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Any variation on a partner (newly learning about the kink) going "Awhhh, that's all it takes to get you going?" after watching you melt from just a few of their sneezes~

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So uh..

We're opening emergency Genshin render commissions. Our bank recently hit the negatives. Nice. So.. feel free to DM us? Our renders will be a good $25 USD per scenario? I mean, we honestly don't know how to calculate prices for them since they usually get to about 5-16 different renders per scenario.. So I don't want to overcharge.. We might need help coming up with a decent price.. We're just struggling and stressed. We take payment through PayPal, Venmo, and CashApp, so our payment methods are pretty flexible. We might also be open to animation commissions in the future depending on our motivation, but right now, renders will have to do. 5/5 slots are open!

-Squish

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Holdbacks [kinda?] & Stifles [mooostly~]

soooo, tried my hand at a bit of holdbacks, which (as I will briefly explain in the wav) I am not good at because... I'm a bit too good at it... but!~ I still tried, and hopefully the results are enjoyable! took some chhinkni and induced a bit for this one~

feat: sniffling, sneezing, a few throat clears, maaybe a bit of nose rubbing? (not sure if that's audible), my voice (talking/rambling a bit), stifles, let out at the end~

did edit out a few noseblows, just not something I'm super into so I usually hesitate to leave them in, as well as the few times I used a bit more chhinkni as it was quite loud in the packaging~

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listen all ur wavs are great but ur satosugu wavs specifically are just like. really nice. like i could listen to ur gojo just talking for hours its so pleasant????

this- is actually just so sweet??? 😭💗 Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy, and just- ahggh... that's honestly so kind and adorable, and I'm really glad it's enjoyable in that way, that makes me so happy~ <333

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just wanted to let you know that your wavs are hot as hell, especially your buildups 🥵🥵😍 thank you so much for sharing them with us!

asdjkjsdjksdj- this has succeeded in thoroughly flustering me, agh~

thank you! >//< I'm glad you enjoyed!~

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Op I would eat up anything w/ Tim that you write but since you're askin' ,,,,maybe cat allergies with a lil bit of timsasha? 👀 -Tim anon

hello!! this took me so long to finish oh gosh... however here is Tim and Sasha ft. Tim with cat allergies!! also i'm not sure if you wanted it more on the romantic side but it didn't quite go that way when i was writing it, i'm sorry!!! i hope you will enjoy either way :')

“Happy new flat!”

Tim thrusts the bouquet of flowers out in front of him, a shimmery gift bag hanging precariously from his wrist. He peeks round the edges of the daisies to see Sasha in the doorway, clad in pyjamas and a cardigan that’s swallowing her, giving him a bemused smile.

“Sorry, is eleven am on a Saturday too early for you? Need some more beauty sleep?” he teases. Sasha rolls her eyes.

“Come on in. I was just making coffee.”

When he steps inside, there is indeed the heady scent of coffee in the air, along with the telltale burbling of a percolator atop a stove. Sasha regards him with amusement as he slips his shoes off excitedly.

“So? Are you going to give me the tour?”

“Slow down,” she laughs, “We’re having coffee first, Mister Morning Person. And,” she raises an eyebrow, “I won’t let you hold my present hostage for that much longer.”

“Greedy,” Tim quips, but holds up his one free hand to show his acquiescence. Sasha takes the flowers from him as she leads him into the kitchen.

It’s light and airy, filled with light wooden countertops and morning sunlight. Tim can see the beginnings of a few touches of Sasha herself: her favourite mug waiting beside the stovetop, tea towels with brightly geometric patterns, a clock in the shape of a daisy on the wall.

She locates a vase for the real daisies and sets about arranging them, her soft, sage green sleeves pulled up to the elbow. Tim allows himself a smile as he sees her linger to touch their petals gently, to get them just right.

“Thank you for these,” she says, a smile in her eyes as she holds out a hand, “Now the gift.”

“Fine, fine! It’s like you’re not even happy to see me.” He hands it over anyway, watching the grin unfurl as she opens the bag.

“Oh!” She says with a laugh. In her hands is a framed photo, one of the two of them, a stupid photo snapped when they were a little too drunk at the last Christmas party. They’re clinging to each other, cheek-to-cheek, grinning ecstatically for the camera. Inexplicably, they’re both covered in glitter, and the camera has caught it in violet and silver glimmers on their cheekbones. “I’ll give it pride of place.”

“You had better,” Tim tells her. The coffee pot begins to whistle, and he wanders over to remove it from the heat. Sasha tails him, retrieving a second mug from the nearest cupboard. “The next time I come over, I expect to see it. If you lock it away in a cupboard somewhere, I swear to god…”

“I would never,” she laughs. “Mostly because you have easy access to the coffee I drink in the office, and I wouldn’t put it past you to poison me out of spite.”

“I would never!” Tim echoes, a dramatic hand pressed to his chest, before he turns to pour them each a cup of coffee. “This is a lovely kitchen, you know.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sasha says warmly. “There’s so much more space than in my old flat, and-oh, bless you!” She reaches out a hand to steady Tim’s own as he directs a sudden sneeze into the crook of his elbow. “Please don’t spill the coffee.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He replies, half-sniffling, half-laughing. Spills averted, they take their mugs to the kitchen table.

“Who took that photo, by the way? I barely remember it being taken,” Sasha asks as she sits down.

“Funny you should ask that,” Tim says, “Actually, it was-oh, hello, who are you?” His eyes flicker down towards the floor to rest on the cat that’s just wandered into the kitchen, sleek and black with perfectly round copper-coloured eyes.

“Oh! I forgot.” Sasha gestures between the two of them with a hand. “Tim, Seabiscuit. Seabiscuit, Tim. I’m looking after him for a uni friend.”

Tim squints at Seabiscuit, who sits down opposite his chair and fixes those bright coppery eyes directly on him.

“Seabiscuit, huh? He doesn’t look much like a horse.”

He holds a hand out. After a moment, the cat deigns to rise and sniff at his fingers. A second later, and he’s purring, pushing his head against Tim’s hand.

“I knew you two would get along,” Sasha smiles, taking a sip of her coffee. Tim just chuckles, rubbing Seabiscuit’s ears before he returns to his own mug. 

He takes a large swig, concentrating on the way the coffee scalds his tongue, trying to distract himself from the way each breath is beginning to bring with it an inevitable itch. The sneeze when they were making coffee no longer seems so insignificant.

“So, who did take the photo?” Sasha asks.

“Oh yeah,” Tim rubs at his nose with the back of a hand, “It was Jon.”

“Wait, wait wait. He was there? I thought he didn’t go to office parties?”

“Me too, but- well. Martin s-said-” He breaks off, frowning, still rubbing fitfully at his nose. His breath is just on the edge of catching, his eyes burning now, and he only just has the presence of mind to uncurl his fingers from round his coffee mug before- 

“hh-KTSHH-uh!...huh-...huh’KTSCH-uu!-fff-fuck, sorry.” His apology is premature. He twists to the side again, a third, more desperate sneeze tearing against his throat. “huh’TSCHUU!-ohhh, god.” 

“Woah, Tim, bless you!”

Scrubbing at his eyes, he doesn’t see Sasha’s quick glance between him and Seabiscuit, still loitering near his chair. Decisively, she stands and circles the table to pick up the cat, carrying him gently from the room. As she goes, she says over her shoulder, “You could have told me sooner you’re allergic to cats!”

Tim, sniffling persistently now, grimaces. “I forget sometimes!” He calls back, before sneezing again, twice, into the crook of his arm.

When Sasha returns, it’s with a box of tissues and a packet of antihistamines. “Your eyes are going all puffy,” she says as she sets them down in front of him and goes to fetch a glass of water. “Should I be concerned?” There’s a bite of anxiety underlying her voice that belies her genuine worry.

“No, no,” Tim waves her off and grabs a tissue, taking a moment to blow his nose before he answers. “Cats just make me… huh’KSHHuu!-ugh. Yknow, itchy and sneezy. Nothing life-threatening.” He accepts the water and downs one of the pills with practiced ease.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sasha says. When Tim raises an eyebrow at her, she cocks her head to one side, regarding him. “The puffy eyes are a good look on you. Very love-sick romance protagonist.”

Tim makes a face and grabs another tissue to sniffle into.

“Why did you call him over if you’re allergic to cats?”

“God, Sasha, who do you take me for? I like cats-” His breath stutters and he smothers another sneeze into the tissue, followed by a groan. “They just don’t like me. Adorable little bastards.”

Sasha shakes her head, a smile on her lips. “Next time you’re coming over, I’ll stock up on antihistamines.” 

“Got it, boss.” Tim gives her a thumbs up. “I still want the-...hh-....hh’KKSHHuh!-...the tour of the whole place. You’re not getting out of it just because of this.”

“Bless you!” She pulls a fresh tissue from the box and holds it out to him. “Let’s wait for the pills to kick in properly first. Then I’ll show you around, I promise.”

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Do you still have any interest in Trigun? Just curious

I do, but I'll admit, the hyperfixation stage is over, which makes it a lot harder for me to really dig into it, but ww is still my type, and blondie will always be adorable, so yeah! I still do enjoy the show, just maybe the snz aspect of it fell off a lil for me~ thanks for the ask!

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still training?? in your condition???

2 hr. rough sketch animation | ju//jutsu ka//isen

!!! do not repost to non snz blogs !!! pls&ty

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auhgssufhgh... g- g/ojo... allergic.... im begging.... anything i mean anything of this man just wrecked and itchy and him hello hi aggufh him

totally only if you want to though!!! and if u want more specifics I could maybe figure something out, but i'd honestly just lose it for anything with Him <3 augghuhg him

hihi !! it's only been *checks watch* one billion business years since I asked for requests and then absconded like a criminal!!!!! but I return bearing gifts!!!! have an allergic gojo!!!!

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Hello! Just wanted to say that reading your fics has reawakened the t/m/a hyperfixation in me. I am loving it so I must thank you for that XD

Since you asked for prompts, would you consider writing J/on trying to push through a massive dust allergy in the archives? Maybe he forgot to take his meds and is still trying to quietly tackle the monumental task of organizing G/ertrude's hellscape of an office by himself. Unfortunately for him, it doesn't go to plan ^v^"

Have a good day/night! 🧡

I'm glad!! it's such a hyperfixation for me too haha~ thank you for the prompt, I hope I managed to do it some form of justice!~ this is early days though, so do be warned that Martin and Jon will not have the uh, more friendly vibes we know of them from later!~ <3 which did actually hurt a little to write ;-;

Malfunctions

The one in which Jon experiences some... bodily malfunctions.

Word Count: 3.5k Characters: Jon, Tim, Martin

“Boss?” 

Jon waves a hand for Tim to enter, barely glancing up from the paper he’s scouring. If he’d have known what kind of state the archives was in when he was offered the position… well he’d still have taken it, but he might have negotiated a better pay. 

“-about it, right?” Tim says, seemingly the end of a sentence, not the beginning. 

Wearily, Jon looks up, groaning softly as he realizes Tim has definitely been talking this whole time. “Apologies, I was… a bit preoccupied. Would you mind repeating that?” 

Tim simply shrugs, giving Jon a winning smile. “It can wait till later. What’s got you so distracted? Another case not workin’ on the laptop?” 

“Quite. It’s frankly unbelievable, the state Gertrude left these archives in.” Jon starts, clenching the paper slightly in his hands. “Boxes and boxes of files and paperwork, all scattered and randomized and don’t make any sort of sense- You’d think someone with such a meticulous system of numbers would bother making it a usable one!”

There’s a slight chuckle from Tim, but Jon hardly even registers it. 

“And then the fact some won’t even record- Not to mention the fact they’re mostly just rubbish fiction, it’s starting to feel like her entire existence was aimed at making my job as difficult as possible,” Jon finally trails off, slightly out of breath. 

Tim chuckles at this, giving Jon a playful smirk. “Much as Gertrude may have been a bit of a waste of an archivist by the end, I don’t really think you can blame her for your laptop not recording properly.” 

“I can blame her for whatever I damn well please…” Jon finds himself muttering under his breath. Tim’s raised eyebrow proves he heard it, but neither of them acknowledge this. Instead Jon simply nods, letting out a long sigh.

“Anyways,” Tim continues, gesturing to the file that- Jon didn’t even notice he was holding. “Found another one fallen behind a shelf, figured you’d want to know about it.” 

Another weary sigh, followed by Jon nodding for Tim to leave it on the nearest pile of boxes. What Jon meant was for Tim to set it on top of the boxes so he could go check it out once he was finished here. What Tim did, however, was drop it on top without a care in the world. 

A plume of dust rises from where the file hits the box, drifting around into the office air. Tim immediately coughs a few times, waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to clear a bit of it. Jon, on the other hand, winces visibly, fighting the urge to pull his shirt over his face. He settles for running a knuckle under his already twitching nose. The slight itch that he’d been fighting since this morning spreads into a burning tickle, and it takes everything he has not to sneeze. 

“Woah,” Tim exclaims, still coughing slightly. “Bloody hell there’s a lot of dust around here.”

“Seems cleanliness was hardly one of Gertrude’s strengths either,” Jon replies, each word bringing him one step closer to the brink.

Mind over body, he does not have to sneeze. He’s not allergic to dust, and his eyes are not beginning to water. He’s a professional, damn it. And professional archivists, head archivists, are not taken down by something as simple, and common, as dust. 

“I mean I knew it was bad in storage,” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to the struggle Jon finds himself fighting through. “But I figured at least in your office it would be a bit cleaner.” 

“I haven’t had a chance to get a deep clean done,” Jon retorts, feeling annoyance start to creep into his tone. “I’ve been quite busy, if you hadn’t noticed.” 

Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, “Right, right, wasn’t making a comment on your work ethic or anything. Honestly I just figured Elias would have sent someone to do it for you or something.” 

“I know,” Jon offers, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit…”

“Yeah,” Tim replies. His smile is back, but it seems a touch more genuine this time. “We’re all pretty stressed. Gertrude left us a hell of a mess to clean.” 

“Quite literally,” Jon says, giving a small smile of his own. “And yes, Elias did offer, but there’s hardly been a reasonable hour that I haven’t been here cleaning up hehh– her mess.” 

It’s only for a second, but Jon feels his entire body go slack as the sneeze begs to be released, teasing up the edge of his nose. He manages to turn away from Tim enough to pinch his nose for a minute. It does nothing against the deep itch that’s beginning to creep up into his ears and eyes, but at least for now it stalls the sneeze enough for him to turn back. 

Tim, for his part, doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he’s standing in the doorway, holding up one hand with the other hovering in front of his face. At first, Jon can’t for the life of him figure out what the hell Tim’s doing. Is this some form of practical joke? 

It takes him right up until Tim gasps, with Jon nearly jumping to his feet at the sudden noise, before he realizes. 

“hiehh– hiH’YIESHh’ooo!” 

Jon finds himself damn near envious of Tim. He always seems so carefree and unashamed. Those were never qualities Jon shared, even with something as trivial as this. His own nose throbs fiercely in response. 

“Wheew,” Tim sighs, lowering his hand with a dramatic sniff. “Sorry ‘bout that, not normally that affected by dust, but I guess if there’s enough it’ll get to anyone!” 

There’s a beat of silence, Jon finding himself physically incapable of response. The tickle’s damn near unbearable. His entire being is aching for the release. He knows there’s no point in fighting, it’ll just make it worse when it finally breaks free, but still. A boss should be able to control themselves. The Head Archivist should be able to control their own body. 

“What, no blessing?” Tim mocks playfully after a moment of silence passes. He pauses slightly when Jon still shows no sign of response. Finally, Tim seems to get bored, waving a hand in front of Jon’s face as he chuckles out, “Boss? You still in there?” 

It’s barely a breeze, but the movement is enough to stir the dust in the air around Jon’s face again. Imperceptible to anyone else, but Jon sees the particles begin to swirl. It’s just enough to break his focus, and he hardly has time to pinch his nose before the sneezes begin to break free.

“hh’nGT–! ah’gNDt–!” 

“B-less you boss! See, that’s how you respond when someone sneezes-” Tim begins, trailing off slightly as Jon shows no signs of stopping. 

“ah’gNT–! gNNT’ch-! hh’gNDTchh-! Good lord... h-hehh– ah’dNGT–iuh!” 

“Bless you some more, wow you really-” 

“hH’NNGT-iuh! ah’knDGT-dhh!” 

By this point Tim has the decency to look concerned, reaching across Jon’s desk and pulling the tissues closer. Jon blearily grabs a handful, pausing for a series of desperate sounding hitches before ducking into the pile for a few more tight stifles.

“Damn, boss,” Tim says, seemingly a bit lost for words. If Jon’s misery wasn’t the sole cause, he might even find that a bit entertaining. It’s hardly a common occurrence for Tim to be speechless. 

“‘Scuse mbe. I’b fide-” Jon begins, noticing Tim wince at the congestion in his voice. Can’t really blame him for that. 

“You certainly sound ‘fide’,” Tim mocks gently, moving the tissues closer again. Jon blushes slightly at this, taking a few and turning away politely to blow his nose. Tim, for his part, seems unfazed by this, simply waiting until Jon finishes to resume his taunting. 

“That was a hell of an attack, never knew you were so allergic to dust!” 

“I’m not,” Jon starts, almost by instinct. Tim’s immediate raised eyebrow confirms there’s really no way out of it this time. “Alright, maybe a little, but it’s usually not nearly this bad. I juhh… hehh– eh’GNDt–iuh! Excuse me. Just forgot to take my medication this mor- enGT-uhh! Excuse me. This morning.” 

Tim looks a touch taken aback, staring at Jon with a face Jon can’t quite place. Almost… concern, but with a bit of respect? 

“How do you function like this?” 

“It’s not normally like this,” Jon replies, massaging the brink of his nose gently. “That’s the point of the medication. I simply was in a rush this morning, and it slipped my mind to take.. t- take… hH’ENGT-dhh! ah’kNDt-iuhh! Excuse me. To take some. Then with your little file incident-” 

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Tim interrupts, giving a bit of a smile. It’s equal parts sheepish and mocking. “If I’d known you were so allergic, I’d have been a lot more careful.” 

Jon fights back his lecture about ‘carelessness in the archives’, and instead settles for a deep sigh. “It’s alright. No way you could have. Like I said, it’s usually quite manageable.” 

“Well,” Tim continues, “It’s still quite early. You could run home and grab some medication, I’m sure the archives can survive without you for a quick hour or so-” 

“I appreciate the suggestion,” Jon cuts him off, “but I’m fine. I am perfectly capable of running my archives.” 

Tim simply shrugs. This is obviously a battle he doesn’t feel like fighting. Jon gives his nose another rub, shivering slightly at the lingering tickle that’s steadily only growing worse. 

“Ihh.. If there’s nothing else?” 

“Nope! That was all. I’ll leave you to it,” Tim replies, starting to exit the room. Just before he leaves though, he turns on his heel and gives Jon another winning smile. “Oh, and I’ll be sure to tell Martin to pick up some more tissues.” 

Jon just grimaces, half certain Tim’s simply trying to get a reaction out of him. But knowing the man, he’ll do it just to get some entertainment. Still, telling him not to would just be ensuring it happens. There’s really no winning here. 

Thankfully, Tim closes the door as he leaves, and Jon finally has at least enough privacy to let out another small fit without prying eyes. 

“hH– enGdt-iuh! eh’gNT-uhh! ah’ngxT–! eiH’ZSHhhuh! Good lord…” 

The last one breaks free, and Jon silently hopes Tim was far enough to not hear it. It’s mortifying enough that Tim’s witnessed what he has, he certainly doesn’t need to see or hear anything further. 

Sheer power of will carries Jon through the next two statements relatively uneventfully. Sure, the recording has to be rapidly paused once or twice, but that’s simply a slight malfunction that he quickly corrects. On audio you should hardly be able to tell. 

One such… malfunction, however, does manage to slip onto a tape. Of course it had to be one that would only record on the damn tapes. Jon internally (and perhaps externally) curses the  statements for refusing the digital plane. A slight hint of editing could remove this error in mere moments, as he perhaps did with a few others. Instead, he sighs deeply, ignoring how damn itchy that sigh was, and rewinds the tape. 

“Statement of Elyse Williams regarding unusual activity in her attic. Original statement given March 21st, 2011. Audio recording by Johh…” 

Jon pauses for a second, collecting himself and stalling off the impending interruption. 

“Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Mahh… hH- h’nDGxt–dhh! Christ.” 

The tape clicks off again, and the whirring sound of it rewinding sets Jon’s teeth on edge. Head archivist of the damn Magnus Institute! What kind of archivist, head archivist, can’t even control themselves long enough to record a statement. 

With the next go he manages to make it almost halfway through before another interruption.

“It was then that I saw them, crawling all… all around my… hihh– eh’knDgt! ek’nGDt–dhh! Good lord.”

This time he doesn’t even bother rewinding, settling instead for grabbing a new tape entirely. He’ll record over this tape later, but with so much to rewind… it would simply be a waste of time to do it now. 

“Statement of Elyse Willaims regarding unusual actihh… activity in her attic. Original statement gi- hh’nXGt! given March 21st, 2011. Audio reco- eh’ngDT–dhh! Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head… hhh– Head Ar… Archivistofthe- hk’ZSHHieuhh! Goddamn it!” 

There’s a timid knock at the door, and it takes everything Jon has not to throw something at it. Letting out a low groan, Jon clicks the tape off and calls out, “Come in, Martin.” 

As expected, the door swings open to reveal Martin with a collection of boxes stacked in his arms. He seems to hesitate slightly in the doorway, futilely attempting to control the concern and worry lacing his features. 

“S-sorry to bother you, I was just looking over some of these files and had a few questions about the research you asked me to do- oh, but you’re recording and I should have checked and I’m-” 

Jon sighs loudly, cutting off Martin’s rambling. “It’s fine. I was… taking a break. What are the questions?” 

Martin starts off on them, most of which are fairly trivial and Jon finds his headache beginning to grow. He manages to sneak a couple of silent stifles, passing them off with a light cough or simply timing them when Martin’s preoccupied. 

“Martin-” Jon finally interrupts, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He can pass it off as the headache that he does have, but he can’t help but admit it might have more to do with the blooming tickle. After a pause he continues, “make a list of the questions. Tim and Sasha can handle most of them, and the ones they can’t I’ll answer or pass on for Elias to answer.” 

“Oh, r-right!” Martin stutters, gathering up the boxes into his arms again and heading for the door. He pauses, once again lingering at the entrance. 

“Is there somethh… something else?” Jon asks, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. The tickle is growing unmanageable, and he has mere minutes to get Martin out of his office. 

Martin’s still standing, fidgeting with the boxes as he seemingly builds up the courage for something. Irritating at the best of times, of which these are decidedly not. Jon can’t help but sigh, though he does notice a slight shudder run through Martin at the sound. 

He can’t linger on this however, as the sigh pushes his nose over the edge and he finds himself ducking into his wrist for a tightly contained- “hk’nGDT!” 

“Oh, bless you Jon!” Martin says. Apparently able to form words now. Perfect timing. 

“Thank you, do excuse me. Now, are you just planning to wait in my office for the remainder of the workday?”  

The tone is harsh, and he knows it. There’s a pang in his chest as Martin’s face falls for a moment, but Jon quickly crushes it. He’s wasting time, and lord knows they don’t have enough of that to spare. They should both be working. The tone is warranted. 

Despite this, Jon finds himself softening slightly when he speaks again. “Is there anything further I can help you with, Martin?”

“N-no, not really, just the questions, I’ll make the list like you said,” Martin rambles, still not moving towards the hall. Jon raises an eyebrow, not missing the way Martin blushes slightly. 

“O-okay… well… yes, there is… well-” 

“hk’gNDt–dhh! Excuse me.”  

“Bless you, that’s actually- that’s uh, that’s actually what I wanted to…” Martin trails off, setting the boxes on the ground and rummaging through one of them. He produces a box of tissues along with a handful of travel packs, and Jon curses Tim under his breath. 

“So I take it Tim told you to… t-to… hk’nGT–dh! Excuse me. Tim told you to bring those?” 

Martin mumbles a blessing, but lets Jon finish his sentence otherwise uninterrupted. There’s another awkward silence as Martin stands frozen, eyes wide as he seems to be running through a million possible answers in his head. 

“He- he did mention something, yeah,” The answer finally comes, Martin blushing slightly again as he places the box on Jon’s desk. “But um… well, you’ve also been- it’s uh, it’s not exactly been… subtle?” 

The tone pitches up towards the end, and Jon feels the heat begin spreading over his own face in return. He wants to say something, make some form of denial, but… he’s not an idiot. And at this point, denial might be a bit out of reach. 

Case in point, Jon finds his breath catching again, his mouth falling open slightly. Martin takes notice of this, and timidly holds out a travel pack, offering a warm smile that Jon merely glimpses as his eyes begin to flutter closed. He accepts them, weighing the embarrassment of accepting help with the mortification of letting this fit out into his hands. 

“Thankyou-” Jon manages, breathy and high, before he ducks into his stapled hands, tissues pressed in them. 

“hH’nDGt–dhh! hk’gnDXt–uhh! Excuse me. Oh god… I’m gon- gonna… hH’DZSHHhuhh! eh’zzZSHhhh’oo! hH’DZSHhhuh!” 

The last of the fit breaks free, and Jon finds himself blushing behind his hands. 

“Bless you a lot, Jon, Christ. Are you alright?” 

“I’b fide-” Jon starts, still from behind his wall of tissues. There’s no point in attempting any discretion now, and he gives Martin an apologetic glance before swivelling in his chair and blowing his nose. It barely helps the itch, but it does help reduce some of the congestion before he speaks again. 

“I’m fine. Please do excuse me, that was-”

“Quite the show!” Martin interrupts, laughter beginning to seep into his tone. It doesn’t feel cruel, nor does it even carry the tone of mocking Jon had grown so accustomed to from Tim. This laughter feels… almost light. As if he’s included in the joke, instead of being the subject of it. Despite himself, Jon feels the hint of a smile ghost his face. 

No. It’s unprofessional, and… he has to be mocking him… just, he’s better at hiding it. That's worse than Tim's blatant lack of respect. At least he doesn't pretend to... to care.

“I suppose. Now, back to work,” Jon says, letting the ice dip into his voice. 

Martin blushes a bit, beginning to stammer again, “R-right, of course, well I just- I mean, I didn’t mean- I’m just- I don’t want to pry but… I wasn’t- uh, are you sure you’re fit to work right now…?” 

The question is almost whispered, Martin’s voice dropping off in what might be… concern? Jon finds himself biting down the urge to reply. To tell Martin that no, he’s not fit to work, he needs to go home, and that he just feels… miserable, to put it frankly. But no, it isn’t concern. It’s… pity. It has to be pity. 

“I am fine,” Jon begins, standing from his chair. “I am more than fit to continue my work, and more than that I am capable of continuing to act as your boss. This is nothing I can’t hahh– hH’NdXGt–dhh! Nothing I can’t handle.”

Martin whispers a blessing, but goes a bit pale while doing so. Jon feels that familiar pang start in his chest, the one that says… maybe you went too far. Honestly, he’s not even sure why Martin brings that out of him. Tim mocks him all the time, Sasha even can cast a glance and throw a joke but… somehow when it’s Martin it just… 

“S-sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry-” Martin’s rambling cuts through Jon’s thoughts just in time for him to see Martin beginning to walk into the hall. 

“No, I’m sorry Marti-” Jon starts, but finds it comes out merely a whisper. The door closes, and he hears Martin’s footsteps retreating down the hall. 

Well, that’s that. Jon grabs a handful of tissues, choosing the box Martin had brought for… well because it’s closer. That’s why. That’s the only reason why. 

He blows his nose a few times, letting out another stray “hH–dnGt’uh!” into the soft folds. After a few rounds of this, he clears his throat, and finds the quality satisfactory. He still sounds a bit rough around the edges, but on such an old device you should hardly be able to tell. 

Clicking on the tape again, Jon starts the statement over from the beginning. Again. He pointedly ignores the guilt beginning to fester in his chest, devoting himself entirely to the recording. He was merely being the boss, doing what he needed to do. Martin was speaking out of turn, and had to be reminded of such. 

Still… he makes a mental note to thank Martin for the tissues next time he sees him. Suppose maybe he’s not entirely useless after all. 

“Right, now then,” Jon says, grabbing his papers and placing the recorder in front of him. 

“Statement of Elyse Willams regarding unusual activity in her attic. Original statement given March 21st, 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.”

[waterfallofspace]

Actually Adorable

The one in which Jon and Martin both discover something new about each other.

feat. martin with kitten allergies, and snzs~ not actually one of my main t/ma snz bois, but he's absolutely precious to me, and i got a request, so I hope this is enjoyable!

(warning: there is talk of wheezing in this, it's pretty light and nothing super heavy, but just be aware of that incase you don't like that sort of thing)

Characters: Martin, Jon, Tim Word Count: 4k (so much for 'small drabbles')

He’d normally avoid the alley, but being as late as he is, Martin finds himself with no choice. It’s not as if it’s a particularly bad part of town. In fact, while the institute doesn’t get much respect, everything around it always seemed to be well kept. At least, everything outside of the archive, that is. Still, ducking through the alleys of London isn’t exactly Martin’s idea of a safe commute. 

The city’s background ambience dulls in the quiet street, Martin finding himself humming slightly just to fill the gap. It’s a fast walk, cutting nearly ten minutes off his commute. Again, normally that wouldn’t be worth much, but being already nearly twenty minutes late, he’ll take what he can get. 

“Jon’s going to kill me…” he hums to himself. It’s not as if anyone’s around to hear him singing about his death in an alley behind the institute. It’s okay to lighten the mood a bit before his imminent demise. 

A sudden, yet oddly soft noise knocks him from this spiral of thought. He barely manages to catch the scream that starts, smothering it into a strangled noise of pure panic. Martin scans the alley, heart beating into his throat. It takes him a minute to locate the source of the sound, and the sight that greets him is enough to leave him speechless. 

There, in the corner of the alley, crouching beside a few abandoned boxes, is Jon. As in Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the magnus institute, his boss. In an alley. Crouching. 

“J- Jon..?” Martin whispers, almost hoping he isn’t heard. The wish is, albeit self-fullingly, granted. Jon doesn’t look up, still entirely focused on whatever task has brought him here. His hand is reaching out behind the boxes, and Martin can’t seem to make out what he’s doing. 

Martin finds himself standing there for almost too long, debating what to do. Okay, there’s a few ways this could go. Option one; he can go back the way he came and take the extra nearly twenty minutes it’ll take to get all the way back, and just hope Jon’s too busy to notice. No, Jon will definitely be back inside by then and he’ll be screwed. 

Okay so option two; shuffle past Jon as fast as humanly possible, and hope Jon doesn’t see him. Except what if he does, and Martin didn’t announce himself, and then Jon thinks he’s a creepy stalker, prowling the back alleys and looking for- no, that won’t do. 

So option three it is; announce himself and make sure Jon knows he’s there, and try to explain that he was running late (and that he’s so sorry for that) and hope that whatever Jon’s doing isn’t any form of criminal activity that would lead to getting fired-

Another soft noise cuts through these thoughts, Martin realizing it’s the same one as earlier. He manages to focus his gaze on Jon, watching as Jon kneels down closer to the floor, reaching out his hand again. This time a small form crawls out from behind the box, and rubs up against the hand. Oh. 

Martin finds himself nearly fainting with relief, the million ways this situation could end badly starting to fade as he watches the scene unfold. Jon has sunk fully to a sitting position by now, coaxing the kitten closer with a mixture of soft cooing and gentle tongue clicks. The kitten seems enraptured, beginning to let out a purr as it sinks into Jon’s lap. 

They stay like this for a few minutes, Martin unable to draw his eyes away as Jon strokes the kitten behind the ears, continuing to speak softly to it. The kitten, for its part, purrs loudly enough that even standing a few paces away, Martin can hear it clearly. Jon has a look on his face Martin’s never seen him have. It’s mesmerizing, and Martin has to fight to keep the warmth from flooding to his cheeks. He’d never known Jon was such a cat person, but he seems a natural at it. 

There’s something so… open about Jon’s posture. It’s an unfamiliar sight on the normally politely restrained boss. His voice, which would usually carry a tight air about it, is soft. Warm. He’s… almost adorable like this. It’s a tone Martin didn’t even know Jon could produce, though he feels a bit bad thinking that. Of course Jon can be soft, he’s just always at work when they see each other. Not the place for such things. 

There’s a slight pang in his chest as Martin starts to drift into imagining Jon speaking to him with the same- No. Don’t be creepy, that’s a completely unreasonable train of thought. This is your boss, and you are watching him in an alley. Okay, line definitely crossed. 

“Jon?” Martin speaks up, clearing his throat first, hoping that’ll be a touch less startling. 

Jon nearly jumps out of his skin, eyes snapping to face Martin. The kitten, however, barely stirs. It seems far too content in Jon’s lap to worry about anything else. It purrs deeply, melting into Jon’s chest, dozing lightly. 

“Martin? What the hell are you doing here?” Jon asks, all softness drained from his tone. Martin feels another pang, but pushes it down. He’s just surprised Jon in a back alley, of course his tone is tense. 

“S- sorry! I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, I promise, I was just running late- which I know I should have been more prepared for, but it was that kind of morning- which isn’t an excuse! But the point is I was trying to save some time, and-” Martin feels the words start pouring out before he can really stop them. It always seems to happen when he’s nervous, and around Jon? That’s almost always. 

The look on Jon’s face is hard to read, and Martin manages to cut himself off abruptly as Jon holds up a hand.

“S-sorry,” He stammers out again, meeting Jon’s eyes carefully. 

“It’s of no matter,” Jon sighs, glancing down at the kitten before tracing back up to Martin.

“He’s cute!” Martin says, hoping desperately to break the tension. He reaches down and gives the kitten a light pet, smiling as it leans against his touch. “I didn’t know you were a cat person! What’s his name?” 

“Doesn’t have one,” Jon replies, looking almost tenderly at the mass of fur. “Found her out here. At least I think it’s a girl. Not exactly an expert.” 

“Oh, r- right! She’s cute then!”

Jon clears his throat, “Indeed.” There’s a pause, then he continues with, “I was just…” 

Martin waits for the end, but it doesn’t come. Jon’s mouth sort of just… closes. He won’t meet Martin’s eye, and for a second it seems like… embarrassment? But for what? Finding a kitten? Petting it? 

Martin doesn’t have the time to linger on these thoughts, however, as a new one presents itself with urgency. He has to sneeze. And badly. 

He pulls away from Jon, taking a few steps back and managing to get an arm over his face before the first breaks through; a tiny stifle that’s barely audible over the kitten’s still pronounced purring. “hh’nxt!” 

Jon doesn’t reply, simply watching Martin with… another unreadable expression. Martin stutters out a few apologies, before turning on his heel and ducking back into his arm for another tight, “ih’nxt! hh’ngt!” 

This time Jon does reply, or at least… Martin thinks he does? Whatever it is comes out hushed, barely a whisper, the only trace it was even there is Jon’s lips seeming to form some sort of words. He does, however, stand up. The kitten gives a disgruntled mew as it’s jostled from its position, sluggishly crawling back onto the ground.  

“Well,” Jon says, lightly brushing off his legs. “Shall we go inside then?” 

Martin blinks a few times from behind his arm. He was expecting some form of lecture about being late, but… gift horses and all. He decides to just take this mercy. He drops his arm and nods silently, falling into step behind Jon as they walk, not quite together, but both in the same direction. 

“What about the kitten?” Martin finds himself asking, regretting it instantly as Jon’s entire back goes tense. “Or, I- well, I was just… I don’t want to leave it to die out there… N- not that I’m saying you’d- I didn’t mean you-” 

“I’m sure that Sasha or Tim can find it a nice place to stay,” Jon replies, voice tight and contained. “Tim’s always looking for an excuse to dip out of work. As for right now, we are late, and I know I have a lot of work to be doing. I’m sure you do too.” 

Martin curses himself internally, that was of course a stupid thing to ask. Jon’s obviously a bit on edge about being seen like that, and it’s not really like he can blame him! He’d certainly not want anyone at the archives to catch him unawares. If someone walked in on him recording his poetry… Martin feels a shudder at the thought. And then another one, as his nose begins to burn again. 

He manages to stifle these too, a quick triple that he’s almost certain Jon doesn’t hear. It’s a short walk to the institute, of which Martin is deeply grateful. The itch in his nose is rapidly growing, and it’s beginning to spread to his eyes. He’d really thought just a single small pet would be alright. They were outside, it wasn’t like he was holding the kitten to his face or anything like that. 

Yet it was becoming rapidly apparent that it was not alright. Thankfully, Jon still seemed oblivious. Or perhaps was just giving him the courtesy of pretending he didn’t notice the increasing amount of sniffling. 

“hk’gt! eh’nxt! nxgt!” 

Or the small bouts of sneezing that kept breaking free. Martin had always been quite allergic to cats, but could never quite find it in himself to dislike them. They’re such intelligent animals, and so cute, and fluffy, and… well, they always seemed to like him back. He’d been told more than once by their owners that cats can always spot the allergic one, and seem to gravitate towards them. In his experience at least, this had been true. 

“Martin!” Jon called, snapping him back into focus. Turns out he was so focused on his own thoughts he’d nearly walked right past the institute entirely. “Planning on coming into work?” 

It was heavily sarcastic, and Martin felt the blush sink deeper into his ears as he gave a light nod and muttered apology. He hurried through the door Jon was holding open, ducking his head a bit to avoid Jon’s glare. 

Just walking past him, Martin could see the fur coating Jon’s entire lap, and spreading up over his vest. The sight of it reflexively brought his hand to his nose, pinching it shut as his eyes crashed close against another round of- “h’kngt! nngt! hk’ngxt!” 

This time Jon did offer a blessing, to which Martin replied with thanks, apologizing again. Jon’s face is unreadable, and Martin chokes back the urge to apologize. Again.  It seems it’s the only thing he’s capable of doing anymore. Though, with Jon… that was starting to feel like the norm. With him, it always felt like no matter what Martin did, it was always wrong. 

Before he can get too lost in that trainwreck of thoughts, Martin pulls himself together, and gives Jon a polite excuse, attempting to move to the kitchen. 

“Martin, wait-” Jon starts, before awkwardly pausing. There’s a beat of silence, both of them staring at each other. Martin blinks slowly, feeling a bit worried as the seconds seem to tick on forever. The more time passes, the harder Martin finds it to ignore the tingling spreading throughout his sinuses. Finally, Jon manages to offer a weak, “I’ll forgive the lateness this once, but don’t let it happen again.” 

“Th- thank you…” Martin stutters out in reply. They drift into another awkward pause, before Martin ends it with a rapid “hh’ngxt–nngt–k’nngdt! ngt’shiiew!” 

The last one breaks free, and Martin blushes hard, more apologies tumbling out over each other. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I was trying to catch it but they were a bit fast and it just slipped out-” 

Jon interrupts by clearing his throat again, and looking distinctly not at Martin as he offers, “Nothing to apologize for.” 

Tense silence settles over them again, and Martin’s starting to think maybe being berated isn’t actually all that bad. It certainly beats the hell out of whatever this new dynamic is. 

“So,” Jon starts, Martin nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden noise. “Back to work then.” 

“Yes, of course,” Martin begins to turn around, before pausing as Jon speaks up again.

“Unless you… need anything?” 

It sounds oddly sincere, and Martin feels confusion spreading across his face. “S- sorry? I don’t… I don’t think so, I’ve got a fair number of cases already to investigate, and I’m sure Tim and Sasha will have some things for me to do too.” 

Jon looks a bit taken aback at this, and Martin feels the panic swell again. Was that the wrong answer? What else could he possibly have meant- 

Before he can spiral too far, Jon seems to collect himself, that unreadable expression settling back over his features. “Indeed, yes. Back to work then, lot to get done, and we’re already behind. Lord knows everyone’s overworked as it is, and Tim will surely complain about our absence.” 

Martin nods cautiously, biting back the urge to apologize again. He’s not even sure what for, there’s just… that sinking feeling that he’s said something wrong. He absentmindedly rubs at his eye, but nearly lets out a groan at the sensation. It’s equal parts relieving and unsatisfying, the itch far too deep to actually scratch. What it does do is spread the tickle back through his nose. 

“Oh-” Martin lets out involuntarily. He barely catches a glimpse of Jon turning back from where he’d begun to walk away through his rapidly watering eyes. Seems they both keep getting pulled back into this interaction, and Martin curses internally. If he’d just kept quiet and rushed away before the fit broke loose- Well, too late now, and he attempts to stutter out, “Sorry I think… thinkI’mgonna– hh’nxt! eh’gnxt! nngt–ed’gnxt–ngt’iew! hihhiieshh’iew!” 

“Good lord, Martin,” Jon says, and Martin suddenly wishes he could sink through the floor. 

He tries to stutter out more apologies, but his breath is stolen by the ever-increasing fit. Rapid, yet tiny, sneezes continue to pile over each other, though the stifling is long forgotten for lieu of being able to get a breath. 

“hh’ieshhiew! ishhhiew! ishhiew! tshhh’iew! ishhh–eshhh–eshhh–eshh’iiew!” 

Jon’s standing in stunned silence, seeming unable to pull his eyes away. Martin can only stand, arm against his face, gasping into his sleeve, waiting for the end of this humiliating display. It, mercifully, comes fairly quickly, a final “heh’iSHHHiew!” seeming to clear out the remainder of the burn. 

The absent tickle still lingers, his eyes watering as the itch still buzzes through them too. At least the fit seems to be over. Jon’s still staring, mouth pulled tight as he surveys the scene. Martin wishes, again, that he could sink through the floor. There’s another silence, Jon seeming to just… watch. 

“I’b so-” Martin starts, before hearing his own congested voice and blushing deeper. Jon seems to notice it too, wincing slightly as Martin attempts to sniff, the noise coming out strained and heavy. There’s another pause before Jon suddenly turns on his heel and hurries away. 

Martin feels the shame begin to sink into him, and he curses again, this time a little more externally. Of course Jon would leave, that was a humiliating display, he can only imagine how disgusted Jon must be with him. It’s so unprofessional, to have a fit like that in front of your boss, Jon would never succumb like that in front of Elias. 

His self loathing is interrupted by a clearing of the throat, Jon standing in front of him almost- nervously? But that doesn’t make any sense, why would he be nervous? Surely it’s gotta be something else, maybe it’s- 

“Here,” Jon says, cutting through the silence. As Martin glances down, he realizes Jon is holding out a box of tissues. He accepts them, a bit hesitantly, utterly speechless. 

Jon seems to notice this, and gives him a slight nod, an attempt at being reassuring. “You seemed to need them. Bless you, by the way.” 

The words seem to be a bit foreign to him, he doesn’t stutter over them or anything of the sort, but they seem to be a conscious effort. Come to think of it, Martin can’t recall ever hearing Jon bless someone. Unlike himself, where it’s a habit so deeply engrained it’s more of a reflex than anything else. 

It does make sense, Jon’s always seemed more the polite yet tightly wound sort. Whenever Martin’s heard him sneeze, which has been quite rare, it’s been obvious he wants no attention drawn to it. Perhaps he assumes others feel the same..? 

Either way it hardly seems to matter, and with a start, Martin realizes he’s been standing here silently for almost a full minute. He gives Jon an appreciative look, pulling out a tissue, folding it, and turning around to lightly blow his nose. For his part, Jon turns away, most likely to give him a bit of privacy. 

After cleaning himself up, Martin throws the tissues in the wastebasket nearby before turning back to Jon. “Thank you, for the uh- tissues and all.” 

Jon stares a bit, before clearing his throat. “Right. Well, again you, uh, seemed to need them.” 

“Yeah,” Martin gives a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that. Just a bit of allergies.” 

“Seems an understatement,” Jon replies, seemingly without thinking. Martin chuckles a bit at the candor.

“I suppose you’re right,” he says with a laugh. That was apparently a bad idea, the vibrations from the laughter leaving him gasping. Jon looks on in what appears to be sympathy as Martin grabs a few more tissues. He just manages to bring them up in time. 

“hh’ishhh! ishhhiew! t’shhhew! tshhh–tshhh–tshhh’ieeww!” 

“Bless you,” Jon says, this time without much hesitation. Martin nods his thanks, grabbing another tissue, and folding it nicely before attending to his nose with it. These he also deposits in the wastebin. 

“Thank you, sorry again,” Martin starts, breaking off with a light cough. It’s not chesty, but it does come with a slight wheeze to his breath. Jon definitely takes notice of this, his face going a bit pale. 

“Are you- are you wheezing?” Jon asks, almost a touch accusatory in his tone. 

Martin blushes slightly, but draws in a deep breath to test it. There’s an audible wheeze, and he finds himself getting caught in another cough. 

“S- sorry,” He sputters out between light coughs, glancing down at the cat hair covering Jon. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry, it happens quite often, I’m just uh… a bit allergic to…” 

Jon follows his gaze, looking over his clothes. A moment passes, then realization dawns across his face and Jon pales a bit further. He gives Martin a look that’s quite clearly concern, before it’s quickly replaced by a glare. 

“Good lord Martin, why didn’t you say something?!” Jon snaps, taking several steps back. 

Martin feels a shiver run through him at the harsh tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-” 

“No, you didn’t,” Jon interrupts, his tone still firm, but with something that still sounds a lot like concern flowing through it. And maybe… guilt? “If I’d known, I’d not have made you stand here, suffocating yourself with an allergen.” 

“It’s really not that bad,” Martin tries, his body betraying him with another “ishhh’iew! ishhh–ishhh–t’shhheeww!” 

Jon gives another blessing, his displeasure palpable. Feeling another twinge of guilt, Martin attempts to apologize again, but finds his words stolen by another set of sneezes. “ieshew! tshhiew! hihheshhiew!” 

“Bless you,” Jon says yet again, taking a few more steps back. Even through his slight wheeze, Martin thinks he hears Jon mutter something. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was something about ‘actually being quite adorable’. A smile begins to slip over Martin’s face before he even has time to process the words. 

It’s quickly countered by Jon calling out for Tim. Martin nearly jumps at the volume, coughing again as the jostle brings another light wheeze. 

Turning back to Martin, Jon begins to give instructions. “I’m going to go to my office, I have a change of clothes in there, I’ll switch over to them. Tim will help you, he always has some meds around for his own struggles, I’m sure he can lend you some. You are to sit down, and under no circumstances are you to go back near the kitten. Sasha can find it somewhere nice to stay.”  

Before Martin has a chance to respond, Jon’s rushing down the hall, taking a turn towards Sasha’s desk. Tim comes around the corner at the same time, just barely managing to avoid crashing into Jon. He utters an expletive, but Jon pays it no mind whatsoever, just pointing towards Martin, and saying something Martin can’t make out. 

“Jeez,” Tim calls out as he gets closer. “What’s his deal?” 

“There was a ki-” Martin starts, before stopping himself. Jon hadn’t exactly been advertising that he was in the alley with the kitten, and… much as Tim was a nice guy, he’s not entirely above taunting. Especially if he knows this isn’t something Jon wants people to know about. 

Thankfully he doesn’t have to come up with a new excuse, as the tickle returns with a passion. He simply ducks into another handful of tissues for another set of “hhshhhiew! ishhhieww! t’shhh! kshhhiew!” 

“Woah, bless you,” Tim says, giving Martin a quick once over. “What happened to you?” 

“Nothing,” Martin sighs, with a bit of a wheeze. He attempts to give Tim a reassuring smile. “I’m alright.” 

“Clearly not,” Tim replies. “You’re wheezing and sneezing all over the place. Plus the boss sent me to help, figure that’s not for nothin’.” 

“Just… a bit of a run in with an allergen,” Martin says, coughing against his sleeve. Tim looks sympathetic, they both know he’s had a few of those himself. Even in the time he’d been here, Martin had witnessed a couple of situations when someone brought a bouquet into the archives. 

“Sounds bad,” Tim says, a bit more gently. 

Martin nods, bringing another group of tissues up to his nose. “ishhh! eshhh! kshhh! hhieESHhiew!” 

“Bless you!” 

“Thagk you,” Martin replies, giving Tim a soft smile. He’s interrupted by another fit, this one breaking out rapidly, piling over each other until he feels Tim’s hand on his arm steadying him. 

Tim lets out a low whistle as Martin blows his nose again. “That’s quite the attack. You’re nearly on my level! Right-o, let’s get you medicated, shall we?” 

Martin nods, putting up no resistance as Tim begins to guide (drag) him back to his desk. 

“You know, you have quite the kitten sneeze going on there,” Tim says, looking a bit confused as Martin begins to laugh. “Something funny?” 

“No, no,” Martin replies. “It’s nothing. Thank you for the help.” 

Tim nods at this, giving a wide grin, and going on some tangent about his own allergies, and the last time he had an attack like this. Martin nods along, but finds his thoughts drifting back to Jon, and the words he could almost swear he heard. ‘That was actually adorable’. 

Sasha will surely be told about the kitten by now, but… the details of how Jon found it… well, Martin has a good feeling that’s something only he gets to know. He feels oddly warm at this thought. Even if it wasn’t exactly Jon’s choice to tell him, it’s something they get to share. 

A memory just for them.

[waterfallofspace]

OMG I love tma so much

You posted about suggestions so sorry if this is rude but do you have any Martin ideas cookin?

We love a good pathetic man

Not rude at all! I actually do!~ Two at the moment, he's not really one of my main snz bois, (don't get me wrong, I adore him, but more in a character sense than a snz context one, he's one of my lil squishes that I just adore <3) but I do currently have a few floating around~

An allergy one that I've started, but not quite finished, and one more featuring sickness that I have a vague idea for.

If there's anything you'd wanna see more specifically, feel free to shoot me a prompt/request! I don't go through them super fast, but I do intend to get to each one I receive, at least for as long as the crippling t/ma brainrot lasts <3

Thank you so much for the message!!~ We do love a good pathetic man <3

[waterfallofspace]

Re: voices and sneezes…

So much yes. This is exactly why I love D/azai with a kitten sneeze so much. You wouldn’t expect someone with such a loud, chaotic, shameless personality to have such a small, delicate sneeze, but it creates a satisfying sort of jarring juxtaposition to that extroverted mask.

What makes it even better is the fact that D/azai apparently speaks in the Japanese equivalent of Shakespearean English (very formal and polite compared to the rest of society). So the extroverted, chaotic, shameless mask + overly polite speech patterns + a cute little kitten sneeze is just the best combination in my opinion 8’)

(Sorry for the ramble, I miss S/oukoku content. ^^’)

omg, you get me!!!! and no worries at all for the rambling, I'm somewhat of a words person myself, i always love a rambling thought!!~ best way to speak, I think~ stream of consciousness style about something you're passionate about~

I actually didn't know that about the shakespearean english equation, and that just makes it so much better oh my god~

I've been a lot more into t/ma lately than b/sd, but this beautiful chaotic man will always have a special place in my heart, and i just adore the idea of the Wonderfully Dramatic And Always In Control D/azai getting just taken down by a fit of tiny, kittenish bursts, and just the way he'd absolutely try to control it and ideally fail ^^

or even... just the idea of him unashamed, excusing himself politely with his adorable little snzs, just basking in c/huuya and/or k/unikida's growing annoyance bc. why. why must it sound so cute when the rest of you is so. annoying.

(and no worries at all, s/oukoku thoughts are always welcome!!~ <3)

[waterfallofspace]

thinking so much about voices and sneezes

someone with a soft voice, but a harsh sneeze or a dominating voice, but delicate sneeze

a deeper voice, with a high pitched/whiny sneeze or a squeakier voice, with a huskier sneeze

when it's such a vocal sneeze that you can clearly hear their voice in it or when you wouldn't in a million years guess the two would match

when someone just sounds like their sneeze, it just matches them or when it's almost the polar opposite of who they are/how they sound

when there's a vocal/pronounced buildup, but they're soft spoken/shy or when they are loud and extroverted, but stifle almost silently

just... just voices and sneezes... thinking all of the thoughts about voices and sneezes

[waterfallofspace]

omg tma!! I started re listening it a few weeks ago and obsessed again. I would love to see some more Elias from you🫣 Your previous fic with him is still one of my favourites

Thank you so much, I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!~

So I uh... meant for this to be a drabble, but it... got a little out of hand... and it's not very snz heavy, more plot/general sickness heavy, so I apologize if that's not what you had in mind, just kinda went the way it went~

A Betting Man

The one in which Peter bets Elias he won't last the day with the terrible head cold he's 'hiding'. (Definite HUGE spoilers for the M/agnus Archives, so please be aware of that!)

Characters: Elias, Peter, Tim, Rosie ( ft. lonelyeyes + mentions of Jon + Sasha) Word Count: 4.3k

It’s been a long week, even for Elias. Dealing with a new archivist is always a bit of a headache, but especially now with all that’s at stake. Near constant surveillance has left a strain on… what perhaps one could refer to as his ‘eyes’. Jon has required a fair amount of supervision to make sure he stays on the right path- or, shall we say, at the right pace. 

Leaning forward in his chair, Elias allows his face to rest against his hands. Jon’s in the middle of another statement, still adamant to deny his way through the horrors. He’ll be occupied for at least another fifteen minutes. More than enough time for a brief rest. Not a nap, just… a couple minutes to rest his eyes…

“Mr. Bouchard?” Rosie’s voice over the intercom jolts him awake from the waves of fatigue that had been pulling him in. 

Elias hits the button to respond. He barely manages to get the “yes-” out before his voice breaks. He releases the button, ducking into his fist with a harsh cough, before trying again. 

“Yes, Rosie, what is it?” His voice still sounds rough, and he silently curses the nasal quality it possesses. 

“Uh, sorry to disturb you, Tim just has a few questions about some follow up to a statement, but I can tell him you’re busy… or…” Rosie trails off, the hesitation evident in her voice. 

“Well,” a voice sounds out, ringing out like a gunshot in the silent office. “Better not keep him waiting.” 

Familiar as it may be, the sudden nature of the intrusion comes as quite the shock. Elias maintains a white-knuckled grip on his neutral expression as he turns to face the captain, heart pounding in his throat. “Peter, I believe I’ve asked you to announce yourself.” 

“Ah, you did, seems I’ve forgotten again, ever so sorry Elias,” Peter smirks, unfolding himself from the corner he’d been watching from. “Wouldn’t want to step on your toes, what with the watching and all. More your thing than mine, isn’t that right?” 

Elias simply rolls his eyes in response, glancing back to the intercom. Peter follows his gaze, chuckling lightly.

“Peter,” Elias cautions, scanning back over to Jon in his mind. Still caught up in the statement, going on about some form of… meat. Not something Elias needs playing in the back of his mind while dealing with Peter. 

“Rosie’s waiting,” Peter interrupts, pulling Elias’s full focus back onto him. “Shame to leave her hanging, sweet girl and all, just trying to do her job.” 

“If you’d really like me to answer her, you’d leave me alone so I cahh… can do just that.” 

Elias trails off for only a second, feeling the itch that he’d believed quelled earlier this morning start to bubble back to the surface. The cold medicine should have had another few hours left. Seems burning the candle at all ends has its downfalls. 

He still manages to finish strong, fighting off the sensation with a single brush of his finger. It did not, however, go unnoticed. Elias fights back a sigh as the sparkle he’s come to know all too well begins to appear in the sea captain’s eyes. The eager glisten of someone with a bet to propose. 

“We both know you’re perfectly capable of answering her with me in the room. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to be… subtle,” Peter offers, still watching Elias carefully. 

With a deep resignation, Elias hits the button again, informing Rosie to tell Tim he’ll stop by later. She answers with thanks, interrupted by Tim shouting something about ‘right-o double boss!’ in the background. A slightly mortified Rosie repeats her thanks, the intercom cutting off her apologies for the intrusion. 

Elias simply ignores it, turning his attention instead to Peter, still lingering in the office. Not undivided this time though, as Elias feels his nose twitch again. Eager to get this over with, he simply awaits Peter’s proposition. He could attempt to Know it, but with the current state of his head, and the dangerous buzzing in his sinuses, the risk seems to outweigh simply waiting.

“So,” Peter begins, eyes flicking up and down Elias, as if running final calculations. “I’ve got a wager to offer.” 

“I figured as much,” Elias replies, leaning back slightly in the chair and adjusting his suit jacket with feigned disinterest. “But I don’t believe you have anything to offer me that would entice me to accept it.” 

“I have a feeling you’ll take it anyways, Elias.” 

“And whhih.. why iihh- hehh!-” With a desperate sniff, Elias manages to pull back control, fighting back the burning creeping up his nose. 

“Because,” Peter cuts in, looking damn near gleeful at Elias’s struggle. “You’ve always been a betting man.” 

 “hiEh’mMPFfshh-uih!” Elias winces as the sneeze breaks through his control. He barely manages to catch it in the soft folds of his rapidly deployed handkerchief. Peter looks beyond thrilled at this, as if the sneeze itself was some form of acceptance. And– 

“hH’MPFSHh’uh! hiH’MFSHH–oo!” 

They both know it never stops at one. Managing to stall the onslaught with a rough massage of the handkerchief, Elias cautiously lowers it and meets Peter’s eye again. Peter, for his part, offers a blessing. Elias shrugs it off with a grimace. 

“Fine,” Elias says, internally cursing again as his voice scrapes painfully against his ever-worsening throat. “Will taking this bet get you to leave me alone?” 

“I suppose so, if that’s what you’d like,” Peter replies casually. They both know it’s not a hard sell, getting him to be alone. 

“Then get on with it, what’s the wager.” 

“A simple one,” Peter smiles, leaning forward and resting his arms on the desk. “If you manage to hide this terrible head cold you’ve picked up from the rest of your staff, then you win!” 

Of course Peter could tell. The medication had picked a lovely time to wear off, but… having this be the focus of such a wager was still… unpleasant. And besides, he had no time for such dramas. Jon was finishing up his statement by now. Elias found himself Knowing that Jon was in fact asking Sasha and Tim for the final reports on the follow up they managed to do. And for that, Tim was still waiting on him. 

With another sigh, this one hitting something on the edge of his lungs and leaving him coughing into his fist, Elias manages to gain enough composure to reply with a mild, “I’m quite the busy man, Peter.” 

“Oh I know you are,” Peter pushes the glass of the water on the desk closer, and Elias gives him a muted thanks. “However, all I’m asking you to do is- well, what we both know you were planning to do anyways. I’m just interested in making a little money on the whole ordeal.” 

“Fine, name your price and then leave me to my work,” Elias replies, managing to stall the coughing with a few sips of the water. 

“Fifty dollars says you get caught before you go home today.” 

“Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” Elias stands from his desk, gesturing Peter towards the door. “I have an appointment with Tim.” 

Peter doesn’t fight this, simply offering a deeply unsettling smile as he folds back out through the door. Only a faint mist clouding the hallway and echoing in Elias’s mind lingers as any proof he was there at all. It soon fades from the doorway, though the fog covering Elias’s thoughts remains. Maybe that one is more from the fever than the visit. 

“mMFhsh’oo!” Elias groans softly into the handkerchief, already feeling the hitching start up again as his eyes begin to water. Never just the one. “mPFShh–eh’MFSHhh’oo!” 

He pulls his hands away, before ducking frantically into his shoulder for a final, “ah’tshhiew!”  that manages to slip through before he can catch it in the cloth. 

Mercifully Peter left before that particular outburst, the pitchy whine of the last burst sending a rush of heat to Elias’s ears. Peter’s never been one to shy away from a good bit of taunting when he gets the opportunity, and this would definitely have served as host to some mocking. 

Making his way down the hall, Elias gives Rosie a polite nod, wincing slightly when she calls out to him. 

“Mr. Bouchard! Sorry sir, just have a couple things to run past you, if you have a moment?” 

“Of course Rosie,” Elias replies, turning slowly to face her with a calculated smile. She means well, and he can’t find it in himself to be upset with her. It’s hardly her fault that he’s unwell, or that he had the misfortune to draw Peter’s attention. 

“I’ll try to make this fast, there’s just a few forms that need a signature, some follow up for you to review- oh! And I almost forgot, Jon was asking about a few different statements.” 

Absent-mindedly beginning to sign the papers, Elias turns his focus to finding Jon. It turns out he’s in artifact storage, looking at something related to a statement, perhaps. It’s not an inconvenient spot for him to be, should make the meeting with Tim go a lot smoother. 

“Sir?” Rosie says, hesitantly. Elias manages to pull himself back, finding it harder than it should be. This fever seems to be worsening by the minute. 

“My apologies, I’m a touch… preoccupied,” Elias pauses briefly, feeling the all too familiar sensation start buzzing in his nose once more. He manages to stall it with a quick rub. Rosie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy looking down at her stack of paperwork. 

“Oh, I’m sorry sir! There’s just the follow ups, and Jon’s questions-” 

“Please leave those follow ups on my desk, I’ll get to them after I go and see Tim. As for Jon, I’ll pop by his office and talk to him myself,” Elias cuts her off, keeping the smile on his face as gentle as he can manage. 

Rosie smiles back, nodding and jotting down a few notes on her pad. Elias nods his thanks, then making a few polite excuses, takes his leave. He barely makes it down the hall before the buzzing becomes all consuming. Handkerchief long forgotten at his desk, he settles for pressing his wrist to his nose, and attempting to stifle the onslaught. 

“ek’ngt-chh! eh’dngt! –nngdt’chh! hihh… hh’ngKT’chh–oo!” 

The last breaks through with a whiny exhale, spreading the fevered flush deeper into his cheeks. He’d always taken a sense of pride in his control, both of himself and those around him. Part of being alive, and in power, as long as he has, it comes with the territory. But this cold was determined to rob him of any decorum he had left, it seemed.

Mercifully it seems no one witnessed this outburst either, but his charade of health is rapidly deteriorating. Elias lets another internal curse slip, this time it nearly passes his lips. Discreetly wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, he continues down the hall towards Tim. 

Elias’s specific brand of Knowing has its advantages, not the least of which being the ability to find any employee whenever necessary. In this case it’s walking up behind Tim pouring himself a coffee in the kitchen. 

“I heard you wanted to speak to me, Tim?” Elias says, voice cutting through the silence. He admittedly revels a little in the shudder that runs through the (much) younger man’s spine. 

“Double boss,” Tim collects himself fast, giving one of his patented charming smiles. It’s no wonder the– well, everyone, falls for it so fast. “Uncanny how you can sneak up on someone like that! Have you thought about going into the surprise birthday planning business?” 

“I… don’t believe that’s a thing,” Elias replies patiently, offering a contained smile. It’s never a good idea to put off one’s subordinates so soon. Keep them in line? Of course. But this early on, respect and fear are both key weapons to wield. 

Tim chuckles, pouring a frankly outrageous amount of cream and sugar into the coffee before giving it a light stir. “Well if it isn’t, it should be!” 

“I think I’ll leave the party planning to you, though I’ll always find some time to stop by for a piece of cake.” 

“And you’ll always be welcome, you’re the big boss after all!” Tim smiles again, though Elias can see every ounce of sarcasm plastered throughout the grin. While he may not match Tim when it comes to charm, he far surpasses him in skills when lying is at play. He’s had much more practice, after all. 

Biting down the urge to cough again as his throat objects to the prolonged usage, Elias steadies himself with a firm, “I was told you wanted to see me? If you wouldn’t mind getting to the point, I do have other matters of which to attend…” 

“Oh, right!” Tim starts, setting down his coffee and reaching over to the table for a couple files. Elias takes this moment to duck into his wrist, managing a pair of completely silent stifles. Another trick his years have let him hone, though each new body seems to take a varying amount of time to reach perfection.

“hk’ndGT-uh!”  

This one, unfortunately, is deeply uncooperative, letting the final sneeze escape into a strangled noise. Tim doesn’t seem to have noticed, busy rustling through the files. He’s obviously looking for something. It would be much easier to simply Know, and just give Tim the answer before even hearing the question… but that draws too much attention. He’ll just have to wait it out. 

Since he’s standing here anyways, Elias takes the chance for a quick peek at Jon. He seems to have settled himself back into his office, clicking away at his computer as he translates a few statements over to the device. Hardly interesting work, they’re certainly not anything worthwhile, but they should give him something to do for the rest of the afternoon. 

“Boss?” Tim’s voice pulls him back, and Elias attempts to focus on the file being held out to him. Attempts, and fails. 

Instead, all he manages to do is offer a half strangled noise, and sway slightly on his feet. Tim, to his credit, is quick to react; pulling out a chair and leading Elias gently into it. 

“That’s quite alright,” Elias protests, attempting to stand before quickly thinking better of it. He plays off the attempt as merely changing position, crossing one leg over the other. “It was just a touch of dizziness, haven’t been sleeping enough lately, what with Jon in his new position and all. A lot of late nights, as I imagine the rest of you are pulling as well.” 

Tim’s face is nearly unreadable. Elias almost considers Knowing his feelings, but given how poorly checking in on Jon just went, he’s not eager for a repeat performance. 

Instead, he settles on raising carefully to his feet, and steadying Tim with a polite but firm look. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Now, the files? I believe I mentioned it before, but I have quite a lot to do.” 

With a small nod, face still tightly guarded, Tim lets his gaze drop down to the files, collecting the papers he’d been holding out before. He hands them over to Elias, who recognizes quite quickly that they all feature connections to some rather big donors. This must be why Tim wanted his input before continuing. He had given Jon quite the talking to for digging in too far the other day. 

“The trails of these follow ups have led to some interesting places,” Tim begins, going on some rant about Jon’s persistence, Sasha’s lack of interest in hard work, and more meaningless drama. He’s just started on something about ‘needing a contact in the law office down the block’ when Elias feels the all too familiar tickle beginning to reemerge.

He isn’t going to be able to get away without making his departure all too obvious. No room for polite excuses or subtly in this moment, so with a slight grimace, he makes his move. 

“So sorry, please excuse me for a sehh- second.” 

Tim pauses, just beginning to ask if everything’s okay when Elias turns into his wrist, bending at the waist ever so slightly as he ducks away with a tightly contained “ih’gnDt!” 

“Oh- bless yo-” Tim starts, getting cut off by a wave from Elias, still hitching rapidly into his wrist. 

“N- nohhht… d- done… hk’nNgtchh! ih’mMFSShhh’uh! mMPFSHh! ih’MMPFShhh–oo!” 

“Christ, bless you boss! Quite the show there,” Tim laughs, clearly not too worried about mocking his superior. Normally Elias might chastise him a touch for that, but now doesn’t seem the time for such things. Instead, he merely offers thanks, grabbing a tissue from the counter and attempting a polite blow. 

There is a slight wince from Tim at this, Elias mimicking the action as his sinuses throb at the action. The dull ache spreads further throughout his head, and the world seems to spin as Elias pulls himself back to his full height. Tim’s still looking on, a touch concerned, and Elias offers a vague wave.

“Apologies, the dust down here still tends to get to me sometimes, even after these years.” 

There’s a brief pause, Tim seeming to consider this explanation, before the tension melts from his posture and it’s right back to the rambling. It’s much different from Martin’s brand. That seems to be more about nerves, his mouth moving faster than he can keep up with. Tim’s is more calculated, seemingly just enjoying the sound of his own voice. “Seems to happen to loads of people. They’re used to a much cleaner standard I think, the libraries seem to be cleaner at least, and it’s often a bit of a shock I think for people to see what disarray we’re in! I mean hell, I’ve succumbed to a few attacks of my own, and Jon– christ, you should have heard him when he first started emptying out those boxes. Nearly dragged him out by his collar a few times, just to make sure he didn’t stop breathing.” 

“And I thank you for that,” Elias interrupts with a polite smile. “Not eager to have to fill the role again quite so soon.” 

Tim chuckles a bit, but generally seems to be a bit lost in his own thoughts. Recalling memories of those first few weeks, Elias supposes. Or, shall we say, Knows. The knowledge leaves him a bit dizzy, but nothing nearly so bad to knock him off his feet this time. Tim snaps out of it quickly, returning to his line of questioning about donations, funding, and… things that sounded to be walking a fine line of legality. 

Elias gives the proper responses; a smile here, nod there, yes or nos when appropriate, some casual conversation when there’s nothing to comment on past a vague nicety. Eventually Tim finishes with his questions, Elias offering what knowledge he had– or rather, what knowledge he reasonably could have. 

“So if that’s all,” Elias says, relief beginning to spread through him as the end of this meeting draws tantalizingly close. “I’ll be getting back to my desk, and you should get back to work as well. There are still plenty of hours left in the day.” 

“Not much for me to do until Sasha gets back,” Tim starts, but Elias quickly cuts him off with a click of the tongue. 

“I’m sure Jon could always use a hand, perhaps you can go get a few more boxes to pack up the statements he’s already been through.” 

“Or,” Tim strings out the word, giving a tilted grin. “I could go help Sasha with some very important research.” 

This thinly veiled attempt at getting off work would, once again, normally deserve some form of response. The least Tim could do is pretend to be working, put a little effort into the charade. But between the chills beginning to work their way up his spine, and the consistent itch that won’t leave him be, Elias finds himself with bigger things to focus on. 

“Do what you will, just make sure you gehh– get your work done before you leave for the day.” 

The single hitch breaks through his focus, Elias fighting it off with the last of his resolve. Tim doesn’t let this one slide past though, reaching over and moving the tissues closer with a touch of a smirk on his face. Apparently eager for another display from the boss. Even as much as he despises the vulnerability, Elias can’t say the… voyeuristic side doesn’t hold its own appeal. 

It’s hardly up to him though, he’s been denying the whims of this cold for far too long it seems, and luck has run out. With the last bit of control he has left, he manages to grab a handful of the tissues Tim had so kindly pushed within reach, ducking into them as the fit finally breaks through.

“hH’RRSHHhoo!”

“Woah, bless you boss, that wa-” 

Elias cuts him off with a shake of his head, still hitching desperately into the tissues. 

“N- never… nehh… never just… hK’TZSHHhoo! eh’RZSHhhoo! Christ, I cahh… can’t– eh’RSHHh’oo! hh’ETZSHhhiiew!” 

The last one comes out more whiny than the rest, Tim at least having the decency to look concerned at the change of pitch. Elias manages to watch him through watery eyes, finding it almost amusing how arguably the most charismatic of his employees seems absolutely lost as to what he should be doing. In his defense, at this stage, there isn’t much to do but ride it out. 

“ih’EZSSH–EZSHH’oo!” The pair stumbles over each other, but leaves Elias with a long enough gap to grab another handful of tissues. He manages to get off a quick blow, wincing synchronously with Tim at the noises it produces. Not like he has much ability to save any dignity now. 

Thankfully, it seems to have stopped the attack, and Elias sinks himself back into the chair Tim had pulled out for him earlier, exhausted. Really quite astounding, with how far the modern world has come, still a cure for the common cold remains out of reach. 

“Christ, boss, bless you,” Tim offers, Elias startling a bit as he comes to the sudden remembrance he’s not alone. 

“Thagk you,” Elias replies, once again leaving them both wincing at his rapidly deteriorating state. If he didn’t know better, Elias would think Peter somehow caused this illness to behave in this fashion. Alas, he does know better. And, for that matter, Know better. This state of rapid decline is par for the course in this body. It seems to have a quite poor immune system. Unfortunately not something he can blame Peter for. 

“I think you’re running a fever,” Tim pauses, seeming to, for the first time, truly take in Elias’s appearance. “A pretty bad one too, I’d guess.” 

Elias pauses, face calm as he weighs his options. It’s almost certain the bet’s lost now. The other symptoms he could probably have waved off as more dust related problems, but a fever… that’s hard to pin on a mere sensitivity, or even an allergy. 

Still, the bet’s not his main concern. Maintaining his careful balance of fear and respect requires a lot of maintenance. Being seen this unwell, this vulnerable, that certainly could tip the scales into unwanted territory. 

“I’b–” Clearing his throat, Elias attempts some semblance of normal sounding speech, though the edges of his words still hold that heavy congested tone. “I might be a touch under the weather, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I appreciate your concern, but all I need is a good night's sleep, and I should be good as new.” 

It seems a mutual agreement that that statement was a lie, and that neither of them is going to be the one to point that out. Tim offers a vague shrug, mutters something sarcastic under his breath about ‘not being Martin’, followed by something about ‘spreading the plague to the whole office’, but generally leaves without much of a fuss. 

The fussing, no doubt, will come in the form of a salt-tinged sea captain waiting in his office. Elias doesn’t even have to Know, to know that one. 

As he makes his way upstairs, shrugging off Rosie’s concerns with a tight, yet friendly, dismissal, Elias finds himself hurrying to duck into his office before the–

“hh’atshhew! at’shhoo! Christ.”  

“Bless you, Elias.” 

Elias turns to face the voice, accepting the handkerchief it offers out to him. “You knew I’d lose, dihh… ah’tzshh’oo! atschhew! heh’RRSHh’oo! Bloody hell.” 

“And again,” Peter smirks. 

“Didn’t you?” Elias finishes, keeping an eye on the figure standing next to his chair.

“Of course I did,” Peter replies, nonchalant as ever. “Rosie had you clocked since this morning. You had lost before you even accepted. Surprised someone of your standing didn’t… Know that already. Still, it was quite entertaining, watching you attempt to hide it for so long.” 

Elias simply rolls his eyes, blowing his nose for what is almost the first real time today. It leaves him breathless, and he follows it with a second, then third. He takes more than a hint of enjoyment from the looks of concern that flash across Peter’s face.

Placing a fifty on the table, Elias sinks into his chair, finally beginning to let down his guard under Peter’s watchful gaze. He puts up little resistance when strong arms guide him up, and over to the small couch in the corner of his office. The lack of resistance continues as those same arms pull him down, laying him carefully across the couch, head resting lightly on Peter’s lap. 

No words are spoken between them, but then again, they never really needed such things.

[waterfallofspace]

I know M/agnus A/rchives is not as popular nowadays, unfortunately I wasn't active back when it was at it's height~ but I've been quite into it for about a year now, and recently had another surge, sooooo!

If anyone has any prompts, requests, small drabble ideas, characters they wanna see, or anything at all, just throwing it out into the void that I'd love some of those!~

Aaaand if not, I shall be more than alright just producing some of my own little drabbles~ entirely for myself, and if anyone else enjoys them that would be a wonderful addition too~

[waterfallofspace]

Hey, snzfuckers! Let's spread some positive shit!

Have a favorite artist or see some art that you like? Maybe a favorite writer or you read something that tickled your fancy? Other content you love?

TELL THEM!! Be effusive. Be fucking STUPID about it. Be an absolutely rabid fangirl/boy/enby/anything. Write a goddamn essay about how amazing they are and how much you loved that thing they created.

Everybody needs this right now. Spread some damn dopamine around. Dooooo iiiittttt . . .