#sneezy: even WORSE what am I going to do with you
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cw: some angst, sneezing, glitching,rain sfx, insults, playful nicknames
so i have going through it(depression wise) and decided well I am going to make a angst snez wav
Also I don't care I headcannon v/ox gets sneezy with rain, I mean electronic and rain don't match well so to bad this is my headcannon--also you dont bless people in hell al being polite says curse you and i love that hc --also also a/l says it literately acid rains in hell so that is cannon, shut up!
transcrip belong (do suggest you read along becuase there are moment that help explain the tone/pauses-voice acting angst is hard)
Vox: *running in the acid rain to get under a store cover* Shit, shit, shit…. This shit wasn't fucking supposed to happen, yet fucking broadcast. I guess it could get worse
Al: *appearing from his shadow realm holding some bags that are sizzling away from the rain* It appears that we will have a comparison.
Vox: Ohh fuck, what are you doing here?
Al: Well, I was in the neighborhood getting a few supplies. And appears to have misjudged the weather and that's what I get for listening to an inferior broadcast.
Vox: *Laughs* I don't fucking control that section. That's hell 666 not dictated by my media corporation. So, you can take that comment and shove it right up your red pompous….
Al: *tsking* Don't get your antenna in a twist.
Vox: I don't want to be here any longer than necessary. How long do you think the fucking rain will last.
Al: *reaches his hand out and slips some of the acid rain, laughing as it burns his throat* at this rate Yep, and that's the taste of a long rain. We're going to be. Here for quite the long haul.
Vox*burning his hand copying al*
Al: *Laughing* I can't believe you copied me.
Vox: I did not copy you.
Al: Yes, you did not an exact copy, but an imitation. Not quite as good as the original
Vox: fuck.
Al: Well, aren't you full and then extensive vocabulary.
Vox: Don't want to waste my breath *hitching and sneezing with a glitch* on things that don’t need it
Al: Curse you
Vox: *laughing* It's been a while since you've made me laugh.
Al: Let me recall. Wasn't that about eight years ago with this?
Vox: Yeah. We used to run the world.
Al: *sitting down and turning towards vox* Well, we might as well, I doubt we will be moving anytime soon. We haven't, really. Talked about it. *hinting about vox asking al to e part of his team*
Vox: While every time we meet it's normally not in good terms.
Al: True. We do have a knack for getting under each other skin
Vox: *sneezing and glitching*You could say that again
Al: I'm assuming you've heard of the Christmas truce during the First World War?
Vox: Even though you're older than me, I know some things. Yes, I'm aware. So is that your fucking compromise during this acidic storm.
Al: *mockingly* Well done. vox. Yes, a sabbatical.
Vox: So who the fuck wants to start?
Al: How about the one who isn't going to sneeze in the next 5
Vox: *interups al sneezing and glitching* Go ahead.
Al: *looking up as if he is remembering* Let's say my work became mundane. I was so ordinary gain a territory here. Steal soul there, takedown a tyrant an overlord, gain some territory. It was a routine. It was getting so boring. What was the point? Everyone feared me, but. *looks forlorn* What was I even looking for? So I left. Is best to leave them wanting more, right, old friend?
Vox: *surprised not seeing this side of al* Did you find it? Thing you were looking for?
Al: *laughing putting on his smiling face again, hiding his true feeling* Not yet. I have an idea, but I'm not so sure it can be achieved.
Vox: *rolling his eyes* Hopefully it won't interfere with my plan.
Al: Oh, and pray tell, what is your plan?
Vox: *glaring at him* To destroy you.
Al:I thought we have a truce.
Vox: Fair. Fair. I mean, it's not exactly a sound business practice tell my enemy the *hitching and sneezes and glitches* the plan
Al: Curse you. You all right? I would hate for my competition to die so early.
Vox: Yeah,right as rain *shudders*
Al:*remember a moment from their past* I forgot this happens to you when it rains, doesn't it?
Vox: Well, electronic and water don't exactly mix well together.
Al: Acid and rain don't work well either. But it is nice to talk like this.*his face softens and he takes on a more gentle look* Like we used to. If one were akin this to a feeling. One might think it would be longing For the old times.
Vox: Ohh, you're gonna get sentimental on me, old man.
Al: *hiding behind a mask again* You wish.
Vox: *sneezes* Stupid rain.
Al: It will pass. All things do.
Vox: Even overlords?
Al: *perks up a bit* oh? Trying gleam information now are we?
vox: Well, I have a reporter.
Al: Well, for your report, yes. Even overlords can die, I should know. I've killed enough.
Vox: *in a soft voice as if he is afraid of the answer* Where? Do they go?
Al: Not sure. Maybe that's something we can discover together.
Vox: *Sneezes*
Al: Curse you
Vox: Curse you to al. But seriously, you can go anywhere you please. And yet…. You stay. Why? Why do you? Why do you care? *is looking at al face trying to hint at the fact he left him and wanting to know why*
Al: I guess I deserve that…*takes a deep breath but cannot look vox in the face* it wasn't your fault. You know, there's nothing you could have said or done to change my mind. You weren't enough to stick around for. There is nothing I could have done….*takes a deep breath and you can see the smile fade and his claws dig not his side*Because I was nothing…..I still have.
Vox: *surprises to see this side of al, he has never seen* You don't really mean that?
Al: *laughs and masks his pain* Just performance old pal. The rain should be stopping soon. Let's chat again. It was….*pauses* Nice to see a friend.
Vox: *in his head* He's just like before. It Feel like I never really got to meet the real Al. But today I saw a peek behind the curtains. And…. It was Lonesome.
vox: Yeah, it was nice seeing you around you outdated it static filled nonsense.
al: It's almost adorable how hard you try to be relevant in a world that doesn't care.
vox: Likewise, Bambi.
Al: To seeing the end.
Vox *sneezes and glitches out* To seeing the end
#sneeze#snez#audio#snezaudio#sneezeaudio#wav#h/azbinwav#h/azbin hotel#h/azbin h/otel#ha/zbin hotel wav#ha//zbin hotel#v/ox#a/astor#angst is hard but yeah i did my best and it was cardatic as hell to record and write this
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for some reason they sent me my allergy blood test results at like 10pm so i’ve just been doing research since then. i’m going to strangle and kill birch pollen
basically the main protein in birch pollen is responsibly for a lot of cross-reactivity. every food i’m allergic to is known to be cross-reactive with birch pollen. the results i got back had some component tests (breakdowns of multiple proteins in a food to see which you are sensitive to) and i am completely non-reactive to everything BUT the birch pollen related ones.
this means my food allergies, all of which started in adulthood, are like 99% derived just from being super reactive to birch. you would think this also means that effective treatment of the birch allergy would fix these, but that appears to be pretty hit-or-miss because there are multiple parts of your immune system that become trained to react to the food proteins. immunotherapy is basically training some other part of your immune system to grab the proteins first so the IgE can’t get it and give you a severe reaction, but those other parts are less eager to be cross-reactive than IgE.
the thing that is really confusing me about my situation in particular is that i legit don’t get pollinosis. i have literally never had hay fever. i have no idea when it’s pollen season because i don’t get sneezy or stuffed up or teary or anything at all. even when it’s so bad you see clouds of green tree sperm in the air. i’ve only ever gotten like that in super moldy environments. yet every test shows i should be fucking dying like 24/7 from how reactive i am. and i’m more and more reactive to stuff i eat so it’s not like there’s no effect on me. i wonder what hidden problems i have from this that i’ve just never noticed or assumed were my default state of being
the thing that’s really frustrating me is the hypothetical world where i got treatment for this sooner and didn’t develop more food allergies. of course given i had 0 idea how allergic i was until i started having food reactions, that was probably impossible. all i can hope is that i can get immunotherapy at some point and it helps instead of making everything worse (also possible)
good news is that thru my research i found that the soy protein i’m allergic to is not present in soy sauce, so i can cook like a human being again. i mean it’s gonna take me some time to work up the courage but that’ll be nice. bad news is the result is in the Very High category so even soy products with small ppm are uhhh scary, since that same study showed ppl having systemic reactions not just OAS ones. no idea when i will feel comfortable eating at restaurants again. i assume soybean oil and soy lecithin are ok, but i gotta research that some more
#alf is allergic#i hate having this shit#so tired of being subject to new and evolving fields of medicine instead of like breaking a bone or smth#oops i typed this until i turned 30#what a start to the new age
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Lean on Me -Amphibia Oneshot
'Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow, but if we're wise we know that there's always tomorrow.'
*Following the ending of 'Marcy At The Gates'*
Because I just wanted to write Anne and Marcy being cute without, y'know, dying for once. My first Amphibia fic so no, it's not that good, but well, I tried. Here ya' go @milkshakekitty ❤️
––
Anne smiled warmly as she clutched onto Marcy’s hand as they swiped through the pictures, she had to catch her up with all the adventures they had in Amphibia without wasting any time. “Here’s me and Sprig by the lake. There was a snake that tried to eat us.” Anne commented. “Oh, oh, and here’s us running from a centipede that-”
“Let me guess, tried to eat you?”
Anne gasped, mouth agape in astonishment. “How did you know?”
Marcy giggled to herself. “Duh. This is Amphibia. What do you expect?” they swipe through some more pictures. “Wow, Anne. You and Sprig really seem really close, huh.” Anne blushed, twirling a strand of her hair in her finger.
“You could say. He’s…kinda the reason I've really been able to keep going, especially ever since separating with you guys, life’s been hard.” Anne admitted. “Feels like yesterday when I was absolutely freaked out was when I found myself stranded in the woods of Wartwood all alone. I’m gonna be honest with you, Mar-Mar, eating bugs ain't my favorite thing ever, or fighting tax toads…and stuff but I’ve come to think I’ve somewhat grown on this place and it’s because of Sprig and the Plantars.”
Marcy joyful smirk couldn’t help but fade slightly at the sound of all the things Anne had been through. “Yeah, I…can't disagree with that.” She muttered, looking away and pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. “The Plantars really are sweet. And the little frog dude? He seems quite protective of you, no wonder you mean a lot to him.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for all the…suspicion Sprig had on you earlier. I told him it was kinda uncalled-for, but a lot of stuff has happened and…”
“Oh please. I don’t mind at all. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse phases of skepticism in several rural civilizations I visited. Your friend seems a lot more open.”
Anne frowned, could she really blame Sprig though? Her other friend had almost killed him, and initially Hop Pop too. It just felt a bit uneasy having to tell Marcy that he had thought she was gonna be the same, what would she think? She didn't want Marcy to also hate her best friend like the other one did. Anne vaguely swiped through another picture on her phone, and what came up was her other friend. Anne’s didn't acknowledge herself holding her breath and frown at the sight of the blond girl on her phone screen.
“No way! Is that when you and Sasha reunited?” Marcy exclaimed with excitement, pushing her face between Anne and the phone screen, the picture of Anne and Sasha smiling and posing at the camera. “Heh, the armor suits her. Is that a Toad army uniform? She looks so different.” Anne rolled her eyes.
“She does.” Anne shoved the phone back into her pocket and stood up, looking into the distance, clutching the tip of her sleeve. “Literally. She’s changed.” Marcy, with a look of uncertainty, approached her.
“You said you had you had a fight, didn't you? But see, Anne…you know Sasha, we’ve known each other since we were kids, that’s the way she’s always been. Sure, she’s got a bit of temper, but I’m sure she’s still our friend. No matter what.”
‘She’s our friend. No matter what she does.’ The words echoed in her mind. ‘Nothing can change that.’That’s the one thing that had kept Anne bounded all these years. She was so busy making sure Sasha got away with all the trouble she was too blind to figured it out whatever she was doing with them was anything but friendship. All for they just couldn’t risk her somehow not wanting to be their friend anymore, for that would be the end of it all.
Wouldn’t it?
“She tried to kill my family, Marbles.” Anne’s tone cracked. Marcy’s eyes wide opened, stunned.
“She what? No way,”
Anne sniffed. “She tried to hurt Sprig, and Hop Pop. She’s far from justified. It’s too late, it’s time she takes responsibility of her actions. She’s way past treating us like we need her to make our decisions for us. Acting like…she can do whatever she wants because we just can't risk losing her because she convinced us that we’re NOTHING without her.” She panted, her face going red in exhaustion. Marcy stared silently at her friend with wide eyes. Anne breathed out and smiled warmly, looking into her eyes. “Well, we’re not. You and I are here, without her, doing just fine. The Plantars helped me make my way here to find you, we don’t need her to lead us. Dang, look how far you’ve come, Mar-Mar, you’re the literal hero of Newtopia and all, you bet Sasha would’ve never guessed that to come from the School’s science nerd, am I right?”
“Aw, quit it, Anna-Banana.” Marcy punched her playfully with a blush. Anne rubbed her arm and elbowed her with a smile. “How about we go for a walk? Bet that’d help. I know the perfect spot, c’mon, Anne!” Anne had barely processed anything Marcy had said yet before she was grasped by the arm and yanked along by her. After a moment of blindly letting herself be hauled along, when Marcy finally stopped Anne was marveled at the scene before her. What they stood upon was a hill, from where all of Newtopia could be seen. “Whoa.” Was all Anne could say, “That…sure is something, dude.”
“I know, RIGHT?! This is the most fun spot of the city next to the library, check this out!” Without a warning, Marcy hopped off her feet and let herself roll down the shimmering cool grass. “Anne, look I’m a Springroll!” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle at this until she noticed that Marcy was going to rolled herself right into a giant rock.
“Rock! Marcy, rock!” She shouted.
“I know! I rock at this!”
“NO! Marcy, look out!” Anne didn't acknowledge herself diving down and grabbing the girl before she’d crash herself. Anne panted heavily, holding her close. Marcy grinned.
“Heh, I get carried away sometimes. Thanks, Anna-Banana.” Anne sighed deeply and got to her feet, dusting herself.
“Sometimes. Pfft, sure. You can do me a great favor by being careful for five minutes for frog’s sake.” She retorted. Marcy blinked, wondering if she wasn’t being a help. Nah, there was no way for that to be, she knew how to cheer up her friend. Just as Anne began walking away, Marcy grabbed her hand and pulled her down. “Marbles, what are you…? AAAA-” she screamed as the two rolled further down the hill. “MARCY!”
“Isn't this cool?!” Marcy laughed as she gripped on her tight. When they stopped, Anne held her spinning head.
“Dude, what the frog?!” She complained, rubbing her head as Marcy continued to grin. “That was insane.”
“Insane and fun!”
“Pfft, yeah.” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly punching her shoulder. “Don’t do that again.” She looked up at the sky full of stars, sighing to herself. Funny how it was only her and Marcy now, without Sasha telling them what to do, just like back in…kindergarten? Well, that was quite long ago.
And surprisingly for all, she was actually feeling…good? It was true she always felt a lot liberated around her. As Anne had described to Sprig earlier, Marcy was indeed harmless. It was almost astonishing how she was totally living the moment and barely seemed concerned about everything that had been going on. How long they had been away from their parents, and haven’t seen each other in months until now, how Sasha tried to kill her family…
She couldn’t keep herself from remembering the tearful look in the girl’s eyes during their last encounter. ‘Hey, Anne?’ The last words from Sasha echoed in her mind again. ‘Maybe you’re better off without me.’ And in a blink of an eye, feeling her hold on Sasha’s hand loosening and having to see her former friend nearly fell to her doom.
Anne shook her head. No, that wasn’t her fault. There was no way it being her fault that Sasha rejected the help, rejected her, something she had always been afraid of. But somethings were inevitable, and in the end they were alright, she was okay and Sasha had…other people to stand by her, to follow her lead rather gladly.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Marcy spoke up, who was relaxing down on the grass.
“I often like coming out here to read. It actually feels pretty great out here, heh. Andrias prefer to join me sometimes, we had SO much fun together. Gosh, I LOVE this place!” She lied on her back, whirling her arms and legs, and enjoying the feel of the soft grass beneath them. She suddenly gasped and sat back up, eyes shining and a dreamy look on her face. “Y’know what I just came up with? What if…we made a hideout here? Brilliant idea. If we use the correct type of wood according to the air moisture, but wait we also need to bug-proof this place, we could try-” She stopped when we noticed Anne zoned out. “You okay there?”
“Huh? Yeah, and yeah we should totally do that.” Anne said, sitting down beside her, one arm wrapped around herself.
“Are ya’ cold?” Marcy asked with concern.
“Huh, no, it’s not that. I’m just-”
“Aw shucks! I should’ve known it! You always get a cold out in the night. Here, have this before you go all sneezy.” Marcy proceeded to take off her cape.
“No, Mar-Mar, really, I’m-” Anne was interrupted by her own sneeze. “…fine.”
“You’re not, Sneezy.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Heh. You know? It could be a sign someone is thinking about you.” Marcy smirked, tapping her chin.
“Yes, I know that, Marcy.” Anne replied, flushed and rubbing her itchy nose. “But I think I’m just cold.”
Marcy shrugged. “Eh, anyway. Here, you can have this. Don’t worry, it’s not on fire…yet.” she joked as she wrapped the cape around her shoulder. “Remember when we used to go to the café after classes, you always ordered hot chocolate while me and Sasha went for soda. Even then, you get sneezy. You always have it colder than us.” Anne blushed as she curled up.
“Thanks, Marcy.”
“About Sash, Anne, all of that sounds real rough, hard to believe actually, I never thought she’d…go that far.” She sounded much disappointed by the finish.
Anne sneezed again. “I’m not even surprised at this point. She’s always been a jerk, we were just too blind to notice.”
Marcy leaned back, fiddling the tip of her toes. “I…kinda always thought she was like the protector of the group, and that she’d always look out for us.”
“She likes to show me that I’m the weakling,” Anne’s voice cracked. “So that she’d feel better about herself. That’s why she tried to kill Sprig, he has been the first to make me realize that I was friends with a jerk. I guess that’s it, all she cares to have is control.”
Marcy’s eyes moved back and forth for a moment before she gently placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder who just sat there, hugging her knees. She felt a bit guilty about the fact that despite always being there, she had never been the one to realize what Anne had been going through, that Sasha was basically pushing her around. Maybe if she even did, there wasn’t much she could do to change it.
“Hey, you ain't a weakling to me. Pfft- Yeah sure, Sasha always liked to show off her strength, I rolled with it because it seemed like the only thing she was ever into. But hey, you know how much you look out for me.” She lifted Anne’s chin. “Even back in that cave today? You looked out for me. My point is, you’re so much more than you think, Anne. We might need her on our way back home, we aren’t gonna leave her behind. But whether or not she is there, you know you matter so much to everyone. You’ve got me, you’ve got the Plantars, and Sprig; it’s gonna be okay.”
Anne wiped her watery eyes with a smile, Marcy blinked as Anne embraced her into a hug, she smiled and hugged back. There was a moment of silence between them while they hugged until suddenly, Marcy sneezed.
“Huh, wonder who’s thinking about me?” She remarked, wiping her nose.
“Perhaps the librarian back home, for all the books you didn't return.” Anne commented sarcastically. Marcy narrowed her eyes and elbowed her. Anne shook it off with a chuckle and wrapped the other end of the cape around Marcy’s shoulder. “There. Now you won't get all sneezy either.” Marcy rolled her eyes with a smile. Anne leaned her head against hers, staring up at the stary sky, spotting a shooting star passing by.
“I don’t ever want to lose you again, Mar-Mar.”
“Me neither.”
#Amphibia#Anne boonchuy#marcy wu#fanfiction#y'know Pix Pres is broken when she actually writes fluff instead of angst 😂#but again it's still hurt/comfort sooo idk#anyway I love these two besties sm <3
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Spells and Sneezes
I needed to try some Fantasy sickfic, and also practice my “stuffy talk”, so have ~3700 words of a very sneezy, stuffed up sorcerer. This post was inspired by a prompt I saw from this site long ago about a tall, thin, sneezy warlock, but I can’t find that post again to link it to save my life. So generic thanks to whoever came up with the prompt!
“Hehhtt’SSCCHHEEEWW!!
The tickle he thought he’d stifled exploded out of him unexpectedly as a massive, wet sneeze. The tall, young sorcerer groaned and wiped his dripping nose wearily with an already sodden handkerchief. His entire workbench was now covered in the spray. He sighed dejectedly, glancing out the window, the weak afternoon sunlight offering little comfort.
He had been stuck on this spell for days now, and the deadline was fast approaching. And this wasn’t just any order, this was for the KING. He was preparing to wage war and was looking for chainmail woven with a defense spell for 3,000 of his top officers. The king had chosen him to fill this order because defense spells had been his specialty during his apprenticeship, but for some reason this powerful chain was toying with him. If he could get just one prototype together, making the rest would be the work of a day. But he had not been able to make even one yet.
He groaned again, wincing as he continued to wipe his raw, dripping nose. His head hurt. His throat hurt. His eyes hurt. His chest hurt from all the coughing he’d been doing. But he couldn’t rest until this was done.
He summoned the chair he had shoved aside a few minutes ago. Neither sitting nor standing seemed to help him concentrate better, so he kept going back and forth. He leaned his head in his hand and picked up his quill again, scratching sigils fruitlessly.
A merry knock startled him and he leapt to his feet, his lithe frame quivering. For a moment he imagined it was the king’s advisors coming to collect the spell a week early. Instead, his younger sister poked her head in, waving cheerily.
“Brother, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Did I startle you? I’m sorry. It has been some weeks since I’ve seen you, and I wanted to check on you.”
She bustled in, her cleaning cart clattering behind her and parking itself by the door. Elliamina was a kitchen witch, and renowned throughout the land for her cleaning abilities, especially for never having an apprenticeship of her own. She had helped her older brother with his studies, being the more studious of the two, and had picked up some knowledge of her own, enough to make her own way in the world without formal training.
She danced over, wrapping her arms around him warmly. She was almost a meter shorter than him, but otherwise they were nearly identical, though there was a 5 year span between them. The length of their hair was the only difference. Elmrador weakly returned her hug, his heart still pounding.
“Good to see you, Mina. I have missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, but I’ve been quite busy with orders of late. I can’t visit long today though. I have much work to do.”
“Well, at least let me give your cottage a quick tidy while I’m here.” She stepped back and surveyed him, cocking her head. “You are ill, brother.” Her mouth immediately quirked down sadly.
It was a statement, not a question. He also frowned. “I am fine.”
As if only to betray him, a hoarse coughing fit snuck up on him, leaving him red and breathless. He rubbed his chest ruefully. “Or at any rate, I don’t need you fussing. I need to finish this order. It’s for the king.”
“Hm.” She looked at him skeptically. “I have the supplies to make a tonic for you. Let me give you that at least. You look miserable.”
He grunted his approval. “As long as you don’t mix it with a sleeping draught.”
“If that's what you want,” she said, rolling her eyes. She flitted back to her cart and began to mix up a simple potion. Meanwhile, he seated himself again and resumed his scribbling. Another dratted tickle was growing in his nose though, which was streaming in earnest. He mopped the drips, to no avail.
“Ah… ah… Ahhkkt’shoooooo!” His handkerchief caught only part of the spray due to how sodden and crumpled it was, and his workbench was once again covered. Mina was at his side in a moment, rubbing his back.
“Poor dear! Elm, you sound awful. You should be in bed.”
“As soon as I work this through.”
She sighed and shook her head, handing him the steaming tonic. He took it with a grateful smile and gulped it down before taking up his quill again, rubbing his hands together to warm them before he did.
Seeing he didn’t intend to chat further, she began to clean his one room cottage. It was all he needed, just the right amount of space. He kept it cozy and neat for the most part, but when he was busy, cleaning was the last thing on his mind, which is one of the reasons she liked to visit often. She genuinely loved cleaning, especially for people she cared about. She began at the ceiling, sweeping down cobwebs and dusting the corners as she sang to herself. Elm personally thought her singing was a big component of her magic, though she denied it.
After the ceiling, she moved to the walls and cupboards. Elm found himself watching her idly rather than working. He turned back to his papers, shaking his throbbing head, trying to clear it. The tonic seemed to be affecting his fever. He had previously been shivering in the warm room, but now he was starting to sweat. The congestion seemed to be leaving his chest but was streaming out of his nose in earnest.
He didn’t know where his other handkerchiefs were, so he kept using the current one, but it was getting less and less effective as his sniffles got wetter and wetter. It wasn’t long before he started sneezing, both from his overactive nose, and the dust his sister was creating.
“Errr’sssHUUH! ErrrRIESSH’shew! Ehhhkxxt’SHEEEWW!”
Mina threw down her duster in exasperation. “I don’t know how you can stand to keep working. *I* can hardly work with you like this!”
He shrugged petulantly, rubbing his red nose. “Well, if you weren’dt kickig ub so mbuch dusdt…”
“Oh! Is the tonic not helping? It shouldn’t make you sound like that.”
“Idt helped the cough. Bud idt mbade mby ndose worse,” he mumbled weakly.
She rolled her eyes. “That tonic works on everyone else, except stubborn sorcerers. I bet your magic is going haywire and counteracting it. Especially without the sleeping effect.”
“Thadt’s ndot mby fauldt.” He shivered and coughed softly, summoning a blanket to wrap around his shoulders as he was suddenly freezing instead of sweating.
She sighed and moved to his side again, rubbing his back some more. He leaned against her wearily.
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Ndo. I worgk best adt ndight.”
“Poor dear. You’re exhausted. No wonder you’re ill. What has got you so worked up?”
She glanced at the papers spread before him. “Chainmail woven with defense? Clever. Lucky you, getting an interesting project like this.”
“Idt’s driving mbe to distraction. I can’dt quide sordt it oudt.”
Her sharp eyes roved over the parchment quickly. “Your writing is terrible when you’re ill. I can hardly make it out. Ah, but here’s one of the reasons you're having trouble--half of these sigils appear to be reversed. See these here? They’re meaningless. Don’t tell me you’ve been working with them like this?”
He groaned pathetically. “They weren’dt like thadt whend I wrote themb! I ndo they weren’dt!”
She reached out and tried to feel his forehead. He batted her hand away before she could. She frowned.
“You know your magic is unpredictable when something is wrong with you, brother. My guess is you sneezed on these and they reversed themselves. You’re positively crackling with stray mana. Not to mention you’re probably feverish. You need to take some rest.”
“I can’dt. I have to deliver 3,000 of these in a weegk’s time, and I haven’dt even godden one yedt.”
“You’re not being productive like this though.”
“Ndeither are you. I thoughdt you were cleanig.”
She swatted him playfully. “See to yourself first, Elmrador, before you worry about me.”
Shaking her head, she reluctantly went back to her cleaning. The thin sorcerer directed his gaze back to his work, slowly fixing the reversed sigils, but he couldn’t get his eyes to stay in focus. They were so heavy. Everything was blurred around the edges.
His head was overwhelmingly heavy too, and achingly throbbing. He let it drop to the workbench, the cool wood pleasant on his hot forehead. He let his mouth hang open and tried to breathe, letting his nose drip gently into his handkerchief.
He must have dozed off, because Elliamina’s touch startled him some moments later. He turned to look at her, his cheek still on the bench.
“Why are you fighting yourself? You’re no good to anyone like this. The project can wait.”
“Will you mbake mbe some tea?” he asked pitifully, changing the subject.
She rubbed his back, surveying him keenly. “I’ll make you some tea if you take it in bed.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, slowly pulling the blanket closer to himself as he rose and shuffled to the corner where his bed stood. He clumsily discarded his outer tunic and boots as he went, kicking them aside before falling onto the mattress and heaping blankets and pillows over himself, dozing immediately. His sister busied herself boiling the water and preparing the tea leaves.
When it was ready, she shook him awake again and helped him sit up.
“I can do idt mbyself,” he muttered, shaking her off.
“You’re worn out enough,” she chided gently. “So let me help.”
He couldn’t argue with that. The tea was sweet and hot, the perfect temperature to start drinking immediately. But naturally, the warm liquid made his nose stream in earnest. His sister had been fussing around, fluffing his pillows and picking up his discarded clothes. When she noticed his sodden handkerchief, long past its usefulness, she quickly summoned another. He took it with a grateful smile, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his watery eyes. He blew his nose several times, but his sinuses were stopped tight, and blowing just made his head throb terribly.
Once the tea was gone and he had finally stopped shivering, he felt he couldn't keep his eyes open for another minute. He fell back into the bed as Elliamina dimmed the lights and covered him warmly.
Mina watched as he seemed to slip into a doze immediately. After a moment, she returned to her cleaning. She had made up her mind that she would stay here with him until he was over the worst of this. And since she would be here for a while, she had decided she would scour his cottage from top to bottom.
However, her brother couldn't seem to settle. He tossed and turned, coughing more and more often, the most awful-sounding fits. Finally he rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at her pitifully.
"I can'dt sleebp," he croaked. "First I'mb sweatig, then I'mb freezig. And I can'dt breathe for the coughig."
She clicked her tongue, coming to his side. She felt his forehead and cheeks, and this time he let her, leaning his head into her hand.
“You are so warm, Elm,” she tutted, brushing the sweaty hair off of his brow. “Would you like me to make you another tonic, a stronger one to help you sleep?”
He hesitated, then nodded miserably.
“Just a moment, then.” She trotted to her cart, ingredients flying to her hands before she had even reached it. She made a potion double the strength of the first one, with a strong dash of sleeping draught. Turning, she made her way back to the bed with the steaming mug as her brother once more struggled into a sitting position, hindered by another coughing fit.
He swallowed the mixture in a few gulps, grimacing, whether from the taste or his sore throat, she wasn’t sure. Then, she helped him lie back yet again, propping him up with pillows so he could breathe easier. The process seemed to wear him out. His eyes drifted closed immediately.
Elliamina tucked him in, straightening the blankets around him. He mumbled something incoherent as sleep overcame him.
“What did you say?”
“Stay with mbe,” he mumbled, his wheezy exhale turning into a snore.
“Don’t worry, I will,” she whispered, though she knew he did not hear.
Elliamina spent the rest of the evening puttering around, finishing her deep scour, making soup for when her brother woke, tending to his garden, and other domestic things that she had helped him with since they were children. She gave special attention to his workbench. She cleaned it and sanitized it thoroughly, even using a special cleansing spell on the parchment he had been working on. Sure enough, as soon as it was clean, she saw many of the sigils reverse themselves to what they should be. With a little smile, she replaced the papers where she had found them. Meanwhile, the tonic did its job admirably; Elmrador hardly moved, and he was breathing much easier. The only sound he made for many hours was soft, even snoring.
Evening turned into night. Mina was an early sleeper and early riser. As soon as the sun was down, she made a little nest for herself with extra blankets and pillows on the freshly scoured floor in front of the fireplace. She was weary from her day’s efforts, and dropped off to sleep without any effort, expecting her brother to sleep soundly through the night as well.
Imagine her surprise when she was awakened by him jumping out of bed in the middle of the night and running to his workbench, lighting candles hastily as he went. He banged down into his desk chair, picked up his quill, and began scribbling furiously, muttering to himself.
“Elm? What ails you?” she yawned, getting to her feet and wrapping her shawl around herself to go stand at his side, feeling his forehead. His temperature seemed almost normal, though his cheeks were flushed. He paid her no mind.
“The spell. It came to me in my sleep. I know what I was missing.” He sniffled wetly, wiping his sleeve under his nose, but continued scribbling away.
“I shan’t try to reason with you, since you’re so determined, though I wonder how you’re awake at all for how strong that tonic was. I don’t want to imagine the state you’ll be in in the morning.” She sighed softly. He seemed fine for now, but the tonic could only mask symptoms for so long.
With a shrug, she shuffled back to her nest. As she went, she mumbled: “Fates help you if you wake me again, though.” In front of the fire once more, she burrowed into her blankets, and was quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his quill and his muttering.
It was a harsh cough that woke her again in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise, but not hers. She yawned and stretched luxuriously. For a moment she forgot where she was, until a wet sneeze made her turn.
Elmrador was just as she had left him the night before, hunched over his workbench. Spread out all around him were what appeared to be hundreds of chain shirts, and more were in the process of being finished. However, her brother looked more asleep than awake as he worked. Harsh, dark circles ringed his eyes, vivid against his pallor, as was his raw, chapped nose. Just as she noted this, the nose disappeared into his handkerchief .
“Hrrr’RUSH’eeww! Ahh’NNXGH’shuuh!”
“Oh Elm,” she murmured fondly. “You are in quite a state now, aren’t you?”
“Mbina… Good mornig. Loogk, I fidished mby prototype. Idt’s mby best worgk, I thingk.”
“It had better be, for you to be working as ill as you areYou look awful. You ought to go back to bed right away.”
“Id a few mbinutes. As sood as I fidish these three, I’ll have 300 done. Thed I cad automate themb to reblicate thembselves.”
Such a long speech made him cough harshly, his voice long gone. She tutted disapprovingly. “You’ll be in bed for a week after this. You’ve done yourself in, stubborn fool.
“Id was worth idt,” he said, almost smugly. “Idt’s for the king.”
“So you said,” she said, yet again rolling her eyes. “We’ll see if you can say the same in a few days.”
A hoarse grunt was his only reply. He had gone back to his work and needed all his remaining concentration to finish.
Seeing that he wasn’t moving until he reached his target, Elliamina did her own washing and grooming, cleaned up her bedding, and got coffee and breakfast going. Just as she was putting the eggs on, she saw him toss down his tools with a final flourish. However, as he said, the chain mail materials continued to manipulate themselves to form more armor even as Elmrador wearily stood, scrubbing his face and swiping at his dripping nose with a once again sodden handkerchief.
A round of rough, barking coughs made him hunch over again a moment later, a hand pressed to his chest. A weak “ow” was all he could manage as he tried to catch his breath, a hand now at his temple.
“I didn’t thingk coughig could hurdt so mbuch,” he wheezed.
“Only when you push your body past its limit. Come along, it’s bed for you for the foreseeable future, you dunce.” She moved to his side and grasped his elbow, leading him back to his mattress.
“You don’dt ndeed to help mbe walk, I’m ndot an invalid, only full of cold,” he muttered, trying to pull away. Mina was not dissuaded.
“Be that as it may, I’d rather help you get there just the same. You look as if a strong breeze will blow you over, and then where would I be?”
He deigned not to reply and instead allowed her to seat him on the edge of the bed where he swayed weakly as she helped him remove his sweaty clothes and don his nightshirt before propping him up against a heap of pillows, as his wheezy breathing was rather worrying her. She plied him once more with tea and tonic, which he accepted without a fuss. Then she brought over the plate of steaming eggs and toast. He made a face and pushed it away.
“I don’dt like eggs even whed I’mb ndot sick. I cerdainly don’dt wandt themb ndow.”
“Ah, so that’s why you have so many eggs. Well, would you at least eat the toast?”
He grunted noncommittally and took a half-hearted bite, taking a long time to chew and swallow. He only managed to finish half a slice before he pushed that away too. “Can’dt. Throadt hurdts too mbuch. Jusdt mbakes mbe feel sicker.” He gamely finished his tea though as she watched worriedly.
“You never turn down food. You’re already a beanstalk, Elm. I wish you would eat something.”
A rough cough was the only reply he could manage as he quickly coasted toward sleep once again. Mina sighed and decided to let him sleep, putting the food aside. That was what he needed most now anyway.
And sleep he did, for a long time. Yet his work was not done. He had to get up for a few hours the next day, for once all the shirts were complete he had to do the final quality review of the armor. Elliamina hovered worriedly at his elbow as he did intricate magic to test the limits of his creations. He was so weak he could hardly stand, arms shaking and face flushed as he cast. He had to sit often to catch his breath and wait out bouts of lightheadedness or coughs, but he would be damned before he delivered a subpar product to the king. Mina assisted him as best as she was able, doing whatever she could for his health and ensuring he didn't harm himself.
After hours of rigorous testing, he finally pronounced them suitable, while Elmrador himself ached with weariness. Without another word, he proceeded to crawl back into bed and bury himself in blankets, immediately beginning to snore as one deeply exhausted.
He passed most of the next several days in an illness and tonic-induced slumber. He was miserable when he was awake, every fiber of his being aching or throbbing. Mina forced him to eat and drink whenever she could, but mostly he wanted to sleep, and she let him do just that.
He was in fact asleep when the king's men arrived for the armor. A small crew of men rode up to the cottage with much pomp and ceremony. Mina greeted them in the garden, introducing herself as the sorcerer's assistant. They were immediately enthralled with her, as was everyone that met her for the first time, and she utilized this to expertly manage the transaction. Within 20 minutes the men were departing with many sacks of chain shirts in their cart, ecstatic with their purchase, while Mina carried a hefty pouch of gold, more than Elm had originally bargained for, into the cottage. Elmrador was still asleep, oblivious to it all. She knew he had lost track of the days some time ago, and she didn't see a reason to excite him until he was better.
Instead of waking him, she safely hid the gold in his stores. She then pulled up her chair once more to her place beside his bed, took up her needlework, and softly began to hum as she worked while her brother slept on peacefully.
#sickfic#sicknario#Sickness#snzfic#snzblr#snzario#fantasy#spellcasting#MY OCs#fever#everyone is hotter with a fever#story prompt
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Sick Days - Chapter 7
Okay, chapter 7 is here!😁 And poor Allie, I am not kind to him...😅 Also felt like I needed to clarify, this fic is a part of my Normal Au.
I just love the boys being so domestic and caring for each other, there’s something so cute about it! 😄
The Past Chapters can be found here
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Virgil POV
Scott’s eyebrows creased in worry as he straightened up “Allie, what are you doing out of bed?” Scott asked, walking over to their sick little brother.
Alan was visible breathing out of his mouth, looking so severely congested and stuffed up. His face was really pale with a slight feverish flush on his cheeks, little droplets of sweat sitting on his temples like a crown of sickness.
Alan’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery, giving him that look of having just cried. They also had that unfocused, feverish ‘I’m not really with it..’ look that could be partly from the medication or the fever that plagued his little brother or maybe both...
But the thing that stood out the most was Alan’s little red button nose... the kid’s nose looked so irritated and sore, glistening with moisture as thick gunky snot flowed out of the kid’s nostrils.
The only thing halting the flow was the fact that Alan was constantly sniffing, each little sniffle crackling with wetness as the flow got worse the longer the kid put off blowing it…
“Come on, what’s the matter, sweetie?” Scott asked gently as he crouched down in front of Alan, stroking a bit of hair out of the kid’s eyes “Why are you out of bed? I thought you were sleeping..”
“I...I he-heaud a car dribe in....” Alan mumbled softly, sounding really congested, his voice having that classic bad cold sound of a blocked nose and sore throat.
All in all, he sounded just so miserably sick...
Alan rubbed at his nose, swaying on his feet slightly. “I...I wauted to-ugh..” Alan sniffled, his nose starting to twitch and flare with an awful itch “-to see w-whuo..it..i-it w-w-wa-” Alan sneezed wetly towards the ground, nearly kneeling over from the force of the sneeze, unable to cover in time...
Alan shivered, his little arms wrapping around his middle with a whine, a tear slipping down his cheek...
“Oh, sweetie, come here…” Scott sighed softly as he lifted Alan into his arms, holding the kid in a gentle embrace. “That was only Virgil and Gordon getting home, you really should have stayed in bed..”
Alan sniffled, his head was resting against Scott’s shoulder, his eyelids flickering between open and shut. The kid was looking so tired and sleepy, he was surprised the kid had even woken up in the first place…
Alan’s tummy gave a sickly grumble, sounding so painful that he had to wince in sympathy as his little brother groaned with a little sicky burp and cough. Oh, Allie...
“Virgie?” Alan's eyes briefly meet his own, the kid’s eyes watery and red, looking so terribly sick. The kid tried to suppress a cough but it only made him cough more...
”Hey kiddo..” he smiled softly at Alan, gently caressing the kid’s cheek, “Scotty told me you weren’t feeling well, so I brought some fresh lemons to make you a nice hot honey lemon drink for your throat...”
Honey lemon was something their Mother or their Grandma used to make them when they had colds or sore throats, it was really soothing and comforting...
“I can make you one right now if you want?”
Alan shook his head with a little groan, coughing roughly into his fist. “Tu-tummy feels too...ugh-” Alan's tummy felt like that was the perfect moment to painfully grumble, making Alan whimper and bit his lip, the kid going an even paler colour than before...
Scott frowned deeply, looking down at Alan in concern and so much worry. Just as Scott was going to open his mouth to say something, Alan’s nose decided to have a tantrum as well, leaving the kid a snotty, sneezy mess.
Alan’s bottom lip was starting to tremble...
“Oh, baby, come on, let me clean you up kiddo…” Scott spoke softly as he sat down on one of the kitchen’s barstools, “Virgil, can you pass me that tissue box?”
“Sure..” He nodded as he spotted the unopened tissue box Scott was asking about on the kitchen counter near the window. He ripped it open and placed it next to his brother, “Here you go…”
Scott nodded in thanks as he grabbed a couple of tissues, Alan cradled in his big brother’s lap like a little baby. Alan was often mistaken for a toddler by a lot of people, the kid was just unusually small for his age...
Scott gently wiped Alan’s damp red nostrils with the tissues, cleaning up the thick snot that was oozing from the kid’s nose as gently as he could, trying his hardest not to irritate Alan’s already really sore, really sensitive nose.
But it didn’t matter how gentle Scott was being as anything would irritate Alan’s poor little red nose right now, which started to twitch before an explosion of a sneeze burst out of the kid. Followed by another forceful sneeze and then another sneeze and another...Ten wet, drippy and messy sneezes in total, leaving snot and tears streaming down Alan’s face.
Scott caught most of it in the tissues, which was soaked to high heaven now, but some had escaped, spraying Scott’s arm and the air around them. Little droplets of cold virus left floating in the air…
Alan sniffled, wet and damply as he collapsed back against Scott, an expression of absolute misery on his face.
He noticed out of the corner of his eye Gordon standing in the hallway entrance, his eyes wide with concern and worry. His school bag hanging off his shoulder as the teen debated what to do...
He sighed softly, “Come on, Gordon, homework..” He nodded to the dining room table as Scott cleaned Alan up, “tell me what you have to do, and I’ll see if I can help..”
Gordon nodded, bringing his bag over to the dining room table, not even fighting him on it like he usually would...Gordon’s still slightly wide eyes lingered on Alan, who had started crying in Scott’s arms.
The poor kid could only handle so much...
“Is he going to be okay?” Gordon asked him quietly as Scott bundled Alan up in his arms, carrying the sick seven-year-old to his bedroom. “I don’t think I have seen Alan that sick in...in forever..”
He sighed softly, squeezing the thirteen-year-old shoulder. “He’s just not very well at the moment, Gordy..” He took a seat at the dining room table next to his little brother, “now come on, what homework do you have?”
Gordon’s eyes lingered on the hallway for a second before looking at him, “The worst in the world...” Gordon said as he dropped his head against the table with a dramatic sigh.
“Maths!”
#Virgil Tracy#alan tracy#Scott Tracy#Gordon Tracy#thunderbirds#thunderbirds are go#original thunderbirds#thunderbirds 2004#thunderbirds fanfiction#normal au#sickfic#sick character
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Kadara Marketplace Shenanigans
Vetra Nyx/Fem Ryder (Darrin Ryder). Safe for work. Word count: 1,485. Catch it on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998385
Darrin Ryder is still waiting to see any progress on Kadara with Reyes Vidal and the Collective in charge. While people watching, she sees an asari getting ganged up on by some hustlers and waits to see what happens... and is shortly joined by Vetra.
[[READ MORE]]
Darrin carefully watches a few hustlers surround a normie-looking asari (dressed in casual wear, even) while she looks on from the top of a nearby building, looking down over the marketplace.
Yeah, Kadara still hasn't changed much. She's still waiting to see more effects from putting Reyes in charge. Still waiting to see if she'll regret that decision. Always waiting for the results.
"Darrin, based on your usual moral decisions, it's odd to see you not helping the asari," SAM comments in her head, scattering her thoughts. She squishes her plum-painted lips together in response.
"Because I want to see if any guards come to help or anyone else," she replies mentally. "I have a very thin biotic barrier around them already; if the guys shoot or attack, they'll bounce off long enough for me to get down there."
"I see."
"Do you?" She can't help but poke at the logic, but then again, she'd never given much thought on how SAM looks out onto the world. And, to be honest, she wasn't in the mood to ask just now.
Mental note to ask later.
"Kadara still seems the same," Vetra says quietly from behind her, her movements quiet over the brick-like roof. Darrin turns to look at her from the corner of her eye, a warm smile pulling over her lips.
"Yeah, seems so. I'll give it more time before going after Reyes over it, though. But just a little." Vetra snorts as she crouches down beside the human Pathfinder, looking like an awkwardly haunched over bird, and the weird hissing-sneezy sound of her snort really doesn't help the image. It takes all of Darrin's will to not even giggle at the image.
"I hope it turns out, but I have my doubts. He lied to get the position of 'all-mighty overlord', and it's not really impossible that he lied about what he plans to do with it," the turian muses grimly, voicing Darrin's own worries aloud.
"I know," she nearly whispers back. Her attention is drawn back to the group from before by an outraged yell. She can see the asari's hands preparing to issue biotics, the hustlers' reaching for their guns- "Feel like getting frisky with the locals?" Darrin yells as she jumps from the rooftop, spiraling very quickly towards the group. She grins at Vetra's incredulous "what?!" and that grin only widens as SAM alerts her to Vetra jumping off, too. As she nears the ground, Darrin uses a mix of her jump jets and biotics to land neatly beside the asari, her pistol drawn and pointed in the face of one hustler that she now sees is a human under his hood.
Vetra lands a little less elegantly on the asari's other side, and it sounds like her own weapon is drawn based on the click of her loading her own weapon. "Did you have to come in so dramatically?" she asks with mock irritation, before answering herself, "oohh, wait, of course you did."
"Aww, c'mon, Vetra," she teases back, smirking as the two hustlers she can see's faces quickly begin to realize they've really bitten off more than they can chew, "a Pathfinder has to be ballsy if she expects the rest of her crew to be."
"P-Pathfinder?" the guy in front of her stutters out, his brown eyes widening further.
"Oh, yeah, boys. Pathfinder Ryder at your service." She rolls one shoulder before continuing, "so am I going to have to throw you all in a couple of jail cells, body bags, or maybe to the wilds, or do y'think you can use your brains long enough to fuck off somewhere's else?"
"Preferably before we have to waste our precious ammo on your sorry asses," Vetra chimes in, a laugh evident in her voice.
"N-no, we'll just, uh…" the guys in front and to the side of Darrin share a look before scrambling away, their large hoodies flapping unflatteringly around them. Darrin turns to see the third guy doing the same, and with a slight knee-jerk reaction, she uses her biotics to pull his pants to his knees, causing him to go tumbling forward into a heap. The marketplace erupts into roars of laughter, as does she and the asari behind her.
Vetra, however, lets out a pained noise between a laugh and a disparing sigh. "Was that necessary?"
"Hey, embarrassing him that much should keep him from doing it again," Darrin says gleefully as she reverts her pistol into its safety mode, then tucks it away against her hip. Vetra gives her a droll look before doing the same, then crosses her arms as her yellow-green eyes slide over to the asari. Darrin follows the gaze. "So, tell me, who exactly are you and why did they want you so bad?"
"Oh! I'm Tiarie B'Varsa. I… well, I wanted to see Kadara myself after all the stories I heard on the Nexus-" no surprise there- "and when I got here, I visited the bar and somehow got drawn into a big card game and ended up winning… well, enough to buy an upgraded apartment and all missing furnishings," she finishes in a lower voice with a nervous laugh. Vetra's brow plates rise as she gives a low whistle, and Darrin mirrors her.
"Yeah, you're lucky they didn't gut you before you even left the bar," Vetra assesses, then clicks her tongue thoughtfully. "Let's get you back on your shuttle and check out the driver… just in case."
"Oh, yes, please! Thank you!" The asari then leads the two towards the landing dock, where a slightly dented up Initiative shuttle waits, Cora hovering a little ways away. When she spots the group, she quickly comes forward bu careful to not draw too much attention.
"You made it safely back then, I take it, Dr. B'Varsa?" She asks anxiously. Darrin's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline as Tiarie cheerfully answers, "Oh, yes, it does seem so. Mostly thanks to these two."
"Doctor B'Varsa?" Vetra repeats. Cora nods.
"Yes, she's one of the botanists on the Nexus, here to… well, see Kadara. Did anything happen?"
"Nah, nothing too interesting," Darrin answers immediately as Vetra seems to swell as more information pours forth about the asari. When she shoots Darrin a disbelieving look, she continues, "Just a little scuffle in the marketplace. Where Vetra and I are needed, incidently," she gives Cora an overly complacent smile while grabbing Vetra's arm and dragging her towards the place once more. Vetra stumbles after her while Cora watches them out of sight.
When they reach a more secluded corner, Vetra drags Darrin over to it. "Why didn't you tell Cora what happened?"
"Because it was nothing to worry about, and if Cora knew she'd likely tell Tann or the director of hydroponics and Tairie wouldn't be allowed back off of the Nexus," she answers matter-of-factly. Vetra's nostril slits flare as much as their bony protection allows.
"Which would be safe for her! We have to keep the scientists and doctors safe, Darrin!"
"But we can't also lock them away and make it a prison for them," Darrin refutes, frowning firmly. "You can't stay locked up all the time. You'll go mad, or worse."
"Ugh, you're impossible," she huffs, leaning back on a concrete post, shaking her head.
"Oh, the most impossible," Darrin agrees with a grin. Vetra narrows her eyes.
"And the most hard-headed-"
"Oh, definitely that-"
"-and infuriating-"
"-for most people who know me, alright-"
"-and sometimes I'd like to punch you for the decisions you make."
"Hey, same," Darrin shrugs, her grin now absolutely dumb and toothy. Their banter dissolves a lot of Vetra's frustration, leaving her to try to hide her amusement, but she forgets that Darrin knows her tells too well now. She saunters towards the turian, weaving a bit, before wrapping her arms entirely around her waist and chest. "And you love every bit of my being a difficult ass."
"Yeah, I do, and you're lucky I do," she says with a long-suffering sigh, dragging a hand through her partner's long, strawberry blonde hair. "Anyone else you plan to go and save or harrass today?"
"Eeeh, only… you," Darrin says with false thoughtfulness, biting her lower lip after her last word, then laughing as Vetra snorts again.
"Forever our saving grace and my tormenter."
"Hey, you seem to like my tormenting, 'cause you keep coming back for more."
"Mmm, I guess so." She shakes her head as Darrin settles her chin on the edge of her outward curving chest armor, mind already swarming to think what Darrin is thinking up with her new, mischievous look.
"We cooould go practice our shots on some poor, unexpecting left over kett," she suggests.
"If we can find some, absolutely," Vetra agrees, stretching her claws. "I got some new weapon mods I found that I need to test out, anyway."
"Then let's get going.~"
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Dave
Lmao this shit is so weird don’t read it. I am choosing not to feel bad about it bc I wrote it a literal decade ago.
The sneezatoriums were erected, all across the world, shortly after 2025, when the mutation first appeared. At first, of course, it was only a few men that suffered from nasus magnificus, but the damage caused by those few thousands was more than sufficient to warrant the construction. The enlarged noses and lung capacity that marked nasus or simply The Sneeze Syndrome for short had at first been seen only among a few men, marked S-class for their ability to sneeze with such tremendous force that they blew away fences, small pets, plants, and even, in one well-documented case, a large door. But the disorder proved congenital. Between the S-classers reproducing and spreading the disorder to their sons along Y-chromosomes, and the high incidence of the mutation occurring elsewhere, by the year 2075, fully half of the male population suffered from the condition. Worse, the sneezes only grew in size. One particularly nasally-endowed young man had actually blown down several large trees in a forest after a particularly bad run in with a very fluffy white cat and a grandma far too eager to have her cat petted, and far too set-in-her-ways to accept the modern dangers of such behavior. Thankfully, his own father had been one of the first to teach his sons the techniques of sneeze-control that had become practically universal by 2112, and he managed to control the sneeze long enough to run to a nearby forest; otherwise, the damage could have been much more serious.
Nowadays, of course, nasus was simply a fact of growing up for young men. It was just a part of puberty, of “becoming a man”. One’s sneezes went from a young boy’s simple “achooo!” no more powerful than any standard sneeze from a woman, to a man’s mighty roar of a sneeze, and the attendant responsibility to control that sneeze and only direct it towards the proper circumstances, i.e., sneezatoriums. In fact, men with bigger and stronger sneezes were considered more masculine, not only because massive sneezes were a sex-linked trait, but because stronger sneezes were seen as contributions to society; the sneezatoriums, over the years, had also become generators for wind power. A town with a lot of big sneezers in it could provide a good deal of the city’s energy needs with sneeze-power alone, saving the town and the government lots of money. Thus big sneezes had become a point of pride among most cultures by 2112. Young men were taught techniques for controlling their nasal tickles and itches until the opportune moment, and shamed when they were unable to control their massive sneezes. However, great praise and even increased attentions from the opposite sex (as well as the same sex) resulted when a man had extremely powerful sneezes that he also controlled extremely well.
This brings us to the story of young David Herbert Crane. Dave was one of the most popular boys in school, not least because he was known as one of the biggest sneezers in his city. The local webnews broadcasting service had even done a story on his sneezes, which were of record-breaking power for a man of his age, and he looked forward to seeing how powerful his sneezes would grow, as usually a man’s sneeze power increased until around age 30. At just eighteen, he could outsneeze many grown men.
Of course, he hadn’t discovered this without accident. Bigger sneezes were harder to control, and when he was younger, Dave had accidentally blown around everything in a guest room in his uncle’s house with an uncontrolled sneeze, before he had even really begun sneeze training. Dave had felt so ashamed after that incident that he had practiced nose-control even harder than all the other boys his age. He was disciplined, focused, always fearful that he’d let another monster loose and ruin another room, or, as his sneezes got even bigger, and bigger, blow away fences, small trees, maybe even walls and cars. Motivated by his uncle’s destroyed guest room, Dave learned to control his nose with flawless skill, almost obsession. Even then, throughout his late teens, there were times when Dave nearly lost it while running to the nearest sneezatorium, squeezing his nose shut, praying that he could control his nose, barely holding off the colossal explosion until he could get into an empty cubicle in the sneezatorium and fire off sneeze after sneeze after sneeze, each one with enough power to blow down trees, uproot gardens and destroy classrooms. He was truly a super-sneezer. Even when he thought he had his sneezes under control, they had undergone sudden “growth spurts” in power, making them even more difficult to manage, even more impossible to stop.
Now, however, Dave’s control was flawless. He could hold off a sneeze for two days if he had to, although such behavior was highly discouraged, not just because of the danger of holding back already tremendous sneezes, but because of the money it lost the city. He would even get a little cocky with it, teasing the other boys about their ‘weak’ sneezes, or letting himself start the breath-hitching buildup to a big sneeze to intimidate or impress his peers, before suddenly and skillfully calming his nose down and continuing with whatever he was doing. It was even a party trick!
In fact, he was performing just such a party trick before class on this particular Tuesday afternoon. He was sitting in a desk towards the back of the room, as a very pretty girl, named Marianne, leaned over to him, and asked, very softly, “can you really do those great big sneezes? Or did they just put that on the web to fool me?”
“Can I?” he said rhetorically. “Baby, I can blow the house down.” And then at once, he launched into a build up. His eyes went unfocused. He felt the big sneeze welling up from his toes. His head started to tilt back, as his eyes fell half-closed. He sucked in a small breath, nothing big, and let it out. Then he sucked in a slightly bigger breath, and the paper on his desk wafted slightly. He started sucking in an even bigger breath, vocalizing slightly this time, “Heehhhhh… ahhhhh... ahhhHHHH… AHHHHHHH.” As his breaths got louder and louder, he started sucking in air to his lungs in much more massive quantities. His exhales began to disturb not only his own papers, but the ones on nearby desks. Marianne smiled as she felt her hair rise and fall with Dave’s biggest breath of all, which was starting to get loud, loud enough to be heard in the next classroom even. “AHHHHHHH…” his final exhale not only blew around any papers that his classmates didn’t bother to hold down with their hands, but also moved the desk ahead of him slightly, almost tipping it over… and then all at once, he completely stopped. His head tipped forward, and he hunched over. He gently massaged his nose, and took in shallow breaths through his mouth. He began to massage his nostrils, one after the other, more roughly, and then began to exhale softly through his mouth. After about thirty seconds of this, his head popped back up, and except for his slightly bleary eyes, no one could have guessed that just a few seconds ago, he was building up towards a sneeze that could power a computerminal for a month!
“Wow…” Marianne said flirtily.
Suddenly, the teacher from the next classroom over, a stern elderly man named Mr. Wallace, peeked his head into the door. “Is everything alright here?” He inquired, “I believe that I might have heard some sneezy breaths. I just want to remind all you young men that if you even feel slightest inkling that you might need to give the ol’ schnoz some room, you head right over to the sternatorium, no delay. Why, I remember in my day…”
“Thank you very much, Ezra,” said Mrs. Stevens, as she strode into the room, “but I believe I know exactly what was going on here, and all of our young men are well under control. Their noses, anyway.” She said, staring straight at Dave. She muttered under her breath, “Their hormones, I can’t vouch for.” As Ezra Wallace existed, Mrs. Stevens, who scrupulously avoided students calling her by her first name, Hilda, because she hated its antiquated, 21st century quality, rounded on her class. “Mr. Crane, I presume? You wouldn’t happen to be putting on exhibitions that jeopardize my classroom, would you?”
Dave casually shook his head no.
“Good, because if you were, I might have to refer your file to the district principals’ terminal, and they might even prevent you from playing in this Friday’s holoball game, and you wouldn’t want that, now would you? I thought not.”
As Mrs. Stevens harassed David, the student who had nearly been toppled by Dave’s little “exhibitions” fumed. His name was Eliot Stearns, and he was not a big sneezer. In fact, his sneezes were barely big enough to topple a few of the desks in the classroom, much less blow out a wall, like Dave’s sneezes probably would have done, if he’d let them out. He was still tall, attractive, smart. But he couldn’t sneeze to save his life, and all the girls knew it. Especially after Dave had exposed him earlier that year. He’d been on his way to the sternatorium before class after foolishly walking through the area of his neighborhood marked for bi-weekly lawn cuttings (everyone in a specific radius had to cut their lawn at a specific time and post very clearly on the neighborhood information terminal, or the NIT, when and where, so that those with poor nose control would be able to avoid the powerful sneeze-inducing effect of freshly-cut grass). Dave had strode up, fresh from rocking the sternatorium with a fit of ten earth-shattering sneezes that probably kicked up more wind than Eliot did in a month, and noticed Eliot, twitching his nose around and trying his best to hold back some very itchy sneezes. For whatever reason, Dave had been in a pissy mood that morning, and decided to have a little “fun” with Eliot.
“Hey, shrimp, where you headed?” Dave had asked, in a bullying manner.
Eliot hardly trusted himself to speak he felt so sneezy, so he just kept walking along. However, Dave kept moving into his path, slowing him down. Despite the fact that Eliot was obviously massaging his nose in such a way as to control his sneezy tickles, he tried to talk.
“I-I-I’m ohhhh… on my way to the sneehhh…. Sneezahhhhh… AHHHHH! Sneezatorium!” Eliot quickly and firmly clamped his right hand around his nose, doing his best to control the quickly forming sneezes. Opening his mouth had been a huge mistake; it had set off tickling vibrations all through his sinuses, and he felt the telltale signs of a long and messy sneezing fit.
“Oh, whatcha doing that for? You’ve got a tiny little sneeze, just let out here. It’s not like it’ll do any damage!”
“Juh… just let me through, jerk!” Eliot said through his stuffed up nose. He knew he could only control his sneezes for a few more seconds. Suddenly, he made a break for the sneezatorium, but for some inexplicable reason, Dave just grabbed him and held him up. A few of Dave’s friends (probably people who had gone to hear Dave rock the sneezatorium) had gathered around in a small crowd, and Dave spoke to them. “Hey everybody, you wanna see this kid sneeze? It won’t compare to mine, but look at him! He can’t even control those little sneezes. What would he do with great big monsters like mine, eh?” “Lemme… lemme… go…” Eliot tried to say, but suddenly he felt the sneezes grow too much for him. He was paralyzed by the gale-force gust he felt in his nose, so that even when Dave let him go, he was helpless to move. He started drawing in huge gusts that rustled the skirts of all the nearby girls and shook the leaves on the trees. His nostrils swelled until they were huge, round openings for his sneeze. He took in a few more huge breaths before
“ACCCCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He sneezed a wet, explosive sneeze. He managed to turn his head away from the crowd, but everyone saw the sneeze nonetheless. It was big enough to kick up a nice sized breeze and uproot some grasses. It was still a very powerful sneeze, and Eliot felt several more on the way. But Dave was right; it was a far below-average sneeze, and certainly didn’t compare to Dave’s gargantuan blows.
“ACCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Eliot sneezed again, “ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! REEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” Those sneezes were slightly bigger, and as one girl accidentally walked in the way of the blow, she was hit by the huge gusting wind from Eliot’s disdended nostrils and nearly fell over. But the same sneeze from Dave probably would have blown her five feet away, if not farther. As it was, her clothes got rumpled and damp, but not wrecked, as even a normal-sized sneeze would have done. “Ugh!” she said as she walked by, “can’t you even control those tiny things?”
The whole group had laughed at Eliot then, both for his lack of control and for his weak sneezes. He had run to the sneezatorium then to blow out the last of his tickle, but the damage had been done. He’d been marked as a tiny sneezer with no control, and he’d been ridiculed ever since. And that was why he was constantly annoyed by Dave and his massive, manly a-choos. There was no way he could compete with sneezes like that. But he was going to get revenge. He’d show the world that even Dave Crane didn’t have the perfect control he boasted about. He was going to make Dave huff and puff and blow something down, so he’d be completely humiliated, and then people wouldn’t praise and adore him for those huge sneezes of his. They’d see that Dave was a freak of nature, just like they should!
***
Later that day, David was headed home, when he felt an itch well up in his nose. He knew he could easily control the itch, but he was moderately surprised at the fact that an itch was welling up so quickly. After all, he’d already visited the sternatorium twice that day. Dave knew he had mild allergies, but lately, he’d been getting tickles in his nose with a lot more frequency. He didn’t know if it was a new plant that had been introduced into the area or if he was just developing a new allergy, but he was secretly a little worried. He knew his sneezes tended to undergo sudden leaps in power, and he was afraid he was at the beginning of just such a leap. During his “leap” periods, his nose got much more itchy and harder to control. In fact, that sneeze he’d played with in class had left such a tickle in his nose that he ended up having to go to the sternatorium after class to let loose with a few of his super-powered sneezes. He made a mental note to stop his little ‘exhibitions’ or at least have a moratorium on them until he could figure out just how strong his sneezes were going to get this time. Dave had a fairly stable conception of how powerful his sneezes had been before the leap. Besides the measurements they took for the record, Dave had snuck out to the woods several times to let out a completely unrestrained sneeze, full-power. When he was sixteen, he could blow off branches, maybe knock down a smallish tree if he directed several consecutive sneezes as it. But after his last little nasal growth spurt, he could easily knock down a medium sized tree with one good sneeze, and he knew that by the end of this one, he’d probably have to stop letting the sneezes out, even in the woods; he didn’t want people noticing him leveling giant redwood trees with just one of his superhuman a-choos.
So, just as a precaution, Dave decided to make a nasal pre-emptive strike, and head to the sneezatorium to release just a few sneezes, to take the pressure off. The nearest sneezatorium was a large, cylinder-shaped building with an open run by the government. Upon entrance, men stepped on to one of several small platforms that lined a smaller cylinder at the center of the building. Once someone stepped on a platform, a holopanel would appear in front of them asking for their age, sneezer classification, and sneeze urgency level. There was also an optional input for sneezer ID. Most fathers purchased sneezer ID numbers for their sons on their fifteenth or sixteenth birthday; it was somewhat of a rite of passage. Sneezer ID numbers were used to keep track of the amount of power they generated for their city, and could be eligible for certificates of recognition and even some prizes if they contributed enough. Sneezer classifications were issued by the federal government and measured how strong an individual’s typical sneeze was, in order to make sure they entered a room with sufficient reinforcement to handle their sneezes without breaking. Sneeze urgency level was a feature added in 2095 to all sneezatoriums after a young man demolished a large part of a sneezatorium with a poorly controlled sneeze. If a man was struggling especially hard to keep a sneeze in, he could choose level 10 urgency, in which case he would be transported to a sneezer room immediately. If a man had a lower urgency level, he would wait until all men with higher urgency levels had been sorted into rooms before being carried by the moving platform into one of the many rooms lining the walls of the sneezatorium’s outer cylinder. These rooms were known as the “sneezer rooms” and it was here, and only here, that men were expected to release their sneezes. The rooms were powerfully reinforced with a super-tough plastic that could withstand even the mightiest sneeze. Once a man entered a sneezer room, he was expected, if at all possible, to hold back his sneeze until a large tube, connected to the underground power generator, could attach to the room (high urgency sneezers, of course, were not expected to wait for the generator tube, but were therefore unable to contribute to the wind power generator, or have any power counted towards their sneezer ID total). Men would sneeze into this tube (which was made of the same reinforced super-plastic as the rest of the room), and the wind power generated would be redirected into a wind turbine below ground, and converted to useable energy.
So, as Dave entered the sneezatorium, he followed the normal proceedures, entering his sneezer ID number (his father had purchased his at thirteen, unusually enough, because at thirteen Dave was already producing enough wind with each sneeze to contribute significantly to his totals), confidently putting his sneeze urgency level at 1, and waited for a room to become available for him. While he was waiting, several boys from his high school passed his platform, and waved enthusiastically, or gave him a thumbs up. Everyone was excited to see such a legendary sneezer at the sneezatorium. Dave smiled broadly; he thrived on the attention. Finally, the platform kicked into gear and carried him into a sneezer room. Before the tube had even attached, Dave was launching into an enormous, gasping buildup:
“ehhhh… hehhhhhhh… HEHHHHHHHHH… EHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… HEHHHHHHHHHHH… HIH! HIH! HIH! HAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
He released his first colossal sneeze, straight into the tube. Anyone would be able to see that this was a far more powerful sneeze than the tiny ones a guy like Eliot would release. This was a sneeze stronger than many grown men. It was a true twister of a sneeze, and the recoil almost knocked Dave off his feet from the sheer force of it. But Dave knew he wasn’t anywhere near done. In fact, the next one felt ever stronger:
“hehhh…” he hitched, his nostrils flaring widely, “hehhhh… ehhhhh… gonnahhhhh… ahhhhh… b-b-b-beeeee aaaa… bihh… bihhhhhh.. biiiiiiggg… biiiiiiggg… ahhhhhhhh… ahhhhhhhhhh…. oneahhhhhhhh… ahhhhhhhhhh… HAHHHHHHHHHHH… HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” his head was bobbing up and down with each tickly inhale now. He mentioned how big the upcoming sneeze was, to no one in particular, because the sneeze that was brewing in his nose felt truly gigantic in strength. Had there been any furniture in the sneezer room, Dave’s enormous sneezey breaths would have sent it flying around the room, or, worse yet, hurtling towards his face. This was definitely a super-strength sneeze! “HAAHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! HAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
KAAAAAA-TTTTTCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”
That sneeze was easily twice as big as the previous one. Silently, Dave thought to himself that if he had let that one loose in the classroom, it wouldn’t have just blown out a wall, it would have taken out half the classrooms in the hall! And he felt himself gearing up for a last sneeze that would put the other two to shame. “iiiggghhhhiieeee… AGGGGHHHHHHH… AGHHHHHHHHH… AAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH… AHHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH!
HHHHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYY-SSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”
He sneezed, with the most titantic force he could muster, hoping to blow the itch so far out of his nose that he wouldn’t have to sneeze again for a week (and possibly to break another record), pressing the air out of his super-sized lungs, channeling the force through his body, blowing and blowing until all of the power in his lungs was spent.
That was a sneeze! Dave thought to himself, as his incredible burst of wind (and, he had to admit, quite a lot of spray), rushed down through the tube into the wind turbines beneath. Checking his nose for further tickles as he had learned as a boy, he felt confident that he didn’t have any more sneezes lurking in there. He was almost glad of this, because those three had taken the wind out of him, quite literally. Not for the first time, Dave thought about how big his sneezes had been lately. That triple, while not his best effort ever, was easily as powerful as the record breaker from the webnews shoot (but then, that hadn’t been his best ever either, though it was close). The last one probably moreso. And his nose hadn’t even felt especially tickly! Dave felt pretty sure then, that his nose was undergoing another spurt in power. And as excited as he felt, he also felt a tiny bit worried; how strong exactly were his sneezes going to get? He still had years of sneeze growth to go!
—-
Dave Crane was on top of the world. When he hit puberty, he thought he was a freak of nature for his colossal sneezes, which were even harder to control than the average boy’s sneeze. He’d had more close calls almost blowing away pets, plants, doors, fences, even other people, than he cared to count, not to mention that one mortifying time when he practically destroyed his uncle’s guest room. But those times were behind him now. Not only did he have those same massive sneezes well under control, but he was using them to ride the popularity wave to the top.
Normally, people just gossiped about the power of the boys’ sneezes, some boys bragging that they were stronger, others keeping quiet about it but occasionally waiting a little too long to go to the sternatorium on purpose, so they could flail about and act like they were worried about causing so much damage with their massive, man-sized sneezes. Dave didn’t have to do any such thing, mostly because if you listened hard enough, you could hear his sneezes through the sternatorium walls.
Dave was truly a super-sneezer, even among boys of his age. Sure, everybody had a big sneeze, infinitely larger than the powerless puffs of air people did at the beginning of the twenty-first century. But Dave had a BIG sneeze.
After visiting the sternatorium for a sneezy work-out (Dave worked on his abs, but they’d probably flat enough with just his incredible sneezes), Dave got on his hoverbike and headed home, careful to avoid the areas marked for grass-cutting. He remembered once, when he was a bit younger, he’d had one of his close calls when he forgot to avoid the grass-cutting areas. Freshly-cut grass was one of his worse triggers, as they were called. All young men went through yearly allergen testing, and older men did the test every five years. The test was held in a very sturdy special sternatorium; folks sometimes had to use transports that took almost fifteen minutes to get to a Testing Sternatorium. The Testers, as they were called, were staffed with plenty of doctors and plenty of protection, as testing often provoked almighty sneezes even from the weakest of noses, much less Dave’s monster honker (complete with his super-powered lungs, of course). The Testing Sternatoriums were often hours away, and every man had a scheduled visit that he could not miss, except in the event of illness that might contaminate the test results, so that the process could run smoothly. Dave remembered his testing session from just a few months before. It was actually a report from the testing session that led to his record-breaking TV appearance.
As he walked up to the building, Dave marveled at how strong its steel walls appeared, and he knew that that was only the outer layer of the building, which was further protected by special carbon polymers, advanced plastics, and sheet rock. The Testing Sternatorium nearest him was—luckily enough—a new model, designed to prevent some of the accidents that had occurred at other Testings, as the Doctor who greeted Dave explained.
“Yeah, there was one guy up in North Albans who had a great big sneeze, off the charts really. I mean, I’m not exactly a lightweight in the sneezing department myself,” the doctor hastened to add, “but this guy was one for the record books. Anyway, they lower in the grass, and he’s OK, does a few big sneezes but that’s all by-the-book. Then they try the cat dander and he’s fine, and the ragweed, and the pepper, of course. You know, he sneezes each time, and their big, I mean, they’re always big, but not, you know, volcanic, not like ‘oh, look out he’s gonna blow,’ you know, normal big sneezes. But then, they try the dog dander. And they’re doing an experiment right—now, why they thought they needed to experiment on this guy, I’ll never know, but hey—and so they show the guy a picture of the dog. Well, the guy must’ve had some sort of psychosomatic something going on, ‘cause even before they released the dander, his irritation levels spiked something fierce. And when they lower the dander, man… it sets him off. Bad.”
Even hearing about a sneeze for such an extended period of time was starting to make Dave’s own titan of a nose long for a good, hard, relieving sneeze, and Dave was glad that the Testing Sneezatoriums were famously efficient—he knew he could hold out for a while, but he was glad he’d be able to fire off in just a few minutes.”
“So the guy starts sucking in air, right? Crazy amounts, like, off the charts. Now, mind you, this is a twenty-nine year old guy, fully grown, in good shape… he’s firing off the biggest sneezes of his life anyway. But this time. Man. He just sucked it in and blasted em out. ‘KA-CHOOEY!” and all that, you know, real loud, insane decibel levels—you know OSHA’ll get you for stuff like that. Anyway, crazy noise levels, crazy wind velocity. And he just keeps going! And they’re getting faster. We’re at like, six or seven sneezes, right? And the building was only using standard Polymer One, plus inward-facing sneezers, right, not fully reinforced rooms. Well, the guy’s an allergic mess, he can’t see straight, much less aim his sneezes at the perfect center of a target, so he’s shootin’ ‘em like fire crackers all over the place. I mean, this is a full blown fit, we’re climbin’ towards nine, ten sneezes, and they’re fast, close together but they’re humongous, like, recording-breaking massive, right? I gotta tell you, I’ve looked at the numbers and I did a double take, I didn’t even really believe it…”
Now Dave’s nose was raring to go. He was really glad that the appointment was soon. Hell, he was even a little scared he wouldn’t be able to make it ‘til then without beginning control procedures. But he knew that he was already on file as a potential Class 2 sneezer, the designation for those who had the potential for truly superhuman explosions, given the right triggers; and so to start control procedures might bring… unnecessary attention. So Dave suffered in silence, not even daring to twitch his nose, while the Doctor—who obviously loved the sound of his own voice—droned on.
“And all of a sudden, they get even bigger! And closer together and he’s just screaming ‘em out and I can hardly blame him, that kind of pressure, it’s unbelievable. And they’re coming closer and closer together, he’s just arching back and letting fly, over and over and over, well, the polymer starts cracking. And mind you, he’s blasting all over the place, towards the ceilings, towards the floor, everywhere. And not everywhere is properly reinforced. And so as he gets toward fifteen, sixteen sneezes, they’re like, ‘SHUT IT OFF! SHUT OFF THE DANDER! SIR, PLEASE CONTROL YOUR SNEEZES,’ the whole routine. But I don’t know if the intercom isn’t working or the guy is just outta control, but he keeps blasting, full-force, just arch back, explode out and the walls can’t take it and soon the guy’s blasted a hole through the building. I wouldn’t think it was possible. Caused I don’t know how much damage, they’re still sorting it out in court whose fault it is, especially after the sneezer statue of ’09… the guy’s saying they dandered him too hard, the technicians are saying they told him to get control, but I gotta say, if MY sneeze were that big, I’d still be in training today, they wouldn’t even give me my sneezer-card, and I can promise you, I wouldn’t have this job!” Technicians, of course, had to have flawless control, as they spent large amounts of time around highly allergenic substances in large quantities, which could easily cause a disaster of tectonic proportions.
Dave, for his part, was longing just to give his nose one twitch, to reach his hand up for one quick squeeze to control the pressure… but he persevered, and kept his cool.
“Wow… sir…” Dave said, taking as much time between words as he dared, feeling the itch rise just a bit with each word, “that sounds like one big sneeze! Wh-what was the guy's name?”
“Eh... Geoffrey Wal-something, I don't remember. Anyway,” the doctor said, suddenly serious, “if I’m reading your numbers right…” He paused as he poured over the chart he had brought up on his holo-sheet by pressing a button on his belt as they turned the corner towards the Testing Room, “you’re headed in that direction. You practice your sneeze control good, young man. I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble for ‘Failure to Control Nasal Output,’ I don't want to see you on the evening news, standing over some building you blew down, like a fairy-tale wolf, alright? I'll huff and I'll puff... none of that young man.”
“Y-yeah, whatever” Dave snapped, praying that the doctor didn’t notice the quick catch in his breath. He was getting pissed. This was taking way too long, and he had to sneeze. Plus, the guy was doing these ridiculous infant-school jokes. Dave was a Last-Year in Final Form of his schooling. Big Bad Wolf jokes were so First-Year.
Finally, they arrived in the testing room. The Doctor showed David into the room, a clean, white room with a large vent above head from which allergens slowly drizzled, and of course, thick cotton-12 handkerchiefs, for the fashionable set. Dave knew he’d just have to let his sneezes fly; while he might carry handkerchiefs on dates and such, they were really just for show. He knew one of his small sneezes would rip a handkerchief to shreds in seconds.
Dave walked over to the full-body suit he was to wear during the testing. The suit used tiny sensors all over the body to measure any and all statistics pertinent to the testing. Dave hurried to slide the suit on. He didn’t want to look weak by sneezing before he was supposed to, but if he was going to avoid a big boom, they were going to have to start the testing soon.
“Alright.” He heard a voice from above, coming down from the loudspeaker next to the vent. “David Crane. Age 18 Sneezer Test. You will soon feel an itching sensation in your nose. The name of the trigger will not be revealed to you until after the test is over. Please do not attempt any sneeze control measures. Let the sneezes come naturally and unforced. Do not worry about volume or power, simply let the sneeze come freely and as powerfully as you need. Do you understand?���
“Yeah, I do, can we get started so I can get back home?” said Dave, irritably. He was ready to get the test started, and sick of hearing the spiel he’d heard every year since he was a kid.
“Alright. The Allergen Test will now begin.”
—
Dave wasn’t sure exactly what they’d released first—they did the allergens in a random order each time—but it immediately increased the already-strong tickle in his nose threefold, and his breath began to hitch as they continued to release the sneezy substance: “hih! HEEEHH! HEEEEEHH!” The tickle was there, but the sneeze, which had seemed so close just a moment ago, was just out of reach. But the itch was maddening! Dave knew that one of his colossal sneezes would immediately make him feel ten times better, and since this was a safe place to do so, he planned on blasting it out full force. But he couldn’t… quite… get there…
“iihhhh… ihhh… igggghhhiiieee…” He stood for a moment, his face contorting as his nose twitched about, trying, desparately, to coax out the sneeze he so desperately longed for. He took in a big sniff, which almost seemed enough to fuel the sneeze: “Hah! HAHH! HHAAAAAHHH! HAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” But just as his gasping intakes of air reached critical mass, the urge to sneeze died back down again.
“Damn!” He cursed out loud, before saying under his breath, “just… wanna… sneeze…” He knew the technicians were waiting to release the next trigger, waiting to see what would happen with this one, whether it would be strong enough to provoke a sneeze or not. But Dave just wanted them to hurry up so he could sneeze!
“Can you just do the next one naa…n-n-naaaa… now…. Ahhhh… ahhhhhhhh…” the sneeze came back, and Dave was hoping that he’d finally be able to sneeze it out: “ahhhhhh… AAAaaaaaggghhhhhh… AGGGHHhhhhhhhh… AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH…”
But it disappeared again! “DAMN!” Dave cursed again, louder. “Why won’t ih… it… j-just cahhh.. ahhhh… come?” The pitch of his voice rose on every word as the ebb and flow of his sneezy tickle refused to leave him alone. His chest heaved in and out, the tight biometrics outfit revealing his strong pecs and hard abs working feverishly to accept the huge weight of air that was slowly but surely accumulating in his super-powered lungs. His eyes, watery, began to slowly close as he felt the itching, tickling sensation that washed over him from his feet to his head, centered in his incredible nose, grow once again… Oh, God, when he finally sneezed he knew it was going to be a monster…
“ehhhh… EHHHHHHH… HEHHHHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” The tickle in his nose was gradually taking over. Dave steadied himself: he’d had this happen before. Usually when one of his sneezes got stuck, the problem wasn’t that the tickle was too small. The problem was that the sneeze was too big.
“AAHHHHHH… AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH…” Finally, he knew, he’d be able to sneeze. Keeping himself braced for fear this one would knock him over, he nevertheless felt his back begin to arch uncontrollably as he sucked in three last enormous breaths in preparation… “AHHHH! AHHHH! AAAHHHHH!”
“RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAA-SSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Dave erupted, his body flying uncontrollably forward, his long, shaggy hair (quite the fashion in 2112), flinging forward as his whole torso bent into the power of his sneeze, the hot, sneezy air erupting from his nostrils at God-knows-how-fast speeds. It was a truly explosive sneeze, even for Dave. He felt his lungs straining to blast out all the sneezy air, and with it, the dreadful tickle that had plagued his nose. He blasted it out for what seemed like an eternity before the sneeze was finished. But as soon as he finished the first one, as he tried to take in a breath of air, his breath hitched again
“ahhh… oh, no… ehhhhhh… EHHHHHHH… EEEEHHHHHHHHH…” This one felt even bigger! And it was building quickly… “EEEHHHHHHHHHHHHH…EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The pitch and volume of his colossal inhales increased proportionally to their power, as he sucked in air again for another earth-shattering, tree-felling, fence-smashing tornado of a sneeze, “EEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
This one turned out not to have quite as much wind power as the previous, but the volume was unbelieveable. He didn’t know that the sneeze exploding out of his nose could make such a ruckus, but he had no choice but to scream it out in pure release, so terribly did he need the burning, twisting sensation out of his nose. He worried that he might break the scientists’ instruments, especially if they were calibrated for an average teenager. When it came to sneezes, Dave Crane was no average teenager.
"Allergen check one completed. Prepare for allergen two."
—
As Dave headed towards home, after school, and after his terrific fit of sneezing in the sneezatorium, leaning his mind on the remembrance of sneezes past, Eliot was also heading home. He too had stopped by the sneezatorium on his way home; Eliot always took precaution, as his control of his sneezes was genuinely quite weak. It was hereditary; just as Dave’s dad was a champion sneezer in his youth, so Eliot’s father had the same wimpy sneeze Eliot had. So his father had barely learned nose control, always aware that his sneeze was simply not dangerous, except perhaps to unsecured paper items. And how could he pass on to his son what he barely knew himself?
Eliot made sure to check his HoloPad—a product of the Steven Jobs Memorial Technology Company, the nationalized techno-corp of Eliot’s nation—to see where the grass was being cut that day, so as to avoid it. Freshly cut grass set him off like none other. Most men had particular triggers like that, triggers that set them off more than the other allergens. For some men, it was particular flowers. For others, it was a particular breed of dog or cat. Whatever it was, when that scent hit his nose, even the most experienced and controlled sneezer would immediately head to the sneezeatorium, because a true monster was on its way. Except Eliot, of course. He’d run to the sneezatorium, certainly, because he didn’t want to embarrass himself. But even his biggest sneeze produced a blast like a strong gust of wind, not enough to knock down a small child, nothing like the tornadic blasts emitted by folks like Dave. How Eliot wished that he could produce monstrous sneezes like Dave’s! But he was a wimp in the sneeze department, as he was in most areas.
But he was a nice guy, which is more than he could say for Dave most of the time. And it would be hard not to let sneezes like Dave’s go to your head, to be in high school and blatantly out-sneezing college guys, even your dad’s colleagues! Sneezes like that could get you any girl you wanted, even cheerleaders (cheerleading technology had evolved surprisingly little since the ancient days of pom-poms and football fields, perhaps because centuries of technological advancement could provide little to improve the mini-skirt.)
It was these thoughts, and others like them, that succeeded in distracting Eliot from his HoloPad. And that lead, inevitably, to Eliot walking right past a veritable field of freshly cut grass.
His nose noticed it before he did. “H-hih! Hiiiihhh! Hiiihhhh! HIH! HIIIH!” His breath was already hitching; that’s what the grass did to him. It took his already sensitive nasal passages from sensitive to on fire in seconds. His breath hitching, Eliot tried to start sneeze controlling, trying to breathe gently through his mouth, controlling the tickle with his hands, but he knew that he’d have to run to the nearest Sternatorium, because he couldn’t hold back for long…
“hhh-huhhhh… huuuhhhhhh… iiiiigggghhhhiiee… iiiiggghhhhhh….”
---
Dave was still reminiscing about his colossal sneezes during his last test. He recalled how they’d sent allergen after allergen after him, and each time he’d let out a true monster of a sneeze. Heck, he was probably outsneezing grown men with a few of them. The worst of all had been when they lowered in the dog dander.
“Alright, sir, just a few more. We want to assure you that despite the strength of your sneezes, you should continue to produce them freely. This structure can withstand the force.”
Dave had almost smirked at that one. He hadn’t heard that one before. It was still an automated message, but it must be a pretty rare one. He hadn’t heard it mentioned before at any rate. For his part, Dave was enjoying the chance to let his sneezes out full tilt. Not that he held back at the ordinary sternatoriums, but there was just something… liberating about sneezing and sneezing and sneezing, as soon as you felt a tickle, not holding back even for a second, even coaxing a few of them out, and then really blowing for the rafters when you let out your sneezes, letting your lungs fill up with air like a bellows, and then sneezing it all out with all the wind and wetness the tickle in your nose demanded. If normal people sneezed from their chests, Dave sneezed from his toenails, each sneeze a full-body experience, feeling the sheer force of them rippling through his body. He gave a good hard sniff of enjoyment, feeling the incipient stirrings of yet another powerful sneeze.
“Prepare for the next allergen.”
He could tell when it was released. What was just a tickle suddenly tipped over the scale and became a sneeze. He could feel this one building, “hehhh… h-hehhh… heyyyyy-uhhh… heh… heehhhh-uhhhhhh… hhhheeeeeeeeeeeshhhhhh… hehhhhhhhhhhh… HHHHEEEEEEEHHH… HEHHHHHHH… HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY-SCCCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He erupted monstrously. He blasted that hot, sneezy air out of his lungs at truly hurricane=like speeds. This was a long sneeze, perhaps due to the extra-large tickle he had felt, and the whole time he just blasted it out, almost shocked by the end to find that there was still air in his lungs to power the massive sneeze. And oddly enough, he felt another on its way.
This one scarecely required any buildup, just one great, “HHHAAAAAHHHH!” And he was off, with a tremendous, “YYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH-SSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” That one was even bigger than the last, and he still felt the huge tickle in his nose. He sucked in two great gusts of breath before blasting out two more sneezes, “AAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! IIIIIISSSSSSSSSSS-CHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Each sneeze bent him double. And oddly enough, he felt another one, even bigger than the previous four. This one would require some coaxing out.
As his nose twitched and seized and tingled, and his chest expanded out to accommodate all the air his lungs were sucking in, Dave couldn’t help but imagine letting out a sneeze like his in public! Imagine the men, trying to scream at him, “Dave! Don’t do it! Don’t let it out, man!” Imagine the women, fleeing the space in front of him, and yet… staying in close enough range to see it, to hear the noise, to find out what a truly cataclysmic sneeze sounded like, how a man’s man sneezed, with such force and power that they’d put the whispering gossip of girls to shame. And as if such thoughts could power his sneezes, Dave’s nose positively exploded with his next sneeze, “HHHHHHAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR-CCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
He folded back for one final sneeze, his chest heaving, his eyes watering, his nose tickling unmercifully, his whole body bending back to prepare for one last,
“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-SSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
And then he was done at last. He heard a technician’s voice come from the speakers in the walls.
“Sir, we usually just send messages for things like this, but I had to say somethin’. Man! Those were some sneezes! Sure are glad we reinforced the plastics on this place, boy howdy! That was a real firecracker there! We’ve got a few more to spray, but I think we’ve seen all we need! And, uh, make sure you come talk to me after we’re done here. I’ve got a cousin that does the holonews and I think he might just wanna see you, young man!” Dave knew it was probably wrong, but as he wiped his nose and gave an almighty sniff, he couldn’t help smirking a bit with pride at how powerfully he sneezed.
--
Dave Crane finally rounded the corner onto his block, mentally telling his hoverbike to stop as he glided into his driveway.
“Up.” He said out loud, and the hoverbike responded, elevating to the third floor of his home, where the hoverbike interfaced with the door to his room, which would only open, of course, for a hoverbike with the correct element signature—the last thing Dave needed was to wake up one morning and groggily walk out of his third-floor door with no hoverbike. Sure, the bike would probably be fast enough to catch him, but there was always the chance that it wouldn’t.
“And what a tragedy that would be, for the ground to injure the beautiful face of the most handsome, superior holoball playing, biggest sneezer in the Northeastern Federation.” Dave crowed to himself, mostly joking, as he slid into his room, and stepped off the bike.
“And don’t forget! The most conceited, superior show-off, biggest head on Planet Prime.”
Oh, god. Nancy was home.
“Naaaaance… I didn’t know you were coming home… it’s… great to see you?” Dave said, with an uncertain lilt to his voice. He jumped over to the far corner of his bed, the corner that faced the wardrobe Nance stood in front of (no doubt she’d be staring at herself in the mirror ‘til she’d heard the holobike).
“Yeah, yeah, and it’s great to see you too, little brother.” Nancy replied, “especially with such a warm welcome.”
“Aw, you know I’m kidding, Nance. It is good to see you,” Dave confessed, smiling brightly at her. Nancy was an astonishingly annoying older sister, bossy, conceited, always “cutting you down to size,” as she put it—and she was also probably one of his three best friends on Planet Prime, or any of the colony planets, for that matter.
“But ah… what are you doing in my room…?” Dave continued, glancing around to where he saw her suitcase parked in the corner… and was the biolum radiating a slightly blue-ish light, wasn’t it always yellow (which complimented Dave’s skin tone the best… not that he’d set it that way on purpose, but…) and did he see…
“Why the hell is your bra in my dresser?”
Nancy looked up at Dave with her most innocent eyes, her brightest smile, “Oh, Dave, didn’t Dad tell you? I’m moving back in for a while!”
Dave was running down the stairs faster than a datapad could uplink. “DAD?! WHAT THE…?!”
--- “haaahhhhhhhhh…. Haaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Eliot wasn't sure if he was panting from the sneeze brewing fitfully in his nose, or from the exertion of running. And once again, there was a crowded sternutorium, with a bunch of guys, old geezers, teens, even kids barely old enough to need the sternutorium, all calmly waiting their turn. And once again, Eliot was frantic.
“I… aahhhhhhhhhh… excuse…. I-I-I-I… iiaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH…”
“Hey, guys, we got a loose cannon here! Outta control. Somebody let him up to the front, will yah?”
“Oh by the blue biome, that’s what’s-his-face, Al Stearns’ kid… you might as well just tell him to let it out where he’s standing, won’t be much different.”
Eliot was rubbing his nose frantically, barely keeping control, pressing against the underside of his nose with one hand, tapping at the bridge of his nose… doing anything that seemed like it helped at all… “N-n-n-no! Lehhhhhhh… leeeehhhhhhhhhhh… lemme though!” he managed.
“Calm down, calm down, kid,” a friendly voice said. Not the one who knew his dad. Who knew his family’s lame nosed curse. “Here, take my room, the platform’s ready.”
Blinking through allergic tears, Eliot tried to smile at the man, but all he could manage was a weak grimace before virtually leaping onto the platform, willing it to get to the sneezer room as soon as possible, just so he wouldn’t have to face the shame of blowing out a sneeze in front of everybody.
“, you know that kid’s lame sneezes are going on YOUR sneezer ID, right?”
“Oh, shut up, Tom, he clearly needed to sneeze bad, what did you want him to do embarrass himself…”
But it was already too late. Apparently the kind man’s sneezer room had been one towards the very top of the sternutorium, and as the platform ascended, Eliot’s control gave out: “haaaaaahhhhh…. Hahahhahahahhhhhhh… HAAAAAY-SHHHOOOOOOOAAYY!” he roared, more shout than force, however, as the puff of air blew fitfully from his nose, enough to make him stumble, but not enough to do anything to the plastic-reinforced sneezer rooms, not enough to even richochet down to the floor of the sternutorium, enough to be heard, enough so that everyone could look up and see he’d lost control… but not enough to do anything. He dragged himself into the sneezer room, blinking through tears he wasn’t sure were all allergies anymore.
“WWWWASSSSSSSHOOOOOOO!” He blew. “HAAAAWWWWWWWWSSSHHOOOOOOOOOSSSHHHH! HIIIISSSHHH! HAAAASSSSSHHHHHAA! IIIISSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOIE!”
The sneezes came, hard and fast, one after the other, each blowing around in the empty room til the tube attached, spending their small force. Sure, it was enough to blow at Eliot’s clothes and whip up his hair. Sure, it would have thrown around plenty of papers, but… it was practically a kid sneeze. And if his dad’s sneeze was any indication, he didn’t have a much stronger sneeze to look forward to as an adult. He sighed, resigning himself to a small-sneeze fate, as the fit continued.
“ISSSSSSSHHHHOOOO! AAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHOOOO! Hih… hih… hehhhhh… HAAAASSSSHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!”
#snz story#snz fic#OLD ASS fic#gigantic sneezes#this shit is so weird and embarrassing#but whatever I'm posting it so I have it somewhere#...and I might write more of it one day you can't stop me bye
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Halloween One-Shot
Summary: Discovering you have magic in a world where it doesn’t exist is scary enough. Having yourself exposed as some kind of magical being because onion rings are falling from the sky might be even worse.
Rating: Somewhere between teen and mature
Tag list: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @branlovesouat @mayquita @nikkiemms @teamhook @cs-forlife
Also found on ao3 | here |
Happy Halloween (almost) everybody! I’ve never been one for things that go bump in the night and stories that have me hiding under the blankets shaking in my boots, but I am one for some Halloween fun and some Halloween puns. So I hope you enjoy this magical little tale that was so very fun to write.
-/-
The Harry Potter stories have been banned from hundreds of libraries across the world for various reasons, most commonly because people believe that if impressionable children read these stories, they’ll believe in witchcraft. It’s a funny thing, though. Since when did believing in something make it come true?
Emma Swan always believed that she’d be adopted. She never was.
Emma Swan always believed that she’d find a family. She never did.
Emma Swan always believed that she’d find a place where she belonged. She didn’t.
But here’s the thing. Emma Swan believed in a lot of things, but it’s the one thing she never believed would happen to her that ended up happening. Well, two things, but she doesn’t know about that second thing yet.
She was five the first time signs of her magic showed up, but she didn’t know what was happening, didn’t even believe magic was real as most kids do at the age, already jaded against the world. It was a blustery night, the winds howling outside as the rain beat against the roof, water dripping through the ceiling into buckets her foster home had the children put out to keep the floor from being ruined. The entire night her stomach felt like spiders were crawling around inside, and she couldn’t shake the nerves arising in her. It wasn’t that she was scared of storms. She really wasn’t. This was all going to be fine. But then a tree branch got loose and crashed through the window, the glass spraying across the room and a large shard landing on her leg, cutting a slash open and causing a scream to emanate from Emma.
She still has the scar, pale against her thigh.
She’d screamed and then all of the lights had gone off, the formally dull gray house now completely black. She remembers her foster father, so harsh and abrasive, yelling at her for getting cut because she needed stitches and that would cost them time and money. She still remembers the sting of the tears in her eyes as she tried to act like everything was okay. It wasn’t.
The power outage had nothing to do with the storm outside.
Emma doesn’t remember any other instances of her magic showing up, though she’s sure there were quite a few, until she was seventeen. She’d been dating this guy, Neal. He was older, a bit mysterious, and as someone who had never had someone of her own, someone to love her, she was desperatefor him to be the one to love her. And maybe he did at one point, but she’ll never really know. She never wants to know, if she’s honest with herself.
He…well, he was harsh with her, not liking when she didn’t listen to him or when she told him she couldn’t hang out because she had to go to school. It wasn’t that she felt a particular fondness for school, but her foster mom at the time kept track of her attendance and Emma wasn’t interested in finding out what would happen if she skipped out on a day. So one day after a few months of dating, he snapped. She told him she couldn’t see him that day, and he showed up at her school, grabbing her arm and pulling her away to his beat-up Chevy.
She was in no way weak, but he was bigger, stronger, and he had no problem getting her to move. She just didn’t want to move with him, so she closed her eyes and willed him to let her go and to go away. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the schoolyard but in her bedroom, the flowery comforter at her fingertips and her backpack on the floor.
There was…well, there was no denying anything after that.
Something was different about Emma.
Something was different and that something was that she had fucking magic.
Holy crap. She’s basically Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Where the hell is her sarcastic talking cat? She totally wants a Salem of her own.
She quickly shook that thought out of her head because magic wasn’t real. That was something that was just in books and movies, folklore and mythological tales. It wasn’t something that happened to a girl living in Boston, Massachusetts. That’s just damn crazy.
Maybe Emma was damn crazy.
(Of course, Boston is close to Salem…and not the talking cat Salem.)
She wasn’t crazy. She just had this apparently real magic, and what the hell was she supposed to do about that? Who could she tell about that? Was there anyone to even tell about that? Is there a coven of witches or warlocks or wizards to talk to? Maybe even a genie? Hell, could she get a fairy godmother?
There was probably no such thing.
Bippity. Boppity. Boo.
If she told someone, she’d be put into a mental institution for sure.
Emma didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, and she didn’t make an effort to find someone to talk to. It was…too much. It was too much to try to find someone to help her. She’d been alone her entire life, figured everything out on her own, so why wouldn’t she be able to do that now?
So that’s the spark notes version of how she’s ended up here, a twenty-eight-year-old cop who lives a normal life with absolutely nothing weird happening…until she goes home and turns on and off the lights with the flick of her finger or turns on the coffee pot while she’s still in bed.
She’s a witch (or some other magical being she can never really land on one), and she uses her magic to help her be lazy.
She’s crushing it.
The one thing she hasn’t figured out how to do is instantaneously blow dry her hair, and that’s honestly the biggest tragedy of all. That takes forever, and it’s like if she can transport herself from one place to another, why the hell can she not blow dry her hair?
She likes to think that she’s pretty normal despite her oddities. She does own an unusual amount of black, but that’s because black clothes are the best, okay? And she does own her trusty red leather jacket, so it’s not like she’s walking around in drapes and flowing black fabrics with a corset and a wart on her nose. Plus, she doesn’t own anything particularly witch-like. She has a broom, but that’s because she has to clean her apartment. And the closest thing she has to a cauldron is the pot she attempts to cook in. She’s sure she wouldn’t be able to make potions or whatever because she can barely boil water.
Forget double double toil and trouble.
It’s double double boiland trouble.
Also, she had a cat once, Charlie, and he didn’t talk. He just swatted at Emma until she fed him. Maybe it’s because he was orange instead of black. (She totally didn’t name him Charlie because he reminded her of the great pumpkin in Charlie Brown.) Magic probably has these super weird rules or something. She doesn’t know. She just read the Harry Potter books and watched Hocus Pocus.
Maybe she should do a musical number to cast a spell on everyone like Bette Midler.
“Swan,” Killian calls, nudging her foot underneath their desks, “Swan, did you hear the Captain?”
She shakes out of her thoughts, trying to clear her mind of all magical thoughts to look at her desk partner (and patrol partner and partner in literally every little thing she’s had to do at work for the past five years) staring at her with those damned blue eyes that drive her crazy when she’s trying to focus on something important…like the fact that she is thinking about if it’d be too obvious to poof some onion rings to her desk right now.
Who needs magical rings like the one (to rule them all) from Lord of the Rings when you can have onion rings?
“Uh, no Jones,” she admits when she’s back to herself and willing her stomach not to rumble and her mind not to accidentally cause those onion rings to show up (that happened once in her apartment, and she’s been concerned that she stole them off of someone’s plate ever since), “I didn’t hear.”
“We’ve got patrol tonight.”
“No,” she groans, rolling her head forward and hitting her forehead against her desk. “No, Halloween night is when all the weird shit happens.”
(Weird shit happens at Emma’s house every night, but the “regular” people of Boston have to be Rick James kind of super freaks on Halloween night compared to Emma on every other night.)
Killian begins moving those damn eyebrows while his lips twitch up into a closed-lip smile as he leans over his desk to be closer to her, his face practically an inch away from hers. “Aye, that’s what makes it fun.”
He pulls back to settle back in his chair and thank heavens for that because she couldn’t breathe for a minute there.
“Fun to you, maybe. Last time I had patrol on Halloween I got hit on by six of the seven dwarves.”
He cocks his head to the side, studying her for a moment before his lips turn up even more and expose the white of his teeth contrasted against the black and red of his scruff.
“Why didn’t the seventh?”
“He was passed out.”
“Sleepy, I presume.”
“Sneezy, ironically enough.”
Killian barks out a laugh, and it’s so contagious that she has to laugh a bit, too, hiding her chuckle under her hands before she turns back to her computer screen to see their patrol route for the night. It’s all residential areas, thank goodness.
“You want to drive or shall I?”
“Swan, I’m driving. You almost crashed the cruiser last week.”
“I did not,” she protests, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail before rising from her chair and adjusting her jeans. The best part about her job is they don’t have a uniform besides their badges, so she can wear jeans every day. So can Killian and damn. He may frustrate her most days, but boy (or very mucha man) can the officer fill out his jeans.
Before their patrol even starts, Killian pulls through Blackbird donuts (at least it’s not black cat donuts) and gets them donuts in the shapes of pumpkins, ghosts, and a witch’s hat (she doesn’t own a hat shaped like that, thank you very much). He’s such a kid sometimes, and the ridiculous grin on his face as orange and black icing gets mixed in with his scruff doesn’t help the crush she most definitely does not have on him.
The fact that his coffee cup says Gomez while hers says Morticia makes her smile match his…creepy, kooky, and altogether spooky.
Instead of arresting creeps like she expected, they end up having to shut down a teenager’s party that night, the neighbors calling over the noise, and when the two of them show up, it’s like the fucking red sea, every single teenager running away as fast as they can so that the only person left is the idiotic boy who threw the party while his parents are out of town.
He’s in one of those ridiculous inflatable dinosaur costumes, and after leaving him with a stern warning (come on, Swan, just this one time, a one-time thing for the kids), she and Killian walk out of the house, holding in their laughter until they’re in the cruiser. That’s when they lose it, both of them dissolving into hysterics so much so that tears are coming out of Emma’s eyes from the way the kid had look paralyzed with fear with the head of the costume off, his body still dressed to look like a dinosaur. She laughs so hard that she feels her fingers spark, and when she sees the little green lights, she immediately stuffs them in the pockets to hide her magic from Killian. He is one of the last people who needs to know about her secret. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him. She does…in a work capacity. She just doesn’t want him to know that she’s a freak. He’d probably freak, and then she’d have to find a new job.
She really likes her job.
Maybe the Salem P.D. would take her.
“Oh my God,” she heaves out, trying to catch her breath with her stomach bent over her lap to hide her hands even more, the sparks still flying out of her fingers no matter how much she wills them away. Why won’t they go away? “This is already better than last year. Did you see the kid dressed as a hot dog in the bushes?”
“Aye, that was quite the big wiener. I imagine it doesn’t match what’s under the costume.”
“Jones,” Emma giggles, and wow she really did just giggle, “you can’t say things like that.”
“Would you rather me say it’s nowhere near what I’ve got under – ”
“Killian,” she gasps, sticking her hand out against his chest to keep him from making another bad innuendo, and that’s when she realizes her mistake, the green sparks turning blue as soon as she touches his chest and she can feel Killian’s gasp the moment he sees them.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
That did not just happen. She did not just expose herself because they were kidding around about a kid in a hot dog suit…and how well endowed Killian may be. But then she gets the courage to look over to Killian, her hand still on the center of his chest, the sparks still flying, and when she looks to his face, his eyes are blown wide and his lips are parted as he stares down at her hand like something has shocked him.
She guesses something has. Both figuratively and literally.
“Emma – ”
“Don’t.”
“Emma.” His voice is shaking the slightest bit, and Killian’s voice doesn’t even shake if he’s held up at gunpoint. “What’s happening?”
She doesn’t answer, instead getting out of the car and walking away, trying to poof herself back to the safety of her apartment, but she can’t. It’s not working. Her magic isn’t working besides these damn green sparks. She needs it to work. She needs out, but her mind is working too fast for her to actually be able to concentrate on poofing away.
She feels something rush through her, and she thinks maybe she’ll finally get out of here, but all that happens is that three plates of onion rings land in front of her. If she wasn’t about to have a meltdown (at least she’s not melting like other witches and/or magical beings) that would be damn funny. But she is about to have a meltdown, her legs suddenly falling out from under her as she collapses to the ground in fear of what’s going to happen now that she’s been unmasked.
“Swan,” Killian calls and suddenly he’s sitting on the ground in front of her like he just fucking poofed there, and that’s totally not cool because that’s what she was trying to do, “hey, love. I need you to look at me.”
She can’t look at him. If she doesn’t look, it isn’t real. Her hands are shaking, and she doesn’t know how to make it stop. She just wants everything to stop because forget fictional horror stories. This is a real one, and it’s not going to end when the film runs out.
“Please go away,” she pleads, even though she knows Killian never listens to her, not when he thinks his way is right.
“I’m not going anywhere,” and yep, that’s what she expected, “because you’re sitting in the middle of a residential neighborhood, and the two of us are currently sitting in a clear bubble while onion rings fall down around us. You’re also my partner, and we don’t leave our partners behind, aye?”
She manages to look up, and sure enough, she’s somehow put them in whatever this bubble thing is, and how does she make the falling onion rings stop? What the hell even is her life? She’s got to calm down. That’s the only way. Before she could contain her magic, it always relied on her emotions. She’s got to control herself. She has to.
So she breathes in, and then she breathes out. She doesn’t know what else to do, especially with Killian staring at her the way he is, and how is she going to explain this to him?
The bubble literally pops, splashing the two of them with soap, and all of the onion rings that were falling suddenly hit the floor, covering the street in fried dough and onions. This would be amazing if her life weren’t about to be over because there’s no way Killian can keep his cool like this for too long. It’s just not possible.
Her body is still shivering, especially now that she’s covered in liquid soap and the wind chill has picked up, but at least she’s not doing anything magical right now, her fingers still slightly sparking green…at least they’re green again. She doesn’t know what he hell that blue stuff was.
“Swan,” Killian nudges, cautiously putting his hands on her shoulders, running his fingers up her neck while he encourages her to tear her gaze away from her hands. He’s going to ask what the hell just happened, and she doesn’t know how to answer. “Swan, I’m going to call in Nolan to take over our patrol, and then you and I are going to back to my apartment to get something to eat, okay? And I promise it’s not going to be onion rings…or a hot dog.”
A watery chuckle passes through her lips as Killian helps her stand from the ground, her legs shaky below her because what the hell is even happening right now? She can’t even control her own body right now, so she follows him without even questioning it, somehow trying to figure out how to erase Killian’s memory.
She can’t do that though.
When Killian places his hand on her lower back, fingers ghosting (she idly wonders if ghosts are real, too) over her jacket, she feels her magic running through her veins and before she can even stop it, she’s poofing away in a cloud of blue smoke.
What the hell?
She lands on her bed, her ass hitting hard against the mattress, and she’s going to feel that in the morning. She’s going to feel all of this in the morning. She can’t believe she tried to transport herself that entire damn time and couldn’t do it until she was trying not to do it anymore. She’d calmed down and Killian was talking to her and going to take her back to his apartment and…oh my God, Killian.
He’s got to be freaking out. Yeah, he seemed pretty calm at first, but she literally disappeared in front of his eyes. He was touching her, and she disappeared. She’s got to call him. She doesn’t know what to say because she’s freaking out, too, but she’s got to do something to make sure Killian doesn’t do something stupid like use the precinct computers to google “what do you do when your partner suddenly develops magical abilities?”
Because that won’t raise any red flags or anything.
Except when she reaches for her phone, it’s not there. Not in her jacket or her jeans or even her bra (every girl has done it, no judgment please), and that’s when she’s hit with the realization that it’s in the patrol car. So great, not only does she have someone running around Boston aware that she’s not normal – one could say paranormal – but she also doesn’t have a phone.
She has a bit of a blonde moment worrying about not getting her phone until the next day when she suddenly remembers that if she can transport herself somewhere, she sure as hell can transport a phone. She swears, sometimes people with magic or abilities or whatever are so dumb. It’s like, why didn’t Voldemort (oops, he who shall not be named) just throw baby Harry Potter out a window if he couldn’t kill him with magic?
So she uses all of her focus to imagine her phone, closes her eyes, and wills it to come to her only for Killian Jones himself to land on her kitchen table, shattering the wood as he and the table crash against the floor and holding her phone in his hand.
So it looks like they probably won’t be tabling this discussion until later…but they definitely won’t be having it at the table.
She’s running through explanations in her mind while Killian recovers from the shock of being transported. She’s decided on saying their donuts were spiked with some kind of drug, and even if it’s a crap excuse, she doesn’t have another way to explain why Killian saw what he saw or suddenly got into her apartment. She can’t tell the truth, can she? That would be crazy.
She really should get up and leave this apartment and then never show up to work again, maybe move to Siberia or something. But he’d somehow find her. She just knows it. He always finds who he’s looking for.
“Bloody hell,” he groans as he tries to stand from his spot in the center of the broken table, and she really should go help him. But he’s standing up on his own, brushing off his jeans, and holding her phone out between the two of them before she even gets the chance. “I believe you were most likely looking for this.”
She reaches out to take the phone because that’s the only thing that seems the slightest bit logical in a situation like this, and when the device is back in her hand, she sees the blood running up and down Killian’s forearm.
It’s a good thing she’s not a vampire. Of that she’s sure.
“You’re hurt.”
“Tis nothing but a scratch, love.”
She rolls her eyes before putting her phone in her back pocket and grabbing his arm. It’s bleeding, but not too badly, and like she’s not even in control of her body anymore (has she ever really been?) she leads him to the kitchen sink and begins running water over the cut. He doesn’t speak the entire time, and she really needs him to say something. It’s making her nervous that he’s not saying anything. Maybe he thinks this is all just a lucid dream. She’s really kind of hoping that this is all a lucid dream.
But then he looks at her with those damn blue eyes, so open and understanding, and she knows that this isn’t a dream. This is real.
Yer a wizard, Emma. And Killian knows it.
(Also, she’s suddenly very aware of the fact that she didn’t get her Hogwarts letter when she was eleven. You know, priorities.)
This feels all too terrifying again, and she can feel her magic spiking through her as her breath hitches and something gets lodged in her throat.
God, she hopes it’s not an onion ring.
She may never eat those again.
What a shame.
Killian seems to sense how uncomfortable she is, and honestly she doesn’t know what’s up with him. If Killian suddenly had magic spurting out of his fingers, she’d be freaking the fuck out, especially because she transported him here and oh my gosh, what if he was driving?
“Were you driving?” Emma blurts out, her voice cracking because this is all just bizarre. “Like, did I cause a ten-car pile up that we’re going to have to lie about tomorrow? Oh God, how would we even cover that up? I’m screwed. I’m so fucking screwed.”
She’s going to cry. She just knows it, the pressure of tears filling behind her eyes, and this whole night is a disaster. How did they get here?
“Shh, Swan,” Killian soothes before wrapping his arms around her, and she’s not sure if the wet thing she feels is water or blood and what even is her life? “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I wasn’t driving. I was actually in your parking garage because, well, you disappeared on me, and I needed to know that you were okay.”
She cries for who knows how long, and she can feel the puffiness of her eyes and the headache that comes with crying blooming behind her temple, and when she realizes they’re on the couch instead of in the kitchen, she thinks maybe Killian can transport things too so that’s why he’s not freaking out.
But then she realizes that she’s just a dumbass because they most definitely simply walked in here.
“So,” Killian mumbles once she’s calmed down, “you don’t have to talk to me about what happened tonight. That seems like it’s a bit of a private matter, and I know that you may look at me as just a partner, but I look at you as a friend. And as a friend, I want you to know that I’m here for you. If not tonight, whenever. And if you tell me I didn’t see anything tonight or I didn’t somehow show up in your apartment, well, I guess I’ll just play it up as Halloween special effects, yeah?”
He’s not lying. That’s another one of her things, and probably the reason she became a cop. She can tell when people are lying, and Killian is about as earnest as can be. He dodges a lot of personal questions from others, but he never lies. Not to her.
“You would do that? For me?”
“I think I’d do about anything for you.”
The words hit her harder than they should have, and she has to keep herself from physically flinching at them. Instead she attempts to smile, and when he smiles back at her, it’s like magic…and not the kind she has.
“Besides,” he marvels, leaning back and looking around her living room, “I’ve already decided that this night must be a dream because Emma Swan has gotten me back into her apartment. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re such a flirt.”
“Well, that’s kind of the point, darling.”
She can feel the heat rising to her cheeks, and she’s a hot mess. She’s a certifiable hot mess, and she needs to change the subject. She thinks she’d rather talk about her magic than have Killian stir up her feelings for him by flirting with her.
“Can we…can we, uh, just watch a movie or something?”
So they do. They watch a movie. Killian tries not to make it obvious, but he takes his time finding something on the guide that has nothing to do with magic. And she’s not sure if it’s because he’s freaked out or if he’s trying not to freak himself out further, but either way she appreciates that they spend the night watching classic black and white movies because it keeps her from thinking too much about what has happened today.
She’s always known that he was a good guy, working as a cop to help keep others safe after the death of his brother, but he’s got to be the best man in the world to not even have one question for her about all of this. She wishes she could read minds (she’s tried) because whatever is going on inside of Killian’s must be fascinating.
She starts to zone out around two in the morning, and Killian nudges her head into his lap while he stretches his feet out on her coffee table, the both of them falling asleep as the screen fades to black.
Things go back to normal between the two of them after Halloween…well, as normal as possible. They walked back into work the next day a little disheveled, Killian wearing the same thing as the night before, something that didn’t go unnoticed by their coworkers. So things go back to normal except for the fact that they are office (or precinct) gossip for the entirety of November…not that she isn’t used to that.
But Killian never mentions Halloween again. He goes on like he had before, teasing her, but also staying appropriate for the job. They patrol together, work cases together, and spend their days complaining about paperwork and how they are tired of being stuck at their desks. It is normal, and that’s what is weird. She knows that he promised not to say anything again if she didn’t want to talk about it, but this is taking it to a new level. Talk about willpower to not ask about Emma’s…powers.
There are a few days where she doesn’t show up to work, her bags packed as she gets ready to run, but something keeps holding her back. She finally feels like she has a home here, even if it is just here in her apartment, nothing special about the white walls and practically empty kitchen (and broken table that Killian had most definitely made a “morning wood” joke about). So when she looked over at her packed bags, all of the sentimental items inside of them instead of in their places around the apartment, it felt off, wrong really. This is her home, and Killian hadn’t even hinted at what happened on Halloween. No one has come after her or tried to get her to be a part of some weird study. She hasn’t been arrested. Nothing weird has happened. Killian is simply Killian, and despite her natural instinct not to trust, she trusts him.
But then something changes, and her entire world is flipped upside down.
Killian kisses her. Well, that’s putting it lightly. Killian pushes her up against the brick wall of their favorite bar and devours her as her hands roam his back, little whimpers emanating from the back of her throat as Killian practically growls when her tongue tangles with his.
They haven’t even had anything to drink, but it’s like the unspoken thing between them broke. He’d flirted with her all night, and she’d done the same, not caring that it was inappropriate for work or that he knows her biggest secret. Hell, she’d been the one to hook her finger into the open v of his shirt and pull him away from the billiards table and into a dark corner of the bar. And who pulls someone into a dark corner of a bar with good intentions in mind?
Well, Killian is verygood at kissing, so maybe she did have good intentions.
Just call her Emma the Good Witch.
Killian’s hands have just snaked their way into the pockets of her jeans, grabbing at her ass while hers are resting on his lower back underneath the black of his leather jacket when one of them speaks for the first time since, you know, they started making out.
“Do you?” Killian questions, and she knows if he wasn’t feeling up her ass he’d be scratching behind his ear because he sounds nervous. She understands. She’s nervous, too.
“I do.”
So that’s how they end up back in her apartment for the first time since Halloween, clothes left in a trail from her front door to his bedroom, and she’s probably never going to get use of that bra again from the way Killian ripped it off of her body.
The whole thing is kind of a blur, skin against skin, the slapping over it mixing with moans and grunts and whispered words of both lust and affection. But she knows one thing for sure, when he orgasm hits her, she feels small tingles of pleasure run up through her body like she never has before, and when her eyes manage to open, green and blue fireworks are bursting above the two of them, and right before they all go away, they turn into all of the colors of the rainbow before fading to red and then finally, black.
If her legs weren’t jelly and Killian hadn’t just fucked her brains out, she’d probably be both impressed and concerned by that.
She doesn’t run. She knows that she can’t now. Hell, she doesn’t even have the urge to. She had sex with him because she wanted to, and she will not run away because she doesn’t know what’s going to happen with two of them. Killian has known about her biggest secret for forty-two days now, and he hasn’t told a soul. She doesn’t know how she knows that, but she does. She knows he kept his promise.
“So I think we need to talk,” he whispers against her neck later before releasing her waist and sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling around his hips so that she can see the expanse of dark hair that covers his chest, “because I thought that thing about seeing fireworks after a damn good orgasm was just a myth, but you, Emma Swan, have made that a reality.”
Such. A. Flirt.
They both dissolve into a fit of laughter, and Killian’s laugh is so infectious that she has to pull him down so that she can kiss him again. He tastes like the coke he was drinking at the bar and a little bit like her. He pulls back and returns to his sitting position while she stays reclined on the mattress.
“So are we talking about my skills between the sheets or the elephant in the room?”
“Well, the swan in the room really.” She scrunches her nose and tosses a pillow at him that he catches with incredible ease. Damn the man. “But I’d mostly like to talk about you, Emma. Because I’ve always known you weren’t just a normal girl, but this magic thing is something else.”
She doesn’t know why she’s shocked when he says the word magic, but she is. Mostly she’s just flattered by the words that are rolling off of his tongue because he makes her heart flutter, her toes curl, and her fingers spark.
“Well, aren’t you a charmer?”
“No, love, I think that may be you.”
She feels her cheeks flush, and it has nothing to do with the afterglow of sex. He’s flirting with her while trying to get her to talk about something she’s literally never talked about with anyone…unless you count Charlie, the nonverbal orange cat.
Emma takes a breath before sitting up in bed, too, and when she shivers, Killian hands her the sweater he was wearing at the bar that somehow made it all the way to the bedroom, the warm wool hanging off of her shoulder while she garners up the courage to talk to him.
One.
Two.
Three.
Go.
So she tells him. She tells him everything, the words spewing out like she can’t stop them, and he doesn’t run away. He doesn’t look scared. It’s almost like he’s looking at her with adoration. He doesn’t interrupt, even when she has to take a break to get through a particularly rough part of her childhood or learning about her powers. He just listens. He does hold her hand when things get a little rough, and while she feels the sparks move through her, they don’t shoot out of her hands.
She wonders if he can feel them, too.
She gets through all of it before Killian asks any questions, and he surprisingly doesn’t ask a lot, just simple things like what she can do and what she can’t. She tells him about the blow dryer thing, and he laughs so hard that his entire chest heaves and tears stream from his eyes.
“I have to ask, darling,” he begins when it has to be four in the morning at this point, “when your sparks first appeared on Halloween, they were green. And then when you touched me they turned blue. And then you know,” he motions between the two of them, “when we came together…literally…the colors combined and then changed into such a myriad of colors. Has that – has that ever happened before?”
“No.” She’s twisting her hair between her fingers, and that’s going to be hell to untangle later from the way Killian’s hands have run through it today. “They’ve never been anything but green before. I don’t know why they changed.”
“They’re the color of your eyes, love. Think about it.”
She gets it almost immediately, and she doesn’t know how to feel about this. She makes her fingers spark with her magic, and sure enough they’re green, but when she touches Killian’s forearm, they’re blue…the same blue of his eyes.
Holy shit.
But why the changing of colors after that? Does that…does that mean something?
“I think your magic likes me, love,” Killian smirks, cocky smile on his face like he just got laid.
Well, he did.
“I think I like you.”
She can’t believe she says it, but she does.
“Yeah? I’m a fan of every part of you, my darling little magical being.”
It’s only later that he asks, “If you wiggle your nose, does something happen?”
She scrunches her nose in response to this, and Killian immediately leans forward to kiss it, biting lightly at the skin before falling back against the bed and bringing her with him.
“You have witchcraft in your lips, my love,” Killian whispers to her the next Halloween as they sit on the floor of their apartment eating onion rings and surrounded by a bubble that has nothing to do with Emma’s magic.
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Hope and the 3 hopeless dates. Chapter one-Gabriels Promise
Hope Winchester was pissed. She had been sitting in the impala while her brothers were off chasing the trickster who had taken Cas from them. She had begged to tag along so she could be face to face with the man who had torn their little family apart. Dean had given her a dark look after she asked to go for the 10th time, his eyes cutting her her voice off mid sentence.
"oh dean for the lov-"
No Hope..you can NOT go, we have no idea what we are dealing with and the last thing we need is you getting hurt or worse taken like Cas!" Hope knew Sam and him meant well but she was always being left in the car to stare out the window and at 19 she was just tired of being left on the sidelines.
Hope pouted a little but then gave in after they stared each other down in the cool autumn air.
"Fine Dean..whatever...just....just be safe please? and bring Cas back...I really miss him ya know.." Dean embraced her in a tight hug and Sam squeezed her right shoulder. They all missed their angel more than anything.
Dean finally let go and gave her one last look. " I mean it Hope...stay put for Cas..you know how he gets when you get even the tiniest scratch."
"You mean how you act?" She smirked up at her big protective brother who sometimes was more dad than brother. He gave her a soft smirk of his own and reached out to ruffle her hair .
"ya kid...me too ." he pointed his finger at her and they both waited for her to get in the impala and even checked to make sure she had locked the doors. Hope watched as they poured salt around the car, her blue eyes suddenly wet with tears. She hated when they left her, she worried for their safety always. Sam tapped the window to let her know they were done and then turned his back to follow Dean.
That had been more than two hours ago and her eyes were tear-less and now heavy with sleep. She fought the sleep though. She was way past worried. Her cell was dead and she had no way of knowing if they had tried to call for help, and her charger was back at the hotel they had rented for the week. The street was dark and fog surrounded the car, no street lamps were lit to light the way. She looked out each window trying to see , but failed. There was no way of knowing if anyone was outside the car or nearby at all.
"where the hell are you guys...please don't be hurt...or...." she couldn't even finish what she was saying into the silence that she sat in. She sat there for a couple moments more then made up her mind to go find them. They couldn't be that far away, surely they were in one of the warehouses she had seen on the way there. She grabbed her beaten brown backpack that carried all her hunter weapons and donned her favorite black leather jacket Dean had given her last christmas. She unlocked the door and stepped slowly out of the car, her eyes searching the darkness for any danger that might be lurking in the shadowless alley ways.
Her boots crunched on the graveled road as she started walking forward away from the only thing that secured her safety.
"I can do this...I won't be stupid...I'll be safe...maybe Dean and Sam won't kill me later? .." she had to stop talking to herself or even the demons they hunted would think she was crazy. Then again..sometimes she was her own company so who cared anyways right? The chill in the air made her hug her jacket tighter around her body, goosebumps rose up on her arms and her teeth chattered for a second when the wind seemed to blow right threw her. She passed each broken building , stopping at each one to listen for any voices or sounds of struggles and fights. Nothing could be heard though and she began to panic again. She stopped next to a broken brick wall and leaned over, her breathing becoming jagged and rough as a panic attack hit her hard. Her heart felt as if it was going to burst from her chest as she waited it out. Finally after what seemed like forever her heart slowed back down and her breathing went back to normal. She slowly brought her body back up to standing , her head still woozy from the small attack. She had to find her brothers soon or each one would be longer and worse than the last.
She began to walk faster, wishing she could call out for them. She knew if she did though she could be putting them in potential danger and didn't want that to happen. A few more buildings up and her prayers were answered. She could hear the distant but yet close sounds of her brothers voices and another mans shouting in the building ahead of her. Her feet began running and she stopped at the rust corroded door that would lead her to them. Her shoulder pressed againist it, and it gave way to a dark hallway. At the end of the hallway she could see a faint light glowing. She reached the end and stared into the large open room. Her brothers stood in front of the trickster who was surrounded by a ring of holy fire, the flames rising up like angry arms ready to set fire to who ever dared touch them.
"Well played boys...well played.. I gotta ask..where'ed you get the holy oil?" the trickster clapped his hands as he spoke, no one had noticed her arrival in the room yet so she stayed put in the shadows near the door.
"You might say we pulled them out of Sams ass?" Dean's sarcasm dripped like venom when spoke. He was not in the mood to play the tricksters games.
"Where'd I screw up?" the tricksters eyes finally landed on her but he didn't say anything at all. She kept her eyes on him even when he turned his own back to the men in front of him.
"You didn't, but nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did." Trickster stared daggers at Sam when he spoke Cas's name.
"Mostly was about the way you talked about armageddon " Trickster shook his head.
"Meaning?"
"Well call it personal expierence, nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family."Dean knew he was right when the trickster shifted from leg to leg and dared him to deny it.
"So which one are you, grumpy, sneezy or douchy?" Sam asked. Tricksters eyes shifted back and forth and he turned his head away for a moment, his eyes focusing on her again for a split second, letting his gaze roam over the beautiful girls body from head to toe.
His voice was strong and firm as he looked back at Sam. "Gabriel..okay, they call me Gabriel."
"Gabriel...the archangel..?" Sams face was clouded with anger while Gabriel's was smug.
"Guilty"
"Okay Gabriel..how does an archangel become a trickster"
"My own private witness protection, I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world, till you two screwed it all up !"
The room went silent for a few seconds as the brothers and Gabriel stared at each other. She stepped foward slowly, not wanting to startle her brothers with her entrance.
"Boys....and girl, Now what, stare at each other for the rest of enternity?" Dean and Sam jerked around to find her standing sheepishly behind them, her arms raised in mock defense.
"What the hell Hope! I told you to stay in the car and you just couldn't listen could you !"
"look I got worried ok , don't be pissey with me right now when I thought you two were DEAD!" Hope shoved him back, tears pricking her eyes again as she looked up at him, demanding he not do this to her again.
He brought his hand to her shoulder and held it there. " you gotta start listening though sis...we can't ever lose you...that's why i make you stay behind...you just...you just can't run off in the dark by yourself anymore..it's not safe and I can't have that.." He wanted nothing more than to lock her away in a padded protected room when they were gone so he knew she was kept safe and sound.
"I know bubba...i know..i'm sorry I didn't listen" her whispered apology was heard by Gabriel who was listening intently to the two as they talked.
"As great as this show is, there's not any popcorn or comfy seats just holy flames licking at my feet so we could finish this or what!"
Dean turned back to the archangel and glared at him, his body moving in front of Hope to shield her from the angels eyes.
"Well first of all you're gonna bring Cas back from where ever you stashed him."
"Oh am I?" the archangel looked like he was having fun toying with Dean.
Two could play that game though and Dean played it well.
"Yeah, or we're going to dunk you in some holy oil and deep fry our selves an archangel"
Hope peeked around her brother at the man who had taken her guardian angel from her.
"please...I need him....WE need him..he's family to us too ..can't you even begin to understand that at all?" her voice shook, tear threathing to spill from her blue eyes if she didn't get Cas back soon.
"Is that right sweetheart? well..Maybe for you I can grant this one wish hmm? I don't feel like being burned alive anyways"
Gabriel knew this girl, had always known her even before she was born and now here she stood begging for his own brother to be returned to her as if he was a lost puppy. He knew if he didn't comply that Dean and Sam would no doubt do as Dean had said. He wasn't looking to die that night so he rolled his eyes and lifted his hand up to bring back Cas. He snapped his fingers and an electric pop sounded. Cas appeared behind Dean and hope, his face cut up and anger towards his brother was dominant in his eyes.
"Cas you ok?"
"I'm fine" His glare redirected to Gabriel at the same time Deans did.
"Hello Gabriel"
"Hey bro, hows the search for daddy going?.... let me guess?.. Awful"
The angels stared at each other , Cas breathing hard from his decent back to earth.
Hope embraced Cas from the side, her hand coming up to cradle his face.
"I was so worried Cas!" a few tears escaped as she hugged him to her , careful not to hurt his bruised up body.
"I'm fine really Hope" he leaned his head into her palm and gave her a reassuring look. He hated to see her so destraught.
"We're out of here, come on Sam, Hope.."
Gabriel became skittish as they turned to leave him there in the flames. He had to get out of there or risk being trapped there for enterity.
"Um, ok...um GUYS so ...so what ? you just gonna leave me here forever?!"
The winchesters and their angel kept walking to the door and stopped when Dean turned back to the tratious angel.
"No...we're not cuz we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record this isn't about some prized fight between your brothers, or some destiny that can't be stopped!, this about you being too afraid to stand up to your family!" his words echoed in the room. Dean looked at Gabriel one last time and then turned back to the door. He reached over to break the glass around an old fire alarm and pulled it down, an alarm and the celing spray nossels came on, the water flowing down like a shower putting the holy flames out slowly around the angel.
"Don't say i never did anything for you!" Dean turned from the angel and put his hand on his sisters back to guide her from the room. The angel waited for the flames to get lower, wanting desperatly to free of the circle he had almost been trapped in. Cas was the last to leave the room allowing him to be the last person his brother saw before they were gone.
Gabriel knew that hiding Castial had been wrong, but he had felt it was the last option he had had at the time. Returning him had took away alot of his pride but it was worth it when he saw the relief on the young girls face when she embraced the angel. It was like he was her brother as well, her real actual guradrian angel in the flesh. He had for a moment wished she had been embracing him instead. He had wanted to smell her , to see if she smelled like sunshine and flowers on a warm spring day. He shook his head to rid it of the thoughts he was having and stepped from the circle once the last of the flames had washed away. He had to find her again , he wanted to know her, to hold her close and he had no idea why. He could remember the girl when she was but a baby in heaven. She had been adorable and he had held her himself, passing her to and from Cas to watch in the days before her and Adam were sent to earth to be born to Kat and John. He had been beyound grateful that she had been born the good twin and not the evil one. He delighted in the years to come, watching her grow up, even during the hard times when John would come and go, sometimes barley visiting the little one at all. The last time he saw Hope was when she was 16. There had been no "sweet 16 " party. Only a gloomy rainy day spent sitting in her room alone. He often wondered why the young girl hadnt had many friends, but then he remembered..she had been able to see beings such as hisself from a young age and that is never easy to explain to meer humans.
"I'll see you again sunshine...I promise you that right now" his words weren't heard by anyone, but he didn't care. He was going to find her and he was going to have her, no matter what he had to do to win her over.
He left the warehouse quickly , only to be hit with the smell of the young girl at the door. Her scent had lingered even after they had left from where she had leaned against the door...she really did smell like sunshine and flowers...honeysuckle growing on wild vines...and oh how he planned to suckle those sweet petals soon...
#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#crowley#lucifer#gaberial#john winchester#supernatural sister imagines#wattpad#fanfiction#fandoms#writer#words#i write#author
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I’m Not Sick!!
Pairing - King George III x Reader
Request - “Hey, here's a cute imagine request for you. King George has a bad cold and the reader has to take care of him but he's being a pouty baby about it. ” from @sweetragdoll :3
Summary - George is sick with a bad cold, and now (y/n) has to watch over him. He doesn’t like the idea of her watching over him, and now he’s acting like a baby. Will it go well, or will it just go wrong?
this is actually really adorkable x3 so, there’s a tiny extra at the end when he gets better ;3
“I promise you, darling, I’m not si—” George sneezed into his hands. “I’m not sick!!”
“George, stop being such a baby.” (y/n) sighed, wiping his sweat away with a small towel.
“I’m not sick, I promise!” He pouted like a child.
“It’s not my fault someone ran around in the rain yesterday!” (y/n) scoffed, flicking his forehead.
“Ow!” He huffed. “It was fun, at least!!”
“George, sometimes I don’t know why and how you’re a king!!”
“Because I was born a prince!”
He got flicked on the forehead again.
“Ow!! Its true though!!”
“Stop being sarcastic!! Why are you such a baby about this?”
“Because I feel awkward…”
(y/n) faced a fork with a chicken nugget before him, and he opened his mouth and ate it.
“Why though?” She asked, setting the fork down on the bedside table.
“Befwash—” he spoke, food still in his mouth.
“George, you do know that you could’ve finished the nugget in your mouth before talking, right?” (y/n) giggled.
He pouted and swallowed his food before answering, “Because it’s supposed to be the other way around!”
“What, I’m the one who should be sick?” (y/n) chuckled. “That’s rude of a King to say to a lady.”
“Not like that!!”
“Well, it wasn’t that clear enough, George.”
“Shush!” He laughed. “What I mean is, usually, the guy takes care of the girl when they’re sick. But it’s the exact opposite right now, and I feel awkward and a bit mean.”
“What do you mean by mean?” She asked, feeding him another chicken nugget.
This time, he ate his food and swallowed it.
“Because it’s like I’m not nice enough for you to take care of me like this…” He pouted.
(y/n)’s eyebrows rose as she giggled softly.
“Idiot.” She giggled, flicking his nose. “That’s fine! You’re sick, I can take care of you.”
She ruffled his hair and giggled once more. “I promise you, you don’t need to worry.”
She gently kissed him on his head and caressed his cheek.
“Fine, whatever you say, darling.” He chuckled, poking her nose.
“Shut up.” (y/n) scoffed with a smile, flicking George’s forehead. “Now, lay down, get some rest, and get better.”
She giggled and stood up, about to leave him to rest, until George called her.
“Stay.” He huffed, sitting up with his hair a mess. “Please? Who’s going to watch over me if I’m alone?”
(y/n) sighed softly and walked back towards his bed.
“I will—” she said.
George grinned.
“On one condition.”
He pouted.
“You will stop being a baby and you’ll drink your medicine like you should. Got it?”
“I can’t make any promises, but fine…”
“Good, now sleep.”
“Wh—”
“Sleep, George.”
“Fine,”
He huffed and laid back down, (y/n) wiping away his sweat with a face towel.
“Don’t worry,” she giggled. “I’m going to stay here.”
She held his hand and smiled kindly at him.
George blushed softly, not because of his cold, but because of her smile.
Oh, that smile that could bring up cloud nine. That smile that makes his heart flutter, or at least skip a beat. That smile that made him himself smile shyly.
“Th-Thanks…” He chuckled softly, smiling shyly at her.
“Now get some sleep and rest.” (y/n) said, kissing him on his head before sitting on a comfy, velvet seat by the window, watching over him.
Knowing she was here for him, and that she was watching over him and taking care of him, George fell asleep peacefully, a tiny smile on his face.
The next day, he woke up from a nightmare, shooting up instantly and breathing shakily, sweat falling down his face.
He looked around his room not seeing (y/n) anywhere.
“(y/n)?” He called, only for no reply to come.
“(y/n)?!” He began to get anxious, and he called her name again. “(y/n), where are you?!”
(y/n) came in his room, a worried expression on her face. “George, what’s wrong?”
Once he saw her face, he teared up and got off his bed, tripping over his blanket, falling off the bed and onto the floor.
“George!” (y/n) exclaimed, running to him and holding him in her arms.
He grasped onto her and cried onto her shoulder, surprising her at the sudden action.
“George, what’s wrong?” She gasped, holding him tightly.
Unable to speak properly, or not speak at all, he only cried in reply, grasping onto her back, pulling at her shirt.
(y/n) caressed his back, gently whispering things into his ear to calm him down. She stroked his hair and nuzzled him gently, still whispering into his ear.
Her actions calmed George down, and he faced her, tears still sliding out his eyes and down his face. He grasped onto her shoulders and shakily asked, “Are you going to leave me?”
“What?” (y/n) gasped at the sudden question, holding his hands. “No, I will never leave you, George!”
“P-Promise me…?”
“Yes, I do promise you!”
“Are-Are you sure…?”
“Yes, I’m sure, George! Why would I leave the person who needs me?”
He gasped and gulped, gazing into her eyes with his sore, puffy blue ones. He breathed shakily and loosened his grip on her shoulders, his body becoming soft and less stiff.
(y/n) caressed his cheek and wiped away his tears with her thumb, stroking his hair softly. “What happened? What’s wrong?” She asked softly.
“I-I had a nightmare…” He replied softly and quietly.
“About what?”
“It’s… Stupid.”
“Tell me, I want to know.”
He looked up at her and sniffed. “O-Okay…”
He gulped and looked down sadly, and started off, “I dreamt that you were at the airport, fully-dressed in your casual clothing, luggage next to you. I yelled your name from a crowd, and you turned to me. I felt that little glimmer of hope, even if I were dreaming. Then you turned away, and my heart shattered. Without thinking twice, you walked off, luggage with you. I continued screaming you name, and yet you didn’t turn back, not even once or not even taking a glance. I… My heart broke… I got scared… I got scared that you’d leave me behind the same way everyone did to me…”
He teared up again and sobbed quietly. “I-I didn’t want to lose the one I love the most…”
(y/n) gasped and frowned sadly at his words. She gently caressed his cheek and wiped away his tears again, facing him.
“I would never leave you, George.” She said softly, soft enough for him to hear. “Because I love you. You know that, right?”
George sniffed and smiled a bit. “Y-Yes, I do…”
“Now get up, I made you breakfast.”
“What food?”
“Earl Grey Tea, an Apple Raisin Deep Pie, and a few other pastries that you love.”
“God, darling, you turned into Sebastian Michaelis, haven’t you?”
“No, I just learned from the best King I know~! I’m surprised you even know how to cook and bake.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s true though!”
“Other than that, I’m sick. Can I even eat those?”
“Don’t worry, that’s dessert—”
“Dessert? In 9:00 in the morning?”
“Shh, I was getting ready for dinner and all~! Besides, you probably could, let’s see. Anyways, there’s some pancakes, tea, like I said, and some bread and butter!”
“God, I love you.”
“Yes, you do!”
The two laughed and walked down the stairs to the dining room, and began to eat.
“You’re still sick, right?” (y/n) asked as they ate.
“I feel better slightly, but I still am.” George replied, eating a slice of a pancake.
“I guess I still have to take care of you.”
“No. I’ll do it myself!”
“No, you will lay back and let me take care of you!”
“It’s still awkward!”
“So? You’re the one who’s sick!”
“George pouted.
“Hey, you promised me you wouldn’t be a baby!”
“I said I won’t make any promises!”
“But then you said, and I quote, ‘fine!!’ ”
“Oh my God, fine!”
He pouted still and huffed, stomping his foot on the floor.
“What am I going to do with you?” (y/n) giggled softly, shaking her head in amusement.
“God, I can never get mad at you.” George laughed softly, glancing at her.
“Same here.” (y/n) giggled once more, looking up at him. “So, after this, medicine again, and you will sit still. No running around, got it? You will rest.”
“Yes, mother. You’re going to be a great mom in the future, love~!”
“Shut up!!”
She laughed and tossed a towel at George’s face, eating her food again.
“Hey!!” George laughed, taking it off his face. “You’re rude!”
“So are you! Sneezy-McSneezerton!”
“Those insults died way before!!”
“So what? It’s still an insult!”
“Okay then, Ms. Anime-McAnimeton!”
“God, that’s horrible.”
“I know.”
The two laughed once more, George sneezing interrupting them. They sat in silence and soon they began to laugh again.
After a few more days, George has been starting to feel better, but either way, he was still sick.
“Whee~!” He laughed, running down the stairs. “I feel better now~!”
“No, go back up to your room.” (y/n) turned him around and pushed him up the stairs. “You’re going to cough and it’ll get worse.”
“I won’t cough, love, I’m fi—” he coughed loudly. “Damn it.”
“Told you.” She giggled, holding his hand as they walked up the stairs.
George giggled as well as he sat back down his bed.
“Come here!!” He laughed, grabbing (y/n) by her arm and pulled her into his arms as they fell on the bed, laughing like children.
“George, let go!!” Laughed (y/n) as she tried to escape from the king’s grasp.
“No, darling, it’s been a long time since we last hugged each other like this!!” George laughed, hugging her tightly.
“Because you’re sick, you idiot!!”
“I’m feeling better now~”
“But you’re still sick!!”
Their laughing faded and (y/n) laid atop his chest and faced him, gazing into his baby blue eyes.
“Hey, George?” She asked, a blush on her face so obvious.
“Yes?” He asked, tilting his head like a little puppy.
“Medicine. Now.”
“What—ew, no.”
(y/n) got off of him and giggled.
“If you don’t do so, you’re going to get sick even more, and you and I won’t cuddle.” She winked, standing up and walking off to get his medicine.
“But it’s disgusting!!” He yelled, sitting up.
“It’s not like you’re going to drink the ones children drink, dummy!”
“But still!!”
“Quit it, George.”
He pouted and looked down sadly, just like a little child.
But he smiled and shook his head in amusement. “Ah, she loves me~”
“(y/n)?” George called, looking around her house. “I let myself in, if it’s okay.”
He looked around still, shutting the door. “(y/n)? Are you home?”
He scoffed and said to himself, “Of course she’s home, wanker, why would her door be unlocked?”
“Unless…” He gasped, and began to run around, looking for her. “(y/n)?!”
He ran up the stairs and went into her room, finding her laying on her bed. He ran to her and sat on her bed, taking her hand.
“(y/n)?” He whispered, still worried. “Are you okay?���
(y/n) opened her eyes and faced him, smiling weakly. “H-Hey…”
“What’s wrong?” George asked, caressing her cheek.
“I’m… I don’t know… I feel sick, so I laid here for a while.”
“I see… I-I’ll take care of you.”
“No, I’m fine—”
“I’m taking care of you, I don’t care what you say.”
He placed a hand on her forehead, and on his neck, feeling her temperature.
“You’re rather hot…” He said softly. “I’ll get you some medicine and soup, if ever.”
He smiled at her softly before he ran off to the kitchen, looking for the medicine she should drink and looked into a few containers, making sure if there’s soup or not. He saw some mushroom soup and he nodded before grabbing a cup and pouring water into it. He brought the medicine and the cup of water upstairs to her room and set them down on the bedside table. He helped (y/n) sit up and he got her medicine ready for her. “Here, drink this.”
(y/n) smiled and chuckled, taking the medicine from his hands. “Thanks, George.”
She drank it down with the cup of water George gave her and she coughed softly afterwards.
“You know,” George chuckled. “You look so helpless like this.”
“Shut up, you’re more helpless than me if I’m not with you.” (y/n) chuckled softly.
“Hey!!” George laughed, rolling his eyes.
He kissed her on her head and smiled, gazing into her eyes. “I’m like that because I love you. Why else would be helpless without you? Then again, I’m helpless with or without you.”
“Okay, George William Schuyler, enough flirts.” (y/n) teased, kissing him on his head too. “I get it, you’re helpless.”
“Yes I am, darling~”
“Enough, God.”
“Aw, come on! You love it if I call you that~!”
He chuckled and kissed her softly, stroking her hair gently as he held by the back of her head. He held her tightly and close in his arms, yet not so close and not so tight, just right to not hurt her. (y/n) gladly kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. This kiss was a normal one, sure, but it was passionate, yet gentle. It felt like time had slowed down around them, but like they care. It’s been weeks since they last kissed. It feels good to kiss one another again after such a long period of time. But of course, they have to pull away to breathe.
“Now, get some rest.” He whispered into her ear, nuzzling her gently. “SO you could get better and then we can cuddle, watch all the anime you know and love, listen to the music you listen to, and everything you want to do, with or without me.”
“Damn, you really know how to make me love you, huh?” (y/n) giggled, nuzzling him too.
“Of course! That’s how and why I love you~!”
The two giggled and gazed into each other’s eyes and smiled at one another, blushing softy.
“Sleep, love.” George smiled, kissing her on her cheek. “I’ll stay here next to you, don’t worry.”
He gently tucked her in, covering her with her blanket and sitting on a nearby, comfy chair. “Sleep, (y/n).”
“I will, George, I will.” (y/n) giggled, laying down and getting comfy. “Thank you, George…”
“No problem, love. I do this because you’ve done enough for me.” George smiled softly at her. “This is one of the many things I’ll do for you in return.”
(y/n) giggled weakly and smiled at him. “I love you, George.”
“I love you too, (y/n).” He smiled back at her. “Now, sleep and get some rest.”
“Okay, dad.” (y/n) giggled.
“Oi.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sleeping.”
With one last giggle, she shut her eyes and she soon fell asleep, cozy and comfy.
George smiled at her sleeping form and chuckled softly to himself. “God, I love and adore that woman…”
#king george III#king george x reader#king george hamilton#king george imagine#hamilton#hamilton imagines#hamilton: an american musical#imagines
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where there’s smoke
Happy Christmas to one of the kindest, most compassionate people I’ve met on tumblr (and one of my faves), @ussjellyfish!
This fits into the Purple Hat ‘verse she writes, and thus features Dragon Queen, the adorable DQ baby, and Captain Swan.
Emma and Killian babysit Araceli for Mal’s and Regina’s first overnight trip since Araceli was born. It’s a lot.
About 1300 words, and also on AO3.
Killian smiles down at Ara, the dimples in chubby little cheeks so reminiscent of Mal’s. The purple hat--the first of them, that is--that Emma knitted for is perched jauntily on her small head, and he can’t resist brushing a quick, affectionate kiss across her forehead.
It’s that sight, her husband and her friends’ child snuggled together on the couch, that greets Emma when she finally gets home that evening. It does things to her, makes her feel and want in a way she hasn’t really let herself.
She knew it was dangerous, had known it was dangerous since she and Killian had agreed to babysit Araceli while Regina and Maleficent took their first trip away together since Ara was born. (It was just overnight, nothing too strenuous, but more than Lily was ready for.)
It shouldn’t have been dangerous, but it sure seems that way. Emma’s not used to it yet, the hope and the belief that she could actually have the things she yearns for. It still seems ungrateful, maybe even greedy, to want more when she has so much now. She has Henry, she has Killian. The rest of her family--her parents and brother, Regina and Mal and Lily and now little Ara--is something that isn’t about blood, it’s about love, and she’s still getting used to the abundance of that in her life.
“Hello, love,” Killian says, pulling her out of her thoughts.
She shakes her head and walks over to him, attempting a quick hug. “Hey yourself.”
It isn’t entirely successful.
Ara burbles her own greeting, a happy little sound. Emma feels those pangs of longing again but buries them with a chuckle. This is good. This is nice. “I’d kiss you, but…”
“Well, I’m game, but I think you’d also be signing up for a very slobbery kiss from little miss dragon here.”
“Mm, could be worse,” she says, and Killian kisses her. She returns it for a second before Ara squawks, clearly unhappy at having temporarily lost their attention. “Hand her over and let me bask the cute.”
Killian does, his eyes crinkling as he smiles, and she sees love, contentment, and maybe some longing of his own. Maybe…
“She certainly is cute and will suffice to drive away any of the day’s ills. Is something wrong, love? You do seem a bit tense.”
She sighs and snuggles into his arms. With Ara in hers and with her in Killian’s embrace, the day doesn’t seem quite so bad. “Ugh, today was the worst.”
“Oh? What happened? Anything I should have done or should know about?” he asks, a brow raised.
“Dwarf fight. Well, dwarves and merpeople. It was a thing. It’s under control now,” Emma says. “And besides, you had this little lady.” She bounces Ara lightly in her lap, barely resisting the urge to pull her close and smother her in kisses.
“Regina and Mal didn’t drop her off until after five.”
“Still, it’s fine now.”
“As long as you’re sure.”
“I am.” And she is. How could she not be, with her wonderful, supportive husband holding her, and the cutest baby in Storybrooke in her arms?
&&&
It’s almost eight when calamity strikes.
And it’s not even really calamity. It’s just...a snafu. Sure, that’s what Emma is going to go with.
Araceli sneezes.
Normally, a sneeze is no cause for alarm. All of them have sneezed. Hell, even Ara has sneezed before around them.
But this might be the first time she’s gone a little scaly and that the sneeze is accompanied by smoke.
Emma panics--she’s not really spent much time around a lot of babies anyway, and one that might well start breathing fire? That’s a whole different ball game. This is just way different from baby Neal, and she’s not entirely sure what to do with the kid in her arms.
“Whoa, whoa, little lady,” Killian says, and he’s running a soothing hand across Emma’s back as he reaches for Ara. “Smoking isn’t a good habit in one so young, or so I’m told. And especially not on the lovely woman who’s holding you.”
As soon as she’s settled in his arms, he looks back at Emma. “You all right, love?”
“Yeah, it’s just...she’s a dragon. Like, logically, I knew that. But the whole smoke thing--and whoa, she has little fangs.”
Sure enough, Ara does indeed have the tiniest of fangs protruding from the tiniest of snouts.
Killian blinks and says somewhat dumbly, “Well, that’s new.”
“Huh, so this isn’t something that happens all the time that no one told me about?” she asks.
“No, I’m afraid this is new to everyone. Maleficent would have said something…”
“Shit--shit, I shouldn’t say shit around her, should I?--do you think this is some kind of milestone? And that Regina and Mal will be upset they missed it?” Emma asks.
Killian looks back at her helplessly and shrugs, but his attention is diverted when Ara reaches for his hook. She succeeds in gnawing on the curve of the hook, her sharp teeth leaving scratches along the metal.
Then Emma laughs, because Killian just looks so...offended. Ara looks up happily at the sound of Emma’s laughter and lets out a little chortle of her own.
And maybe it’s not even a snafu after all.
&&&
They make it through the night. It’s not the easiest thing they’ve ever done, but it’s not, like, the Black Fairy or anything.
Poor little Ara is clearly coming down with something. She’s been sneezy all night (not Sneezy, to Emma’s neverending relief) and dragon-y qualities have come and gone. She looks entirely human right now, asleep in her little travel bassinet.
She’s almost done making breakfast when she hears a knock at the door. To her surprise, it’s Regina and Mal, home hours earlier than originally planned. “Hey, what are you guys doing back so soon?”
“We...we missed Ara,” Regina says, and she looks a little chagrined but otherwise unashamed.
Mal nods in agreement. “We did. We hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”
“Not at all! She’s great. I think she might be coming down with something, she was a little sneezy and congested, but she was a trooper.”
Emma hears Killian coming down the stairs, Ara cocooned in his arms. He quirks an eyebrow at her. She shakes her head, hoping he picks up on her silent cue to not question her...omission. “Aye, the little lass was a delight. We’d be happy to look after her whenever you’d like.”
He’s not wrong, but Emma elbows him anyway. “We really would be. But for now, do you all want to join us for breakfast? Ara’s asleep, and we have plenty extra.”
They finally step into the house, but Regina looks horrified--and amused--when she sees what Emma’s made. “Are those...pancakes? What exactly are you and the pirate offering, Emma?”
Emma groans. “Does everyone know about that? It was one time,” she says.
“You know your mother can’t keep a secret, and who else would she have told? Charming? Granny?”
Killian shudders, his ears pink.
Mal laughs and takes mercy on them, taking Ara in her arms. She stirs but doesn’t wake, settling quickly into her mother’s arms.
“I promise, the only pancakes on offer are the ones on that plate,” Emma says. “And hey, if anyone still wants to murder my mom, I’ll help.”
Regina snorts, but doesn’t tease them further.
&&&
An hour or so later, after breakfast is over and Mal, Regina, and Ara have gone home, Killian is holding Emma on the couch.
“So, love, I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t mention any of Ara’s more...dragon...adventures,” he says.
“Uh, yeah, no. I’m pretty sure that would count up there with someone else being there for the first time your baby talks. I’m going to let them have that.”
Killian’s features soften and he reaches out to caress her cheek. “You’re a good friend. And a good mother.”
“You think?”
“I know so.”
Killian isn’t looking at her, but she can feel his attention on her. “We’ve never really talked about it, but...I wouldn’t be opposed to, uh, talking about kids?”
“Truly, Emma?” he asks, breathless and eyes wide as he turns back to her.
“Yeah, I think it could be good.”
Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with asking the universe for more.
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18. We Are Both, Pt.1
Storybrooke. Town Line. Present. (The Seven Dwarves are at the town line. Leroy sprays a line over the Storybrooke border.) Leroy: “This, gentlemen, is our mission, the great barrier of our existence. Does it remain? We must investigate the line. (He pulls out a small bag with straws inside:) I made straws. Short one crosses. Draw.” Happy: “With the curse broken, we can cross, right? Should be no problem yeah?” Walter: “With magic back, it could be even worse now.” Doc: “Like, vaporize us.” Bashful: “Let's go home.” Leroy: “Guys! We are the royal guard! Dwarves loyal to Snow White! This is our chance to prove ourselves to the prince. We must do this. Show your hands.” (Mr. Clark is holding the shortest straw.) Mr. Clark: (Sneezes twice.) Leroy: “You're up, Snotty.” (Exhales deeply.) Mr. Clark: “You know, what if we found a turtle and sort of nudged it over first?” Leroy: “Oh, for the love of... (Pushes Mr. Clark over the line:) (Whoosh:) Sneezy, you okay? Sneezy!” Storybrooke. Present. (The people of Storybrooke are trying to regain order after the breaking of the curse and the Wraith attack. Some townspeople are gathered in front of a wall of missing people. Marco puts up a picture of Pinocchio.) Marco: “My boy. My poor boy.” Ruby: (To the masses:) “If you are looking for a family member, come to the front table. If you need counseling, Dr. Hopper has a signup sheet. (Siren wails:) If the wraith damaged your house, there are cots at the school.” Mother Superior: (Sighs:) “This is getting out of hand. People are in a panic. They don't know what to do.” Ruby: “It's okay. It'll be fine. We just need everyone to remain calm. I have a feeling our prince is working on something right now.”
Storybrooke. Present. Regina Mills' House. (Pounding on door. Regina opens it and David enters.) David Nolan: (Walking up the steps:) “Tell me... about this.” (He holds up Jefferson’s hat.) Regina Mills: “I’m surprised you don't have armed guards 'round the clock.” David: “Don't need 'em. We both know if you step outside, there's a line a mile long for your head.” Regina: (Shuts the door:) “Who's going to risk coming at me?” David: “Take your chances then. But, I think that little wallpaper trick was an anomaly. If you had your abilities back, this town would be charcoal by now. You're having problems with magic, aren't you? Right now the only thing keeping you alive is that Henry wishes it. (Holds up the hat again:) Now this.” Regina: “It's the hat that pulled your loved ones away.” (Regina walks up the steps and past Charming into the dining room.) David: (Follows:) “Well, where did you get it?” Regina: “I've long since forgotten. You know what? Maybe you should be less concerned with hats and more concerned with taking care of my son.” David: “Oh, because you took such great care of him.” Regina: “I will not listen to child care lectures from a man who put his daughter in a box and shipped her to Maine.” David: “Okay. Listen that was uncalled for but I need my family. That includes Emma, who I know you care about. (Regina pauses but doesn’t deny this:) There's magic here now. There have to be ways to follow them.” Regina: “Follow them where? Into a sucking airless void? And good luck getting magic to work, because as you said, you'd be charcoal.” David: “Ah, frustrated, are we? Serves you right. You earned every bit of this.” Regina: “Keep on baiting me, Charming. Right now I don't have magic and I don't have my son, but when I get one, I get the other, and you don't want to be around when that happens.” David: “If you have to use magic to keep your son, you don't really have him.”
The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Young Regina is riding her horse, Rocinante, trying to leave her family's manor.) Regina: “Come on, Rocinante! Go! We're almost free.” (The branches on the trees suddenly come to life and grab Regina. Cora appears.) Cora: “And I thought we were done with all this nonsense.” Regina: “Hello, mother. What evil have you conjured?” Cora: (Chuckles:) “Not evil, darling. A barrier spell. Designed to keep you where you belong.” Regina: “I can't leave?” Cora: “Not alone. Not without the king. We've been through this. In two days, you'll be married. You'll be queen. After that, you're free to go, whenever you're with him.” Regina: “Mama, I don't want to marry the king. I don't want this life.” Cora: “You're just frightened of having all that power.” Regina: “I don't want power. (Exhales:) I want to be free.” Cora: “Power is freedom. Don't worry. I'm here to show you.”
Storybrooke. Present. (The townspeople are still trying to figure everything out. David approaches.) David: “Henry. Have you seen Blue? Mother Superior.” Henry Mills: “No, but everyone is looking for you.” Ruby: “Do we know where Rump... Mr. Gold is?” Dr. Hopper: “Wait. Does the Queen still have power?” Marco: “I thought I would find my boy. Are the lists complete?” Henry: “He's got to be planning something!” Dr. Whale: “Hey, let me ask you something. Are the nuns still nuns, or can they, you know, date?” David: “Uh, I don't know. Blue!” Dr. Whale: “Don't say it's me asking.” David: “Could there be a tree on this side? The way we sent Emma through as a baby... maybe I could go after 'em that way.” Mother Superior: “It's possible, but without fairy dust to guide us here, uh, no, it's hopeless.” Henry: “You'll find another way. In the book, things always look worse right before there's good news.” Leroy: (Running In:) “Terrible news! Terrible news! We were out at the town limits. Tell 'em who you think you are, Sneezy!” Mr. Clark: “Will you stop calling me that? You know who I am. I'm Tom Clark. I own the Dark Star Pharmacy. What's going on here?” Leroy: “If you cross the border, you lose your memory all over again.” Dr. Hopper: “And coming back doesn't fix it?” Leroy: “If it did, would I have come running in yelling ‘terrible news’?! If we leave, our cursed selves become our only selves.” Ruby: “Do we know that anything's gotten out that way?” (The people of Storybrooke continue their loud commotion.) Henry: “I wonder if Mom knows.” Man 1: “Help! We need help.” Henry: “I can help!” Man 2: “Don't leave us here!” Man 3: “We need something now!” Leroy: “What do we do?” David: “People! Everybody! Everybody, meet back here in two hours. I'll tell you my plan to fix everything.” Ruby: “What's the plan?” David: “I don't know, but I got two hours to figure it out.”
Storybrooke. Present. Regina's House. (She is attempting to magically light a candle.) Regina: “Come on. (Flame flickers:) Light, damn you.” (She throws the candle into the fireplace and exits the house only to run into Dr. Hopper.) Dr. Hopper: “Regina. I thought you might want to talk.” Regina: “Oh, right, the conscience thing.” Dr. Hopper: “It's what I do.” Regina: “I'm in no mood.” Dr. Hopper: “It's too bad, 'cause...'Cause I think talking about your pain might be very helpful, might help you learn who you truly are.” Regina: “I know who I am.” The Enchanted Forest. Present. (Mulan and Aurora ride towards an island, dragging the bound Emma and Mary Margaret behind them.) Mary Margaret: “What is this place?” Mulan: “Our home.” (They arrive at the safe haven, and people stop, stare and gasp.) Emma: “It's like they're refugees.” Mulan: “We're survivors.” Aurora: (Mary Margaret knees Aurora in the stomach:) “Aah!” Mary Margaret: “Emma, run! (Both run away, but are stopped by Mulan who throws a sling at Mary Margaret’s back:) Aah!” Emma: (Running back to check on her:) “Mary Margaret! Mary Margaret! (To Mulan:) What did you do?!” Mulan: “Take them to the pit.” Emma: “No.” (Regardless, they are thrown into the pit.) Emma: (As the guard drags Mary Margaret inside:) “Be careful! Oh! Be careful! (The guards leave:) Hey. Come on. Wake up. Hey. Can you hear me?” Woman: “Do you need help?” Emma: “Who are you?” Woman: “A friend. (Stepping forward into the light coming from above:) My name's Cora.”
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i'll throw a prompt in because i love ur writing (obviously u don't have to take it if u don't want to) uhhh..... jug w/ a messy/sneezy cold living in the school & retreating back to his spot halfway through the day because he doesn't have the energy or patience to deal with his symptoms in public or people staring, so he just sulks & tries to be quiet until school's over. either archie walking by the door & hearing him cough/sneeze while looking for him or archie calling his phone & hearing it?
(I hope u like snz bc this is a snzfic lmao..sorry if ur not into that and I seriously misjudged the prompt!! and also thank you for being nice!! mess warning!!)
Jughead had always felt a bit like a social outcast, never feeling like he was a part of society, more on the outside peering in. Over time he began to accept his place, accepting himself as an individual. He lived in a comfortable isolation, content with a small, but loving group of people to surround himself with.
He didn’t like the spotlight, preferring to be behind the scenes and observe, and made an effort to keep it that way. However, the way of life couldn’t always pander to what Jughead wanted (he knew this very well), and being in the spotlight was out of his control.
That loss of control was caused due to his own body, and a virus breaking through his weak immune system that showed itself as a messy, sneezy cold.
“HhrrITTSCHHiewww!” Jughead sneezed for what had to be the 10th time that hour, pitching his head forward into his locker. He cringed as he pulled his hand away, revealing a layer of mist on top. He groaned in annoyance; annoyed although he knew that this was going to happen, considering his living situation.
He kept his head down as he felt stares burning holes onto his back, loathing how much attention he was receiving from this cold. He rubbed a finger underneath his nostrils in irritation, sniffing hard.
Suddenly, a strong arm grabbed him and wrapped around his shoulder, “Morning Jug! How’s it crack-a-lacking?”
Jughead rolled his eyes at his best friend, “Doing jusdt fide, I feel fresh, revitalised, ready to kick sobe ass.”
Archie raised an eyebrow, about to comment on his friend’s deepened voice and the congestion lacing his words but before he could, Jughead was pushing away and pitching forward into his hands, “hhhtTTSCHOO! Hahh..eeeHHTSCHHOO! Excuse me.”
“Bless you, are you catching a cold?” Archie frowned, pulling Jughead back into his bro embrace.
Jughead groaned softly, rubbing at the side of his nose, hand covering his face as he sniffled to keep his nose from running, “I’ve got one alright, and it’s shitty.”
He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose, considering that Archie was the only person he felt comfortable being gross with and being doted on with. As he finished, he began to cough chestily into his fist.
“Jesus Jug, that doesn’t sound too good. What happened?”
’Well I’m living in a closet under the stairs like Harry fucking Potter and its cold as shit so I’m sick, naturally,’ Jughead wanted to say, but shrugged instead.
“Shit happens, dude,” Jughead said casually, scrunching his nose to ward off a sneeze.
“Well if it gets worse you should go see the nurse and maybe go home,” Archie suggested.
Jughead wanted to laugh.
‘Archie, I am home, you doof,’ Jughead thought, glancing behind him towards the closet. In his slight haze he seemed to have forgotten to respond to Archie because Archie was sighing.
“..You..aren’t gonna do that..right, you’re a stubborn prick so I’m going to have to be checking on you constantly, you little shit.”
Jughead could only smirk at that, grinning as he headed towards his first class’s door, one he didn’t share with Archie, “I live to make your life hell, pal.”
Archie rolled his eyes fondly as he trekked on, his gaze lingering until the door of the Maths room shut, his friend disappearing from his sight. He then looked ahead, swallowing as the feeling of worry wouldn’t quite leave him.
No one was having a good time.
Jughead certainly wasn’t, his nose constantly dripping as Jughead frantically tried to mop up his mess before it left his nostrils, and one time a string of clear liquid began to droop down his left nostril and he had cleaned it up as quickly as possible, but one of his classmates had noticed. Jughead could only blush and look straight ahead, pretending like this wasn’t the most awkward situation ever.
His classmates certainly weren’t enjoying this either, the sound of constant sniffling not exactly their opinion of quality learning backdrops. Jughead absolutely despised the judging looks he got, staring holes into him, eye rolls and side eyes, small frustrated groans..His mind had wandered off to a slightly dark place, wishing he could just disappear.
Granted some of the stares were of concern and pity, but they weren’t much better. Jughead just wished he was invisible, not wanting any attention and wanting to be by himself. He wanted to be gross and not having to keep up a somewhat passable image of himself by himself. He wanted to be in a safe environment in a warm, comfy bed he could call his own. None of those could happen for him, so sat in self loathing, seething.
To make matters worse, his oblivious teacher in his History class made him read out a long ass document about the French Revolution. He tried his best to be understandable, his voice croaky and horribly congested, and constantly having to sniffle through his sentences. It was turning out to be a lesson about Jughead’s sniffles rather than history.
“..The king’s trial was ode of udfair circubstadces..snff..mady of the trialgoers..snff..biased in their opidiods..snff...of the king..snff..”
Jughead’s reading was interrupted as a irresistible tickle suddenly began to brew intensely within his sinuses, the tickle quickly escalating down to the tip of his nose where it rampaged, the sneeze completely unavoidable. For some reason, Jughead decided to fight it.
His nostrils twitched, Jughead scrunching up his nose to attempt and suppress the tickle, but only succeeded in worsening it, his nostrils now flaring widely as the whole class began to look over at him to watch this spectacle.
“..mady were angered..b..by..hhehh!!hh..the king..hh!!heehh…hhhhihh!!”
Jughead gave in, aggressively pressing a tissue against his nose and pitching forward violently with a series of progressive sneezes, “hhhAATTSCHHH! hhrrSSTCHHHH! hepptttSSCHOO!! hahhrrSSCHHHH!!….hhhhRRSHHHOOOO!”
Jughead blushed a deep red hue, clearing his throat as he pressed another tissue against his nose as the previous tissue was on its last legs, clearly soaking. He cleared his throat, “Excuse mbe, sorry.”
“Blow your nose, Mr Jones, we want to learn about the French Revolution rather than about your cold,” His teacher said boredly, a couple of people chuckling.
Jughead blushed further, anxiety blaring as he nodded and awkwardly did so, looking around wildly as all eyes were on him. He took in a panicked breath, but met the eyes of a sympathetic and kind Kevin Keller and managed to finish the rest of the passage before he began to sulk in his self loathing once more.
Jughead dragged his sickly ass into his middle of the day class and flopped in his usual seat, slouched and resting his head on his arms, headache beginning. He was so done with today, and wished it would just end.
Archie had already been in the class, completely shocked to see Jughead’s condition worsen that severely in just a few classes. Jughead wouldn’t meet his gaze and just slumped, not even seeing Archie.
The whole class he could only stare at Jughead, not able to concentrate on whatever novel they were reading now, watching as Jughead sniffled or pinched his nose to stop a sneeze or cough repeatedly.
Suddenly Jughead stopped reading the novel, hand shooting up to his face and covering his nose as an unexpected fit took over him, taking one sharp and large inhale.
“hhATSSCHH! hhrrrRRTTSCHHH!” Jughead sneezed harshly, obviously very wetly, his eyes widening as he realised that mess was now on his hand. He reached for his pocket, digging around and panicking as he realised he had none left.
To his despair everyone was watching him, in disgust, in concern, pity..whatever. As Jughead pathetically rummaged around naively his breath once again suddenly caught, “hhEETSCHOOO!”
He blushed furiously as even more mucus leaked out, knowing he would have to face his fate. Jughead cleared his throat, raising his free hand very awkwardly.
The English teacher who was kind to Jughead, and clearly admired his talents, was the one saving grace who only gave him a sweet and comforting smile as she nodded towards the door.
Jughead got up and tried to get out as quickly as he could, rushing towards the bathroom and pulling at some toilet roll and mopping up his mess, cringing at the strings clinging onto his hands. He washed his hands thoroughly, trying to waste time as to avoid walking back into that classroom.
As he walked out to the hall, he glanced up at a clock that said he had two minutes before his next class. Jughead thought about it for a second, and he was completely done. He was done with today, this enough, he couldn’t do this anymore.
He stomped towards the closet, closing the door behind him and collapsing against his sleeping bag, pulling the covers over him as he shivered, wallowing and sulking, willing today to just go away.
When Jughead didn’t return before the bell, Archie became extremely worried.
Archie scanned and searched the halls, but couldn’t find any trace of a grey beanie or blue denim jacket. As the hustle bustle of people walking to their next class died down, Archie found himself alone and Jughead-less. He frowned, figuring he could miss out on Study Hall and went to find him.
Archie walked down the corridor, getting frustrated. He sighed, pulling his phone out and pulling out Jughead’s name on his recents, and the second he pressed his name he heard something coming from the closet under the stairs.
“hhNGHHXTT! hahh..nnggXXHTT-shIEW! ugh..hehhNNGGHXTTchIEWW!”
Archie blinked, stunned, and then heard a vibrating coming from the closet. The vibrating stopped, and his call was declined. Was Jughead..?
Archie rushed to the closet and swung the door open, to find Jughead curled up in a sleeping bag, looking pale and exhausted. The younger boy jolted in shock, looking stunned and even a little afraid, but his mouth curved into an uneasy grin.
“..uh..'Yer a wizard Harry..,” Jughead joked, scrunching his nose up in irritation as he scrubbed a finger underneath his nostrils.
“..Jug?? What the heck is happening here??” Archie asked, extremely confused.
“You gotta go home, Jug! Not here!”
“This is my home!” Jughead snapped.
Archie became silent, words escaping from his brain, not knowing what to say. He was shocked, a plethora of emotions flooding his senses as he looked around, realising what this was.
“..I..”
Jughead grumbled and rolled over so he didn’t have to face Archie, “..you don’t have to say anything.”
“..Jug..I..” Archie’s voice cracked.
Jughead sniffled, trembling slightly, and Archie wondered if this was a result of Jughead’s illness or if he was crying.
Archie’s gaze softened as he kneeled down, a gentle hand resting on Jughead’s back, “Jug, are you crying or just really sick..?”
Jughead sniffled, letting out a shaky breath. “Both,” He choked.
Archie’s heart broke as he slowly picked his best friend up, bringing him into a hug, holding him close in his comforting embrace. Jughead melted into it, wrapping arms around Archie’s built frame and burying his face into his shoulder, beginning to sob softly.
“You’re okay, Jug,” Archie whispered comfortingly.
“..I-its just been a really s-shitty day, A-Archie,” Jughead sobbed, holding him tighter.
“I can make this better,” Archie mumbled.
“What?”
“Come home with me,” Archie whispered, pulling Jughead away so he could meet his eyes. He looked sick, and miserable with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Archie, what? I can’t do that.”
“Yeah you can. I’ll figure this out with my dad, he’ll let you stay, I know it. When he..fired your dad he told me how worried he was about you..and if anything went wrong..he’d do all he could to help you,” Archie explained.
“Archie, I don’t doubt your dad would–but I can’t. I can’t possibly..”
“Please, Jug. At least until you get better.”
Jughead sighed, about to pick up his bag of belongings when another tickle had him bending at the waist, “hhETTSCHOOO! hahhTSSSCHH!” He cringed at the spray that he caught dangling down the air.
Archie shot him a sympathetic glance and put a hand on his shoulder, hoisting up his bag, surprised at how heavy it was.
“Damn, Jug..” Archie commented.
“I’ll carry it,” Jughead protested, reaching for it but Archie already had it firmly hoisted on his shoulder.
“No, you’re sick, and we’re checking you out of school,” Archie insisted.
“It’s not a hotel, Andrews,” Jughead huffed. Archie could only smile at that, knowing that if Jughead was still joking, he hadn’t lost him quite yet.One look at Jughead and the nurse was handing off an excuse slip to go home. Archie explained that Jughead’s father was out of town and was staying with him, and a slip for Archie was also issued. They handed the slips to the receptionist and the two were heading over to his house.
As they approached the door, Jughead stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Archie, I can’t–”
“Nonsense!” Archie exclaimed as he pulled Jughead closer to him, and unlocked the door.
Jughead’s nose began to twitch as he entered the house, breath hitching as Archie quickly plucked a tissue of the tissue box they kept by the entrance and quickly pressed the tissue against his friend’s nose.
“Huh–Arch..archie wha..what’re..hh..hehh..hhITSSSCHOO! hehhTTSCHIEWWW! hahhTTSCHOO! Ugh..”
Archie laughed and threw away the tissue, looking sodden and wet, leaving Jughead completely mortified.
“Arch..”
“What?” Archie teased.
“Bless you Jughead!” Came Fred’s voice, walking out of the kitchen.
“Huh–thank you, but how did you..”
“Archie texted me telling me that he was bringing you home because you’re sick,” Fred smiled.
Archie cleared his throat and tossed Jughead a blanket, “Go sit by the couch Jug, im just going to make you some tea.”
Jughead blinked as Archie made his way to the kitchen, noticing how Archie slightly gestured Fred to follow him. He sighed softly, not wanting to burden the Andrews but made his way to the couch all the same, wrapping himself in an actual warm blanket, in a soft, comfy couch. He found himself nodding off.
Then a gentle hand was prodding him awake, and as he regained consciousness, a nice warm mug of tea was being placed into his hands. He couldn’t smell very well, but it was clearing his sinuses. Archie took a seat next to him and Fred sat on the pouffe across from him.
Archie cleared his throat, “..So I told my dad about your situation.”
Jughead looked anxious, wringing his hands and sniffled softly.
Fred gave him a warm, kind smile, “..Jughead, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you want. I don’t know the full story, and you don’t have to tell me, but I encourage it, if you want someone to talk to the Andrews men are here. You have been a part of the family since you were born.”
Archie grinned, “So what do you say, bud? It’ll be a lot of fun, you and I sharing a room..”
Jughead smirked, “..Well..I will have to share a room with Archie Andrews which is horrendous..but..I’ll take it.”
Archie laughed and pulled Jughead into a hug, before Jughead pushed him off and retreated into his sleeve, “hehhTSSCHH! hahhAAATSCHH!!” He went to lift his face to find mess clinging on, and he went bright red.
“Uhh..Archie..tissue?” He said awkwardly.
Archie could only laugh and pass him one, watching him wipe up his mess.
“I hope you don’t mind me..mess and all,” Jughead chuckled.
“We’re happy to have you just the way you are, Jughead,” Fred chuckled.
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Leroy/Grumpy (Once Upon a Time): ISTP
Dominant Introverted Thinking [Ti]: Grumpy has an understanding of how things work. He often makes brutally honest assessments of situations and isn’t exactly mindful of the feelings of the people around him. He brusquely tells Snow White that nobody is going to want to help her sell candles for Miner’s Day because the only person people in the town hate more than him is her. Leroy is an adept problem-solver. When he eventually comes around in order to impress Nova, they have a difficult time getting the townsfolk to make a purchase. He first comes up with a plan to sell candles door-to-door. He then attempts to persuade Mr. Gold to let the rent go for one month. When that fails, he cuts the power, creating a demand for candles. Leroy is argumentative and points out other people’s logical flaws. When Mary Margaret chastises him for pursuing a nun, he tells her she is no better than he is because she had been sneaking around with a married man. When Granny refuses to allow Ariel entry into the diner because of her lack of clothing, Leroy defends her by pointing out all of the times Ruby has been in there, dressed in practically nothing. Leroy is detached in his decision-making and doesn’t typically let emotions influence his thought process. Elsa needs to be stopped. All evidence indicates that she was the one who froze the town.
Auxiliary Extroverted Sensing [Se]: When there is a problem, Grumpy has no problem diving right in and doing something. When Nova is filling up a bag of fairy dust in the mines, Grumpy (“Dreamy”) sees that she is having trouble turning off the machine and immediately rushes over and pulls the lever for her. Then, the bag nearly ends up being incinerated, but Grumpy leaps up to where the bag is and stops it from entering the fire by hooking it with his ax just in time to save it. When he is trying to sell candles with Mary Margaret, he decides that if customers won’t come to them, they would have to go to the customers, and takes action by going door-to-door and eventually cuts the power. Leroy enjoys sensory pleasures. He’s the town alcoholic and the first time we see him in Storybrooke, he is in jail for disorderly conduct. Back when he was Dreamy, he wanted to run away and see the world outside of the mines. Dreamy wasn’t satisfied working in the mines like the other dwarves and planned to abandon his responsibilities. He tends to express his feelings through physical displays. After telling Nova he can’t be with her, Dreamy returns to the mines and violently begins beating a rock with his ax, breaking it. When Sneezy draws the short straw when the townspeople are trying to test the town border, he refuses to step over the line, and Leroy pushes him over it, stripping him of his Enchanted Forest memories. He decides he would rather leave Storybrooke and lose his memories than stay there with Regina, and is set to drive out of down until David stops him. When Regina shows up at the celebration at Granny’s, Leroy immediately grabs a knife, wanting to know what she’s doing there.
Tertiary Introverted Intuition [Ni]: Leroy doesn’t exactly have a positive outlook on the future. His insights are usually of a pessimistic nature. However, when he has a goal in mind, he stops at nothing to achieve it. He is determined to raise five-thousand dollars for Sister Astrid so the nuns will be able to remain in Storybrooke and he becomes singularly focused on accomplishing his task, no matter what he has to do to get the job done. When the curse is lifted, Leroy quickly becomes concerned about the possibility of outsiders wandering into Storybrooke, and he wholeheartedly believes that trouble will be coming their way, and this hunch is eventually proven to be correct.
Inferior Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Emotional expression isn’t exactly Grumpy’s forte. He’s a loner and isn’t as community-minded as some of his fellow Storybrooke residents. He isn’t particularly compassionate. Once everybody regains their memories of who they truly are and Leroy hears that an angry mob is headed to Regina’s house, Leroy believes that she deserves it. He’s somewhat oblivious to what other people are feeling. Even when he was still Dreamy, he was clueless when Nova hinted that she wanted to see the fireflies with him. When he goes to tell Sister Astrid that he and Mary Margaret were unable to sell the candles, he can’t bring himself to disappoint her and instead lies, saying they sold them all. He allows other people to influence his emotions, and lets the Blue Fairy and Bossy convince him that he can’t love and that Nova will be better off if he refuses to run away with her, and he listens to them. Leroy is afraid that saving Greg’s life will lead to unwanted attention for Storybrooke and is leery about saving him for the sake of the town.
Note: For some reason, I’ve only ever seen Leroy typed as an INFP, but I just don’t see enough evidence to support that.
Enneagram: 6w5 8w9 4w5 Sp/Sx
Quotes:
Dreamy: All she talked about was going to see some fireflies, not loving me Belle: What did she tell you about these fireflies? Dreamy: That she was gonna go see them on the hilltop tonight. That she heard they were the most beautiful sight in all the land. Belle: She wasn’t telling you about fireflies. She was inviting you to go be with her. Dreamy: You think so? Belle: I’ve had my heart broken enough to know when someone is reaching out. Now go, find your love. Find your hope. Find your dreams.
Mary Margaret: Oh my God. You like her. She is a nun, Leroy. Could you possibly pick anyone any less available? Leroy: Says the girl who went after a married guy. At the end of the day, you’re no better than I am. You got your reasons for being here, I got mine. Now when I say I’m gonna get that five-thousand dollars, I’m gonna get that five-thousand dollars.
Bossy: You can’t do this, Dreamy. You can’t go to her. Dreamy: Why not? Bossy: You have a responsibility – to mine the diamonds we make into fairy dust. Dreamy: But I love her. Bossy: You’re a dwarf, Dreamy. You’re not capable of love. It’s not how we’re made. Dreamy: What if I’m different? What if you’re wrong? Blue Fairy: Bossy’s not wrong, young one. What you feel – it’s just a dream. Dreamy: Who are you? Blue Fairy: I’m Nova’s teacher. And if the two of you run away together, it will not end well. Nova will lose her wings. But if you return to the mines, and you allow Nova to become the fairy that she was meant to be, the two of you will bring untold joy to the world. Nova can be a great fairy… if you let her. The choice is yours.
Mary Margaret: Leroy, you know that a relationship between you and Sister Astrid can never happen. Leroy: My whole life people made it their business to tell me what I can’t do. She was the first person that said I could do anything. Who believed in me. I didn’t want to disappoint her. But there are consequences to following through when the world tells you not to. I mean, look at me. I am a pariah in this town.
Dreamy: What matters is I can’t stand in the way of your happiness. Nova: You are my happiness! I love you. Don’t you love me? Dreamy: I’m a dwarf. I can’t love.
Grumpy: I don’t want my pain erased. As wretched as it is, I need my pain. It makes me who I am. It makes me Grumpy.
[Mary Margaret and Leroy are trying unsuccessfully to sell their candles on the miner’s day fair] Mary Margaret: This isn’t working. Leroy: You’re right. We should pack it up. Mary Margaret: Now you’re quitting. Leroy: If the customers won’t come to us, we gotta go to them – door to door. Mary Margaret: If they hate us here, what makes you think they’ll like us in their homes? Leroy: Exactly. They’ll pay us just to leave.
Leroy: So let me get this straight. You got a twin brother? David: Yeah. Leroy: Whose name is James? David: Right. Leroy: But *your* name is James. David: No, actually it’s not. Leroy: Charming, then? Mary Margaret: No, that’s the nickname I gave him. Leroy: Hey, hold on, what the hell *is* your name? David: David. Leroy: Your cursed name? David: My real name. Leroy: What, you’re David, James and Charming, and David’s like a middle name? David: No, it’s my name name! Leroy: You know, whatever, I’ll call you whatever I damn well please! That OK? David: Sure, Leroy.
Granny: Uh, maybe you didn’t notice the sign? No shirt, no shoes, no service. Leroy: Now you got a dress code? I seem to recall some Ruby outfits that are seared into my brain.
[David is trying to unlock the stranger’s phone] David: Leroy, can you get it open or something? Hack it? Leroy: Well, you do understand that computer hacking and pickax hacking are different.
Archie: Dr. Whale’s whipped everyone to a frenzy. They’re going to Regina’s house. They’re gonna kill her! Leroy: Great. Let’s watch.
Leroy: [handing Gold another vial with the elixir] This is for you. Mr. Gold: And what am I supposed to do with that? Leroy: Belle once helped remind me who I was. I’ve never forgotten. I want to return the favor. Don’t let her die as Lacey.
Henry Mills: [to David] You’ll find another way. In the book, things always look worse right before there’s good news. Leroy: [running towards them with the other six dwarves] Terrible news! Terrible news! We were out at the town limits. Tell ’em who you think you are, Sneezy! Sneezy: Will you stop calling me that? You know who I am. I’m Tom Clark, I own the Dark Star Pharmacy. What’s going on here? Leroy: [to the others] If you cross the border, you lose your memory all over again. Archie: And coming back doesn’t fix it? Leroy: If it did, would I have come running in yelling, “Terrible news”? If we leave, our cursed selves become our only selves.
Leroy/Grumpy (Once Upon a Time): ISTP was originally published on MBTI Zone
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Dr. Brown’s Interdimensional Time Traveling Sneeze Clinic
Another story I wrote, with a concept I found to be a fun frame for doing alien sneeze one-shots. Maybe I’ll bring that back but weirder.
“So, Mr. Ackerman, I’ve got to ask… what exactly is a ‘sneezing emergency?’”
Dr. Brown peered over his glasses at his newest patient, a Mr. Ackerman who’d rushed into his office, with no appointment, and begged to see him, said he’d heard Dr. Brown was the best ENT in the galactic system and that he had, as he said, a “sneezing emergency.” This particular patient appeared to hail from an “earth-like” homeworld, that is, a world that attempted to maintain the culture and practices of the human homeworld in the era immediately before its first contact with the galactic system. Of course that was millennia and millennia ago, but alas, who can argue with traditionalists? Besides, worlds that upheld the culture of some particular historical period or other were actually quite in vogue, though Dr. Brown hardly understood the trend.
“Um, well doc, you see… my allergies are… my sneezes can get… just… when I have to sneeze I get all… and then it… and I hate it but I can’t help… it’s just an emergency doc! You gotta make me stop sneezing.”
Dr. Brown chuckled a bit. He’d certainly never seen a patient so flustered over a few sneezes. On one level, he was a bit shocked that sneezing itself, in all these millennia, had never been eradicated. But sneezing was a shockingly persistent adaptation, consistent in well over 95% of sentient, near-sentient, meta-sentient, and periodically-sentient species, as well as those beings that had “evolved beyond the need for labels, and sentience is a social construct anyway” (which was, in fact, their official designation.)
Bound by his oath to reflect the cultures of all worlds, Dr. Brown offered his patient what relief he could as would be appropriate to Earth circa 2015. Quickly scanning the minds of all doctors on the #DocBrown Network (Dr. Brown was a proud meta-sentient, don’t you know), he arrived at the 2015-Earth-appropriate prescription, and figured he’d deliver the prescription and finish the day in time to catch the televised Beyonce-bot concert: “Well… alright, Mr. Ackerman certainly I can prescribe some medication for seasonal allergies, but of course there’s nothing one hundred percent effective…”
“No, no, you don’t understand doc, I need something one hundred percent effective! I just… I can’t sneeze anymore.”
“You mean… you can’t sneeze… ever again?”
Ackmerman just looked at Dr. Brown, a stupidly eager look on his face that made him look rather like an overgrown puppy.
“Yeah, doc! You got it! No more sneezes for me. Ever again.” A quick look of… consternation, perhaps… passed over Ackerman’s face before he added. “Ever.”
Dr. Brown glanced over his patient. For all that he’d seen rather ridiculous requests over his many years as a time-travelling, species-agnostic, interdimensional, intergalactic ENT specialist (though he preferred the term “atemporal species-agnostic, interdimensional, intergalactic ENT specialist”), he’d never seen someone be quite so… earnest about something so obviously impossible as preventing any and all sneezes.
“Well certainly, son, you understand the impossibility… people sneeze for so many different reasons, not just ones that we can treat, like a cold or allergies.” Quickly performing a biometric scan of his patient, just to confirm his memory of human anatomy, Dr. Brown continued, “Essentially any time anything irritates the tiny hairs inside your nose, that triggers the reaction that we call a sneeze… once the irritation has triggered a reaction, the reaction is, pragmatically speaking, beyond control.”
“Listen, doc, I don’t care you just… you gotta help me, doc, I can’t sneeze anymore. I can’t sneeze ever again, ‘cause when I do it just… when I sneeze it’s… I…”
Dr. Brown wanted to be irritated by the patient’s stammering and inability to get out any real statement, but he found himself curiously sympathetic. Whatever was ailing this young man, it was certainly causing him a great deal of distress. Dr. Brown said as much. “Whatever is ailing you young man, it is certainly causing you a great deal of distress. That much is clear. But whatever it is, I’m going to need you to fully explain the situation. The galaxy…” Mr. Ackerman looked at him irritatedly—OldWorlders hated it when you reminded them of what millennia it was, nevermind that they took intergalactic instantaneous transportation to get to you, if you happened to mention that such a thing would never exist in “their century” they would always respond in a fashion Doc Brown considered unnecessarily snippy, if not out-and-out rude.
Doc Brown took a second before he continued, “The, ah, world of medicine”—and Mr. Ackerman looked mollified—“is full of quirks and oddities,” he said, smiling brightly at the young man in the hopes of encouraging him to open up. “Whatever has happened to you, I am quite confident that others have suffered it as well.”
At that, the boy perked up. “Really? You think that… it’s not just… you think other people have got the uh… the sneezes like I got ‘em?”
“I am sure of it, my boy. Now, just tell me what happened…”
And Mr. Ackerman began to share his story.
--- Well, first off, ah, Doctor, I’ve ah, I’ve always been a big sneezer. Ever since I was a little kid. I couldn’t help it. When something tickled my nose, I had to let it out, full blast. I always heard people doing those little squelchy sneezes, but I never understood it—how can that be satisfying? So I’ve always, um, you know sneezed big.
And then I grew up and, I mean I’m not a small guy you know? I’ve got a big chest, and that means I got big lungs, and I definitely got a big nose, the guys all tell me. I mean look at it it’s like half a foot off of my face, right? Anyway, I got bigger and the sneezes got bigger with me. I started working out. Got stronger. Sneezes got stronger with it. But, you know, nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary, just, you know, big sneezes.
Plus, you know, I always get those sun sneezes? You know where you’re allergic to the sun? Whenever I walk outside after class I get these great big, “AAAAAAEEEEEESSSSSSSHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” kinda sneezes. I’d walk outside and blast one of those out, and half the people around me would jump ten feet in the air. My buddies, the folks who knew me, they would kid around with me about it, they’d say, “oh there goes a nine-jump sneeze, ladies and gentlemen, a nine-jump sneeze.” That meant, you know, that was a sneeze that would make nine people jump when I let it out, right? And you know, a little one was just a three jump sneeze but sometimes when we were stuck in a dark classroom for long enough I could get out like a fifteen-jumper or even once I got like fifty people after a school assembly… ah, good times, good times. I miss those sneezes…
Anyway, I also have, you know, pollen allergies, and ah… during the spring, sometimes the teachers’ll leave the windows open and it makes me… it just makes me really, really sneezy, you know? So I’ll sit there, and I’ll sit there and I’ll be fine, for a while. And somehow, always when the teacher’s right in the middle of something, that itch’ll hit me. And I dunno, I can’t fight it! When I gotta sneeze, I gotta sneeze so I… you know, I sneeze! And when I sneeze it’s… or anyway when I used to sneeze it was… well you know it was really loud and every time it would interrupt the whole class with a “WWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” kinda thing, just really screamed it out ‘cause you know that pollen had really got my nose good and… you know my friends would just sit there and laugh ‘cause they didn’t really wanna be in class anyway. And besides you know, the way the pollen used to get me once I started sometimes I couldn’t stop til I did it four or five times but… it would tickle me in between each one for so long… so the teach’d really get started good again and then my nose would go off again with a “YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” sneeze… and then the class’d be interrupted again ‘cause, you know, when I was sneezin’ it wasn’t like you could hear anything else… probably in the next classroom over neither. See, doc, I told you I was a big sneezer… or at least, back then I thought I was a big sneezer… Anyway, half my teachers told me I had to start goin outside the classroom when I had a sneeze comin, but they could hear it through the door anyway so I don’t figure how it helped ‘em much, really…
Oh but okay the worst, really the worst one was we still had… oh man oh man it makes my nose itch just thinkin’ about it… but you gotta promise me if I look like I’m gonna blow you ah… you gotta stop me okay doc? But right, I was telling you the worst one, the worst one of all was sitting outside during football practice. ‘Cause you know, we didn’t have the ah, the astroturf, no, no coach insisted on real grass. But every time they had to cut it, they would cut the grass right before practice and doc? When they first cut the grass? Oh man nothing makes me sneeze worse than fresh cut grass, I mean that was like a fifty-jump sneeze every time—or worse—those were… they made ME jump and I was the one sneezin’ you know? So anyway, the first few practices nobody says anything, or you know, they rib me about it, you know, like guys do, they say, “Hey… Ackerman, you gonna sneeze us off the field? That your plan?” Yeah they were laughing then…
Plus the grass ones weren’t like my normal allergies, and they weren’t like the sun sneezes, you know? The grass sneezes, doc, they would just build… and build… and build, and I’d be squinting up at the sun, hoping it would help me sneeze so I could finally get rid of the tickle, but I’d just sit on the bench for like… five minutes of those mega-dramatic little sniffles and sniffs and breaths like, “eehhhhhhhhhh… heehehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… hhaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… hAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” and I mean I’d still be breathin’ in and I’d practically be shoutin’! I don’t know what comes over me with those grass sneezes but I couldn’t help it! And when it finally came out… Doc, even then I was worried for my health. ‘Cause it was like a bomb went off or something just, “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” And you know, I’d sniff and I’d feel bad about botherin’ everybody and interruptin’ practice but… I’d always still feel that tickle, doc! Way back in my nose just waitin’… I’d probably have to let one go at least two or three times each practice, every time they mowed that field. And that was just what I let go during practice. In the showers, after? Man, guys swore they went deaf listening to me sputter and sneeze. I’d sneeze for twenty minutes straight, either sneezing or itching and gasping and it was even worse ‘cause you know, I couldn’t look up at the sun and I’d just be panting and gasping and guys’d look at me like I was a TNT ready to go off or something…
Anyway, at first, everybody laughs it off. Then they start, you know, they start teasing a little harder. And then they start making fun of me real bad. But I can’t stop, doc, I just… when I smelled that grass it just made me… I mean I just went off like a nuke, felt like I couldn’t stop it whatever I tried. Anyway, they tried to joke me out of em, but it wasn’t like I was doin’ it on purpose! And so we get farther in the season and every time I sneeze during practice, I got the whole team glaring at me. QB says I’m throwing off his arm, ‘cause he’s just waiting for me to go boom. O-Line says they can’t hear the QB over me. By the time we’re deep in the season, and we’re trying to practice a play and I just start shooting off? Nobody’s laughing. I just get these death glares, man. Finally one day, Coach just loses it. He’s like, “Ackerman! You get that damned nose under control, you hear me? You get that nose under control or you’re off the damn team. I’m not kidding around here! Can it with the sneezing or I’m taking you off! You got that?”
And you know I’m terrified, ‘specially since even when he’s saying it I still got that tingle you know, that tingly feeling in my nose that tells me that I might get a sneeze coming at any moment but he said I had to stop sneezing and… doc, I don’t know how to make myself stop sneezing. I’ve always let ‘em rip. Ever since I was a kid, I get a great big itch in my nose, I can’t help it! I just blast out one ‘a my monster sneezes! I’m not equipped to, you know, pinch it and squeeze it down and do those little chew-toy girly girl sneezes. When I gotta blow, I gotta BLOW, doc, no two ways about it. But, the team is important to me so… I start trying to choke ‘em back.
And at first it works, right, doc? I keep my eyes closed when I’m not on the field, ‘cause I know the sun gets to me too. I keep my finger under my nose, and I press real hard every time the itch gets big. And if all else fails and I really gotta let loose… I pinch it. I pinch my nose closed and… doc, you talk about crazy. Keepin’ all that pressure bottled up, it was… it wasn’t comfortable that was for sure. And when I did it that way I’d have to do, like, fifteen of ‘em before I felt any better. And you could tell the guys wanted to make fun of me for it, for doing the chew toy sneezes but they couldn’t, ‘cause they were afraid it’d make me go back to… you know, the real sneezes. Or at least, how they were then…
But it’s never satisfying. I sit there all of practice holding it back, and holding it back, and then doing the little stifle-y sneezes and it’s never… it never feels right, doc. And yeah I’m still blasting em out during the showers but… the more I stifle and the more I hold back, the more I can’t even let ‘em out during the showers. Soon I couldn’t even get a real sneeze out in class, or when I walked outside. Even the sun sneezes failed me, doc! I mean I remember I got a cold for like two days and the whole time, even with a cold—and doc, if there was anything as bad as the grass sneezes, it was my cold sneezes, boy!—even with a cold in my nose, I couldn’t do a real sneeze.
Well, anyway, it helped me on the team. And Coach says I’m doing good work. And I’m getting off the bench more. And then I’m really getting off the bench a lot, and finally, in the last game of the regular season, Coach starts me. And then we go to the playoffs. And I’m starting! I’m starting, Doc, that’s never happened to me. And you know, I’m thinking, well, sure, I can’t sneeze… ever, but… I’m starting. And we get all the way to the playoffs, all the way to State, and ah… at the State game… that’s when things went… off…
We had to drive down to this dinky little college town, like four hours away from home, and… the closer we get to this town the more my nose starts… itching. Like really itching, like… I mean not as bad as when they cut the grass on the field, but… different, like a slow-burning kinda thing that just tickles more and more and more and… I’m not sneezing I’m not even doing the little chew-toy sneezes, the little squeaks. But the itch isn’t going away. It started out so tiny but the closer we got the more that itch grew, and grew… and I felt like… I wanted to start doing those hitching breaths like I used to, when I got hit with the grass smell but… I didn’t want folks to worry that I was losin’ control of my sneezes, like I used to. So I just… didn’t. And it itched, more and more and more, but I didn’t sneeze, didn’t even breathe like I was gonna sneeze. You know, none of the “huh… hehhhhhh… hiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhh…” kinda business. Nothing! I’m on nose lockdown, nobody even knows what’s happening in there but doc, inside my nose it’s just like… like a trampoline party for like… super tiny ants or something, right on the sneeziest part of my nose.
So my nose is already on fire, right doc? Like it’s tickling so bad, probably worse than I can ever remember, ‘cause you know what I was used to was just… you know, getting the urge and blastin it out, right? Okay anyway… we finally get there and we’ve got a night in the hotel before the game right? So you know, I get outta the bus and doc, I gotta tell you I nearly lost it then and there. That tickly feeling got like three times worse all of the sudden, soon as I got outside. I couldn’t see straight I hadta sneeze so bad. But I couldn’t let anybody see it. I blew my nose a little but that didn’t really help. And in my head I’m wishing, oh god, I’m wishing I could just sneeze, however big or loud or hard I had to sneeze, I didn’t care, whatever it took to get that itch outta my nose!
And I still can’t show it to nobody. I mean I froze when I got outside and they’re like, “Are you OK?” and I’m scared to talk, doc! I’m scared to open my mouth cause if I say anything it might make my nose tickle and either way I just know they’re gonna hear the sneeze in my voice, so… so I keep holdin’ it off.
I finally get to the hotel room when my willpower just gives out, just like… I’m in my hotel room, my roommate’s gone out for a sec and it’s not like the walls can hold my sneezes—I know the rooms nearby will hear me—but maybe, just maybe I can let one out, full force, and maybe that’ll get the tickle to where I can stand it at least. So I let the tickle take over and I’m huffing and puffing and I’m sure it’s gonna be a monster but then… the dude who I gotta share a room with walks in and… I couldn’t help it, I just shut it all down and sneezed a little chew-toy sneeze. Only I couldn’t stop. I just kept going with these little squeaky tiny sneezes. All night. Even at the point where we’re trying to get to sleep, and okay I’m lucky the guy I’m rooming with is a decent dude so he’s like, “At least you’re not blowin’ my eardrums out… just… try to knock it off as soon as you can.”
Well I do the squeaky sneezes til I drift off to sleep, a good two hours after my buddy in the other bed has called it a night. And then I wake up, stretch, yawn, take a great big breath of air… and start in with the squeak sneezes again, the little stifle-y sneezes. The other guy in the room just rolls over and gives me a look before he drags himself into the shower. And even while he’s in the shower, I’m all opening the window, looking into the sunlight, trying to get a real sneeze off so I can get some relief, but… nope, no such luck.
So I’m still doing the squeak-sneezes, and they’re just going and going. They’re going while I shower. They’re going while I get dressed. They don’t stop when I get on the bus, just winding up and then another squeezed-down squeaky stifle sneeze, the exact opposite of how I used to sneeze. And they barely give me any relief, almost none at all, and as soon as I get outside, leave the AC in the hotel, whatever it is that got to me about this town just gets about a thousand times worse. And the squeak-sneezes start coming even more often, until it feels like I’m constantly squeaking and it keeps going and going all the way until we’re back on the bus and we’re practically at the field.
And that’s when I realize, doc, like… it don't matter how many chew-toy sneezes I do, this itch isn’t going away. And I can’t play if I’m chew-toy sneezin’, now can I? Coach sees what’s happening, starts rollin’ his eyes and then… I see ‘im and I can’t even blame ‘im, I wouldn’t start me either, popping off with a squeaky little sneeze every two-n-a-half seconds but damn if it didn’t get to me. I mean my nose can’t get any relief, I still don’t get to start, I’m damn near blowing my brains out every time I do one of those squeaky sneezes and most of all doc, most of all there’s this itch, this itch is like… like I just huffed on every flower in the whole hemisphere while staring into the sun on a fresh cut field a grass. And speaking of which…
I start to smell it. Oh no. The field, they…
It was a whole field of freshly cut grass.
Doc, I don’t know how I held on another second, but I did, but I… I mean what happened next I… I wish I’d just… I wish I’d let go before we got out on the field but I… I’m still doin’ the chew-toy sneezes until… until… until… it happened… but anyway I held back for a while longer. I held back the whole time we got dressed, didn't even so much as do a chew-toy squeak. But my nose was on fire. It was like it itched too much to sneeze! But I made it through the warmups and through the Coach’s speech… and after all those chew-toy sneezes I’d done he was sure relieved to have me looking normal. And yeah, I looked normal but inside my nose… was a different story.
And then uh… doc you gotta… well this is why I’m here ‘cause… well okay. Coach is done talking, we’re all warmed up, it’s time to go out on the field right. And my nose… my nose has never felt like this before, right? It just feels like… I’m gonna go nuclear at any second. But I’m looking fine, right, nobody can tell the difference. And it’s driving me crazy but… you know, people have played through worse than a tickle in their nose, even if it’s like… the worst tickle anybody’s ever felt in like a billion years. I can do this, right? Well… that’s what I thought.
So the other team’s already done their whole run out on the field bit and they’re just standin’ there right? Like they’re gonna do some announcement or something or sing the national anthem or whatever… so they want both teams out on the field. And then, we run out and doc, doc, you gotta believe me I tried real hard but… when we ran out on that field… with that grass ticklin in my nose, something just… something snapped and the sneeze I’d been holding for so long… I mean it was like… it was like a year’s worth of sneezes just… I tried to hold it but… I just couldn’t, I didn’t, I had to…
I started sucking in air. Now right away, I knew, even for me, this was gonna be a big one. I mean Coach might drop me from the team right there, during the game but… that tickle in my nose! It was so bad, doc, I didn’t even care anymore. I didn’t give a damn about football or starting or Coach or the whole damn team or the state championship I wanted that itch OUT! I needed to SNEEZE a real, massive, full-size, tornado-strength Jimmy Ackerman AH-CHOO… and besides, whether I wanted to or not, it was coming…
I was gasping. The whole team’s turning around to look at me, even while we’re supposed to be running out onto the field. I’m standing right on the field, right in the end zone, and I… I can’t move. It starts real low, like a “huuuhhhhhhh… huuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…” but I’m feeling… doc I know it’s crazy but I’m feeling like… like there’s a wind rushing towards me, and my eyes are tearing up and all but I blink down and I’m looking at the grass and it’s… doc the grass is swaying a little…
And then it just keeps coming and now I’m really gasping it in like, “HHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…” I mean my chest is swelling and I know I'm not imagining it now… people’s hair is blowing around in the breeze, there are clumps of grass that are just come out of the ground altogether, people are just… they’re just confused, they don’t know what’s happening any more than I do, and Coach is… Coach is walking over and he’s lost it he’s just screaming like, “ACKERMAN! You get that damn nose under control, or I swear… never seen a perfectly good player get so damn sidetracked by sneezing, I mean…”
And, doc… I… I knew it was gonna be a big sneeze, right? But I mean I didn’t know, I couldn’t have known how massive this sneeze was gonna turn out to be. I mean I was used to making people jump with how loud they were but this felt like… well… anyway Coach was right there, in my face, and I was trying… you know I tried to signal as much as I could… tried to get him to move, to get out of the way but… he just kept getting in my space, and I could hardly think about anything… anything except the sneeze, and right when he put his finger in my face, his face is right near my face… I just loose it, doc.
“HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”
I mean doc I’d never sneezed like that… ever, and it… well… I felt all that air blowing out of my nose and my mouth, I felt how much force I was blowing out, how much air I still felt in my lungs as I just kept blasting and blasting… I mean you know my eyes were closed while I was sneezing but I just knew… I was almost afraid to open ‘em you know? And when I did…
Doc I… you’re never gonna believe me but… Doc, I blew Coach halfway across the field. Not just that, I blew most of our team down… ten, fifteen, twenty yards? Doc, the goal post on the other end of the field was swaying. There were banners all around the stands that had blown clean away in the blast, even folks in the stands looked like they’d fallen on top of each other, and… and the worst part was… I wasn’t done.
Doc, I fired off like… ten more of those monsters. I was out of control, I just couldn’t stop. And they never went back to normal, they never got smaller. Just sneeze after sneeze after sneeze. At a certain point people just started running for cover, trying to get away, it was like there was a storm coming but… doc, I was the storm, my nose, my sneezes. Man it was so… embarrassing! And I just kept going and going and going. By the time I finished sneezing, the stadium was basically empty… and basically wrecked. And since then… Doc, my sneezes… they aren’t going back to normal.
I mean they didn’t even want to let me into the hotel room when I got back… and when I did, I totally lost it again, blew out a few windows, totally wrecked the room. I just… I couldn’t help it, it’s like every single sneeze I’d ever held back was just… built up, waiting to get out. And I’ve never had another one quite like that fit at the football field but…
I walk out into the sunlight, get a tickle? Forget a fifty-jump sneeze, it’s liable to be a fifty-foot sneeze, as in people get sneezed fifty-feet away. I mean I haven’t hurt anybody, yet… Coach was a little banged up but he was OK… and the guys were wearing pads… and now everybody knows when I get the sneezes they gotta steer clear. But it’s gettin’ to the point that I’m scared to walk outside! I try to keep my eyes down to the ground but that sun gets to me every time.
And the sneezes in class? I gotta sneeze out the window so I don’t blow nobody through the window! Everybody just leaves a seat by the window for me… and of course I just get more pollen in my nose so I end up sneezing half the class… and I’ve already blown out like ten windows…
And fresh-cut grass, well… let’s just say I don’t get within a hundred feet of anybody’s football field. Hell, my neighbor was mowing the lawn the other day and I was lucky I didn’t blow down his house like the Big Bad friggin Wolf! Doc, it’s crazy! So… so that’s why… I can’t sneeze. Ever again. So uh… will you help me?
--- Dr. Brown was… impressed? Since roughly the midpoint of his story, Dr. Brown had deduced why Mr. Ackerman was so distressed, but he’d searched 13 out of his 79 consciousnesses, and he’d yet to find any situation similar to Ackerman’s. But, he was THE Dr. Brown, the single greatest atemporal, species-agnostic, interdimensional, intergalactic ENT the world had ever seen! If anyone could conquer Ackerman’s admittedly impressive sneezes, it was Doc Brown.
“Well, Mr. Ackerman… I can see now what the problem is… and I have to admit to you, I’m still searching through my multiple consciousnesses and…”
Ackerman made that sour face again. Stupid OldWorlders.
“I mean… I’ll have to finish searching the ah… oh god what did they call it… the um… the inter…”
“Oh you mean searching the internet, doc?”
“Yeah, right, the internet.” Doc Brown barely controlled his eyeroll at that. 21st century technology. “But yes, I’ll have to search the internet, but I haven’t come across a problem like yours in the past.”
Ackerman looked devastated. But Dr. Brown always found a solution! “However… I would love to work with you personally on developing a system to mitigate the effects of your symptoms… ah, you might think of it as a sort of ‘Sneezing Reduction Therapy.’ With any luck we’ll have you back to your old self, just terrifying your fellow humans with your sneezes, rather than blowing them across football fields! Doesn’t that sound great?”
Ackerman brightened up considerably. “Doc! That sounds perfect!”
“Yes… yes… I’m sure it does.” The wheels in Dr. Brown’s head were already turning. (Literally, although the wheels were sub-nano-sized and really only were used for the robo-limbic system, the process for long-term thinking was totally different and involved a great deal more atomic fusion, to say the least…)
--- A few days later, the following ad appeared on advertising media across the galactic center (Doc Brown even sprung for DreamVertising, and you’d think twenty thousand years of marketing experience would get you a better name but, advertisers as always were rather lazy…):
Having issues with your sneezes? Nose causing you dismay? Never fear! Dr. Brown has solutions for sneezing problems of all shapes, sizes, kinds, manners, species, and orders of sentience. Particularly for those having trouble with especially… powerful… sneezes, Dr. Brown’s therapies are a sure-fire success!
Now all that remained was to sit and wait for the clients to roll in…
#snz fic#snz story#male allergies#dr browns interdimensional time travelling sneeze clinic#gigantic sneezes
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Boston Rain
omg so I’ve been sick as hell for a few days and have done literally nothing before and after work because I’ve been slowly dying. ANYWAY, I run a sneeze fetish blog (the url is @sf-galaxy if you’d ever wanna check it out!! No pressure. I just post a lot of....well, fetish shit lol) so I was really feeling In the Mood for some fetishy writing because my recent fics have been more mundane I guess---anyway I will always love Spencer and Tim and I just remember that summer when we stayed up til the buttcrack of dawn crying about them, and I just!! love sneezy Spencer so much!! We didn’t do a hell of a lot with him fetish-wise because I think we mostly focused on Klaus and Phin with a few other folks peppered in (peppered, get it, lol), and like---
okay so I know he HAD a cold when he was hanging out with Cassidy and then it just got worse as they went, but I tweaked it just a bit for this fic so that he had the beginnings of a cold, but didn’t really notice until he and Tim were in Boston. And we’ve mentioned here and there that Tim and Spencer would sort of ‘catch’ the fetish, and I guess this is sort of my take on how Tim would start to really get into it? Like....Idk if this makes sense, but before I was thinking that after hanging out with Dahlia and Eloise and then, he’d be like “Hey you’re right, this is pretty hot”, but now I guess I just think it’s sweeter if he is just SO enamored with Spence that he just starts feeling that on his own? And Tim’s still struggling with his Gay Panic so he like!! Reeeeally wants to hug and kiss and love Spencer at this point and it’s beginning to outweigh his constant DON’T BE GAY thoughts
Ughh what else---so I’m sort of tweaking Alchs so they have normal mouths, but their eyes are still sort of freaky---still working on it!! And this is sort of fucking long lol so let me know if you see this but have to wait til you get out of work or something to read it later or whatever---ALSO YEAH I KNOW I have like 3 things i still need to finish but this was killing me to get out!! @chillediplier @carolionel please tell me what you think!
ALSO WAIT so this post ( http://sf-galaxy.tumblr.com/post/156026087020/kalla-lily-i-am-weak-for-the-idea-of-a ) really sort of inspired me for this too? I’m sorry omg but the idea of Spencer just sneezing everywhere makes me weak!!!
also fuck!! idk why it keeps formatting it weird and putting needless spaces in different spots!! UGHHH anyway please continue
Tim didn't care if Spencer caught him staring. Well, it wasn't so much that he didn't care, but just that he....didn't acknowledge it. All he could do was feel his heart pound in his ears. "HihhHHH..." That shaky gasp of breath, that twitching pointed nose, the way his eyes rolled up just before sliding shut.... "HihhhHH--!! HEehhHHKKShuuHH!!" Spencer finally released, snapping at the waist as the sneeze barrelled out of him. He sniffled blearily and blinked, reaching to rub under his nose with a crooked index finger. "Sorry...." he breathed, though the soft exhale sounded like it was relieved more than anything. "Gesundheit...." Tim chuckled, fingers itching to place his hand on Spencer's back. Or his arm, or his shoulder, or anywhere at all. Tim wanted nothing more than to hold Spencer, no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself. "I told you, you should've brought a jacket...." Spencer sniffled again, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "Ah, hell, I'm....fine, dude," he said, response delayed a beat when his nose twitched irritably again. He sniffled, giving the reddening appendage a wiggle. "I don't g-get sick that much...." "Well, you're gonna get sick in this weather..." Tim murmured, looking up as the light drizzle fell from the dreary clouds over Boston. It wasn’t enough to make him rust, but it would get worse. Maybe it was the feelings he was catching recently, but this felt like the perfect weather to curl up and---dare he say it?---cuddle in. His cheeks burned at the very thought. "Man, I spent the last two years bustin’ heads in 2-Fort. I think I can handle a little rain...." Spencer told him with a confident smile and a shiver that he couldn't quite hide. An instant later, he sniffled loudly and reached to palm the underside of his nose. "Nose just itches...." How was he allowed to be this cute? How was Tim allowed to feel so damn affectionate and soft after years of being anything but? "Here...." Tim murmured, unbuttoning his letter jacket as he spoke. The jacket was one that he won in a Game Stop raffle as a teenager, with the logo of the classic game The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wind sewn into the back. The jacket was a size or two too big, but it was one of the few things he brought with him when he first became an Alch, and even though he rarely grew cold anymore, he still kept it for nostalgia's sake. He offered it to Spencer with a firm hold, so the other man couldn't push his hand away. "Nah, nah, man, I-I'm not gonna take your---" "Take it. I'm not cold," Tim insisted with an easy shrug, as if his stomach wasn't full of butterflies and his heart wasn't aching with the desire to do far more than just offer Spencer his jacket. The ex-Scout took a long moment to consider this before he shivered again at a cold breeze. "Th-Thanks, B..." he said, taking the jacket to slip on. He quickly buttoned it up, sighing at how comfortable and warm it was. The jacket was too big for him, and he practically swam in it with the sleeves going an inch past his fingers. He sniffled again and reached to toy with one of the buttons. "It....smells like you," Spencer said after a moment, a light smile teasing at his lips. Tim flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets, gaze falling to the ground shyly. "I-I'm guessing that's good?" he chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah, real good...." Spencer nodded, taking another deep inhale of the sleeves. "Like....motor oil, but just a little bit. And also like...apple cider, sorta." Tim couldn't help but laugh. "Motor oil and apple cider, huh? Well, I do like chugging cider when it's cold like this....and I did have to change my oil last--..." he paused when Spencer stepped closer to him as the walked, their shoulders pressed together. "....month," he finished weakly, wondering if Spencer could hear his heart pounding. Spencer looked down so the collar of the jacket hid his shy smile. "Whatcha wanna do for dinner?" Tim thought about how easy it would be just to link his arm with Spencer's. Or maybe put his arm around Spencer's waist, or his shoulders. Even just placing his hand on the small of his back was far more than Tim was brave enough to do. "I dunno....room service?" Tim suggested, slipping his hand down to gingerly tuck his pinky finger into Spencer's jean pocket. It was a small move, but it had Spencer moving closer. Spencer sniffled again, looking to his nose with irritation. "R-Room service is....ehHHHxpensive...." he said airily, determined to try and shake off the building sneeze. "Don't worry about it....You let me take care of that." "Nghh...fine, b-but I'll p--hihHHH--pay you b-back...." Spencer hitched, his lashes falling shut as he had to completely stop walking, his body momentarily distracted with the maddening tickling in his nose. He absently raised both sleeves to his face, nose scrunching with a final shuddering hitch. God. I love him. "HeeIIKKchhUUHH!!" Spencer sneezed, buckling into the sleeves before his breath immediately hitched again, brows drawing up with the shaky inhale. "IhhHKcheeUUHHH!! Ohhh, fuck..." he breathed, lashes still shut as he rubbed his nose with the oversized sleeve. "That was buggin' the h-hell out of...me...." he exhaled, looking to be on the cusp of another sneeze. The strangers on the streets of Boston didn't matter to Tim in that moment. Nothing, nothing at all mattered except for Spencer. What was ever important to him before Spencer? "Oh--shit, man, sorry...." Spencer winced a moment later, drawing back from the sleeves he'd just sneezed into. "I didn't---I didn't notice I..." He froze, blinking in surprise when he was pulled close to Tim's side, an arm wrapped around his waist. "....B?" Tim smiled warmly, holding Spencer close as they walked. "Gesundheit...." Spencer only paused briefly before melting into Tim's embrace, his temple lulling against the other man's. "Sorry for sneezin' all over your jacket...." "Don't be," Tim chuckled. "You're not classy like Klaus and carry a handkerchief, so you really don't have many options," he teased. Spencer snorted, rubbing under his nose once more. "Hey, I probably would if I had a water faucet for a schnoz like him. And I'm plenty classy! I was voted Sharpest Dresser in high school." "You were not!" "Well, another kid named Spencer was, and the yearbook committee screwed up and put my picture in instead of his-- but it's my face attached to it!" This had Tim laughing out loud. "Hell, I'd tell people that, too, if that happened to me..." he snorted, reaching with his free hand to dry his eyes. "You’re funny!” Spencer's nose crinkled with a laugh of his own, and Tim felt his heart swell all over again. "Man, I was like Charlie Brown in school! Always trippin' over something or screwin' somethin' up....Took me a while to grow into my legs, I guess...Guess I've always been sorta....I dunno, awkward and annoyin', though...." "Shut up," Tim ordered with a frown. "You're not annoying." Spencer sighed, giving him a light, half-hearted smile. "I know you don't think I am...But I always feel like I get real....loud, ya know, a-and obnoxious....And I don't try to be, b-but I can just....feel myself getting annoying. Especially around Klaus and Eloise and Leon and them... They're my friends, yeah, but they're so chill...." "Eloise started crying yesterday because there was an old man sitting by himself at the diner.”
“Well, yeah, but that was sorta sad...”
“And Leon cuts people open with his psycho girlfriend. And Klaus went batshit on Lionel when he was flirting with Eloise. I mean, I'd probably go batshit if someone was flirting with you," Tim said with a shrug, cheeks reddening a bit, "But I guess my point is that they're far from chill, and so are everyone else we hang out with....I still love Eloise, even if she cries at the drop of a hat. And hell, I'm starting to love Klaus and Leon, too, even if they can get a little nutty...." He met Spencer's eyes and smiled warmly. "And they love you, even if you get a little excited. Hell, I love it when you get excited!" he couldn't help but gush.
Spencer blushed himself, sniffling and holding the jacket closer around himself. "R-Really....?"
"Yeah!" Tim grinned. "When you talk about baseball or video games or something you're pumped about, your eyes get so bright and you talk a mile a minute and...and you're so damn cute," he said quietly, his expression softening. "I've thought that since the moment we came home after busting you out of 2-Fort. That you were cute. 'Course, I wouldn't let myself think about it much....Didn't wanna think I was.....ya know...." Spencer's gaze fell, looking down and away from Tim. "Y-Yeah, I getcha...." he murmured. Tim swallowed and gave Spencer a ginger hug with his arm. "....B-But I am," he clarified quietly, knowing his cheeks had to be burning. "I'm....ya know....with you...." It took a moment, but Spencer finally returned Tim's fond look. "...I-I'm...ya know....with you, too, man..." he said softly with a growing grin. The both of them just smiled to each other, their faces close and their bodies closer as they made their way down the busy Boston sidewalk. A moment later, Spencer yanked his sleeves up to his face again, buckling into them fiercely. "HeEEHHKshhhUUU!!" "Woah,bless you...." Tim exclaimed, feeling Spencer's forehead once he straightened. His Alch tech didn't detect a fever, but that didn't ease his fears any. "You might be coming down with something...." "'M fine....just cold," Spencer sniffled loudly, twitching his nose back and forth. "Ugh! Let's just hurry up to the hotel. You said it’s close, right? I gotta grab a tissue..." "Oh?" Tim hummed before slowing his pace dramatically. "Well, we should put some speed on it...." "You're a dick!" Spencer laughed, trying to keep going faster while Tim slunk behind him. "Doooon't....goooo....alooooooone....." Tim drawled out as if he were in slow motion, taking sluggish and dramatic steps, clinging to Spencer’s arm. "You do know you're grabbin' the arm I just sneezed into, right?" "Oh. That explains why it's wet." "Shut up! It's not--" Spencer only paused in his laughter when thunder clapped overhead. A few people on the sidewalk took out umbrellas, clearly anticipating this in the weather forecast. This had Tim straightening. He took Spencer's hand and scurried along, feeling the previous drizzle become a fine sprinkle. "Come on, it's just another block...." Spencer flushed when Tim held his hand, hurrying along beside the Alch. "What? You gonna rust or something?" "I might..." Tim murmured, seeing the lights of the hotel ahead. "There! That's the place I made the reservation...." Spencer followed his gaze and gaped. "Dude...You got the Sheraton? I love this place!" "I know! You told me!" Tim couldn't help but grin, despite their predicament. He desperately loved the look of joy on Spencer's face. "I mean, I remember mentioning it a bit, but..." Spencer beamed ear to ear to Tim. "You just remember everything, don't ya?" Tim stopped at the corner as cars zoomed by, not noting any passersby. "Nah. I just pay special attention to you in particular." He gave Spencer a swift, adoring kiss, and continued across the street an instant later. Spencer blinked in surprise, but kept moving alongside Tim. He seemed dazed, and Tim worried that he didn't appreciate the surprising (and public) kiss. But his worries were eased a moment later when that dazed look lead to Spencer yanking up the collar of the jacket over his nose, buckling into it with two sudden sneezes. "IhHHZHHUU!! HiHH-!! HeeEEKCHUU!!" "Woah! Bless you, bless you--" HiiIIHHCHHuUUHH!!" "Bless you..." Tim finished fondly, kissing Spencer's cheek before he could help himself. Spencer visibly blushed, collar still over his nose. His eyes crinkled with a hidden smile as Tim guiding him into the automatic front doors of the Sheraton. The rain was coming down harder now, and they slipped into the safety of the hotel lobby just in time to avoid the brunt of it. The both of them panted after that mad dash, fingers still entwined together. They were silent, until Tim reached to smooth Spencer's wet hair from his forehead. "I'm gonna check in..." he said softly, rubbing his thumb over Spencer's. "You have a seat, huh?" "'Kay..." Spencer nodded, his voice low as well. They parted, and Tim resisted looking back to Spencer as he strode to the front desk to check in. As he waited for the concierge, he glanced back at the ex-Scout, who stood by the roaring fireplace. Spencer plucked tissue after tissue from a box on the coffee table, blowing his nose again and again. His third blow was interrupted by a muffled sneeze into the tissues, and Spencer sighed exhaustedly before blowing his nose once more. "Poor baby...." Tim couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "I'm sorry, sir?" He jumped and looked to the gentleman behind the counter, fumbling with his wallet. Once he got the room keys, Tim went back to find Spencer in the same position by the fire, though he was now shivering. Before Tim could ask, Spencer said, "I'm soaking....d-didn't wanna sit down...." he sniffled, clutching the tissues in his fist. Tim nodded in understanding, slipping an arm around Spencer's shoulders to start for the elevator. "Aww, babes, you're freezing...." Spencer shook his head, hugging Tim's jacket tighter around himself. "N-Nah, I'm alright..." he murmured, letting his head lull on Tim's shoulder as they waited for the elevator. Barely a moment passed before he took in a shaky breath. Spencer rose a sleeve to his face, but didn't make it before sneezing wetly down towards his chest. "HIiiKKCHUUU!! Ughh...." he breathed, lashes sliding shut with a sniffle. "S-Sorry, B....I think I've sneezed on every inch of your jacket by now..." "Quit being sorry...." Spencer didn't answer that, but gave Tim a small smirk. "I....liked you callin' me 'babes', though...." Tim rose his eyebrows and chuckled. "You did? Heh, well, now you're permanently 'babes' in my book..." He lead Spencer into the elevator once the doors opened, his arm still protectively around the other man. "...What changed your mind?" "Huh?" "I mean...y-you weren't real interested in....PDA, or....I dunno....bein' in a relationship before..." Spencer shrugged. The words 'in a relationship' sent a strike of fear into Tim's heart, but it also warmed it. "...I'm interested in you," he finally decided on, placing a kiss on Spencer's temple. "And that's all I care about. Our friends....Well, hell, they don't need to know...." Spencer was quiet a moment before meeting Tim's eyes. "Well....m-maybe I want them to know. N-Not right now, but....I mean....I know this is sort of our 'first date' and all, but....I mean, we're real into each other...and if we want to keep this up...then I would want to tell them after a while...." Tim nodded, shame tugging at his soul as he knew he never wanted another soul that they knew to know about this. He wasn't gay. Spencer wasn't gay. Well, hell, maybe Spencer was, but Tim wasn't and he refused to entertain the idea. This was....not a mistake, but more like a one-time thing. Maybe these feelings would pass? The thought hurt the hell out of his heart, though. He felt a stab of panic at the thought of being without Spencer, but he also panicked at the thought of telling another soul about this. "We can talk about it more as we go....Alright?" Tim finally said, hoping Spencer didn't note how completely freaked he was. A small smile pulled at Spencer's lips. "Alright...Thanks, B..." Before the elevator reached their stop, he turned and fully embraced Tim, who took a step back in surprise. They were soon both melted in the warm, affectionate hug, holding each other silently. Until Spencer sneezed, anyway. He didn't release Tim all the way; Just pulled back so he could reach up with one hand, burying his nose in the huge jacket sleeve. "HuuUHHCHHUUU!! Ohhhh---sorry...." Tim didn't let Spencer pull back, yanking him back into the hug. His mind raced with thoughts of Spencer keeping hold of him while he sneezed, Spencer shuddering against him, Spencer letting out that weak little moan afterward, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer..... "....B?" Spencer quirked his head, looking down between the both of them. "You....You hard?" The elevator let out a pleasant little 'ding' when it stopped on their floor. Tim knew he wasn't able to blush much, but he felt like his face was six shades of red. "S-Sorry! Sorry, man, I--- I didn't---I wasn't---"
Before he could continue, Spencer kissed him hard, hands slipping to hold his waist. Tim didn't see any reason to reject the kiss, despite his embarrassment, and leaned closer into Spencer's embrace. The elevator doors began to close, and Spencer jabbed at the button to keep them open. "What's our room number?" he asked against Tim's lips. "1031...." "Let's go." Without another word, they hurried out of the elevator like there was a blazing fire in there. 1000, 1001, 1002.... "B....." Spencer said, eyes wide as he looked to the Alch. "Do you--- ah, I mean--- you got anything to...put on?" 1009, 1010, 1011.... "What? Like a condom?" "W-Well, yeah...." "Why the fuck would we need a condom? As if I'm gonna get pregnant!...Can you? If you can, I mean, it's totally cool, man, I don't care and I still wanna---" "No! I mean, cause--- well, haven't you been with a lotta girls?" Tim couldn't help but laugh. "Well, yeah! But my tech won't let me catch anything! You're safe! I promise!" 1016, 1017.... "A-And, I mean....look, dude, I-I ain't ever...." "Fucked a man? Shit, you think I have?" "N-Not that, but I mean--like---any...." Tim tried not to laugh, resulting in a strangled cough. "You're a virgin? That's so cute!" 1026, 1027.... "Sh-Shut up!" Spencer exclaimed, cheeks burning red. "I mean, I'm just not...I-I dunno if I...W-With a dude, anyway, c-cause I've never had anything---ya know, there...." 1031. "Don't worry about it..." Tim breathed, melting back into a kiss before he opened the door with a pleasing little 'click'. He pulled Spencer in, kicking the door shut behind them. He went for the jacket that had been serving as Spencer's well-loved warmth til them, beginning to unbutton it. He couldn't even admire the fancy hotel room. "I'll take care of you...." Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but the protest died in his throat as Tim moved their hips together, the both of them stiff by now. He went for Tim's buttons, practically having the shirt off before he buckled down towards both of their chests. "---GhHHSHHUUHHH!! S-SorrreeHHH--- HeEEKSHUUU!!" "God, bless you...." Tim panted, pressing a hungry kiss to Spencer's lips. He fumbled with the button of Spencer's jeans, but succeeded in no time. Once the jeans were off, Tim wasted no time in yanking down Spencer's boxers to expose his stiff, heated member. "Fuck....." came his breathless gasp as Tim sank to his knees. Spencer sniffled quickly, palming the underside of his nose to keep a runny nose at bay. He looked like he wanted to protest, but could only let out a shaky exhale as Tim took him into his mouth. Spencer leaned against the wall, hips giving an involuntary buck. "B-Baron..." he pleaded, head lulling against the wall. Tim himself was still stiff as a board, and he wondered if Spencer had ever pleased himself before. Surely, he had?
“F-Fuck, B, I’m....I-I’m gonna...”
Tim closed his eyes and thought about Spencer in his bed at 2-Fort, back arching, fingers curled around his cock--- "HhihhHHHH--" As orgasm and a sneeze both built up so intensely, until he finally had to--- "HeEHHHGSHHUUU!!" Spencer snapped down towards Tim, the sneeze sneaking up on him while he was so consumed with being pleasured. At the same time, Tim couldn't help but moan around Spencer's member, his eyes rolling up as the best orgasm of his life ripped through him. "Ohhhh--- f-fuck----sorry...." Spencer panted, thighs shaking as his fingers wound in Tim's hair. He didn't even notice the other man's climax, far too distracted as he neared his own peak. Tim struggled to continue working at Spencer's member, his mind seemingly traipsing through time and space after that intense result. He had never come without having his cock in something or being touched by someone. He got ahold of himself soon enough, holding Spencer's thighs still as they trembled. Spencer let out a weak moan a few moments later, cumming with another buck of his hips. Tim took his release in full before giving Spencer’s member a few more finalizing licks. “Bless you....” he said softly before kissing Spencer’s tip. "B...." Spencer breathed, drawing Tim out of his previous thoughts. He flashed a tired grin, and despite the obvious delight in his face, Tim noted how he still shivered. "Th-That was--! God!" "Oh, I think God's sort of shaking His head at us right now..." Tim snorted, rising to smooth Spencer's hair from his heated forehead. He took his hand to lead him to the bed, but Spencer stopped them just before reaching it. "Wait. I wanna get you off, too...." Spencer hummed, reaching down for Tim's cock, only to find it limp. "Huh--?" "I....sorta already came," Tim shrugged sheepishly, noting the splattered wall. "I'll clean that up before we go....I'm sure they charge extra for cummin' on the wall...." Spencer blinked in surprise but couldn't help snorting. "You couldn't really have been that turned on by me sneezin' on you?" "What--!? Of course not! I was just-- excited---and---" "Calm down, I was just kiddin'...." Spencer chuckled a bit hoarsely. "As if you're like Elle with that kink a’her’s....B-But, heh, sorry about that...Couldn't really help it, I was so..." "Enthralled with my cocksucking abilities? Yeah, they're pretty great. Thank you for noticing." Spencer rolled his eyes and smirked, giving him a light shove before pulling back to cough against his fist. "Sorry..." he winced, palming the underside of his nose. "Cold weather still gettin' to me...." Tim's expression softened as he sighed. He gingerly lowered Spencer's hand so he could kiss his nose. "You've just got a cold, Spence...." Spencer flushed and looked down. "....M-Maybe....Just don't tell Leon, huh? Or Jo! God, she's even freakier than Sasquatch....Or Eloise, cause then she’d just worry...” Tim chuckled and nodded, rubbing his thumb over Spencer's. "I won't breathe a word. Now, you get in bed, and I'll run downstairs and grab something to eat." "Let's just stay here for now, huh? I just want....” Tim nodded, pulling back the blankets on the bed. "I just want you, too..." he said with a fond smile, bringing Spencer to burrow under the covers with him. He blushed as the ex-Scout nestled cozily against his chest and asked, "I-I'm not too cold for you, am I?" "Nah, nah....you're actually pretty warm for once, dude...." Spencer sniffled, rubbing his nose with his wrist. He stifled a yawn against a curled knuckle, lashes sliding shut. "I'm....I'm real happy...th-that we're tryin' this out....you 'n me..." Another pang of fear struck Tim's heart. He swiftly swallowed back the panic and kissed Spencer's hair. "I....I am, too...." And they stayed curled that way, listening to the rain tap against the windows, walls, and the cloudy Boston streets.
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