#listen i'll get there someday

[egophiliac]

ten minutes into the trip and already Leona's elaborate get-out-of-work-free plan has gone wildly off the rails. off to a great start!

[suddencolds]

insatiable appetite [1/?]

sooo... this is one of the thirstiest things i have written—and also one of the only times i've written a character with the kink, ever T.T warnings in advance for mess, character getting sneezed on, implied contagion, possible ooc-ness, & me writing this entirely with my d instead of my head

ivan and till are from al//ien sta//ge (a very fun watch which will only take 30 mins out of your life; i really recommend it!!). that said, this fic takes place in a modern au setting, so feel free to read it without any prior context :)

special thanks to @6pmsoup for sending me a very cute alnst doodle of these two which altered my brain chemistry permanently

—

Summary: Till shows up to a dinner outing with a brewing cold. Ivan suffers. (est. relationship, kink!Ivan, ~2k words)

—

For all Till tries to hide it, Ivan can tell immediately.

There’s this: Ivan has been paying attention to Till for most of his life. A full decade before they’d gotten together officially, and some more—this is how long Ivan has had to observe his tells. Always from the sidelines, always with a detached air of indifference that, in reality, was anything but.

All the signs are there the night before. Till, turning up the thermostat a couple degrees higher than he usually keeps it. Spending a little too long in the shower and using up almost all of the hot water. Clearing his throat one too many times in the morning before Ivan leaves for work, his smile distracted, the rasp of his voice nearly indistinguishable—but only nearly.

Now, Till is here for dinner—it’s a dinner they’ve had plans for a couple weeks now, at one of the nicer restaurants downtown, in celebration of Till’s recent promotion. Ivan had booked the reservation a couple weeks in advance.

When Till arrives, stepping out of a taxi cab, he’s wearing a scarf, even though the weather is too warm for it. Ivan steps up to meet him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Till says. “Traffic here was the worst I’ve ever seen it, swear to god.”

“Was it cold outside today?” Ivan asks, a little pointedly, tilting his head towards his scarf.

Till looks at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Colder than usual, for this time of year.”

“Strange,” Ivan says, just to be difficult. “But the weather forecast says it’s the same temperature today as yesterday.” 

“It’s probably just windier today,” Till says, readjusting his scarf around his neck. His face is a little flushed.

“Your voice sounds a little off, though.”

Till clears his throat with a scowl. “You must be imagining it,” he says. “It always sounds like this.”

No admission, then. That’s fine. Ivan will get the truth out of him at some point. He lets Till guide him into the restaurant.

It’s a nice restaurant—worth the hassle of the reservation, Ivan thinks. Each table is set with flowers arranged tastefully in long glass vases, empty wine glasses turned on their heads. The server—who leads them to their table in a small, private booth—is wearing a suit.

It’s a shame, really. Ivan has a feeling that he won’t be able to pay attention to any of that tonight.

They sit. Ivan looks down at the menu, picks out something at random in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, he can hardly think of anything less worth his attention right now. He turns his attention to Till instead—Till, who’s seated directly across from him, the scarf still around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face. 

Till sniffles, reaching down to turn the page, and oh. The sniffle is terribly liquid—has he been sniffling like that all afternoon? Perhaps it’s a good thing that they work at different offices—Till at a law firm, Ivan as a senior manager at a consulting company—because Ivan certainly doesn’t think he’d be able to get any work done with Till sniffling like that. 

It’s not two minutes later that Till is reaching up to wipe his nose against the back of one knuckle. All in all, it’s discreet. Just a quick brush of the fingers against his nose, which is still hidden under the scarf. Though, the look of sheer ticklishness that passes over his features for a brief moment there is...

“What are you thinking of ordering?” Ivan asks.

“I can’t decide,” Till answers. He turns the page again. “It’s between the ribeye steak and the… snf! The pork belly. Is this the kind of place that skimps on the portion sizes?”

“Not from their Yelp reviews,” Ivan says. “You know, if you really can’t decide, I can flip a coin.”

“I’ll pick,” Till says. “Why? Hungry already?”

He looks up, now. His eyes are a little watery. There’s a faint flush over the bridge of his nose. Ivan thinks that if he reached out and touched him, he’d probably be running warm. The thought is almost unbearable.

“Your taxi did take forever to arrive,” Ivan says, by way of explanation. 

“Did you really wait that long?”

He looks uncertain, for a moment. Ivan says, “Not at all. But you know, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”

Till rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “There was a meeting that ran late. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Is that also a part of your new position?” “I guess so, yeah.”

“I can see why they were eager to promote you, then,” Ivan says. “How productive can late afternoon meetings be, anyways?”

Till snorts. “Not that important. It definitely could have been an email instead. I was about ready to doze off.”

He sniffles again. “Okay. I think I know what I want.” The way he says know betrays the slightest hint of congestion. 

“At long last,” Ivan says, just to be a little bit of an ass. “I’ll call over the waiter.”

He flags their waiter down, waits for Till to order first.

“A spiced apple cider,” Till adds on, at the end, with the slightest of coughs. “Hot, if you can.”

That’s new, too. Till seldom orders hot drinks at restaurants, though he’ll drink tea without complaint if it’s offered. Perhaps his throat hurts, then, from the cold that has clearly started to settle in his system. Subtle, still, but Ivan is familiar with colds like this. He knows it will probably only be a few hours before this deceptively “small” cold turns into…

Ivan orders, too, and thanks the waiter, who leaves with a curt nod. When he looks back over to Till, there’s a… strange something to Till’s expression, a slight distractedness. Irritation.

Ivan swallows hard. He should look away. 

He should, but then, Till’s breath hitches. He pulls the scarf higher over his face preemptively, as if he anticipates having something to have to cover for. The sharp intake of breath that follows is breathy, though Ivan can hear Till’s voice in it. He should really look away.

Instead, he takes the scene in, painstakingly, little by little, as Till’s shoulders jerk forwards. As Till presses a hand to the scarf, presses the fabric closer to his face, to muffle a sneeze into his fingertips:

“hhH-Ih!! hiHH-’IESCHH-eew-!”

God. It sounds utterly miserable, the harsh release of it scraping against his throat, the spray tearing into his scarf. It’s the kind of cold sneeze that is undeniably telling: this is going to be one hell of a cold. It’s not very quiet, either, even muffled into the fabric.

For more reasons than one, Ivan is glad they’re in a private corner of the restaurant, not somewhere more public.

“Bless you,” he offers, once he can trust himself to speak. It’s a good thing that Till is too distracted to look up at him right now. Ivan isn’t sure he can keep what he’s feeling off of his face.

Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to endure a whole night of this.

The problem here is that Till—Till, of all people; Till, who Ivan has been pathetically in love with for almost as long as he can remember—has no idea about Ivan’s… relatively niche interests. That is to say, he has no idea what effect it has on Ivan when he does that.

“Thanks,” Till says, a little stuffily. He sniffles again, lowering his hand. 

Ivan can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning, but he can feel his self-control dwindling by the second. “Don’t you think it would be better to take off your scarf, now that we’re inside?”

Till freezes. “Y-You know what,” he says evasively. “It’s pretty cold in here.”

Ivan tilts his head in question. “And just how do you plan on eating like that?”

“I’ll take it off when our food comes.”

“I can ask the waiter to turn the temperature up, if it’s a problem,” Ivan says. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Ivan rises from his seat. Till watches him, perplexed, as he heads to the opposite side of the table, where Till is seated.

When he gets there, he stops. Stands, unmoving, so he can study Till from above. 

“What are you—”

Ivan reaches out, settles his palm across Till’s forehead. As expected, it’s warm. Not quite feverish, which is a good sign, but warm enough to be notable. 

“Just how long were you intending to hide this?”

Till stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Hide what?”

Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The fact that you have a cold.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Till says, slowly.

“Hmm.” Ivan drops his hand to his side. He is a little concerned, now. “We could’ve called a rain check.”

This time Till really does roll his eyes. “For the reservation we planned weeks ahead?” he sniffles again. “That just sounds completely and utterly unnecessary. Are you the type of person to call things off just over a little cold?” 

Ivan leans over, tugs down the edge of Till’s scarf. Till bats his hand away just a moment too late, cups his other hand over his face to shield his face from view. For a moment, he looks faintly mortified.

Then his expression settles into something more disgruntled. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

So uncooperative. “Let me see,” Ivan says. Slowly, gently, he pries Till’s hands away from his face, and then—because the restaurant is dimly lit—tilts Till’s face up slightly so that it catches more of the overhead light. 

Till’s nose is redder than usual. He’s probably been rubbing it all afternoon, if the redness that percolates into his cheeks is any indication. There’s  a damp, liquid sheen on the underside of his nose.

“What’s there to see?” Till says, a little crossly.

“Your face, since you’ve been so intent on hiding it under that scarf,” Ivan says, leaning in to get a better look.

Till scowls at him, but there’s no heat to it. “You see my face every day.”

“On the contrary, I don’t see it nearly enough,” Ivan says. “And you hardly ever get sick. Is it so wrong for me to be concerned?”

Without looking, he reaches behind him with one hand to grab a couple cocktail napkins. The other hand he keeps held up to Till’s cheek. 

But then, Till’s breath hitches. “Wait,” he says. Panic flashes through his face. “Ivan, move, I—”

Oh. Well, seeing as there’s no way he’ll be able to get the napkins over in time, it looks like he’ll have to improvise. If Till wants to cover, Ivan can help with that. He moves his hand to cup it loosely over Till’s mouth. Not a second too late, it seems. Till jerks forward unceremoniously, his nose twitching, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHheh-! HHh’EIITShHh’yYiew!” he gasps sharply. Two? “Hh-! hHiiH’DSSCSSHh-IIew!”  

The jolt of the sneezes is practically electrifying—all of that force, brought to an abrupt halt behind Ivan’s waiting palm. He feels the expulsion of air against his skin, the warmth of Till’s breath, feels the slight dampness behind his hand as the spray mists over his fingertips.

Ivan swallows, hard. Thank god it’s so dark here, otherwise Till might notice what this is doing to him. 

“Bless you,” he says, withdrawing his hand at last to wipe it on one of the cloth napkins. It comes out slightly raspier than he intends it to, though perhaps it’s a miracle that he’s still able to talk at all. “Some cold, hmm?” Belatedly, he hands Till the stack of napkins.

Till practically snatches them from him, turns aside to blow his nose wetly into the top few. The way he sniffles afterwards suggests that his nose is still very much running. 

“Do you have no self preservation? It’s as if you want to catch this,” Till says, drawing back with another sniffle.

Oh, Ivan thinks, fighting back a shiver. That would be far from the worst thing.

[whisperingn1ghts]

Sirius!! 🐾

[biblooky]

I have yet to listen to tmagp since it came out which sucks in terms of, I payed the kickstarter for early access and I haven't used that privilege yet 😅 but also tumblr has no concept of spoiler warnings, so I've already gotten a lot of stuff about it shown to me. And like, I'm still going to love the show regardless of what spoilers I know about it, but it's kinda a bummer 🤷‍♀️

[seaofreverie]

I knew about the post concert depression but no one told me about the post concert constant feeling of AAAAAAAAAHHH that lasts days and makes everything much more bearable and beautiful and some sort of ethereal type of hope is restored into the world, or maybe it's just the "seeing your favourite band after first thinking that it would never happen and later spending many months waiting for it all the while fearing that it wouldn't happen after all because of circumstances outside my control or feeling like it was too beautiful and wonderful to be true so ofc it wouldn't come true" part of it all

[inniave]

like the wind, it carries me away

[elysianasterism]

voiton puolella...

[thisisallthehattersfault]

The more research I do for worldbuilding in MDZS the more research I want to do for worldbuilding in MDZS like. Ugh! Obviously any time you start looking into another culture’s folk magic and spiritual practices you’re going to end up absolutely nose-deep in an ocean of incredibly fascinating and complex ideas and concepts and if you’re a nerd like me that’s always going to feel like discovering a brand new playground for the first time but it’s so much worse when I have specific ideas for ways I want to utilize that knowlege.

Like! Did you know! That Daoist talismans (Fulu 符箓) are not just written incantations based off of Hanzi the way that I guess I always kind of assumed they were -- they’re ideographs that combine written language with pictures and symbols, and even the language parts do not strictly need to match the way the character is supposed to be written. It’s like a code, a cypher language made in a combination of pictographs and altered characters that are then stacked and stitched together, and the specific method for creating these incantations differed from sect to sect! It was a secret, the exact structure and rules to your sect’s specific code was different than other sects might use!

Which means I could theoretically come up with the cypher systems that each of the MDZS sects use for their talismans and even come up with strengths and weaknesses and stuff for each of them! Which is so cool

But first I need to know more about real-world Fulu and their structure and that requires so much reading. Do I have time? Can I make time?

I need five more of me.

[starpros-sunshine]

Need to do something about mindless scrolling habit but I am sooo tired and I want to keep mindlessly scrolling but also I want to throw my phone out of my window and regain my creativity and drive to do stuff when I was young and not constantly reading something or other on my phone.

[kinetic-chaos]

Silver is so Odysseus (Epic the musical) coded, does anyone else see this? I've got to make something with it one of these days.

Here's a few lyrics that really stand out to me as Silver-coded.

All songs are linked!

"Find that inner strength now, use that well of pride. Ask yourself inside; what do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?" - The Horse and the Infant

"A vision of what is to come, cannot be outrun. Can only be dealt with right here and now. Tell me how. I don't think you're ready. A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run. Unlike anyone you've faced before. Say no more, I know that I'm ready." - The Horse and the Infant

"If we're defeated they're good as dead. Straight ahead, that is who we're fighting. No backup, no chance for support. So draw out your swords, our foe must be thwarted right here and now. Show me how great is your will to survive?" - Survive

"Six hundred lives at stake, it's just one life to take! And when we kill him then our journey's over..." - Survive

"The line between naivety and hopefulness is almost invisible. So close your heart, the world is dark and ruthlessness is mercy..." - Ruthlessness

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes. I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died." - The Underworld

"Nothing's what it seems, and here in The Underworld the past seems close behind." - The Underworld

And my personal favorite, Monster.

"How has everything been turned against us? How did suffering become so endless?"

"What if I'm the monster? What if I'm in the wrong? What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"What if I'm the one who killed you every time I cave to guilt? What if I've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?"

"If I became the monster and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger? Would it keep our foes at bay?"

"If I became the monster to everyone but us and made sure we got home again, who would care if we're unjust?"

"Five hundred men gone, this can't go on... So if we must sail through dangerous oceans and beaches, I'll go where Poseidon won't reach us."

"And if I have to drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die? Then I'll become the monster, I will deal the blow."

"And I'll become the monster like none they've ever known. So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below? I must become the monster, and then we'll make it home."

[mobi-gg]

he hates fleas

[thatscarletflycatcher]

The Charles Paris mysteries suffer from that classic blunder/trope of "wherever this specific person goes, murder follows", but I can forgive it, because the shenanigans. The play within the play.

One time Charles Paris gets hired to play a villain in a cheap tv adaptation of a detective period drama, and no one involved in the production gives a hoot about the source material, and the authors are fuming about it and even invite Charles to tea to examine him and see if he had the soul of the character.

One time he gets hired to play sir Toby Belch on Twelfth Night, the director is a friend, he's SO HYPED but then the director is sabotaged and out of commission and is replaced by a Romanian avant garde director that goes full on on all the interpretative clichès like "this is all about sex" and "characters wearing t-shirts with sharpie-on protest slogans".

One time he gets hired as a mall santa, and on his first day he gets pissed on more than once, and discovers he's allergic to the beard glue. He's then hired to work in a Cinderella panto, and as his coworkers start getting killed, he keeps switching roles till he ends up playing one of the wicked stepsisters.

And in general Simon Brett does so much with the settings that way, it's very forgivable and enjoyable.

Also Bill Nighy stars in the radio dramas and he's a treasure.

[queensabriel]

If no one else has got me, I know the lady at Dunkin's got me

[delivish]

‎

[skrunksthatwunk]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Majima Goro & Sagawa Tsukasa Characters: Majima Goro, Sagawa Tsukasa Additional Tags: Genderfluid Majima Goro, Mentioned Saejima Taiga, he's not here though, majima gets dress coded (devastating), Solitary Confinement, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, yeah this one's not pretty sorry guys, Homophobia, Mental Breakdown, thinking about sagawa's sparrow thinking about sagawa's sparrow thinking about sagawa's sparrow th, featuring an oc: majima's shitty unnamed landlord, Abuse, look i don't know how to classify it in particular but it's. Not Good. You Know How It Is With Them, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, in a very traditional sense like. the warnings are no joke, Hurt/Comfort, In The Worst Way Possible, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, ooh yeah forgot those tags exist. need those for sure, THE PLOT CAN ALSO BE DESCRIBED AS FIVE NIGHTS AT MAJIMA'S PLUS BONUS NIGHTS, also majima accidentally almost gives himself a gay earring situation, which. in hindsight is not explained well, basically around that time gay men used to wear an earring on their right ear, to signal that they were gay. majima's is on his left he's just scared, and sagawa is either messing with him or an old fart who doesn't know hip gay things, take your pick, Relationship Study, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary:

"Woaahh, hold up there, Tiger. What's going on here?" Sagawa said. "What?" Sagawa reached for his face. Majima tensed up as Sagawa's hand brushed the taut cord of his eyepatch. He couldn't tell what he was doing until his hot, sweaty fingers pinched his earlobe. "You pierce this yourself?" "Yeah." "God, it looks awful."

or, in short, majima gets dress coded and sent to gay baby jail

HEY I UH. I MADE A FIC IF YOU GUYS WANNA READ IT. NO PRESSURE OBVIOUSLY

[tenacquity]

we joke about k//azu.ma saying anything he wants in front of god and everyone, but can we talk about ryuu for a second bc like

he does the exact same thing just... less inappropriate and shameless and more oblivious???

boy has 0 filter in an "I have judgmental thoughts and will absolutely just announce them right to your face w/o realizing how rude that sounds" way

and we love him for it he gets a free pass most of the time he's right anyway, so ┐(´ー｀)┌