#and i wrote the damn thing

[seismologically-silly]

my thesis is 50 pages not counting abstract, references, and appendices. o7 to my lab partner, whom my advisor asked to peer edit it

[goldenflowers]

isabeau's confession at the end of ISAT is constantly living rent-free in my head it's so fucking good. right now i'm obsessed with the way he responds to siffrin saying "i love you too" because just. imagine you're siffrin and for so long now you've believed that you were horrible disgusting manipulative unloved and unworthy of love and yet. your best friend is telling you he loves you. and you feel that you love him too (in what way? the same way that he loves you? you're not quite sure yet, but stars, you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest, he means so much to you) so you tell him so.

and he responds by telling you he already knew that because he has eyes.

you're siffrin and you are kind passionate protective and so loved and full of love for your friends, your family, and yet you hate yourself so, so deeply that you don't see any of that but isabeau does. according to him it's written all over your face, apparently--the face you're always trying so hard to hide with your hat, which as the universe would have it, you don't have anymore!! and he sees you and he loves you and he knows you love him back, even after you said and did such horrible, cruel things to him and the rest of your family that you know they didn't deserve, after you almost broke the world trying to keep them by your side, somehow isa understands you and still loves every single part of you. and you love him, you love him, you love him because how could you not?

especially since he also got so excited when you told him you loved him that he shouted "CRAB YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in your face.

[paingoes]

whumper pushing whumpee to the ground, ordering them to get back up, and kicking them back down each time they try. repeat as many times as you like. especially w whumper getting more snippy each time.

“i said get up” while they’re making it physically impossible

physically and mentally exhausting them in addition to hurting them. forcing whumpee to participate in their own abuse.

[claitea]

"The sweetness of her voice speaks to Volo's love for her."

Then perhaps he'd like to hear it himself when it matters most.

~

left it a little open ended because i couldnt decide how exactly this happens:

1) arceus straight up does give him the ability to understand pokemon. it does not consider this either a blessing or a curse. it is simply allowing him to hear what they've been saying this whole time.

2) going off how iris only understands the hearts of dragons as opposed to n's ability to directly translate, maybe understanding pokemon is some sort of hyper-empathy thing. volo gains such a strong connection with his pokemon through fighting god he can actually understand what they feel

3) his guilty conscience catches up with him and he's imagining this just based on what n told him

either way. get guilt tripped idiot

[courses-au-clair-de-lune]

I have learned that motogp has honest-to-god ass cams for the riders.

like. in what world is this at ALL helpful in understanding the racing??? like i guess i could see how the stewards could use that in crashes and racing incidents, but like. ass cam.

WHY IS THIS A BROADCAST CAMERA VIEW???

like. i'm not complaining but i feel like i'm intruding or like i shouldn't see this or something.

[pulsingvoid]

god the pilot had the tone down. nat trips on acid pre-crash and sees her creepy classmate misty across the flames in a way that could just as easily be misty stalking her/the team from the outskirts as it could be a hallucination (i go back and forth on this all the time). then the bonfire turns into the fire from their cannibalistic rituals in the wilderness which seemingly implies that nat sees into the future for a moment but it could just be part of the nonlinear editing. pj harvey's eerie down by the water holds you by the hand and pulls you in deeper as the screen gets engulfed in flames. such a loaded and dualistic and tone-setting sequence. i want to live inside it

[beeduoo]

i really like that one tiktok

[coddda]

Light's relationship with his father is such a heartbreaking multi-faceted tragedy to me I hate it so so so much.

Soichiro loves his son so much, and while he's certainly not a perfect father I know that he cares deeply about Light. He wants to prove Light's innocence so badly but he can't let go of the underlying doubt that he might really be Kira and it gnaws at him. He does not know that from the very beginning he was being used by Light, whether it was to obtain information about the investigation, or to get to L, or to strengthen the foundations of his own lie that he wasn't Kira, this entire time he was simply another resource. He'll hang onto this doubt for years, even after L is dead, even if he doesn't express it in the latter half of the series, until he himself is on his deathbed, with what he believes to be undeniable proof that Light isn't Kira. (It's a lie, of course.) He dies happy, but it's on the foundations of blissful ignorance. His own son brought him here, brought him to the point where he had to sacrifice half of his own remaining life span, to his own death march, and was still trying to use him even now to kill someone else, but he doesn't know that. Soichiro said that what was evil was the power to kill others, and that whoever used it was cursed. Light was that cursed man, of course, and he tried to bring that curse onto Soichiro too by making him kill in his last moments. Soichiro was happy regardless, because he didn't know. He'll never know. (In the manga/anime at least. More on that later).

Light loves his father but it's not enough to turn him away from the terrible decisions he's made, if anything it only fuels them. His idea of "justice" is a twisted model of what he parroted from Soichiro, and he uses his father as another pawn (and a powerful one at that) in his plans. If he can prove that Kira is justice then perhaps his father will no longer call Kira, and therefore Light, evil, so he just needs to ensure that Kira becomes justice, right? It's Light's own actions that land his own father in the hospital for a stress-induced heart attack and yet he says only a few minutes later that he's the happiest he's ever been in his entire life. Even after Soichiro denounces Kira by calling him evil, even after he calls the Death Note's power evil, even after he unknowingly tells Light that he is cursed. When Soichiro dies Light is too deep in his own plans to actually properly process the fact that his own father is dying past what it means for his goals, but at the same time he still cares enough that after the fact he'll genuinely cry, only to brush it all away later. (Personally, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that Light's crying in that scene was genuine and I Will die on this hill). Soichiro had unknowingly denounced Light one last time just before his death, openly relieved that he "wasn't Kira after all", which also reveals that he has had doubts about Light this entire time, even after L died. By the time he's caught at the Yellow Box Warehouse Light will have denounced his father too, seeing him as someone who was made to be a fool, someone who was naive, even, too earnest for his own good. He won't realize that part of this description of his father might have applied to Light himself, back when this all started. Light takes after his father so much in so many ways already, so why not in this way too?

Ough. And honestly the other adaptations never miss out on this tragedy either, and I love them for that. (spoilers for the musical and 2006 live action movies I guess?)

In the musical we see Soichiro express his doubts and conflicts about who to believe, Light or L, if the son he raised really is a murderer, if everything he knows about him is just a lie. Like, there's an entire song about this, and you can tell how torn he is about it all, how badly he wants Light to be innocent but about how he also needs to face the truth no matter what it is, but at the end of it all he doesn't even get the answers he wants. At the end of the musical the only thing he finds is two corpses, Light's and L's, with no answers. No last words, no closure, only dead ends and a dead son and a grieving daughter. It's so awful I hate it here.

And the live action movie is fucking Insane. Like, wow. Okay. (Spoiler for the ending of Death Note The Last Name I guess) In the 2006 movies/novels Light writes Soichiro's name in the Death Note himself, and it's such an inconcievable move that it leaves even Misa shocked; Light tries to make Soichiro give him the Death Note for the last part of his plans, seeing his death as a "necessary sacrifice" (insert tangent essay about why I think 2006 live action movie Light is actually the most "coldhearted" Light Yagami, despite how infamous anime Light is). It doesn't work, and Soichiro does end up finding out that Light is Kira this time, and they have a confrontation, but he doesn't even sound truly hateful towards Light for it. He Never seems to outright hate Light for it, even after Light calls the whole confrontation a waste of time and instead tries to continue killing with the piece of the notebook in his watch, even after he tries to get Ryuk to kill everyone. When Ryuk inevitably writes Light's name and he collapses, Soichiro still reaches out for him and holds onto him as he's dying. Light literally dies in Soichiro's arms, still looking for the validation that he was right, that this wasn't all for nothing, that he was doing the good thing, trying to make Soichiro understand that he was trying to enact justice based on what he learned from him in the first place. Soichiro not only learns but sees for himself what his son has become, and Light dies in his arms leaving no closure for either of them. Soichiro will announce Light's death in L Change the WorLd on the news without saying his name, saying instead that it is only Kira who is dead, even though he and Light are one in the same. Sachiko and Sayu will never get to know the full truth about what happened to Light, instead Soichiro will lie and instead tell them: "Light was killed by Kira."

And then holy Shit the jdrama. If I write about it here this post is gonna literally double in length and also I don't really wanna spoil it but. Man. Man. If you watched it you know. Holy Shit dude I Cried.

It's the fact that, canonically, Soichiro will die oblivious to what Light has done, but even in the instances where he does find out, it doesn't make it any better, and it doesn't make him love Light any less, it just gives him more to grieve.

It's the fact that there isn't a single universe where Light doesn't use his father for his own gain, whether to gain information, or to try and control him with the Death Note, or make him write in the Death Note himself, and not a single time will he realize just how far he's strayed from Soichiro's ideals, and not a single time will he not forsake him for it by the end of the story.

It's the fact that, despite everything, Light will always refers to Soichiro as "dad/my dad" (informal) rather than "father/my father", even after he has been "denounced" (and this is true in every language that Death Note has been translated in, as far as I could find. Man, isn't that so cool! :) <- Through tears).

Anyways that's what I've been thinking of how's your guys' days going

[ironunderstands]

Sunday’s worldview sucks, his outlook and perception of himself and others sucks… and that’s why he’s so interesting

In honor of his drip marketing releasing tonight (or maybe yesterday for you depending on when I get this out), I’d like to talk about why I think Sunday’s beliefs and perspective is very, very flawed and how his own biases rather than the actions of those who oppose him are what led to his downfall.

Sunday is entirely responsible for his own failure, and that’s exactly why he’s incredible.

This contains mentions of leaks and spoilers for the Penacony quest line… you have been warned

To start with, oh my lord do Sunday’s preconceived notions kick him in the ass. 

I think the best example of this is his conversation with Dr. Ratio in which Ratio pretends to betray Aventurine, selling out his plan to Sunday. Now, what’s incredibly interesting about this exchange is that Ratio doesn’t fully lie to Sunday once in this exchange, rather he says half truths and makes vague statements which Sunday himself interprets as being in support of him. 

Take what Ratio said the whole, “A scholar knows their position and wouldn’t forsake it for the sake of petty pride.” In retrospect, we know this line is actually referring to Aventurine- aka Ratio is saying he’s not just going to sell him out to Sunday for the sake of information about the Stellaron (which he would get anyways if the IPC attained Penacony, plus Mr. Incredibly Dedicated Knowledge Spreader probably has other means of gaining it then through The Family). 

However, since Ratio answered the invitation Sunday gave him, Sunday assumes that Ratio is on his side, believes his cause is righteous, and that he won Ratio over with offering him information about the Stellaron, therefore making that previous statement of Ratio’s null, because Sunday interpreted it as, “convince me this is worth my time + prove to me you’re correct,” when it really meant, “there is no way in hell I’m about to sacrifice my friend to you, and there is nothing you could offer me to make me do so you crazed lunatic.”

But why did Sunday not weigh the options? Why did he unquestioningly believe his perception of the situation was the correct one?

Well- partly it’s because Ratio and Aventurine were doing their damndest to make it seem like they hate each other and that their plan was going off the rails.

But the more important part is that even without Ratio saying a word or even accepting the invitation, Sunday already believes he’d be on his side. 

Let me demonstrate this through Sunday's perspective:

I am a righteous person, I am doing the correct things, my worldview is the correct one. Dr. Ratio is also a righteous person who seems to be doing the correct things. Therefore, since we are both on the side of good, and Aventurine is clearly not on that side considering his status as Stoneheart and his negative relationship to Ratio, then Ratio will naturally want to be on my side. After all, the good guys work together, do they not?- and together will vanquish this evil villain.

This perspective is a simple one, but Sunday’s unshaking belief (up until the end of 2.2) that he is 100% in correct and in the right, that any and everyone who he also perceives to be in the right (like Ratio) would believe/side with him without truly needing to be convinced. Sunday doesn’t come out the gate offering the Stellaron information- he only keeps it as a backup just in case. 

However, this is complicated because Sunday is also not an idiot, and he’s extremely paranoid, so he’s going to make sure that the way he views the world is 100% correct on the off chance he’s wrong which could foil his plans- which is why he invited Ratio in the first place. Nevertheless, this isn’t him hunting for new perspectives, but rather him desiring to prove himself right again, which is a bad thing because Sunday is very much not right. 

A perfect world is a perfect pris- *gets shot*

Reference that approximately 2 ½ people will get beside, Sunday’s ideology that he is fully confident in.. sucks. It sucks ass, it’s terrible, and let me explain.

I’m not going to try going over all the little intricacies to how the dreamscape works because I a) don’t know and b) don’t particularly care because they aren’t relevant to the argument I will be making- which is that Sunday’s ideology is inherently flawed and immediately falls apart under scrutiny.

Essentially, he desires to create the perfect fake reality, enveloping the whole galaxy in Ena’s dream and fulfilling their every desire and whim within it, with himself as the sacrifice to allow it to exist. The seven rest days, no illness, no pain, no challenge, you get the idea. 

And, this perfect world paradoxically sucks ass because of its perfectness.

Improving society is great, eliminating hardship is great, increasing quality of life is great.

But declawing reality itself- absolutely not.

I’m going to try to explain this through my favorite strangely specific anecdote- the process of obtaining diamonds in Minecraft.

Stay with me now.

You essentially have two options- go out and mine them yourselves the hard way, which takes hours, gives you less diamonds per the amount of time spent on it, and likely with you exhausting some of your resources like food, torches, and tools which you will need to replenish.

Or.

You can just.. get them from creative mode or commands, and you can get as many as your heart desires.

However, despite the fact that option one is harder, gives you less diamonds and takes significantly more time, I, as well as hopefully you, would pick it every time (at least in a survival world, although honestly idk why you would even need pure diamonds in creative).

And that’s because the first option is rewarding. 

You did not earn the diamonds you easily and magically summoned into your inventory, there is no struggle, no journey, no challenge to it, therefore it feels entirely unremarkable, as compared to the feeling you (hopefully) get from mining diamonds, which makes you happy because you earned it. Yeah, it was harder, but the process itself is fun- the anticipation of not knowing when you’re going to find them, if at all, the danger, the fighting and digging and mauvering you will have to do in the process.

And with this unconventional example, the fatal flaw with Sunday’s ideology is revealed- it’s boring. 

It’s boring as shit.

Yeah, for the first few months or even years it might be enjoyable- having everything you could ever want served on a silver platter. However, humans are a) inherently a bit greedy and b) desire challenge, and this scenario fulfilles neither of those things. Naturally having everything means your desire for more can never be fulfilled, leaving the wanter forever unsatisfied, whereas in the real world, things are truly out of your reach, meaning that even if you never end up getting them, they are still a tangible thing just out of reach… as strange at it sounds, we like being tantalilus-ed more than you think. After all, if what you want is so easy to get, you will never run out of things to want, and eventually that gets draining. 

Continually, if everything is easy, if everything is just right there whenever you want it- existence itself no longer has stakes. 

And that’s the problem, because much like how a story with no stakes is extremely hard to find compelling, a life with no stakes feels boring at best and downright pointless and meaningless at worst.

I’m just saying, there is a reason why the Nihility was such a strong presence and problem in Penacony.

Anyways, like with the diamond problem, a lack of stakes means that nothing you do feels rewarding, because you didn’t truly earn it. 

Which is where the Sunday’s idea of a “perfect” reality falls apart, because the most enjoyable reality for humans to live in is not one literally devoid of any possible flaw.

So why does he believe in it? When it’s so clearly flawed?

Well, it’s because Sunday doesn’t think a better alternative exists.

The world made you this way.. and you chose to continue what it started.

I’m sure I don’t need to repeat the story of the Charmony Dove all over again because trust me, we’ve all heard it before. Nonetheless, it reveals something important both about Sunday’s personality and his ideology- he’s fundamentally a defeatist.

He doesn’t believe that there is any alternative for the dove, that it could ever be able to fly again with its deformed nature, so instead of being “cruel” and letting it “inevitably fall to its death,” he’d rather keep it in a cage all its life where it has no freedom, but at least it would he alive and “happy”.

And this is where his defeatism reveals itself- Sunday doesn’t believe reality itself can get better because improving it when there are so many factors and things out of your control is hard at best and impossible at worst. Therefore, he resorts to creating an escapist, false version of it- a perfect golden cage, because constructing that is far, far easier than trying to help the dove fly again. 

The universe has endless possibilities, if Robin and Sunday had tried hard enough, they probably could have found a solution. Sure, they were both children, so the capabilities necessary to even attempt that were likely far out of their reach. However, it was still possible, but Sunday doesn’t believe in possibilities- he believes he’s right above all else, which is where that stubbornness and arrogance comes into play again.

Sunday doesn’t think better solutions than his exists, and he believes everyone would could possibly stand in his noble way are either villains, or horribly misguided; so it’s his job to show them the light.

This is why he lets the Express Crew + Firefly try to change his mind- Sunday wasn’t actually interesting in shifting his perspective, or really what they wanted to say. Rather, he just wanted to let them say there peace, because well, Sunday’s a good, righteous person (at least from his perspective), and good, righteous people listen to others. Good, righteous people will let these poor, ignorant souls offer their foolish words before exposing them to the harsh truth- or at least that’s how Sunday sees it. 

Moreover, this also explains his arrogance. If he believes his worldview is the sole correct one, then why listen to anyone else? He’s this world's savior, or at least he’s been raised to believe that- so why not relish in it? He enjoys punishing Aventurine, enjoys the bastard who stood in the way of Sunday’s plans, shrinks away in “defeat” and get what he “deserves.” Despite how miserable it sounds, Sunday also takes pride in having to be a martyr to bring about his beautiful dream. The belief that he is a selfless, good person is a selfish desire of his, even if a genuine one, and it’s what leads to his downfall.

Sunday could have actually listened. He could have reevaluated his loss to Aventurine and realized it was not through the others clever deception, but through his own biases. He could have actually taken the Express’s and Firefly’s advice. He could have looked for other avenues to help the people he truly does care about. 

Despite Gopher Wood’s manipulation- Sunday’s decision to go forward with the pain is entirely his own, because he truly believes- even with all the evidence for the contrary- that he is correct.

And that’s why he fails. Not because of the Express. Not because of Ratio. Not because of Aventurine. Not because of Gopher, or even the rest of The Family.

No, Sunday fails because he is flawed, and he is wrong, and he is the arrogant, selfish and biased one, and his worldview is wrong.

So what now?

This might have seemed like I think Sunday is pure evil and irredeemable, but I think it’s quite the opposite.

He has very good intentions, and he does genuinely care about it the well being of other people around him. He gives Aventurine a chance to prove his innocence, even if he never intended on changing, he does listen to what the Express + Firefly have to say. He pauses when Robin shows up, as she’s the one person (until the very end) he’s actually willing to accept the perspective of. The whole reason he ended up here in the first place is because Gopher Wood twisted Sunday’s good intentions into a fatal arrogance and utmost belief in a flawed worldview. 

However, what really sells me on Sunday’s goodness is when eyes widen at that final moment, the light draining from him as he realizes he is wrong. 

And once Sunday realizes he is wrong, those flaws that bind him can finally be examined and improved upon, as they all stem from that worldview he no longer believes in. 

His whole life, Sunday has been enacting out someone else’s plan for him, even if he’s come to internalize it over time, at the end of the day- it was never his, and without it, he’s empty.

Which is exactly why the only place he can go now is the Express, and the only thing left for him is redemption and growth.

Dan Heng is right- Sunday has a noble soul, and now that he has stopped believing in himself, he’s no longer shackled by the past either. Improvement or utter demise (in a likely nihility-flavored manner) are his only options remaining.

I understand a lot of people want to see him become a Stellaron Hunter, but imo, that just does nothing for him. He’d still be following someone else’s path/script, and Mr. I Will Sacrifice My Whole Existence To Become The Sun To Illuminate These Wandering Souls probably wouldn’t be so on board with the whole.. terrorism part of being a SH. Like yeah, they are our friends (kinda), but they absolutely kill innocent people and cause millions of dollars in property damage to people who don’t deserve it. 

Also, being on the Express Just Makes Sense. This is a game about choices, a game about accepting the mistakes of your past, but not letting them define you in order to move on and forge a better future for yourself and others- with the Astral Express + Trailblaze as a concept being the literal embodiment of it. There’s a reason when you switch to the Trailblazer’s POV in stories, it includes Kafka’s most important words to us- “When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you won’t regret.”

Therefore, I hope the choices Sunday will make in 2.7 are ones he’s proud of, and I can’t wait to see how exactly they get him on board with the crew, because there still is a LOT of development he needs to do before then. 

Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and if you have any thoughts I’d love to hear them. This was a stream of consciousness mess, but I hope it was still valuable nonetheless! Also if you are reading this on the day it was written, I hope we don’t get disappointed by his drip marketing!

[outer-andromeda]

POV you listen to that one song that triggers your memory and reminds you of that musical you co-wrote two years ago so you decide to draw one of your roles in it

[locria-writes]

mc is just straight up not having a good time at all

[evienyx]

Rereading some of my own original writing and I got so pissed when I realized there wasn’t fanfiction I could read of it once I ran out of content. I love these characters and this world so much, but the only way to get more of it is to write it myself because I’M THE ONE WHO MADE THEM UP IN THE FIRST PLACE —

[dsnzfb]

Coming On Quickly (R18+)

Cactus/Rose (m/m), cold snz. Just under 5.5k warnings: sex, contagion talk, uncovered snz, cactus is doomed In which Cactus has to deal with some strange new feelings when Rose catches a particularly intense cold.

He felt fine. That’s what Rose told himself when shivering on the way to work. He picked up a cup of tea from his usual coffee shop, though a certain someone wasn’t working that morning. The cold air and steam from the tea was what was making his nose run, not anything else.

The morning was going well, even if he sneezed out of nowhere and dropped his keys as he was trying to unlock the door. Didn’t mean anything.

Another couple of sneezes when he was finally warming up and going through his morning checklist, and Rose finally considered the fact that he might’ve caught a tiny cold.

Just a small one. Not anywhere near bad enough to go home, it was just a sniffle. Besides, he had his tea, the shop was warm (for the flowers’ sake), and he was surrounded by handkerchiefs if he needed them.

His nose was running properly now, soft sniffles no longer enough to keep it at bay, which was definitely chalked up to the change in temperature.

It was a few days post-christmas. He wouldn’t even usually be open this time of year, but it was surprisingly lucrative, especially when his competitors were shut. You never know when someone needs some flowers! A last minute gift, or one ordered weeks in advance to be picked up on a day like today…

Rose sniffled again and rummaged for one of his own handkerchiefs. Didn’t wanna dip into his stock just yet, his nose was only a little drippy. And itchy-

“HheiH-KKSHh! Oh, goodness…”

He didn’t have to hold them back, he realised, but it’s difficult when it’s all you’ve known- ohgod, the itch was back-

“Hhi-KKSHhew! …Ow…”

Okay, that stung his throat. He snuffled into the handkerchief he finally found and flipped the switch on his kettle. He was going to need more tea to get through today, and the one he just bought was getting dangerously low.

His first customer of the day came in about half an hour later, wanting to browse and ask Rose his expert opinion on what flowers to get his mother-in-law to get on her good side for the upcoming year. When trying to offer up assistance, Rose’s nose of course decided that was the moment to start running like a freight train.

“snf! Goodness- please excuse me a moment…” He turned away to blow his nose, though he knew this wouldn’t be the end of it, “All this cold weather, you see…”

“There’s a lot of it going around this time of year.” The customer replied with a sympathetic smile, though Rose noticed them taking a subtle step back. He didn’t blame the guy. From all the dripping and blowing and sneezing he’d done, his nose was probably a cherry red.

“I sound worse than I feel.” He replied, unsure if he really believed himself. His muscles were starting to ache, “Sorry about that. Anyway, you were talking about her favourite colours? We can use it either as a base or as an accent colour.”

“I know she likes pink, but I think it’s the, uh, the really bright one that’s basically red.”

“Magenta?”

The guy looked confused. Perplexed, even.

Rose got out from behind the counter and took him to a bunch of brightly coloured carnations.

“This colour, dear.”

“Oh- yeah, that’s it! The bright pink!”

“It’s quite the bold colour, so I’d recommehhhnd… E-excuse- hhat’sSHHKk!! KkshHHEew!”

Rose realised as he sneezed into his elbow that he’d left the handkerchief at the counter, and that the double was very productive.

“Bless you!”

“My god- sorry- a moment please-” he mumbled into the crook of his elbow, hurrying back to the safety of his handkerchief. He felt mortified as he cleaned himself up.

“I’m so sorry about that, how unsightly, they snuck up on me…” He blew his nose with a slight honk, wincing at how productive even that was.

“Uh, it’s okay? Sorry to make you work when you’re feeling so bad.”

Well, at least this guy wasn’t an asshole. More customers should be like him.

“It’s not that bad, it’s just… Noisy. And annoying. What I was trying to say was that it’s a very bold colour, so it would be best as an accent against a more baby-pink or white bouquet.”

The guy nodded at him, looking now only a little confused. He seemed to get the idea.

“I’ll show you what I mean, if you like. Here- let me just…” Rose got out from behind the counter again, this time bringing his handkerchief with him. He picked out some white flowers – delicate things, big fluffy ones, some light pink roses, and placed them in his demonstrative vase, adjusting them so they were just so.

“So this would be the base…” He said, then going to grab a few more bright flowers, some lilies, carnations, and chrysanthemums.

“And these would be- b…be… Please hold-” he handed the flowers to the customer hurriedly, at least able to prepare his handkerchief properly this time.

“HhpSSHhh!! HhiITSHhew-aahSHOo! Goodness… Excuse me.”

“Bless you, sounds like it’s hitting you hard.”

“It wasn’t this bad earlier, I swear- hhaPSSHHh!!”

Rose sniffled pathetically, muffling a cough into his kerchief. “Sorry, I wouldn’t want you to catch this. Would you just- just put those in the vase?”

The guy followed Rose’s instructions, then the Brit adjusted the positioning of the brightly-coloured flowers so they didn’t overpower the rest of the bouquet.

“Like that. Is that sort of what you were looking for?”

“I don’t really know what I’m looking at, but, uh, yeah? It looks like a real bouquet, way better than what you pick up from the superstore.”

Rose nodded, hiding his streaming nose behind the now thoroughly-used white cloth. “Those bloody places… You know they use dye in the water to make their flowers different colours? Poor things, it’s not that hard to breed other strains… Anyway, thank you for the compliment! It’s words like that that make it all worth it.”

Giddy from the kind words about his work, Rose happily took payment for the bouquet, finished it up, and wrapped it in acetate and coloured tissue paper.

“I hope your m-muhh- hhGTShh! GgsHHh! -snf!- Mother-in-law likes it!”

“Thanks a ton, feel better!”

Rose deflated when he heard the bell on the door signify the customer was gone. How exhausting - and he wasn’t even a troublemaker!

He decided to rummage in his drawers to see if they had any medicine, brows furrowing as each one came up empty.

“Well, shite.” He cursed, blowing his ever-running nose again. He took a handkerchief from the piles in the store and made a note to write it off - it was at this moment he regretted making them scented. He wasn’t allergic to perfume or scents, but his nose was so sensitive from this accursed cold that-

“HhaPSSHHh!! PPSHhew-aashHiiee-iiISHHhoo! Hhat-TSSshh-SSHh-SSHHew! Oh my god!”

His eyes were watering now, and he dabbed at them with a dry corner of the cloth. Is this how Cactus felt when he gave him his number?

Speaking of Cactus, maybe he could swing by some medicine, maybe a box or two of tissues… Rose was fairly certain that if he kept using his handkerchief, his nose would violently protest all day long.

‘Morning sweetie 🥰🌹’ he sent the text. Cac had not long taught him how to use emojis, and he had great fun choosing the right ones for the occasion.

A few minutes later, he got a reply:

‘mornin, what’s up?’

‘I don’t always text when I want something from you, do I? 🗣️’

‘not always, you just sayin hi? heheh hi there cutie’

‘Well… Maybe a little more than just saying ‘hello’. Could you pop over with some paracetamol and tissues, dear? It’s not a big deal, I just can’t leave the shop unattended.’

‘ur sick?’

‘Just a sniffle.’

‘yeah, sure it is. gimme 20.’

‘Love you, dearest. 💓’

“There we are. I hope he doesn’t worry himself silly.” Rose spoke aloud to himself, noting the stuffy and almost gravelly nature of his voice. Gods, he really did sound worse than he felt. He sniffed experimentally and found that instead of dripping, one nostril was now utterly blocked.

His nose felt hot and itchy and- wait, like something was moving? Oh- he squished his nostrils up against the new handkerchief to find that it was starting to run, even while supposedly blocked. How kind.

Ugh, and the proximity to the perfumed cloth-

“hhaPTSH!! AahYISHH! Ha… Hhhuua-AIITSHHhew! My giddy aunt, I can’t stop sneezing… Maybe toilet paper will just have to do for now… This blasted scent is too much…”

Rose sipped at his tea, but even the warmth from that couldn’t stop a shiver washing over him, then another stuffy attempt at a sniffle. A mistake, perhaps, as it stoked the embers of a tickle in his nose into flames, and he ducked into a wad of toilet roll, scratchy against his red nostrils.

“iiHhaPTSHHew! AAESHOO!! …Guh… Unsightly…”

Another shiver to make him cross his arms, and he pulled up a chair at the counter. He wasn’t usually one to use it, since he always had something or other to be getting on with, but… His arms hurt, his chest ached from sneezing, and he couldn’t seem to get warm. Was the central heating on the blink, or something?

…He couldn’t be bothered to go check. He’d need all his energy for if a customer came in, to put on a smile and save face. For now, though, with soft jazz playing as his store's ambient music, he found himself zoning out. Then his eyes started to flutter closed. He had things he should be doing, really, but… He just ached so much, and he was cold. Moving would lose him the warmth he tried so hard to gain.

The bell chimed, signifying an entrant, and Rose jumped, quickly wiped his nose, and opened his mouth to greet them.

“Hey, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” came a low voice, warm like spiced honey.

Oh, he could cry. What an angel. What a darling. Here to save the day.

“Cac…”

“So… Just a sniffle, huh? Sure looks like it.” The blond approached with an eye roll, then side eyeing the flowers surrounding them, “You’re lookin’ pretty under the weather. Glad I trusted my gut.”

“What do you-” Rose was interrupted by a bag being set down on the counter in front of him.

“Stopped by a pharmacy, thought you might need some more actual supplies. Go on, you can look.”

Rose took things out one at a time: cold medicine, thank goodness, a decongestant spray, cough drops, several boxes of tissues…

“Aloe vera? You’re a saint.”

Cac laughed at that, “I just know what you’re like. Keep lookin’.”

Wait, why was the bag warm?

He pulled out a watertight container with a thick liquid in it, and blinked at his boyfriend.

“You got me soup?”

“The, uh… It’s… There’s a place right by the pharmacy, so it wasn’t outta my way or nothin’, and it smelled pretty good, so… Got you their soup of the day… Figured you probably hadn’t eaten. It’s minestrone.”

“It’s perfect. You didn’t have to do this for me- god, I’m going to cry…” Rose’s throat tightened, hot tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t exaggerating.

“H-Hey, don’t-! Uh- I can’t take it back, but- I brought this stuff to make you feel better!”

Scrubbing his eyes to wipe away the tears, Rose spoke with a wobbly voice, “I’m touched, dear… You’ve done so much for me…”

Cactus’s large blonde eyebrows furrowed in worry at this, “You’re pretty emotional, you must be feelin’ like shit… Just gonna check somethin’, okay?”

That was all the warning Rose had before a hand was placed on his forehead, which then moved to his cheek, under his chin, and finally, behind his neck.

“You’re runnin’ a fever.” the larger man concluded with a frown.

“Explains why it’s so bloody cold in here…”

“Yeah, cause it’s not. You always got the heatin’ on. But, uh… Look, you take your meds, do what you need to. Want tea?”

Rose motioned to his half-full mug, “I’m good on that front, but thank you.”

Cactus nodded and pulled his coat off, hanging it over Rose’s shoulders like he was some sort of heated coat stand.

“Put that on.”

“Cactus, no- I’ll get my germs all on it, and you’ll…”

“No ifs, ands, buts, or coconuts. Boyfriend cold. Boyfriend get coat. Gonk get club, ooga booga, whatever.”

Rose couldn’t help but snort with laughter, hurriedly plucking out a fresh and blissfully soft tissue to clean himself up. His cold wouldn't even let him laugh without making a mess of him?!

The redhead blushed when he lowered the tissue to find Cactus smiling at him warmly.

“W-What, do I have something on my face, or…?”

“Nah, just thinkin’ bout how cute you are.”

“In this state?!”

“Hell yeah.”

Instead of frying his brain further to think up a retort, the Brit instead busied himself with taking pills and opening his soup. He couldn’t smell it, but it looked totally homemade. He’d need to bug Cactus about the exact location of the restaurant later. He took a spoonful of it, the flavours experienced even through his dulled senses.

“…Sorry it ain’t, uh… I mean- if I knew earlier, I woulda made some soup for ya myself, but for you to actually ask me for help, I wasn’t gonna make ya wait…”

“Oh, stop apologising, you silly thing. This is delicious, it’s perfect. You can make me your soup next time, I’m sure this stupid body of mine won’t leave it too long before the next bout of illness…”

“How, uh… How long have you known you’ve been feelin’ bad?”

“It came on this morning, so it’s only really been a couple of hours.”

“So fast? You’re in for a rough one, huh… Hey, see if your cousin can cover you the next few days. Got a feelin’ you’re gonna need the rest.”

“I couldn’t do that to hiih-.. hii…iihhm- hhiIESSHOOO!!” He’d managed to move the soup away just in time, thanking the stars for his increasingly dramatic hitches.

”Oh my god, bless you! Geez, that was one hell of a sneeze! They all been like that?”

“Ow…. Owowow…. Not all, but they’ve been pretty strong…”

“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna need to take some sick days, jeez… Thought you were gonna fall off your chair!”

Rose spluttered, cheeks further reddening, “I-It wasn’t that big…”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Your usual sneezes are quiet, rapid, and there’s, like, loads of ‘em.”

“Well, I suppose ‘loads’ is still right… It’s just… Teasing me!”

“…Mm, I know that feelin’.” Cac rubbed at his own nose, smiling knowingly when he saw Rose’s eyes widen at the action.

‘I know what you are.’ said his grin.

“I’m… I… Suppose you would, wouldn’t you… Hhu-uuh- hhaAH-!”

“hhrRSSHHHOOOoh!”

Cactus’s booming sneeze interrupted the redhead, giving a cough and a sigh before paying full attention again.

“Jeez, sorry. All these flowers, then… Seein’ you all itchy made me feel itchy…”

Rose was silent for a moment, as if he was in shock, then groaned.

“You stole my sneeze away!”

“Scared it off, huh?” Cac sniffled, “Hey, uh… Why don’t you, uh, close for lunch? Sure would suck if someone walked in while you were tryna eat your soup…”

Rose looked up at him, mind foggy and thoughts muddled. It took him a moment to connect why his boyfriend was talking so suspiciously, and why he had a slightly nervous look on his face.

“F-Feel free to flip the sign and lock the door, sweetheart. It would be awkward if that were to happen, after all…” He dabbed at his drippy nose and kept eating. Even if Cac was suggesting what he thought he was, Rose didn’t want this soup to go to waste.

“Maybe we should go to the staff room, too… These flowers are really startin’ to get to me.” The American commented, enjoying the shiver that ran through Rose’s body, one he knew wasn’t from the fever.

“Is that so… Poor thing, so allergic. Tragic that this is my job, mmm?”

“Is it tragic? Could be worse if you found my allergies super gross, or something…”

Rose picked up his box of soup and a handful of tissues and brought them to the staff room. Cactus followed after locking the door, picking up everything else left behind. Rose was already burying his face into a new tissue with a wet, honking blow, followed by hitches, and hitches, and… Nothing.

Sympathy gripped Cac’s heart, to see Rose succumbing to his cold so quickly had him wanting nothing more than to hold his boyfriend close, to stroke his hair. To help him along.

He took a seat next to the redhead, rubbing his back, “I really did scare it off, huh? Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“It’s… Guh, it’s okay… You didn’t mean to. They’re my flowers, after all…”

“You finish up that soup, then I’ve got an idea.” The shorter man stood up again, making his way to a nearby shelving unit. It was there that he found a feather duster - real feathers, and real dust.

This, of course, would be overkill, so he carefully pulled out a single feather from the bunch. It would help Rose just the same.

Only when the sick brit had his fill of his lunch did Cactus approach him again, nerves twisting his stomach.

“This, uh… I wanna try and help you, but if I go too far…”

“I’ll tell you.” Rose assured him, a smile on his face, “Believe me, I won’t be quiet about it.”

He scrunched up his nose again, clearly very itchy. Shaking his head again in irritation, he scrubbed at his nose with his knuckles.

“Gghghghh-!! God, this is driving me crazy. If I’m going to sneeze, then just do it, you know? Bloody thing…”

“Heh, uh, that’s… Well…”

Cactus brandished the feather in front of him.

“Oh, I see your game plan, big boy.”

Without further words, Cactus traced the feather flat against Rose’s nostrils, watching them quiver and start to run at the new irritant. It didn’t stop the dust dislodging from the barbs at each tickly sniffle, and soon had Rose’s teary eyes shut as he hitched, and hitched, and…. Faded away again.

He groaned, so Cac tried another tactic – direct insertion. This time, his nose couldn’t dare fight back against the dusty, pointed, yet soft tip of the feather tickling what felt like every molecule of his nasal cavity.

“Hh-hhgh-eeh-!! C-Cactus, I’m going… Going to… HhaAAESSHOOOo!! AadsshhEW-AASHHHheEWw! Oh my god, sorry, please m-m-move- hhaSSHEW-ASSHHOO! ATTCHHOO! H-HAAAHH… AahSSHHYEWW!!”

As Rose finally sneezed over and over, rapidly, harshly, and spraying on anything in front of him, he couldn’t think of anything but the incredibly itchy tickle in his nose that had to get out, now.

Cactus didn’t care at all that he was being sneezed on. He signed up for this when formulating this plan, after all. If he caught it, he caught it, and since Rose would enjoy that anyway, it’s no loss.

He actually felt his cheeks warming as the man in front of him repeatedly lost control. Was this…?

He was definitely getting turned on by the situation in front of him, but he didn’t want to overdo things - Rose was clearly feeling awful, he didn’t have to deal with Cactus coming onto him as well.

Thoroughly a mess, Rose blinked up through tears at his boyfriend, barely able to read his expression.

“Bless you, holy shit… That’s one hell of a cold you caught.”

“It’s… H-ha-aah… HhuUUH-IISHhhEW!! Ghhwah… S-sou’ds worse-”

“-Than you feel, yeah. But I gotta say, it looks about as bad as you sound.” Cac tugged out a tissue from the box with one hand, cupping it over Rose’s very red and irritated nose.

“Blow. That’s it, good boy…”

He followed instructions. He was, after all, a good boy.

“Feelin’ any better?”

“Idt’s- snfk! … It’s not as itchy as it was before… My nose, that is. Still something up in there, like the cold’s doing a jig on my poor nerve endings, ready to set me off at any time…”

Cactus swallowed, trying hard not to stare as he pulled away the used tissue.

“That sensitive?”

Rose rubbed at his eyes as he nodded in return, “Mm-hhb.”

Cactus sighed. Poor thing, feeling so sick, and so suddenly… Stuck at work when tons of people were off for the holidays… He could make his-

“Hha-aah-KKSHhh!! HhaPTSHHYEWW!! Oh my god, see? Any bloody moment…”

-day better, at least? Focus, Cactus. Improving Rose’s day doesn’t automatically mean sex.

Rose had sneezed his glasses off the moment prior, the pair falling into Cac’s lap.

“Oh- fuck, I can’t see a thing…”

An exaggeration, but Rose’s lenses were pretty strong. Giving them a cursory wipe, Cac put them back on for him, trying to avoid hitting his nose with the bridge of his glasses, nostrils red and twitchy, like they had a mind of their own.

“Ah- thank you, sweetheart. Now I can see your handsome face properly. Ah- that being said, I’m… I’m so sorry, you’re going to catch this, and… It really is quite awful, you were right the whole time… And I’ve been sneezing all over you!”

“I made my peace with that ages ago. You…” Cac swallowed again, forcing himself to push through nerves and make eye contact with his boyfriend, “You know I don’t mind. Look, uh… So you don’t keep freakin’ out… Can I kiss ya? If it’s pretty much confirmed already, will you be able to relax a bit more?”

“I… I suppose it’s too late now, anyway…” Rose sniffled, then blew his nose again, “I’m stunned you’re not running a mile.”

“Shush, ain’t nothin’ could scare me off.” The blond closed the distance between the two, glasses bumping awkwardly as they kissed.

‘His mouth is hot. Fuck, that’s so sexy. It’s a fever though, behave.’

Mentally scolding himself didn’t do much to stop him, though, the intensity of the kiss growing deeper until Rose pulled away to breathe.

“…Hah… Phew… You’re doomed now, then- oh!”

At this point, Cactus was practically on Rose’s lap, and the Brit was staring down at him.

“Well, hello there,” Rose grinned, “Someone’s keen.”

Oh. Fuck. He had an erection, and it was definitely pushing up against his boyfriend.

“Shit- sorry, you’re sick, and- and all miserable, and- fuck, you don’t need this on top of everythi-”

Rose pulled him in for another kiss, this one needy and wanting and passionate.

“If I’m going to feel like this, why not enjoy it? I didn’t realise you got it this badly. Before, it was sort of… The situation. But this…? You’re finding me sneezing all over you sexy, mm? I should apologise, really. This is my fault…”

“Don’t… Don’t apologise, fuck… I wanna do it with ya, but… Feelin’ guilty as it is.” Cactus felt his face warming shamefully. He didn’t wanna be responsible for making his boyfriend worse.

“Orgasms can help clear your sinuses. Consider it a treatment, Doctor Asta.”

The shame Cactus had been feeling quickly left and was replaced with lust. Rose was as into this scenario as he was, it seemed.

“A treatment? Guess I’ll have to administer it for ya, then. It’d be cruel not to, right? Especially if my patient is askin’ it of me.”

A pause as he considered his next words.

“Do they turn you on?” He asked, “Your own sneezes, I mean.”

“It would be quite debilitating if they did, but… I have to admit, the grip this cold has on my poor nose is quite titillating…”

“Mm, it’s getting chapped already.”

“So the short answer is ‘no’, the long answer is ‘yes, sometimes, if I’ve got a big guy like you here to share them with’.”

Cactus grinned and kissed him again, “And ain’t ya glad I am?”

“Mm, awfully so. It’s quite the cold, you know… In a couple days’ time, you’ll be holed up in bed, I’m sure, making your way through several packets of tissues. Goodness, if it can make my sneezes this intense, I dare not think what it’ll do to yours…”

Cactus slid his hands up under Rose’s sweater vest to pull it off expertly, “We’ll just have to find out.”

“Ehehe… Mm, your hands are cool…”

“Your skin is hot. Only you could run a fever the first day of a cold.” Cac removed his boyfriend’s shirt as well, not bothering to unbutton it. His own hoodie was discarded swiftly after, Rose watching hungrily as more of Cac’s brown skin and white vitiligo was shown.

“My god, I love you… You’re everything… I just want to kiss all these… These gorgeous marks all over your body…”

“Mm, yeah? You’ll have a tough time.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be too busy kissin’ all your freckles.”

As if to prove his point, Cactus started placing butterfly kisses on Rose’s cheeks, then his shoulders, which made the Brit giggle.

“S-pff-Stoooop, that tickles! Okay, okay, you win! I give! Haah… Phew…” Rose coughed lightly and pushed his glasses back up his nose, then quickly returned to touching his boyfriend’s torso. Then lower, and lower… So soft, so warm. Even with a fever, Rose’s hands struggled to retain heat, so he loved to steal it from him.

“You playin’ with my tummy, or are we having sex?” Cactus questioned, tone light, “Though, if you’re having second thoughts-”

“Nope! No such thing! You really think I’d decide, ‘no, actually, I don’t want to have hot kinky sex with my boyfriend’? If that happens, call a demon hunter, because that’s a changeling.”

Now that was taken care of, Cactus traced his own hands over Rose’s sensitive body, cock twitching whenever his boyfriend reacted, whimpered, or whined.

“I… I want you inside me, Cactus…” The redhead pleaded.

A nod. “Mm, good choice. Wouldn’t want ya wearin’ yourself out.”

“Lube’s in… In the drawer… Second one down, under the- the… HhaPPSSHIEW!! …The plant encyclopedia… We don’t really use that book, so… It’s a good place…”

Cactus blessed him as easily as he breathed, following instructions to find the small bottle underneath a deceptively large book. Who knew there were so many flowers?

“Okay, ya ready?” Cac poured out a small handful, warming it in his palms.

“I’mb- snf! -always ready for you, darling.”

Oh, the seduction of it all. And yet it still drove Cac crazy.

“Good boy. Pants off, and spread your legs for me.” Cactus praised him again, knowing how much Rose loved it. His commands were followed immediately, and he almost got distracted by how red and needy Rose’s cock looked.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m goin’ in…”

He pushed a digit into Rose’s ass, eliciting a short gasp from the other man. Like the rest of his body, it was warm inside him, more than usual.

Expertly coating the inside before adding a second finger, Cac looked up at his boyfriend. He loved his expressions dearly, it was amazing how easily emotions showed on his face.

Just before he could add a third, Rose tensed, and tightened, and-

“Hhi-iih-… hiiih… Iih’SSHHEW!! IhpSSHh! Kktsh- hhaAH- AAHtsSHYEWW!!”

Cactus blinked, a deep blush growing on his cheeks. He wondered briefly what it was gonna feel like when he was actually inside Rose and he sneezed like that…

“…I, uh… Wow, bless you.”

“Guh, thank you, dear… This’ll be you, soon…”

“…Fingers in my ass, too?”

“If you want there to be.”

Once Rose was starting to squirm, greedily hoping that Cac’s fingers would hit his prostate, the blond pulled them out.

Rose whined.

“Just a sec, okay?” Cactus used his other hand to lube up his dick - not that it needed much help - and gently, carefully pushed in. Wiping his hands off on a nearby towel, he then held Rose’s waist, using the grip to start thrusting into him rhythmically.

God, it was so hot inside him, the sensation was incredible. They needed to fuck more often when they were sick, especially with Rose so eager.

“Just- nnh! T-tell me if… If it’s too much… I’ll stop whenever you-”

“Oh my god, Cactus Asta! If you stop, I’ll decimate you where you stand!!”

“Got it, no stoppin’.”

“Fffuck, I’ve missed this… I… Nnh… God, I love you… Hey, um…” Rose took his glasses off and haphazardly threw them on a nearby surface, “You can use that feather, if you want… It felt pretty… HhaANH~!! P-pretty good…! Maybe that’s an understatement, but-”

Before Rose could finish his sentence, Cac had needily grabbed the feather and was starting to tickle his lover’s sensitive nose with it, almost in a trance himself.

“W-Whoa- that’s… That’s reeeaahh… Really… HhaAH-!! HHAPt’TTSHHhewW! AAHGTSSHHOO! HH-…! …hhPSHHEW-AAHTSSHOO-AAYYIISHHHH!!”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, the way Rose clenched with each sneeze, the lack of any attempt to cover, spray glistening on Cac’s chest, it made the blond whimper with need.

“Nng-ghh… Bless you…” He swallowed the whine and almost growled instead, “Good boy… How’s your nose feeling?”

“Hhh… Hhgh-AAaahn..!! It’s… It’s itchy… snf! And drippy… Kind of sore… It’s hot, and that makes it tickle m-moohhre… And the… The d-dust… On that featherhh!! I-… I have to sneeeh… Eeehh… eeeze again…”

Rose was killing him here. He knew what it was like on the receiving end of this, so this teasing had to be on purpose…

It took one swipe of the feather under his quivering nostrils to set off another fit.

“HhaDSSHH! TTSHh-iiIISHh-iisHHEW! HHitSHh! Aah… Haaah… aaAATSSHYYEWW!! …Oh my god, this cold!”

Cac pulled him close, hugging Rose while thrusting into him now. It took all his self control not to bite the taller man, and he choked out another blessing.

“Nngh~ Cac, it’s driving me c-crazy- and… And… Ah- there!!” Rose called out, arms wrapping around his lover. He left scratch marks on Cactus’s back as he grabbed needily at him, something he would have to rub ointment into later.

Cactus kissed him again, fucking deeply and rhythmically, “There, baby?”

“MmhaaAAH~!”

“Yeah, that’s it…! Fuck- you’re so tight, so hot, I can barely take it! I… NnGGgh…” Cactus squeezed his eyes shut, starting to become overstimulated. He could hold out, but…

“Whatever you do, Rose… Nnhah… Don’t sneeze… O-or… Or I’ll cum…”

“What-?!”

As hot as that statement was, Rose couldn’t help but question it.

“I… You know me, how on earth do you expect me to not s-sneeze when I’m… I… T-this cold, it’s… And the dusty feather you-”

Cactus dropped the feather and clamped his hand over Rose’s mouth in panic.

“D-don’t-…!”

A mistake, as Rose then had to breathe through his nose, and with the dust from the feather now on Cactus’s hand…

“Mmgh-mmn!!” The Brit tried to warn him, but it was too late. Even if Cac pinched his nose now, it wouldn’t help. Tension built between the two, of the blonde trying to hold back his orgasm, and the redhead, his oncoming fit.

Slowly, worriedly, Cac removed his hand, allowing Rose to properly hitch.

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinkin’…”

“Hh-hhiIIH-!! I-it’s… It’s okay… B-but I don’t thiiiIIHHh!! …think I can h-hold back… for very long.”

All the while, they were still fucking at a good pace.

“M-Me neither… Fffffuck, is this what you were feelin’ the whole time? How the hell is it s-so- so niche?”

“Let’s not get into the iiih… HhaAH…! …ins and outs of… Fetish distribution right now…”

“R-Right, right…”

“Oh god, Cactus, I’m… I’m g-going to… Hhaa-AAah! Hh-iitSHHhhYEW!! aahTSSH-kktSHHh! Kktssh-SSHHYOOo!! HhaPTSSHHeww! Ohmygod-HHITSSHh! Iitshh-sshh-tsSHHh!! C-can’t stop- AATSHhOOo! H-hhaa-AAPsSHH! GGHTSSHUUu!”

As warned, Cac couldn’t take it anymore, and came violently during Rose’s fit. His partner was driven over the edge himself at the feeling of being filled while helplessly sneezing, making a mess of Cactus’s stomach.

“Oh… Oh my god… Fuck, bless you.” Cac panted, slowing down and pulling out of his lover, “Sorry for the mess inside ya… Couldn’t… Haah….”

“It’s… It’s okay… Wow…” Rose coughed, wheezing from the exertion, “I… Phew… Think I need my inhaler…”

Cactus fumbled around the desk until he felt a familiar plastic shape, then pressed it into Rose's hands, “I… hah~ I got it…” 

After gratefully taking a couple of puffs and feeling his lungs settle down, he felt something in his nose shift as well, and took a cursory sniff. “Oh, hey! See, I told you orgasms are a decongestant!”

“You sure did. When I get this cold’a yours, you wouldn't mind, uh, givin’ that treatment to me, wouldya? Got a feelin’ I'm gonna need it.”

[molinaesque]

"You went against your word and defied our contract! In doing so, you brought the chaos of your world into mine! I will not abide it!" - Raphael (Baldur's Gate, 2023)

[kittycatfite]

Stobotnik fic! It's called "People Throw Rocks At Things That Shine"

I don't have an archive account yet (I am working on figuring out how to) so here you go! I wrote out the tags I plan to put (if people have suggestions for more I will gladly add). Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik/Agent Stone, Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik, Agent Stone, Male OC who was created to be a jerk for Agent Stone to kill, Commander Walters, People talking shit about Robotnik, Badass Agent Stone!!, Maybe a little OOC but I am trying my best (God damn is it hard to write Robotnik), Robotnik is an asshole but hey Stone's going to stay, Latte with steamed Austrian Goat Milk, Stone centric (It's from his pov), Agent Stone is in love with Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik, Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik has no idea what love is but he's trying, Protective Agent Stone, Possessive Dr Eggman | Dr Robotnik, Title is a lyric from Ours by Taylor Swift, Swears! I put swears in here!, I will get better at tagging this when its actually on Archive, First Fic! Whoop!,

This is somehow 3,600ish words so it is below the cut:)

fic time!

“Don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours"

And it's not theirs to speculate if it's wrong and

Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong and

I'll fight their doubt and give you faith with this song for you”

-Ours by Taylor Swift

Every person who had ever worked for or met Dr. Ivo Robotnik agreed the man was insane. He was a genius, of course, but that genius came with a level of cruelty and brutality that was so extreme it was considered a punishment position to be assigned as an assistant to the doctor. No agent lasted longer than a week before either quitting, being fired, or experiencing an injury so badly that they were unable to continue working. (The best record for being fired the quickest was 13 minutes and 37 seconds) Sometimes an agent would come along, someone slightly smarter than the rest, that had quick reflexes, or knew how to keep their mouth shut. Those agents would last longer, but even then it was only a month or two before they were sent packing. The other government agents would watch the poor souls as they ran out crying, yelling profanities, vowing revenge, or just dead inside. Robotnik did not tolerate anything below perfection and no human could ever be held to his sky-high standards. There were rumors and betting games about how long each assistant would last. No one who valued their money bet over a week. 

Or at least that was what Agent Stone had heard.  

“-You’re the greatest G.U.N has ever had, Agent Stone. Which is why we need to assign you to Dr. Robotnik.” Commander Walters said “Of course, working so closely with the Doctor will come with higher pay because the hours he demands are irregular and the level of attention this job will require is high.”

“I am happy to accept the position.”

“Wait, really? I usually have to promise everything under the sun to even get someone to consider working for the doctor. Are you sure, Agent?”

“Quite sure, Commander.”

“I...Thank you, Stone. This is a last shot since he has pretty much fired or permanently injured any agent that would be willing to work for him and scared off any other potential candidates. I wish I could say keep your head down and don’t do anything stupid but this is Robotnik so just, be careful. This will be a temporary position, but try to last longer than a week until we can come up with a more permanent situation.”

Stone grimaced as he exited the office. He would start today since Robotnik’s previous agent had met an explosive termination of position just that morning. He had heard the rumors, hell he had seen the man in person a few times (it was four but it wasn’t like he was actively counting or anything) during meetings when the Doctor would show off his incredible creations to the higher ups but nothing could have ever prepared for actually meeting the hurricane of a man the was Dr. Robotnik.

“Oh GREAT. Another Agent Babysitter here to disrupt my work by not being able to follow simple instructions or take insults without whining like a child. Be better than Agent What-his-name and you can leave with your hands intact.” The genius was standing now.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I have heard interesting things about your employment strategies, and I am excited to begin my new position.” Stone was smiling. Most agents showed up begrudgingly or with misplaced optimism. No one had ever shown up excited or eager to work for Robotnik.

The doctor threw back his head and laughed. It was loud, it was cruel, and Stone found it strangely appealing. “We both know that working for me will not be a PLEASURE, Agent.” Robotnik had crossed the room in seconds and was now so close to Stone that he took a step back not really out of fear, but more respect. He had heard the doctor didn’t like physical contact. His back found the wall and it made his heart start beating harder. Every time he had been previously threatened on a field mission he had stood his ground, but he wanted to please the doctor for some strange reason as a feeling kept tugging at his chest. “You are not here for a good time or a long time. You will keep quiet, do as I say, and don’t question anything. Or you will be out on your ass within the hour.”

Agent Stone nodded, making sure to keep it a small moment so as to not knock his head into the doctor or against the wall. He didn’t dare speak, the doctor had told him to keep quiet. 

“Hmph.” The doctor stalked off back to his chair. “Make me a latte. Figure out how to do it right and you might get to stay longer than the rest.”

____________

Five months had passed and so far Stone had been threatened with position termination 76 times, physical termination 42 times, and pinned to a wall more times than he could count. Robotnik had stuck gloved fingers in his mouth, electrocuted him, and used him as training practice for the badniks. But Stone was still working by his side. So what if Stone felt a little (Ok, A lot) of pride being Dr. Robotnik’s longest lasting assistant? He was just good at his job as an assistant/bodyguard/warm body that could offer praise at every genius thing the doctor said and agreement when the doctor complained about anything under the sun/personal latte maker. Sure it was more jobs than he had expected, but then again he had only expected to be in Robotnik’s employment for a week.

Stone spent every day of the week in Robotnik’s lab only leaving for coffee or food for the doctor or himself. He didn’t get to help on the machines; it was mostly paperwork or listening to the doctor talk about how smart he was. He was supposed to leave the lab at nine for eight hours every night, but he had started sleeping on the still couch in the breakroom after just the first week. It was important that he stayed close, especially since the doctor was constantly working and might need something from him at anypoint. Like a latte at 2am (His caffeine intake scared Stone, but he wasn’t about to say anything). The couch sucked at first for his back but Robotnik slept in his chair most nights so Stone decided he still had it better. At least he got eight hours of sleep over the doctor's occasional three. The doctor was the kind of person who slept where he crashed and Stone only moved him somewhere more comfortable when he was on the floor or actively holding a soldering iron (Stone had learned the hard way that Robotnik had few self preservation skills over the first month of his employment when the agent had discovered the doctor hadn’t anything besides half a granola bar in 72 hours). 

Monday had rolled around again and Stone stood in the break room as he prepared a breakfast burrito (the doctor didn’t have to eat, but Stone was sure as hell going to provide food) and brewing a morning latte for the doctor. He had been carefully experimenting to discover what exactly the doctor liked in his coffee based on his reaction to what was brought. So far he knew: 

Goat milk, steamed

Three spoonfuls of sugar dissolved into the milk

Hint of cinnamon 

Three fourths coffee to 1 fourth milk

Keep the foam

Likes latte foam art

Prefers his own face or logo

Smiles at badnik designs when he thinks no one is looking

Doesn’t comment on hearts or other simpler designs

Sometimes he will ask for a syrup flavor

Half a pump of vanilla 

Hates pumpkin, if he ever asks for that, stay out of his way or face his wrath (Stone would face his wrath any day of the week).

And the rare: Half a pump of caramel with drizzle on the sides of the glass. Stone had realised this was a latte that he ordered when something wasn’t going right.

Stone’s first job as a barista when he was barely sixteen had finally come in handy he supposed. This skill was never this useful in the military outside of having a steady hand when aiming a weapon.

It was calming to make the doctor his latte. A rare moment of serenity in the whirlwind that was working for Robotnik, not that he would give up this position for the world. He loved watching the genius work, he loved making him lattes, he loved watching him praise his badniks (Stone had even seen Robotnik kiss them on the ‘head’ before when he thought no one was looking), he loved to hear the doctor’s robot noises when he was feeling particularly relaxed, but what Stone really enjoyed was that he got to experience it all. He found what other people considered horrible, oddly enduring and it didn’t help that Robotnik was quite handsome in Stone’s personal opinion.

Past agents (or anyone who had ever met him, really) called Robotnik an asshole, egotistical, a mad man, a labrat, a physiological tyre fire, or even down right evil. Stone kept his true feelings of the doctor a secret to them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to defend the doctor every time someone sidled up to him with a “So sorry you have to work with him,” or “It's gotta suck being his agent”. They were trying to be chummy, and Stone would usually put on a customer service voice and disengage. He hated them all, but he wasn’t about to say that. Telling the world how much it sucked was Robotnik’s job.

Well that was usually. But today? Oh, today he was fucking done with it all. 

“Hey, I’m making a new bet that you can’t last a year with that freak show.” 

“Don’t call him that.”

“Hah! You don’t have to defend the stubborn bastard. He's not here and those drones of his won’t bother to listen in for him.” (oh they would, they really, really, would. Stone knew they were. SC-918 was always following the agent around.) The man reached over to grab at something in front of Stone when the agent's hand shot out and forcibly wrapped around his wrist. The man had his hand poised over Robotnik’s half finished coffee.

“Hey, now, man you don’t have to act like that hah-hah. Let me go. I wasn’t gonna touch his damn coffee.” The man’s words were strained as he struggled to get free of the agent’s grasp. Stone had already reached for his weapon from its holder that was flush against his chest.

“Do you think I am so stupid, that I can’t recognize an assassination attempt right in fucking front of me?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. A dangerous whisper.

Stone had pressed the man to the counter with the arm he had grabbed pinned so far behind his back it threatened to snap in two. Stone’s gun now pointed at the back of the man’s head. “Especially such a poorly planned and executed attempt? There are very few agents that use this break room since it is only for people who work under the doctor and so few of them actually use it regularly in fear that they will be fired if they ever see him. I have their faces memorized. You are not one of them.” The barrel of the gun was pressed into the man's head so hard it caused the man to squirm and try to free himself. “And they know better than to insult the doctor to my face.”

“I'M doing the world A FUCKING FAVO-” The bang that followed sounded through the whole lab. In the moment Stone decided two things, one he was going to ask the doctor for a personal kitchen within the lab or at least a coffee machine for safety reasons and two he was going to keep a spare change of clothes in his locker. Sure his black on black ensemble would hide the deep maroon splattered across his chest and legs but he really didn’t want to deal with the crunch of dried blood all day and the doctor always complained about the metallic smell.

As Stone cleaned up the blood splatter on the floor and prepared a new cup of coffee since the last one had not only been poisoned, but also had some idiot’s blood in it. The burrito was a little cold now, but it would have sat on the desk for an hour before Robotnik finally ate it anyway. When he returned to the doctor’s side with the fresh cup, the man actually seemed to have slight concern underneath the anger at Stone’s tardiness. 

“Sorry that took so long, sir. There was an assassination attempt on you. It has been handled and cleaned accordingly.”

“I heard the shot. And you're wrong as always, agent, you are still covered in the imbecile’s blood. Go change or wash up or whatever. There's a spare suit in the box by your locker - yes, it's your size. I don’t appreciate the smell of blood so be through but quick since there's paperwork for you to do. More now that there's a dead body in the kitchen.”

“Oh, he’s not in the kitchen anymore, and no one will ever find him. So I think I can escape the government's paperwork this time since you and I were the only witnesses, if that’s ok with you.” He said with a wink at the doctor, one hundred percent sure that the older man had seen it reflected in his holo screens. The adrenaline was making him brave. 

The agent spoke so nonchalantly as he turned to follow the doctor’s orders that he almost missed the doctor visibly tense as he looked up at him from where he had slumped down in his chair to drink his latte. They never did find the bodies when Stone or the badnik foiled an assassination attempt on the doctor and noone at the government really knew the extent of who or how many Stone had killed for Robotnik. Half the time Robotnik himself didn’t even know when another potential killer had been taken down by his agent.

Robotnik didn’t respond to Stone’s wink so the agent took that as his que to leave and change. Proud to see the doctor grab the cold burrito before staring at his computer screens.

Stone had pulled his shirt off and was scrubbing at the blood that had seeped through onto his chest with a towel when he heard someone enter the room. He immediately tensed and whirled around hand itching toward his waist where his gun sat against his hip, visible without his suit jacket.

“Jeez, Agent. It’s me.” Robotnik leaned against the doorframe frame. His eyes flicked over the agent's frame before settling on his latte, and Stone would have sworn his ears had turned pink.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sir, I am still feeling the effect of adrenaline, so-.”

“You're jumpy. It's fine, I will let it slide this time, Agent.” Still looking so intensely at the coffee, like he was trying to drink it with his eyes. “What did the assassin want to kill me for, this time? I still want a debrief, Stone, even if you don’t do the paperwork for G.U.N.”

“Ah, He never got a chance to say really. I believe he wanted to do the world a favor or something. He tried to poison your coffee while I was staring directly at it, so it wasn’t a very good plan. I have a suspicion that he was a disgruntled past agent, which implies G.U.N needs to up their security, honestly.” When Stone finally pulled on the clean shirt, Robotnik looked up, saw that it was still unbuttoned and promptly looked at the ceiling, ears turning from pink to red. Robotnik looked back down as Stone buttoned up his shirt.

“Hmm, they always leave so angry or broken. Not like you, Stone. You won’t leave, no matter what I do.”

“I plan to stay your agent, as long as you’ll have me.”

Robotnik gave a pleased hum. “You’re still here because you’re the only decent assistant I have been assigned, Stone and because you willingly stay by my side. You are MY agent, Stone. Never forget that.”

How could he forget? He loved being Robotnik’s agent. He adored everything about the genius. 

Suddenly, Robotnik was in his personal space. “MINE.”

This had put their interaction squarely in the realm of flirting which only made Robotnik’s blush spread down to his cheeks. Stone was sure he hadn’t meant that to sound romantic, but Stone felt like it was one of the most romantic things he had ever heard. “I am yours, Doctor.” 

“I really don’t like to share.”

“Only yours.”

There was no space between them. Roboniks chest was pressed against his. Stone was sure the older man could hear or at least feel the Agent’s heart beating with the proximity. 

“Really?” there was hesitancy in the doctor’s voice. Stone knew that he wasn’t used to having people stick around. He was the only person who had willingly stayed by Robotnik’s side for so long.

“I really do mean it when I say I will stay by your side forever, Sir.” Stone shifted forward to rest his chin against the doctor’s chest. He could be fired for this, but HR was never really a concern between them. Robotnik didn’t give two shits about boundaries but Stone had never set any up in the first place.

In the end, Stone was the one who moved first, slipping his hand into Robotnik’s gloved one and gently squeezing. The doctor’s breath audibly caught in his throat. 

“Never speak of this to anyone, Agent.”

“I would never share such a private moment. This is our’s alone to treasure, Sir.”

Stone would never grow tired of the sight of the doctor’s ears burning red.

__________

Stone knew it was going to be a bad day when the lab doors opened to reveal Dr. Robotnik shouting at the top of his lungs. After a year working with the doctor he knew his mood even before entering the door. He quickly discerned that Walters was the source of his frustration most likely since he was the target of his words.

As he walked closer

“We threw Agent Stone at you as a last resort. He wasn't supposed to last. A week or two and then he would be fired. We need him back in the field, Robotnik. He is the best shot we have at getting this information ba-”

“No! You assigned a half-way decent agent to ME. HE IS MY AGENT, AND I INTEND TO KEEP HIM UNTIL HE FUCKS UP. (Stone would have snickered at how much of a lie this was if they had been alone. He had fucked up.) Do you understand, Commander?” Robotnik had stalked over to Stone and thrown an arm around the agent's neck pulling him into more of a chokehold against his chest than an embrace. Stone held his arms still so as to not spill the coffee, but still allowed himself to be yanked around as the doctor continued his rage-filled rant. Possessive was one of the few words that floated around Stone’s brain. The proximity to Robotnik had shut everything else down.

Walters tried a different tactic and started to ask the agent what he wanted.

“If you ever try and reassign me, I will quit on the spot.” Stone was still aggressively pinned to Robotnik’s side, but he made sure his words sounded serious despite the less than serious predicament. When he glanced up he could see Robotnik was grinning almost manically. It was a grin that screamed ‘I won’. Stone treasured that grin, maybe a little bit more since everyone else seemed to fear it.

“Go find a new Agent to boss around, Walters,” The doctor’s voice was a viciously sing-song tone now that Stone had stated his own opinion on the matter. “This is my loyal sycophant.”

Robotnik’s eyes were flashing with what Stone knew to be amusement and a twisted sense of adoration when he looked at Stone but he also knew the rest of the world saw it as something evil. Maybe it did have a few malicious undertones, but so did the agent's own grin as he stared back. It was enough for Walters to give up.

They watched Walters' retreating form leave the lab, he knew better than to fight a losing war.

“Your latte, sir,” Stone handed him the cup with the steaming drink after the door slammed shut behind the commander.

The doctor took a sip, “I really do love the way you make them, Agent. Now come on, there is work to be done. Walters will be back in an hour to propose the idea that we do this recon mission together and we should prepare my babies.” Robotnik let go of the agent and disappeared into the rows of badnik along one side of the lab.

Stone was left reeling for a second with the sudden loss of the limbs that were partially obscuring his airway before taking up his place next to the doctor.

[pardonmydelays]

this hellsite is probably the only place where i can say this without being afraid that someone will laugh at me, so... i'm gonna treat breach era like a part of clancy era just because i'm not ready to let it go yet.