tg's annual sneezefic meme (2019)
Apr. 2nd, 2019 07:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgal
Directions:
1. Post prompts. Any fandom (original fic allowed as well) and any pairing, as long as there is potential sneezing involved character. There is no limit to how many prompts you can post.
2. Please warn for anything current that might be potentially spoilery!
3. Prompt posting will be open while there's interest, most likely until this time next year
4. Reply to any prompts you like with art/drabbles/ficlets/fics in parts/links to fics in your blog. The entry must not be friends-locked.
5. Please warn for anything that might be a trigger including something an emetophobe like me might have a problem with.
6. Prompts can have as many fills as people feel like writing. Just because one person has filled a prompt doesn't mean you can't write for that prompt as well. Different spins on the same thing are absolutely welcome!
7. There will be no deadline for fic responses. If you see a prompt you like and want to write it, go ahead!
8. There's no limit to how many you can write either. WRITE THEM ALL!
9. Please feel free to pimp this on any communities and forums you think would be interested in this.
10. You are allowed to repost prompts from previous or other memes. If the prompt belongs to someone else, just give them credit. You're also more than welcome to reprompt your own!
11. My birthday is April 19. I'm just saying...
Have fun, everybody!
Fills:
Sneezing and wearing fingerless gloves.
Water Demons by
vergoftowelsMarvel
"Wow. How many times have you sneezed today?"
"I don't know, I lost count."
A Head Cold, Exhaustion, and a Complicated Washing Machine by
tarotgalMiddle Earth
It's a bit embarrassing to be the only Elf with allergies. Luckily, the elf's significant other finds it more than a little endearing.
Suffering is Temporary by
tarotgalOriginal Characters
A character has a cold but just feels a little like sneezing from it. The character doesn't have allergies but does get an itchy nose at really powerful scents. Combine the two and the character has to sneeze so badly!
They've Discontinued My Perfume by Anonymous
Character gets turned on by their own sneezing (whether just naturally, or because of a curse or something) and tries to ignore it. But then they catch a cold or have a strong allergic reaction to something, and it becomes harder and harder to ignore, so to speak.
Exhibit by
vergoftowels"Wow. How many times have you sneezed today?"
"I don't know, I lost count."
Untitled by
vergoftowelsPerson A is carrying something delicate (like a fresh painting, tray of china, hot bowl of soup) and there's nowhere for them to put it down when they feel a sudden sneeze coming.
Person B come over to steady them and ends up catching the oncoming sneezing fit for Person A while trying to protect whatever item it is.
Toward Satisfaction by
tarotgalTwo characters have to share one small sleeping bag, so small that there's barely room to turn over. One character is coming down with a cold and can't help but sneeze over the other person all night long.
And OMG, They Were Rollmates by
vergoftowelsSupernatural
Sam's got a cold, and colds and migraines really don't mix well.
Vigilance by
tarotgalStar Wars
Finn's been on suppressants all his life, because sexual urges are just a distraction for stormtroopers. Now that he's off them, he's discovering all kinds of new things, including that he really likes it when Poe sneezes.
Tell Me What You Want by
tarotgal
Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 1/2)
Date: 2019-05-22 06:15 pm (UTC)---
"Okay, we don't know what we're dealing with here, so let's be careful." Gerrit pushed open the heavy wooden door and lifted his torch to illuminate the room inside. The firelight played over several tables covered in intriguing objects and glinted teasingly off of more than one hint of gold. Gerrit himself spotted a stolid wooden chest in the corner and his heart rate quickened.
"Jackpot," breathed Remembrance, the party's resident ne'er-do-well. She rubbed her hands together, sharp nails clicking. Gerrit was sure she was assigning price tags to the lot of it, except for whatever she hid in her bags for herself, of course. "I know a guy in the capitol who'll pay through the nose for that pervy little statue there."
"That is a religious object," chastised Cordes with a haughty tsk. "It's used in rituals of worship for the goddess Fortuna."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be worshipping," cackled Remembrance, and she slipped past Gerrit into the vault. "Few hundred gold and he'll be rubbing out a grand ol' prayer." Her pointed tail waved with greedy delight.
"Hey! The proper course of action would be to bring it back to a temple!" Cordes went after her, pushing Gerrit aside.
The half-elf grumbled but wasn't surprised. "At least TRY not to touch anything cursed," he called. He'd been the one to organize this little band, but although he was the one who reported to their patron, he had precious little influence over what they did. They were happy to point to him when some upstart had a problem with the party, though. Ingrates. He turned to the last member of the group. "What about you, Llewellyn? I thought I saw some books on the far table."
"Lead the way," replied the sorcerer, and his usually mellifluous voice sounded strained. Purple shadowed the hollows under his faintly luminous silver eyes, and he had his nose tucked into his handkerchief again. Gerrit hadn't spent much time around full elves, but he'd always believed they couldn't get sick, at least not like a human or dwarf. Llewellyn had been dragging since Saints' Day, though, and seemed to have come down with a flu. His skin, where visible under his fitted robes, was wan.
"Sure," said Gerrit, and he stepped into the room, holding the door out so that Llewellyn could join him. "You, uh, you don't look like you're feeling any better."
"Oh," said the sorcerer, "I'm not. I ran out of tonics." He entered the vault and walked over to one of the tables, investigating a strangely shaped glass bowl. "But as we were already down here, I'm not sure what you want me to say. There's no inn at which I might rest my weary bones."
"Cordes could make you an herbal remedy," Gerrit grumped. He went over to the chest he'd seen earlier and smashed the lock off with the pommel of his dagger. He didn't need any fancy lockpicking tools like Remembrance's. And hitting something felt good when his companions were all intent to be annoying, acerbic, or both.
"I suppose," Llewellyn replied, sounding uncertain as his voice wavered.
Gerrit tried to ignore the way his ears heated at that. That was the tone that overtook the elf when he was preparing to sneeze. It wasn't any of Gerrit's concern. His occasional roll in the hay (literal and figurative) with Llewellyn did not make it easier or more appropriate to acknowledge his odd attractions, especially since they were currently ransacking a dungeon with a priest and a psychopath. He focused his attention on searching the chest, and he was rewarded with a heavy coin purse, a stack of calfskin-bound journals, and a ruby the size of a robin's egg. He whistled.
Llewellyn gasped. "Hah- hahttsch-ow!"
"'Ow'?" Cordes appeared from behind a bookshelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a thick rug, the other reaching for his pack of salves. "What is it? Cut? Burn?"
When Gerrit looked, their sorcerer was rubbing his nose with his left hand. "Bruise," Llewellyn said. He lifted his right hand, in which he held a blue crystal orb that was knotted inside a thin lattice of gold chain. "I got my hand caught." He'd apparently run the thing into his nose when trying to cover his sneeze. Llewellyn's thin face was already dusted pink from the embarrassment. Gerrit couldn't help but laugh.
"Very graceful," he chuckled.
"I will thank you for keeping it to yourself," Llewellyn replied, and that was elvish dialect for "fuck you." Gerrit laughed again.
Cordes had leaned over to see the orb better in the firelight. He was the only one among them whose vision was hindered by the dim light. "What kind of artifact is this?" he asked. "It doesn't resemble anything I've studied."
"I'm not sure." Llewellyn held it up to the torch. The orb lit up like a lamp, but otherwise nothing happened. "Whatever this chain is, though, it's very prone to tangling." He tried to shake it off his wrist and failed. This was a task for both hands, and he set to freeing himself. And kept trying. And trying.
Gerrit frowned. "What are you doing? Cordes, would you get that off of him?"
"Sure." The priest reached out to help, but Llewellyn suddenly backed away out of reach. "Uh... I'm not trying to steal it, elf."
"Oh, I would let you take it," Llewellyn said, scowling. "But I have a feeling we would be in for some trouble if you touch it now." He held up both hands. His palms were wrapped around the crystal and bound with the ball in that thin gold chain. "I am... I'm stuck."
---
Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 2/2)
Date: 2019-05-22 06:26 pm (UTC)"I recall you said so as well," said Cordes, who looked exactly like a run-of-the-mill human resident except for the star-like scar on his left temple. He reached down and grabbed Gerrit's hand, steadying the half-elf as he climbed out of the hole. Llewellyn was hanging uncomfortably on Gerrit's back, arms looped around the other man's neck. They'd tried to find a more dignified way to get him out of the dungeon, but he couldn't manage the ladder well enough without the use of his hands.
"The artifact didn't react to my detection spell," sniffed Llewellyn disdainfully, and Gerrit was quick to set him down before that sniffing could become another sneeze. He didn't want to blush in front of the others.
"There must be someone in Veigh who can help you," Gerrit said. "We'll just swing by on our way to the capitol." The city was three days out of their way, but they couldn't have Llewellyn stuck this way for the two week trip back to their patron. With his hands bound, he couldn't cast any spells that required him to gesture, and that was almost all of them. He'd effectively rendered himself completely useless in combat. Veigh had a chapter of the Mages Guild in residence, though, and if no one there could help, they might at least be able to send Llewellyn on ahead via a transportation spell.
"I will hope there is." Llewellyn looked pale and worn, though his fine features still exuded the otherworldly beauty of the high elves. His hair was a silky black, although mostly covered by his hood, and the contrast made his silver eyes look even more curious. He fumbled for a minute at his waist before scowling heavily. "I can't get into any of my bags, of course..."
"What do you need?" asked Gerrit. Remembrance had started off through the trees, humming, her bulging pack swaying with her sinuous movements. Gerrit really didn't want to let her get too far ahead, not least because she was scary good at concealing herself in the foliage and might slip the party completely. However, Cordes was with her, and Llewellyn couldn't exactly fend for himself right now.
"My handkerchief..." The elf's voice had gone wavery again, and Gerrit watched as his nostrils flared.
Fuck.
Gerrit hurriedly patted his pockets until he produced his own handkerchief, or what he bothered with when necessary. It was a large square of flannel, rough around the edges. It wasn't embroidered or monogrammed like Llewellyn's, but he figured by now the flannel was a hell of a lot cleaner, and it was soft for an irritated nose. "Here, take mine."
Llewellyn held out his hands plus the orb for it, breath hitching, but no matter how Gerrit tried to drape the cloth, it kept slipping off of the artifact. He supposed he could try to tie it around the-
Llewellyn made a desperate sound and tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. His breath was coming in soft pants now. And he was raising the orb reflexively.
Gerrit couldn't let him whack himself in the face again, so he did the only other thing he could think of. With one hand he reached out and took Llewellyn by the shoulder. With the other, he lifted the handkerchief and pressed it over the elf's nose. His fingers settled firmly on either side of Llewellyn's nostrils, and none too soon. After another half-hitch, Llewellyn ducked forward again with a quiet but insistent sneeze.
"Happtsch!
Gerrit was sure he was beet red. “Bless you,” he mumbled. Through the cloth, Llewelyn’s nose felt hot, and any gentle pressure resulted in a bit of a squish. “Let me just…”
"Whh- wait-" Llewellyn leaned into the handkerchief. "I'm nh- I'm not done hhH-" His eyes slipped shut and he gasped again.
Gerrit swallowed and tried to ignore the tenting of his breeches. "R-roger that." He could feel Llewellyn's nostrils twitching against his fingers.
"Hh...Haah- Hapttschuh! Snrk... Aptschiu!" His body rocked, and he took a half-step forward. Gerrit could hear the thick sound of congestion in the elf's nose as he tried to stave off another sneeze.
"Blow your nose," he said. "It will help."
Llewellyn hesitated, but in the end, he had to comply. There was nowhere for the mucus to go except out. He started to blow with a gurgle.
Gerrit moved the hand from his shoulder to start rubbing Llewellyn's back. The handkerchief and his fingers were rapidly growing damp, but he really didn't mind. "There you go."
He held the handkerchief to Llewellyn's nose until the elf moved back on his own. His nose was red and tender looking, and his cheeks were flushed rosy. He didn't seem to want to meet Gerrit's eyes. Gerrit didn't mention it. He didn't really want to look at Llewellyn either right now. It had been a while since the elf had looked so very fuckable.
He put the handkerchief in an easily-accessible outside pocket of his vest.
"Ready to go?"
Llewellyn coughed lightly. "Yes."
"Excellent." Gerrit gestured for Llewellyn to precede him, and the two of them headed out through the trees, following the sounds of Cordes negotiating the underbrush and swearing about it.
---
Travel proved easy enough once they made it to the road. They were fortunate not to meet anyone else along the way. The party could handle a group of bandits without their sorcerer, but they had their treasure to worry about, and Remembrance always drew stares, and sometimes aggression, even from normal travelers. Gerrit thought her skills more than made up for the extra negative attention they drew. And anyway, Remembrance was crazy but she wasn't evil. She did better out on the road than in town, but that was probably true of all of them.
Llewellyn kept up with her pace, but it was clearly a struggle. He was usually fairly quiet, but he didn't speak at all as they walked, focusing on breathing and not devolving into coughing or more sneezing. There were a few times when Gerrit hastily reached into his pocket, at the ready, but Llewellyn fought back the itch with admirable determination. He kept his nose from running by sniffling heavily, which sounded somewhere between awful and revolting. Cordes commented on it multiple times with disgust, but nothing could be done. Llewellyn held his tongue, and Gerrit was reluctant in this case to offer the handkerchief without being asked.
They found a place to camp about half an hour outside the small village of Tewks. Remembrance cleared out some brush to make a flat area for the bedrolls and then promptly decided she'd rather sleep in a tree with everything she owned. She found a good, solid oak a few yards from the camp and ensconced herself in the crux of its branches. She had a good view of the road in either direction and volunteered to take the second watch in the middle of the night, which was her favorite time.
Gerrit agreed to take the first watch as Cordes started to set up his tent. The priest refused to sleep on the ground and always took an extra fifteen minutes to erect a curious one-person canvas canopy. It wasn't even large enough to sit up inside, but whatever. The priest never asked anyone else to haul it along, so Gerrit wouldn't complain.
These arrangements left him and Llewellyn alone together on one side of the fire, and he supposed that was preferable during the orb situation anyway. Llewellyn couldn't handle his own bedroll, help with the fire, or unpack any of their supplies. Gerrit realized he would probably have to help the elf eat, too. And... Well, when he noticed Llewellyn fidgeting uncomfortably, Gerrit took him out into a thicker copse to see to his other needs. They didn't talk about it... Llewellyn could hardly undo his own buttons, though, and it wasn't the first time Gerrit had taken over.
By the time the fire was hot enough to cook over, Llewellyn had tucked himself up to sit on a tree stump, exuding an aura of furious self-reproach. Cordes took some jerky into his tiny tent with him - for some reason. Gerrit made up two bowls of pottage and sat himself on the ground at the roots of the stump. He put one bowl on the ground for himself and then held up the other. "Hungry?"
"Not particularly," Llewellyn replied, voice blunted with congestion. He coughed. "But you're going to make me eat something, aren't you."
"I'd prefer you do it willingly." Gerrit tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl. "Come on. It's hot. You'll feel better."
Llewellyn growled in a manner more suited to orcs than elves. "I feel like an invalid."
Gerrit sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, we can pretend you lost your arms in an owlbear attack very tragically." He could feel Llewellyn's fiery glare on him and smiled a little. "Look, we've all done stupid things while adventuring. I'm sure you remember when I tripped and knocked myself out on that knight's shield during the tournament."
"I remember," replied the elf, begrudgingly.
"Besides, you're sick on top of the whole orb thing. Maybe your detection spell wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe the thing's not even cursed! Maybe it's supposed to do this, and we just don't know why."
"I have a hard time believing that. What possible purpose could this serve?"
Gerrit shrugged. "Don't ask me. Dad says my mother was a druid, but I haven't got a magical bone in my body." He tilted his head. "We could always try smashing it?"
Llewellyn's rejection was forceful. "Do you want to explode?!"
Gerrit chuckled. "Not really."
Llewellyn sighed. Gerrit held out a spoonful of pottage.
Feeding both Llewellyn and himself was a bit difficult, but Gerrit did well enough when he could alternate. It would be better if he could use both hands equally like Cordes, but he couldn't, and so he didn't. He just thought about it wistfully as he worked. Llewellyn ended up eating most of his bowl, then went back to sitting quietly and sniffling. Gerrit finished the rest and put the utensils aside to deal with later. And... Even though Llewellyn hadn't asked, he drew out his handkerchief again.
"Hey," he began, trying not to sound awkward. "You wanna blow your nose?" No one else was paying attention and Llewellyn didn't need to inhale any more of that crap. The elf gave him a shitty side-eye. "Come on," said Gerrit. "Don't be like this." He patted the ground in front of him encouragingly as if Llewellyn was a recalcitrant cat.
"I'm fine," said Llewellyn, and then betrayed himself with a quick breath. "Hah--"
"Come on," Gerrit repeated, "before you make a mess."
Llewellyn came down off the stump to sit in front of him, legs tucked underneath, and rested the orb on Gerrit's thigh to balance himself. His eyes were pinched with reluctance, but Gerrit could see that the elf's nostrils were already damp. "Hah- hh- hurry," Llewellyn gasped.
Again, Gerrit reached out with the handkerchief, enfolding his companion's nose. He could feel Llewellyn's breath fluttering against his hand through the fabric and hear quite clearly how it kept catching on congestion.
"Hah-hngk- Hahgkttscht!" Llewellyn ducked forward with the force of it and Gerrit steadied him with a hand on his hip. "Ngkttsch! Hnggktxch!!"
Gerrit bit his lip sharply to keep from saying anything, but his body was singing with arousal. Llewellyn hiccuped a short gasp and Gerrit pulled the handkerchief away to present a clean corner. The current spot had become soaked and silvery. "Bless," he managed after a moment, and he carefully readjusted the cloth. "Are you going to sneeze again?"
Llewellyn nodded, eyes teary with the effort of the first bunch. Gerrit wasn't surprised; the elf had been holding back since they left the dungeon. He couldn't imagine it had been comfortable, but Llewellyn had his pride. He never would let Gerrit give him love bites either. Annnd Gerrit was going to have to stop thinking about that.
"Haptsch!"
Easier said than done. Really. But Llewellyn's comfort came first.
"Hahkptsch!" The sorcerer groaned softly. "Hah- hh- Hgnaptscxhx!"
Gerrit did his best to assist Llewellyn through the fit. He kept the handkerchief secure, moving it when necessary to keep it dry enough. He steadied the elf when the sneezes bent his body or when he felt faint from lack of breath. He even massaged Llewellyn's nose for him when he was trying to blow it and the congestion was stubbornly refusing to move. By the time he felt finished enough to lean back, Llewellyn was flushed and light-headed, swaying where he sat. Gerrit was sweating and needed a towel.
"........Thanks," murmured Lleyellyn, eventually.
"Yeah," said Gerrit. "Sure." He swallowed. "Let's wash up." He helped Llewellyn to his feet and they went a little way to a creek (generously; it was little more than a ditch through the woods). Gerrit gently washed Llewellyn's face, careful of his tender eyes and nose, and sent him back to camp to lay down for the night. He lingered at the water's edge to wash the handkerchief and, well, to take other matters in hand.
Llewellyn was completely out when he returned, and Gerrit was grateful. He smoothed the elf's bangs back and then settled beside the fire to take watch. The woods in the dark were full of the sounds of insects and small animals moving in the undergrowth. And Llewellyn snoring and sniffling in his sleep. Safe sounds. Gerrit rested his chin on his hand and looked toward the road.
Damn orb. It was going to be a long way to Veigh.
Re: Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 2/2)
Date: 2019-05-22 07:35 pm (UTC)And before I get started with proper feedback, let me just tell you I burst into laughter at the thought of a terrible owlbear attack. LMAO!
I loved:
*the D&D flavor to this story and the characters
*the idea of the elf's sensing spell possibly having been weakened because of his illness.
*that these characters had a lot of history with each other--as adventurers and as occasional fuckbuddies as well. Made for a really fun dynamic and made the intimacy and trust required very unique here--how Llewellyn had to depend on him and how Gerrit was absolutely going to help, and how they didn't have to talk about it because they both knew there was no alternative arrangement that would work
*Really loved all the emotions, really, from the teasing to the wary mistrust to the lust
*the way the handkerchief kept sliding off the orb (not sticking to it) like Llewellyn's hands were. LOL
*Gerrit being so turned on but putting Llewellyn's needs before his own and taking SUCH good care of him
*Gerrit knowing he needed to help Llewellyn relieve himself when L got fidgety and them not talking about it
*sooo much wet sniffling. ALL THE SNIFFLING. EVEN THE DISGUSTING SNIFFLING. YES PLEASE.
*Llewellyn trying so hard not to sneeze but letting it happen
*That OMG BEAUTIFUL casual yet charged 'Hey, want to blow your nose?' line. Oh, babe. *pats Gerrit's head*
*this bit forever: Gerrit could see that the elf's nostrils were already damp.
*Llewellyn's "I'm nh- I'm not done hhH-" and his "Hah- hh- hurry." FUUUUCK
*Gods, your spellings. They are magical
OKAY I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON for imagining "afterward" scenes with your characters all the time, but you just paint such vivid images of them, and it's hard not to want more. I'm just imagining what would happen if, during second watch or third watch some night when they're both asleep Llewellyn happens to roll over and the orb comes into contact with Gerrit's skin and sticks. Maybe his hand also or the back of his neck or his hip or I don't know. But just somewhere not too inconvenient that would bind them together and make Gerrit escaping away to take care of his arousal impossible. Maybe by then Llewellyn's over the worst of his flu and it's just a whoooole lot of sneezing left.
Wouldn't mind finding out more about those love bites either, though *G*
Re: Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 2/2)
Date: 2019-05-31 03:50 pm (UTC)Gerrit and Llewellyn are characters I made up on the fly, but I am perishingly fond of them. High fantasy is my home away from home and I fricking love elves, especially elves who are fantastically gorgeous and who I can then whump the crap out of.
I looove your tendency to write little epilogues! I do want to write more for these two. Now I'm thinking the orb is a magical bondage device and it will come off after a particularly satisfying orgasm.... I'm terrible. XDD
Re: Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 2/2)
Date: 2019-05-31 04:41 pm (UTC)I LOVE the magical bondage orb idea. "Hmm. Looks like that orgasm wasn't satisfying enough. We'd better try again."
Re: Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 2/2)
Date: 2019-05-31 08:06 pm (UTC)Re: Orbs Are BAD NEWS, Original, M/M (Part 2/2)
Date: 2019-06-02 12:40 am (UTC)