that's cute and all BUT - it's not a GOOD thing #it's not PREFERABLE to be immortal. Rose doesn't want to live forever. she wants to be with the man she LOVES forever.#she doesn't want to not die or adventure for all time. she wants to be there to hold his hand. and when Tentoo is born she gets THAT!#Immortal!Rose is tragic. the Doctor would not wish the burden of immortality on the woman he loves HELLO #anyway #I ship timepetals. that includes Tentoo/Rose. because he is the doctor #so there #I have more thoughts on Tentoo specifically but I digress #maybe if provoked in an Ask or something idk #doctorrose #timepetals #opinion piece #tenrose #tentoo #handy

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mattodore · 3 months

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pay attention to theo’s beautiful face and not whatever matthias’s arm is doing... i liked the lighting more here than against the wall

#these are the last screenshots i wanted to edit from the ones i took on the 22nd and had been slowly editing throughout the week #will finally be putting mattodore in their thirties to rest 🙏⚰️#river dipping #echthroi #matthias evanoff #theodore doe #a burning house to live in #ts4 #ts4 edit #simblr #ended up not doing much to these screenshots tbh… i was so into the audiobook i was listening to i kinda just. stared at the wall a lot...#my brain was telling me this wasn’t worth posting bc i’ve done so many mattodore edits recently and this isn’t anything different but.#like i did actually spend a few hours with these edits so. on one hand i’m like this isn’t really anything #but on the other hand i’m like. well they’re my ocs whom i love dearly and i’ll probably enjoy looking back at this #the same way i do all my other recent edits which i open my own blog up to stare at like. multiple times in a day #obsessed atm……..#anyway.#god… matthias is so huge he always takes up so much space i’m constantly having to crop him out of edits 😭#and these are poses that weren’t even made from me…. so he’s not even at his full 6’3’’ height and size like 😭😭😭#he distracted me but that aside... i'm waiting for my game to open up atm so i can get back to tweaking alessandria's sim #her face is gonna take me forever.................................#ik i don't talk about my other ocs on here much anymore but alessandria is my third favorite oc (mattodore obviously being my top two)#so... i'm seriously gonna agonize over every update i make for them now kjdhknjf #ocs with tragic backstories save me...................#i’ll probably spend a few hours with alessandria in cas and then i’m going back to google docs to write more abt mattodore

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prince-liest · 1 month

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“Describing Alastor's body from Vox's POV would be, uh, a time, let's just put it that way”

Dear god why has it never occurred to me that Vox’s POV of your 666 series would be the most unhinged horny nonsense in existence. His inner monologue must be fucking deranged. Alastor being the narrator was probably best for all of us tbh

Hahaha, arguably the most deranged moments are when Alastor himself pulls some truly unhinged bullshit and Vox manages to be appropriately disturbed for maybe about two seconds before it all gets aggressively sublimated into, "Alastor likes me!!!!!!! :)))))"

The shit that actually comes out of his mouth is already a bunch of deranged, horny nonsense, the stuff that's inside is more of the same except unfiltered and, honestly, probably more earnest than you'd initially expect. It's a lot of very explicit fantasies of ridiculous things Alastor would NOT understand the appeal of, punctuated by "wow" and "holy shit, can't believe he's letting me" and "THE TAIL, THE TAIL" and "oh my god wouldn't it be wild if I just—" before he realizes that he can indeed just do the thing. The "Vox's One-sided Psychosexual Obsession With Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)" tag is very much still in effect for a reason, hahaha. Cannot emphasize enough how down bad this man is.

#personal #ask #anonymous #666 live on air #my writing #alastor wants to eat vox in a very literal way #vox wants to eat alastor metaphorically so that alastor can just live in his stomach forever #man maybe i WILL write the next one from vox's pov that could be fun

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suddencolds · 3 months

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The Worst Timing | [4/?]

happy friday, everyone! here is part 4 (5.3k words) as a little pre-valentines-day installment :) [part 1] is here! this chapter was a pain to edit; i think i deleted + rewrote about a fifth of it in the revision process

anyways, i promised this chapter would be the wedding, so... please enjoy the wedding

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 a hectic morning.

Yves wakes up with the sinking realization that the medicine he took yesterday has worn off entirely. That is to say, he wakes up with the kind of unshakeable exhaustion he only feels when he’s coming down with something bad. His head is throbbing—sharp, cutting pain lances through his skull as soon as he finds it in himself to get out of bed.

All of that is inconsequential. He takes two pills from the cold/flu medicine blister pack with a generous few sips of water, brushes his teeth, washes his face in the sink with water cold enough to jolt him awake, and heads out.

He finds Aimee early, to ask her if she needs any help with anything. Then he makes himself available to the relatives that need him. There’s a last minute printing issue with the seating cards, so he goes through all of them again, finds the ones that are misprinted, talks extensively with the hotel’s front desk to explain what selection he needs to get reprinted and why, gets redirected towards the hotel’s business center, and finally gets them reprinted properly in one of the storerooms in the back. He lines the cards up and cuts them manually with a paper cutter he finds in one of the conference rooms on the first floor.

Then he takes a shuttle to the wedding venue to help set out all the seating cards according to a seating plan Genevieve texts him, but it’s windy enough outside that he has to find a way to weigh them all down. The venue has card holder stands, thankfully, but he doesn’t figure that out until he spends a good fifteen minutes asking around for them.

Then he waits twenty minutes in the cold for the shuttle back—the shuttles are thankfully in operation, but they’re running infrequently enough at this hour to be a slight inconvenience. By the time he gets on the shuttle, he’s shivering hard, even in his jacket, and his hands are almost numb from the cold.

The temperature certainly doesn’t help with the pressure in his sinuses, or with the sore throat that he’s had for a few days now. Perhaps it’s a blessing that the shuttle is near-empty save for him, because no one is there to question it when he ducks into his elbow with every loud, wrenching sneeze, or the coughing fit that almost inevitably follows.

When he gets back, he finds a sewing kit for Roy’s sister, Solaine—they don’t sell them at the convenience store downstairs, but he finds some in one of the tourist shops on the opposite end of the first floor of the hotel—for some last minute fixes to the way it’s hemmed. He delivers some safety pins from Victoire to one of his aunts, picks up breakfast pastries from the café across the street for his parents.

He takes a quick, hot shower, hot enough that the entire bathroom steams up because of it, and hopes that no one can hear the way every sneeze sounds so terribly, unnecessarily loud, even in the presence of his rapidly depleting voice. He rehearses his speech from memory and then rehearses it again, thinking through his notes on the pauses and the reflections. He irons his suit out, for good measure.

If he stops and lingers too long, it becomes quickly evident just how exhausted he is, just how unwell he feels when there’s nothing strictly keeping him on his feet. So instead, he makes himself useful where he can, busies himself with whatever he finds, if only because it’s the best distraction he can think of—if only because it’s the one distraction he has the luxury to take.

—

Lunch is a quick affair—he’s not especially hungry, and there will be more than enough food at the reception, so he grabs two pastries from downstairs, a coffee with two shots of espresso, and heads back up. Sitting down and eating them in the hotel room is somehow worse than running errands—like this, he can’t chalk his exhaustion up to his hectic morning, can’t attribute the heavy, shivery feeling that’s been following him all day the cold weather outside.

Three more hours until the wedding. Anticipation always feels the worst, like this, when it’s nearly inseparable from worry—just a tangle of emotions in his chest.

He exhales.

Vincent is off—somewhere. Getting lunch, maybe, or getting ready for the wedding somewhere else. Yves has exchanged maybe all of twenty words with him this morning—do you know if our room has a sewing kit? Or, I’m going to stop by the café downstairs. Do you want me to get you anything?

Truthfully, Yves isn’t feeling much better today. His nose is running a little less now, thanks to the cold medicine, but the headache that he’s had all morning hasn’t gotten any less persistent. Even with his suit jacket on, he still can’t quite manage to get warm. He’s sneezing a little less, but each sneeze catches him off guard, harsh and sudden and embarrassingly loud.

But Vincent—who is, on average, unusually perceptive—hasn’t said anything about any of it. Yves tries not to think too hard about it. The less Vincent is worried about him, the better. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with other things.

He finishes his pastries at the small coffee table in the living room, downs half of his coffee, and then leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes.

His head hurts. He feels dizzy, even though he’s sitting perfectly still—as if the ground beneath him isn’t quite as steady as it should be—a strange feeling of vertigo. Surely if he sits here for just awhile longer, that feeling will go away.

He doesn’t fall asleep, exactly, but it’s a close thing. The discomfort doesn’t let up, either—no amount of massaging his temples seems to make the headache any better, and no amount of shuteye seems to do anything to lessen the exhaustion he feels. Maybe if he takes a nap he’ll wake up feeling passably fine. But he thinks it’s just as likely that he’ll get woken up early—by a phone call, or a text, or a knock on the door—to be told that he’s needed somewhere, and that alone is enough of a deterrent to keep him from properly falling asleep.

From somewhere at the edge of consciousness, he hears footsteps out in the hallway.

Someone’s here, then. He should let them in. But before he can bring himself to stand up and head over to the door, he hears the sound of the room card being inserted into its slot, hears the click of the door as it unlocks.

Someone—Vincent—shuts the door quietly behind him. When he spots Yves, he looks a little surprised.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” he says.

Yves blinks. His face feels unusually hot. “I got lunch,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, I fidished it, but if I’d known you’d be getting back, I would’ve gotten somethidg for you.”

“I’m surprised you made it back,” Vincent says, leaving his shoes in a neat line at the door. “Are you done putting out all the fires now?” Yves laughs, though it turns into a cough. “For the foreseeable future, yes. Sorry i— hhH!” He twists over his shoulder, away from Vincent, to cover the sneeze in a manner that does not come at the expense of his suit jacket. “hHh-! iiDDzschh-IEW! snf-! Sorry I’ve barely been around this mornidg.”

Vincent is his own person—Yves has no doubt that he’s entirely self-sufficient when it comes to travel—but still, Yves is the only person Vincent really knows here. He’s not sure he can claim he’d be good company in his current state, but he feels like maybe he ought to be around more often—to translate, or to serve as the conversational buffer, or something else.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says, frowning. “You were busy.”

“Still. If we were actually datidg, I think this would make me a slightly terrible boyfriend.”

“If we were actually dating, I would understand that you have important things in your life to attend to,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “Like cutting sixty sheets of paper into even rectangles?”

“Is that what you were out doing all morning?”

“Among other things.”

“Then yes,” Vincent says. He stops just short of the coffee table where Yves is sitting. “Are you finally off of paper-cutting duty?”

“God, I hope so. Weddings are always so hectic, even if you’re only peripherally idvolved. It’s like everyone’s worried about things going wrong beforehand, but then when you finally get to them, they always go fine.”

“Have you been to a lot of weddings in your life?”

Yves considers this. “Cobpared to the average person? Probably.”

“Then you should listen to your own advice,” Vincent tells him.

“What?”

“It’s going to be fine.”

Yves blinks. If Vincent can tell that he is nervous after a three minute conversation with him, then Yves must really not be doing a good job at hiding it.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he says. He really is tired. Maybe another cup of coffee, or two, will help—he can hardly think of anything more mortifying than nodding off halfway through the vows. “I don’t think I’ll forgive mbyself if it doesn’t.”

—

It’s a near-perfect wedding.

The weather is as temperate as it gets at this time of year. It’s sunny out, and brisk enough that no one feels stuffy in their suit jackets and their summer dresses.

The wedding venue is like something out of a storybook—the white stone paths, arcing around a circular fountain, the water a clear, searing blue; the rows and rows of flowers that crowd around it. Flowers—roses, peonies, tulips, gardenias—line the walkways, strung up over arches in crisscrossing rows of sprawling green leaves.

When Aimee and Genevieve walk down the aisle, Leon grins; Victoire turns away to wipe at her eyes. When they say their vows, Yves feels a tightness in his chest, a fierce sort of pride. He knew, of course, that this moment would make him emotional.

But nothing compares to seeing them here, right here, smiling. Aimee’s hair is half up, half down, held in place with a half moon clip that winks white under the sunshine. Genevieve is wearing a long white dress—her hair is braided into a crown, threaded with flowers, a translucent lace veil settling over her shoulders. The afternoon sunlight trickles over them, gleaming. And Yves—

Yves has always believed in love.

Perhaps it’s overly idealistic—he’s certainly been told as much before—but he believes in it still. He believed in it even before he started dating Erika, and he believed in it after they broke up, too. It’s not so much the idea that people can be soulmates, more the idea that people can spend thirty or fifty or seventy years together and not tire of each other, the idea that the little mundanities of life might be made special in the presence of someone whose existence sublimates them endlessly into interest. The idea that two people who may not ever fully understand each other might try, ceaselessly, to get close.

He remembers: hearing about Genevieve, over text and over call; at first peripherally, but then frequently. He regrets, sometimes, that he wasn’t there more for the both of them, that he could only help from an ocean away with celebrations and holidays and special events, that he still doesn’t know Genevieve as well as he’d like to.

But a part of him thinks, now, that maybe it was a privilege, too, watching from afar. Hearing about the dates secondhand, from Aimee, all of it filtered through her own excitement—hearing Aimee talk about everything that left an impression on her. It would have been different, of course, if he had really been there. But in a way, it is a little fitting that his first impression of Genevieve—his first mental portrait of her—was by someone who was already already half in love with her.

And he remembers: Aimee, unusually quiet one night over Facetime, sitting cross legged in the living room of their new apartment. The world, dark outside through the living room windows, even though for him it was only mid afternoon. The way she’d smiled, wistful, staring off into the distance at some point he couldn’t see. I think I might marry her, she had said.

She had said it like she was certain. He finds himself going back to that moment, to her certainty. He’s always wondered—how had she known? How had she been so sure of it, even then?

But the way Genevieve takes Aimee’s hands, during the vow—the way her hands tremble slightly with it, the particular carefulness with which she handles the ring—all of it makes him think that he’s been right to believe in this, in them, in love. After all, what more convincing proof is there than this?

—

All in all, it is nearly perfect.

Nearly, save for how unwell he feels, how self conscious he is about not making it expressly known. Yves shivers through the entire ceremony, occasionally lifting the collar of his suit jacket to muffle a harsh, wrenching sneeze into the fabric. He’ll get it dry cleaned later. Beside him, Vincent looks to him, his head tilted in question—and, after Yves smiles apologetically at him—says nothing.

He makes it through, as a combination of everything—the adrenaline, the cold medicine, the four espressos he’d had this morning and the energy drink he’d downed right before the ceremony to keep himself awake.

He doesn’t have a thermometer, doesn’t know what kind of temperature he’s running, but he has a hunch that it’s higher than it should be. It’s freezing outside—cold enough that he can’t keep himself from shivering, even when he tries—but no one else seems to be as cold as he is. He can only hope, now, that no one else notices him ducking into his jacket, periodically, to catch another sneeze, or wiping his nose on the back of his hand to keep it from openly running.

The world looks fever-bright, fuzzy around some edges but unusually sharp around others. He’s awake, but in the sort of uncomfortable, all-consuming way where it feels like he’s too nervous to get any sleep at all.

He feels only half-present during the cocktail hour, while Aimee and Genevieve take their pictures. He thinks he should make himself useful somehow—help with positioning props for photos or with setting up the proper lighting or whatever else—or, at the very least, converse with the relatives that he hasn’t had much of a chance to catch up with yet.

Instead, he sits, half hunched over at one of the side tables, and tries not to shiver too visibly. His head hurts with the sort of sharp, incessant pain that makes it near-impossible to focus on anything else.

“Are you okay?” Vincent asks him.

Yves looks over to him. Vincent looks concerned—his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth set into a frown—and Yves—

Yves considers it, for a moment: telling Vincent the truth. That it’s taking everything in him to appear even remotely presentable. That a part of him is nervous that he’ll crash before he gives his speech. That he might have overestimated his own ability to get through four more hours of this, outside in the cold.

“Of course,” he says instead, with the best smile he can muster, because what else is there to say?

He doesn’t end up having any drinks, even though he’s usually a fan of cocktails. Leon offers him one, and when Yves shakes his head, shrugs and heads off to find someone else, which Yves thinks is probably the best. He’s a little too out of it to keep tabs on where all the others are—there are enough people that it’d be hard to spot everyone in the first place, but like this, it feels impossible.

And Vincent is… surprisingly, absent, for much of it. Yves considers texting him a couple times, just to see where he might be, but then decides against it. If Vincent has found something fun to do, then Yves definitely isn’t going to keep him from doing it.

Except, a small part of him says, he’d explicitly told Vincent not to worry about him. It doesn’t have to be your problem, he’d said, and Vincent had stared back at him, blankly, except was his expression really blank, then? Hadn’t he seemed a little hurt? After all of this is over, Yves really ought to apologize to him for all of the trouble—for making this whole wedding a lot more stressful than it should’ve been.

Vincent had known, after all, that he was nervous just this morning, even though Yves hadn’t wanted for it to show. And perhaps Vincent has always been perceptive, but Yves likes to think he isn’t always so obvious. Vincent is here to enjoy his vacation in France, first and foremost. Yves doesn’t want anything—not the fever he feels brewing, not the nervousness he feels regarding the wedding—to get in the way of that.

But right now, Vincent is nowhere to be found, so he tables the apology for later. For now, he just has to get through the entirety of the wedding. He spends a good part of the hour in the same seat, blowing his nose into cocktail napkins, wishing he had packed something warmer that would fit the dress code.

He makes polite conversation with whoever stops by, and tries—and fails—to ignore the fact that it feels like his head is going to split. Maybe he should’ve picked up some aspirin at the convenience store, too, though it’s not like he has the time to go back and get it now. And, anyways, as painful as it is, it’s really just a headache. How bad could it be?

—

At six, he finds his seat for dinner. A couple minutes later, Vincent takes a seat next to him. Yves turns to speak to him, only, he has to turn away to muffle a throat-scraping fit of coughs into his elbow.

The coughing fit lasts longer than he anticipates. When he looks up at last, Vincent is already in conversation with the person next to him, who Yves recognizes to be one of Genevieve’s friends—perhaps one of the ones he ate dinner with the night before, though Yves can’t be sure. Yves hunts down another cocktail napkin to blow his nose into—it’s starting to run worse now that the sun is starting to set.

When it comes time to give his toast, he’s afraid, for a moment, that he might forget what to say. That he might trip up mid-speech, despite all of the practice. That his current affliction might make itself clearly, embarrassingly apparent right when everyone’s attention is focused on him.

But the speech goes well. He gives his speech in French. His voice is noticeably off, but he hasn’t lost it entirely, and if he has to resort to clearing his throat as quietly as he can in between sentences, it’s a small sacrifice. Aimee giggles at the anecdote he tells about her in grad school, texting him about meeting Genevieve for the first time at a networking event. He throws in a couple inside jokes—references to things he’s heard his extended family laugh about during their yearly summer reunions, things that he can tie back into the wedding that he hopes might land well with this audience—and then he tells everyone about a surprise party he worked with Genevieve to plan, last summer, for Aimee’s birthday: how she’d stayed up late to make sure everything was carefully accounted for. How he’d known, then, from how seriously she was taking it, by how well she seemed to know Aimee already, that she would be the one.

The jokes seem to land, for the way everyone—buoyed from the adrenaline of the wedding and in part thanks to the cocktails, he’s sure—laughs, and by the end, Genevieve is beaming, and Aimee breaks tradition to run up to him and give him a tight hug. After that, he asks everyone to raise their glasses in a toast—“To Aimee and Genevieve,” he says, “what a joy it is to see the team you’ve been rooting for win,” and the room erupts into clamor—into applause and cheer and the resounding clinking of glasses.

Then someone he recognizes as one of Genevieve’s closest friends stands to give her toast, and for the first time today, Yves lets himself relax in his seat. Only, it isn’t really relaxing—after all of the caffeine, he feels simultaneously exhausted and strangely, artificially alert, in a way that feels a little wrong.

The rest of the wedding should be smooth sailing, he thinks. The ceremony is over. His speech was fine. He just needs to stay through dinner and the cake cutting, and then he can ride the shuttle back with everyone else, and then—

—And then he’ll be back at his hotel room, where he can apologize to Vincent for perhaps being the very reason why this vacation hasn’t been as stress-free as it should’ve been, considering that it’s likely one of the few reprieves he and Vincent are supposed to get until busy season winds down.

He blinks, rubs a hand over his face, sniffling. He really does feel dizzy.

It’s usually like this. Yves thinks he should probably be wiser by now. If there’s anything he’s learned from past experiences—attending that end-of-semester crew meeting with the flu, or getting through the second half of finals week his senior year of university with a high fever—it’s that half a week of ignoring all of his symptoms is going to catch up to him eventually.

Usually he’s better at defining what constitutes eventually.

He feels a familiar prickle in his nose—the kind that he knows once he gives in to will plague him for the rest of the hour. The cold medicine must be wearing off. Better to do this elsewhere—anywhere instead of here, on the courtyard, where everyone is eating dinner.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Vincent. Then, without waiting for a response, he rises from his seat and heads off in the direction of the nearest restroom. There’s one in the main building, past the catering stations, the ballroom, the indoor bar.

“Hey, Yves,” someone—his sister—says, when he’s halfway to the building.

He stops walking. “What’s up?”

“You nailed that speech,” she says.

“In no small part thadks to you,” Yves says, forcing himself to turn and face her with a smile. “I’m glad we cut it down. And by we I mean, mostly you.”

“You were a hit,” Victoire says. “And it was funny. I liked the anecdotes you picked. I don’t think people would’ve minded if it were longer.”

“Three mbidutes was the perfect length. Ady longer and people would’ve started losidg idterest— hHh-!” Yves thinks, a little frustratedly, that he always has the most inconvenient timing. “Excuse mbe, I— HHehh!” He lifts his arm to his face, twisting away. “hHhEH’iiDZSSchh’iiEW!”

When he turns back around to face her, Victoire is staring at him with the sort of calculating look that Yves is sure is not a good thing.

“You’re still sick?” she asks.

He blinks at her. “A little,” he says. “I’ll get some sleep todight.”

She nods. “Does Vincent know?”

The question startles him into laughing, which he immediately regrets, for the way it makes him cough. “That I’mb sick?” he asks. “Yeah, I’d assume so. We share a room.”

“Assume? So you haven’t talked to him about it?”

“Whether or ndot I have a cold is not the mbost enthralling conversation topic,” Yves says.

“But you’re dating,” she says, as if that explains everything.

It explains nothing. “Yes, glad you ndoticed.”

“I just mean that — I mean, he got breakfast with us the other day, which you weren’t there for, and then we had the rehearsal dinner, which he wasn’t invited to. And during the cocktail hour, you were sitting alone.”

“I’mb not sure where you’re goidg with this,” Yves says, if only because he doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now. “But if you’re wondering whether—” He veers away again, pressing his arm to his face. “hh… Hehh-! hhHH’GKTT-SHHiiew!Ugh, sorry… Hh… HEHh’IIDZZSCHh-yyEEew! snf-! If you’re wondering whether we got into a fight, or sobething, then the answer is no.”

“It’s not that.” Victoire hesitates, for a moment, as if she’s still thinking about what to say. She probably is. She’s always been deliberate with her words. “It kind of seems like—well, like you’re doing that thing you always do.”

“What thidg I always do?”

“You know.” She looks at him, her expression carefully, deceptively neutral. “Avoiding the people who care about you when something’s wrong.”

“I have ndo idea what you’re talking about.” Yves glances wistfully over to the bathroom. “I do really ndeed to pee, you know.”

He half expects her to press, but she just sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Don’t let me keep you.”

It’s a convenient out, and he takes it. The walk over is thankfully not too long—the bathroom turns out to be located just a couple hallways down from the entrance, but it’s hidden enough that it’s a little hard to find. For now, that’s a good thing.

He imagines the wedding party might move inside shortly after dinner, but as it stands, the building is mercifully empty. The restroom on the first floor is nicer than expected—warm lighting, floor to ceiling mirrors, polished white sinks on a black granite countertop. He braces himself against the countertop, suppressing another shiver.

His nose is running slightly. He reaches over and grabs a couple paper towels from the dispenser, just to be safe.

It’s not a moment too early. It’s only moments after that he’s pitching forwards into the paper towels with a harsh—

“HhH’iiDZSSCHh-IIEW!”

The sound echoes off the tiled walls. Yves finds himself coughing, afterwards. The medicine must really be wearing off, then, for the way his nose is starting to run incessantly—for the way the discomfort prickles at his skin, suggesting a fever. It’s a good thing there’s no one here to see him like this.

“hHEHh’iIZssCHH-iiEW! snf-! hHEh… HDDt’TSSCHH-iEEW!” The sneezes are harsher than usual, too, and forceful enough to snap him forward at the waist. He stays hunched over for a moment, steadying himself with the side of the countertop, and tries, somewhat unsuccessfully, to catch his breath.

The bathroom feels frigidly cold. He shivers, reaches up with trembling hands to try to button up his suit. His nose is starting to tickle again. It feels like he might be here forever, like one wrong breath might be enough to—

“hhH…. hHEH…. hhHEH’DJJJSHH’iiEEW!” The paper towels in his hand must be drenched now, but before he can get a chance to replace them, his breath catches again. “hhEH’GKTT-SHhhEw!” It’s immediately clear, from the subsequent twinge in his nose, that he’s not done. For a moment, he wonders if the sneezes will ever let up—if he’ll be stuck in the bathroom all evening, trying to keep his illness under wraps.

Before he can entertain the thought properly, he finds himself jerking forward again, his eyes snapping shut—

“Hehh… hEHh’IIZSCHH-YYEEW! hHihhH’-iiTsSHHH-YYEW!”

He blows his nose, as gently as he can, but the paper towel is rougher against his skin. When he looks up afterwards, blinking tears out of his vision, his nose looks noticeably red.

It takes all the resolve in him to not just slump against the wall.

His next breath comes in wrong, and he finds himself coughing—harsh, grating coughs which seem to go on and on, leaving him feeling distinctly lightheaded.

He can’t stay here. He needs to make it back to dinner, where the others are waiting for him. He has to get back before Vincent starts wondering where he’s gone.

Yves squeezes his eyes shut. If he’s being honest with himself, he feels awful. Nothing he does seems to do anything to assuage the chill that’s settled persistently over him, the uncomfortable, shivery feeling that makes him want to curl up somewhere warm, sleep the next day and a half away.

Would it be so bad for him to stay here for just a little longer? To send a text to Vincent to let him know he’ll be back in twenty? It’s not the most comfortable of places, but it would be the easiest to explain if someone ends up finding him here. Anywhere else might suggest that he has a big enough problem to deliberately hide away instead of properly enjoying the festivities, like he should be doing, which is not the impression he wants to give off at all.

He tries to think of a convincing enough excuse, but nothing he can think of takes precedence over a wedding dinner, of all things. It should be fine if he goes back now, but any longer might be pushing things.

And, anyways, he feels guilty for even considering it. The others are waiting for him. He has to show up, and at the very least, be courteous where he has to, make pleasant conversation when he can. He has to make sure Aimee and Genevieve are having fun, and that Leon and Victoire are doing fine, and that nothing needs to get done logistically, and that Vincent is not there alone, surrounded by strangers speaking a language he’s just started to learn.

His head is pounding. He tosses the paper towels into the bin, leans his weight against the countertop, squeezes his eyes shut. The exhaustion from the past few days of on-and-off sleep must be catching up with him. His head is pounding.

He can do this. More aptly put, it’s not a question of whether he can. He has to do this.

He splashes his face with cold water, washes his hands in the sink, dries his face with another generous handful of paper towels, and heads towards the door. He feels almost too tired to stand, but that’s only a temporary concern. It won’t be a problem once he gets back to his seat.

Everyone is waiting for him, he tells himself. Soon, they might be asking where he’s gone. He needs to show them that he’s there—present and attentive and engaged, just like he promised everyone he’d be. No one expects any less of him, after all.

It’s with that in mind that he presses forward. He makes it down a couple hallways before he finds himself having to lean against the wall to catch his balance, shutting his eyes against the sudden wave of disorientation. He inhales, slowly. Exhales.

Fuck. Perhaps he’s dizzier than he’d expected.

“Yves?” He freezes. Vincent is not supposed to be here. Vincent can’t see him right now, not in this state. He forces himself to smile. “What’s up?”

“You disappeared,” Vincent says. “I wanted to make sure…”

His voice shutters, sounding distant and close by all at once. “...that everything was okay.”

“It is,” Yves says. “I was just about to head back.” “We can head back together,” Vincent says. It’s not that long of a walk—just a couple minutes, at most, to the exit Vincent presumably came in from, and then back down the stone path that leads to the courtyard.

“You didn’t have to come find me. I’m really fine.” Yves shifts his weight off from the wall. Takes a couple steps halting towards the exit, which is a mistake.

It all registers simultaneously: the darkness encroaching upon the edges of his vision, the surge of panic in his chest. The world, suddenly angled wrongly, tilts towards him. He thinks he is definitely going to owe Vincent an apology.

[ Part 5 ]

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snzfic #spoilers for this chapter ahead:#(do not read these tags if you have not read the chapter yet)#(one more line so that this doesn't show up unless you click read more)#i... am sorry. i know the ending to this chapter is probably going to be controversial (glances at the poll i made awhile back)#but i really wanted to write it 😭#(you are free to yell at me for this decision)#i almost lost my nerve and let this sit in my drafts forever because the wedding was incredibly difficult to write but #i finished editing it today after drinking something very caffeinated #yvverse #my fic

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