patheticandmiserable

[patheticandmiserable]

Why Not Make It A Game? - Haz/bin Ho/tel

well this was a long time coming (the last fic i wrote took over my brain for like a month and other wips pushed this to the back burner a little before that lmao) but here's the fifth instalment of the oneshot series!

(also yes the title is a lyric from ep/ic the musical, idk why but i'm on a lyrics-as-titles kick lately)

In which a bartender and a porn star have a rather unusual competition - an endurance test, of sorts - and let’s just say, they’re both losers, baby...

Husk and Angel were sitting next to each other on the loveseat in the parlour.

They’d been coping… well, better than some in the hotel, that was for sure, but it still absolutely sucked. Angel was beyond relieved Valentino had called off any and all filming for the day, because he simply couldn’t imagine having to sit through make-up like this. On days when he was sick or otherwise sensitive, all that powder flying around set him off something awful. What was worse, his eyes would water, so he’d end up with mascara running down his cheeks.

Cazzo, what a nightmare, he shuddered at the very thought.

“Huh’ERRSHhh-uh! Ugh, fuckin’ Christ…” Husk grumbled, the words muffled into the crook of his arm. His low, gruff sneezes were beginning to scrape his throat a little, and that annoyed the hell out of him.

“Bless ya,” Angel said, “Again.”

“Shit,” Husk murmured, scrubbing at his nose.

“You. Are. So cute,” Angel told him, his voice affectionate.

Husk rolled his eyes in response.

“I’m serious!” Angel went on, “Ya’ face scrunches up when you sneeze, and it’s kinda adorable.”

“Shut up,” Husk gave a low chuckle as Angel began to hitch himself.

“Eh- eyh’hHEh—!” Angel leaned back in anticipation, eyelids fluttering shut…

A frustrated sigh passing his lips.

“Fuckin’ lost it…” he muttered.

“Hey, Ange?” Husk started.

“Mm?” Angel turned his head in reply.

“Nothin’, just… had an idea, s’all,” Husk shrugged.

“Oh-ho, tell me more,” Angel straightened.

“It’s, uh…” Husk hesitated, “A contest, I guess.”

“A contest, huh?” Angel quirked a brow, “What’re ya thinkin’?”

“Whatever you’re thinkin’, it ain’t that,” Husk said cryptically.

“C’monnn,” Angel smiled, “Spit it out, I’m curious!”

“Well…” Husk’s lips curled into a slight smile of his own, “I think we should both see how long we can go without sneezin’.”

“You do realise you’re at a real disadvantage here, right?” Angel chuckled, “Lung capacity like mine, an’ all.”

“Worth a shot,” Husk said, “Loser pays for the next date.”

“Oooh, raisin’ the stakes, are we, Whiskers?” Angel leaned in, “I’m in. But, uh… how do we make sure we… y’know, start at the same time? Make it fair.”

Husk didn’t answer, instead reaching behind him and plucking a couple of stray feathers from his wings. Holding them like a pair of cards in his hand.

“Well, this just got interestin’,” Angel took one, looking at it inquisitively.

Husk raised a brow - he hadn’t expected Angel to be this intrigued.

“Reminds me a little a’ somethin’ I had to do for a shoot this one time,” Angel went on, “Val had me tied up to the bedposts by my wrists, an’—”

“I don’t need to hear that shit,” Husk told him, though the statement held none of his usual gruffness. It was less disinterest, and more… well, Husk guessed it came across as equal parts “you never have to explain what happens in that shit-forsaken studio to me” and “let’s get on with this, shall we?”.

Angel picked up on this - he’d always been good at reading people, and he knew the old man well enough by now to discern the nuances of his words.

“You’re on, Whiskers,” Angel said proudly, “Enjoy payin’ for the next date, babe.”

He started to twirl the feather at his nose, and Husk did the same.

“This is gonna be easy,” Angel chuckled, “By the way, your feathers feel fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Th- huh- thanks, Ange,” Husk said, a little frustrated that his breath had caught before Angel’s.

“Oh, alre- heh… already?” Angel asked, though the question lost a lot of its bite when he’d trailed off in the middle of it.

Nevertheless, they continued, and it didn’t take long at all for the two of them to fall into sharp hitches.

“Nhh- huhHH-? Not- hh- not yet,” Husk insisted, eyebrows furrowing as he fought to hold back the sneeze he knew was coming.

“I’m- eh-hehh! I’m not g-hihh… gonna— h’Hihh—!” Angel shook his head like that would help in the slightest.

The pair locked eyes through irritated tears, their expressions flickering wildly between determination and pre-sneeze desperation.

“Y-ihh… you’re about- eh… t-to—” Angel observed, though he could almost say the same about himself, given the way his voice pitched upwards and his breathing quickened.

“M’not…” Husk insisted, but the way his voice had wavered whilst saying it - combined with how his nose was twitching - betrayed him.

“Eh’heh… hahh—!” Angel fanned his face, eyes squeezed shut as he drew a final, threshing gasp—

“AHT’shhhiew! Hhh-! IKT’sshhew! ’TSHhhieh! TSCHhh- IDTSHH- Nghtsshh-hih!” Angel pitched forwards loosely into cupped hands. His heaving chest and one finger of his lower-left hand held up as if to say “gimme a sec—” were clear signs he was nowhere near done.

Mere moments later - the kind of moments that would almost have to be measured with a stopwatch - Husk’s lips were curled in a slight snarl as he took a shuddering inhale.

“Hngh—! RTCHhmmf-! Hhhgk-KTCHhhtt-uhh! Huh’UHDTCHhmmpff!” Husk sneezed, the sound dampened by his elbow. He sniffled thickly, and groaned in disgust.

“Hiih-ITSHhhiew! Eh’SHHEEW! F- fhhh- fuckin’-! Hehh— Nngk-tchh! Mgkt’tshhew- Ngtt’ISHhew! Ihh’KSHH- KTSCHH’SHhhew! Ca- hah-hHH… can’t stop— Ehh’KKT-chhew! Hh’eh- hgh… HahhH— Ahht’shhHEW! Eyhh’YIESHH—hieww! Jesus Christ, excuse mbe…”

Angel gave a few drawn-out, damp-sounding sniffles, and then threw his head back.

“Bless ya, hon,” Husk said, “Also, I won.”

“Bullshit!” Angel replied in a tone of mock outrage, “It- it wasn’t fair!”

“How so?”

“W-well,” Angel started, grasping for a reason, “You wouldn’t be as sensitive to your own feathers, would ya? Besides, we started sneezin’ at basically the same time.”

“You’re just pissy cause ya lost,” Husk shrugged.

“I am not,” Angel scoffed.

“So… we’re splittin’ the cheque next time, then?” Husk wondered.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, babe,” Angel answered, leaning in to give the bartender a peck on the cheek.

[patheticandmiserable]

inspiration struck me to draw corny af doodles/pin-ups of my ocs featuring tag lines that would be right out of a 1930s kleenex advert. have these + one unused sketch lol

[patheticandmiserable]

Ang/el Du/st's got a tickle...(Snz aesthetic)

I found myself drawing Angel today. I wanted to do a proper piece cast in color this time around as it's been a while since I've colored anything. Does he have bad allergies or a nasty cold? You decide!

[patheticandmiserable]

I honestly didn't expect a tie, just like they didn't expect a sneezing attack that came out of nowhere XD. I hope you like it. I'll try to do more dynamics like this more often. Also what do you think made them sneeze?

[patheticandmiserable]

i feel like an often overlooked downside to 10-episode seasons and the death of the "monster of the week" format is that we get way less whump variety nowadays. used to be that there'd be dozens of opportunities for your fave to get punched or kidnapped or hypnotized or what have you. these days if it doesn't fit into the main plot, it just doesn't happen. this is a tragedy. we should be protesting.

[patheticandmiserable]

We all know J/ax wouldn't cover, but that apron's gotta be good for somethin

[patheticandmiserable]

Commission for the absolutely lovely @allergyenthusiast , who had a hankyering for some human A/lastor and her OC. Enjoy~

Five slots left!

[patheticandmiserable]

Your favourite scoundrel of a character with the most disgraceful cold, thick sniffles and stuffed up moans and guhhs, long sopping wet blows, a gross cough. Keeps complaining how bad their cold is, how they're drowning in sdot and are aching all over and how their ears are all stuffy too and it just won't go away.

Then they sneeze, twice. A hoarse kind of a sneeze, one can hear the phlegm in rheir throat, with a hissing, wildly spraying tail, the second one followed by a few coughs and another guhh.

"Congrats, sndrfff, you have it dnow too."

And the worst part? The bastard is right.

[patheticandmiserable]

Is it possible for snz/sick stuff to be, entirely comfort?

I’m sure it is! Sometimes I daydream about my favorite characters being sick not because I’m necessarily attracted to it, but because I myself wish I could be taken care of the same way.

For example, I was really tired flying home yesterday, and all I wanted was for someone to wrap me up and tell me that I don’t look so well. Not for sexual gratification, but for comfort.

While I am not the end all be all opinion on that sort of thing, there are so many people in this world, and affinity being such a spectrum, that it wouldn’t surprise me one bit!

[patheticandmiserable]

Hu/sk Snz/caretaking headcanons

● He is definitely the "whiskey for a cold" type and stands by that remedy ("If you're drunk you ain't gonna feel like shit 'cause you'll be knocked out, right? Or at least so drunk ya won't remember how bad ya feel") ● He is the type to hide sickness and downplay it whenever it's just too obvious that he's poorly ● He isn't really the type to want soup when he's sick--he instead prefers heartier things and things with a little kick to clear his sinuses ("Feed a cold, starve a fever" - he's quite old fashioned)

● When he's severely sick one will know by him being even more quiet and reclusive and by the fact that he's staying asleep ("Nightmares be damned...I'm beat and feel like shit") ● He has honking blows and completely unrestrained sneezes that are incredibly loud and vocal - "HAHCK'chhhssseew!!!" ● He suffers from a stuffed up nose much more often than a runny nose and his nose often feels much too dry inside ● He has no problem blowing his nose in front of others - he just doesn't like whenever it's viewed with sympathy due to him being sick as he doesn't want to be seen as vulnerable ● He doesn't get sick easily, but when he does it can hit him hard ● He recovers more quickly than the average person ● He does his best to power through his illnesses despite how much he might be struggling ● His go-to tea is any type of black tea since it's usually "harder"

● He's awkward and clumsy with caretaking, but he does his best to show tenderness in his own way as he secretly doesn't like to see others having such a difficult time ● He's a very gruff and tough love caretaker ("Get your sneezy ass to bed. You look like shit. *Tosses a pill bottle to the sickie to catch.* Take that for that temperature of yours") ● He's diligent with his caretaking and does regular temperature checks and will sit beside who he's taking care of to blot their feverish forehead with a wet washcloth and the sickie will often come to and see him dosing with his head on his crossed arms as he's seated at their bedside and leaning onto the side of the bed ● He really doesn't know how to cook very well, but he does his best to make a healthy soup for whoever he's taking care of (Good thing the sickie's sense of smell and taste is probably terrible from their cold or they'd have a tough time) ● He's a bit shy about bringing the sickie things like tissues and such, but he will always ask if they'd like him to bring them a book so that they aren't going absolutely crazy from the boredom of bedrest

[patheticandmiserable]

Sorry that I’ve been a busy boy lately. I’m going through some intense burnout to be perfectly honest with you all, but I’ve been thinking about a very specific theme lately:

A character with an aggressive and tough front with a devastating cold.

The whole town steers away from him on a normal day. He thinks he’s all that, he owns whatever room he’s in. At least, that’s how he presents himself as.

So, one day, he awakens to the sloppiest cold imaginable. Nose won’t stop flopping between stuffy and runny, pathetic little coughs, adorable (albeit messy) little sneezing fits. He’s usually dressed to the nines, earning respect out of fear, but today everything looks off, from his red nose to the way his clothing seems to sag off of his body.

He tries his damnest to hide everything, ego over everything. Stifles his sneezes, suppresses coughs, sniffles because he’d rather be caught dead than to blow his nose in the presence of others… to which this backfires and people are shocked by these rare signs of politeness from him. People start to view him as more human than ever and warm up to him.

Each blessing makes him a softened puddle. Each word of caution or question of concern melts his iron-clad heart. This attention…why does he like it…?

On the inside, he just wants to be loved.

[patheticandmiserable]

Little warmup I did before working on some other stuff today

I loved his bar outfit so much, I had to see him snz in it 👀

[patheticandmiserable]

personal ramblings inspired by that one time my knees literally and visibly buckled at the sound of a sneeze (followed by an "are you okay?!" this memory haunts me to this day)

---

imagining Alastor trying to occasionally hook up with women so people don't start rumors about his sexuality, love life, etc. easy enough, until he hits his 30s. his reputation matters considerably, and the last thing he needs is murmured gossip about his lack of a wife and what that must mean for him. where's he supposed to find a gal who both isn't married and won't hound him about having kids though?

your friends love dragging you out to those seedy secret spots on the weekends, adamant that it'll be good for you to mix things up, have a drink, find the alleged man of your dreams (whatever that means). and while you're out, you half-jokingly complain that the man of your dreams doesn't exist - all of your previous beaus have wanted a family, and you've only ever wanted a quiet existence.

apparently, you should be all blushes and giggles when alastor introduces himself to you. apparently you should be over the fucking moon when he starts flirting with you. your friends "just about died" when he asked you on a date, but you? still standing, still breathing, still assuming this is another disastrous attempt at finding a significant other.

but it's... kinda nice. despite his personality, he's not over the top or extravagant in his ways of courting you. polite, well-mannered, talkative and humorous, but sharp enough to know when it's appropriate to crack jokes. and he has very few aspirations for a family.

you check all of his boxes. he, on the other hand...

"gnnxt! nkxt'shu! hahht'tshheu-uh!"

...might check a few more than you anticipated.

"Oh, goodness, my apologies. snf! I usually get more of a warning before I sneeze. Do pardon me for interrupting you."

oh, no, does he always comment on his sneezing? is that a perk of being a radio broadcaster, this internalized need to announce and speculate on every little thing? would he have announced them in any other situation?

"Is something the matter? Oh, please tell me I didn't get you with those. I assure you, I make it a point to sneeze either in a handkerchief or away from my dining partner."

you brush it off and assure him you're only startled by the suddenness. he believes you, although...

"You'd just adore New Iberia, I-- oh, one moment, that might be a sneeze... or perhaps not-- no, wait, yesitis-iishh! ieh-hehhsh! ... ahht-tehshhu! Oh my... snf! Pardon me. All that talk about lakes and valleys must've set me off a bit, haha!"

he's gone out of his way with it now, letting you know via spoken word, a hovering hand, a slight squeeze of your shoulder or hand. man's gone out of his way to warn you ahead of time, just in case you "startle" again, and how exactly are you supposed to ask him to stop without raising suspicion?

alastor thinks nothing of it, simply focused on making sure he doesn't scare you off. you're a one time opportunity, after all, and thus far, you've been rather easy to please. dinner dates, walks through the park, the occasional appearances by his side when called for. you think flowers are a sort of royal treatment when he sees them as the bare minimum. his only real concern is, well... you haven't brought it up yet, but as the months pass, you'll undoubtedly start inquiring about more intimate matters.

for now, though, he'll find confort in the simplicity of walking you home. late night chatter and gossip. enjoyable and easy. you're halfway through a story about one of your friends when be squeezes your hand.

"haeht-tTSSH! heh-hihhh... iheeshhhue! HihhIT'TCSHH-shhiew! Oh, ahem, that one was quite odd, I'm... probably going to sneeze again..." the way his brows knit and part, chest rising erratically, the occasional upward tilt of his eyes, the slight head shake... holding his handkerchief and fanning his face... the squirm and flare of his nose as he mumbles faint groanings under his breath... the sudden, almost monumental gasp right before covering his mouth. "HIIHHESHOO! ah-EeeESsSSHOO-ohhh my--"

your knees give out mid stride, threatening your balance as you stumble and trip and try not to fall over.

"Oh! Careful there darling! Are you alright?"

yes, yes, completely fine, no need to panic. all you manage is an awkward sound and a sudden clearing of your throat, and that's enough for alastor to step in front of you and get a better look. no injuries though, just a slightly scuffed shoe and a pair of dazzlingly red cheeks. now he might not personally know much in the way of embarrassment, but something about the melding of your lips and the dazed, faraway stare gives him pause. you're usually more... frantic? whenever you're embarrassed. this looks more like you've been... caught in some sort of lie. your refusal to meet his eye, the pathetic attempts at scooting him along the sidewalk without a coherent word...

"Well, best to not leave it up to chance! Up you go now."

you fully expected him to take his leave after setting you down on your front porch, but he takes your key, adamant that he come in and make sure you aren't hurt. he's methodical in his touch, no different than a doctor or tailor. no ulterior motives, it seems. not even when he pulls you into his lap and asks you to stretch out your legs and rotate your ankles. just making sure, he says.

his chest heaves against your back, the hitch of his breath inches from your ear. "hddxt-tchshuh! haheshhiue!" it's not on you, per se; he tilts away when he sneezes, but his other cheek finds purchase on your shoulder, arms tightening around your waist with each sneeze. "Oh, pardon." you can't help but whimper, gearing up to use the same excuse as before...

you feel his smile against your cheek, shivering at the sniffle so close to your ear.

"oh my... is that truly all it takes?"

[this was where it was supposed to stop but i got a little too horny and my train of thought decided to keep rambling]

oh. oh no. you freeze, ready to keel over in a mess of melted skin and boiling hot tears, because yes, it is, and it's humiliating, and he'll think you're too odd, too abnormal, too gross to keep around because it's such a dirty little secret and, and, and...

"do you find a certain pleasure in the way i sneeze?"

sweat trickles down the nape of your neck.

"answer me, dear, or you won't be hearing another one anytime soon. although, i wonder... would it please you to watch me struggle to hold them in?"

why isn't he berating you and storming out the door?

"perhaps I've been a bit too kind with my warnings. it would do you some good, learning how to school your expression as needed."

you don't even know what to say. you can hardly form a thought, let alone a coherent word.

"no need to be shy. i find it rather charming, really. such an innocent thing to enjoy, and my word, it happens all the time! quite lucky, wouldn't you say?"

you... kinda nod. still trying to gather your scattered thoughts, as if they'd been blown away by the sneezes themselves.

"though i'd prefer to be your favorite, if i may say. am i, darling? do you prefer my sneezes, or am i in need of a few lessons? some... practical demonstrations, perhaps? though you'd have to tell me if... ihh-if you truly do enjoy my... m-my ahh..."

you've never heard such desperate panting before, and certainly not so close to your ear. the dramatic rise and fall of his chest only second to the mild inflections in his voice, the little hitches that have just a syllable of sound. a still beat passes, and he exhales. relieved, but almost... annoyed.

"it feels as though I'm at work again, goodness me! I do so hate to give up a good sneeze, but to let one slip over the air? perish the thought. here though, with you... all I need is your admission."

you nod.

"out loud now, dear. You know how I feel about the spoken word! Haha!"

"yes...?"

"yes what, hm? take your time if you must, but try to tell me before i'm stricken with a bout of hayfever. ugh, to even imagine trying to hold back a sneeze with all that wretched pollen floating about."

your face burns, but you manage to say it. you tremble and shake and stutter, but you get it out in one concise sentence, and alastor's still there by the end of it.

and of course he is - you just made his life so, so much easier.

[patheticandmiserable]

not a ra/dio🍎 girlie but someone shared an 18+ wav featuring pre-death al with a southern accent and i will never fucking recover

yeah the radio ready transatlantic accent is both hot and fitting in a multitude of ways but like... imagining him slipping into his original accent when he's sick or allergy-stricken... or if he's just comfy with someone he trusts, but more importantly, when feeling particularly sneezy

[patheticandmiserable]

This is... the horniest thing I have ever drawn-

Inducing with a feather is hot- I had to do it to him, and it doesn't look like he's gonna be able to hold back for long 🤭

(cw slight mess)

(ALSO you can commission me on kofi!)

[patheticandmiserable]

I’ve been on a huge VoxVal kick recently, and I’ve also been yearning for some “faking it” content cause it’s one of my favorite tropes but I never run into it

So Val is feeling very deprived of attention from Vox, he’s just too busy for him these days. He’ll try to make a pass at dinner, over the phone, wear tighter clothes or less clothes around, but nothing is getting his attention, it’s all “not now’s” and “I’m busy’s.” 🫩😔

So Val thinks back, when was the last time he got Vox’s true undivided attention. It was…last week when he was examining final cuts of his upcoming releases, and Vox couldn’t stop staring at the nurse role play film he shot. Every-time Angel sneezed, Voxs eyes grew increasingly fixated and his face grew even more flushed. Even if his sight wasn’t the best, Val was great at noticing things.

So, he calls Angel to ask for whatever the hell kinda substance they used on that shoot, calls his makeup artist in, and blows his hair drier on high in his own face for like 25 minute.

Vox walks into their shared loft that night, and as soon as Val here’s the door shift he takes a bit of powder in his nose, wraps himself in a blanket, and lays down in bed. He can hear Vox put down his keys and walk around, but he’s not even calling out for him 😡🥺. As the powder kicks in, he lets himself build up the most languid dramatic vocal, teasing sneeze he can.

That certainly gets Voxs attention. He hears him approaching the bedroom doorway and starts pretending to shiver under the covers.

“Val?”

Val allows himself another sneeze, a little less loud than the first, but still whiney. He sniffles and sits up, wrapping the blanket around himself.

“Voxy! You’re back.”

“I…uh-“ Vox swallows. “What’s going on-“

“I don’t know, cariño. I was fine this morning, but all of a sudden I started feeling so achey and cold, and my…my” he’s playing it up, cause if Vox recognizes that he’s faking it, he’s gonna get a show. He fans his face, building up vocally like he trained Angel to do for that film last night week, sneezing high pitched and lingering on the “choo,” giving a little moan after.

“Mm. Perdón. My nose won’t leave me alone. Come to bed, mi amor. I’m so cold.”

He can see Vox’s eyes settle in the exact same way they did before, lazed focused while his screen flushes. He takes off his shoes, his jacket, his shirt, until he’s wearing nothing but his boxers and socks.

Vox places a hand on Val’s face. “You do feel a little hot.”

Val cuddles up to him. “Not as hot as you, warm me up baby.”

Val can heel Voxs dick through his boxers. He’s got him right where he wants him. One more good sneeze should do the trick. His head tilts back, but before he can let go, Vox places a finger just under his nostrils.

“Ah ah ah. So needy. Wait till I let you.”

This kinky bastard, Val thinks to himself. But he’s got his undivided attention, so he’s gotten what he wanted. His nostrils flare, his breath hitches, but he’s not one to beg. He fans his face in the way he noticed Vox likes, while his TV man snatches a tissue with his hand. Val moans out tiny little closed mouth whines to entertain his lover. Vox switches his finger for the tissues and lets Val release the itch.

“Blow, baby.”

As he blows into the tissue, Vox sighs with his eyes closed. “I don’t feel good, Voxy,” though his smirk communicated otherwise.

[patheticandmiserable]

A partner without the kink who's way too happy to please their partner with the kink. They practice inducing, try to find that spot that always make them sneeze. Everytime they smell flowers or a new perfume they secretly wish it makes them sneeze so they can show their partner later. They record themselves sneezing while they can't help but think on how much their partner is gonna love to see it, making themselves flustered thinking on what they partner may say. Everytime they are close to something that may make them sneeze, everytime they do sneeze, they always think about their partner.