1/8th Feral

She/her. Mid-twenties. Bi. Need friends. Open to DMs. Minors DNI.

[atticfilth]

A memory that has plagued me for years and years:

So in high school, I didn’t quite understand why I was so fascinated with sneezing. In my calculus class, there was this guy at my table of 4. I wasn’t into him or anything, but he was nice to everyone, and I would often help him out with some of the problems.

He must’ve had a cold one week because he was awfully sneezy. At the time, I wasn’t as normal as I am now, so I couldn’t help but my eyes snap to him whenever I heard him start to hitch.

He started hitching, and it was dramatic and long and drawn out, his head tilted fully to the ceiling, face pinched in itchy agony…

ah…

Ah…

HaH…

AHHHHHH-

😜

He must've noticed my staring at him because instead of sneezing, he turned directly to me, full eye contact, in this teasing ‘haha, made ya look,’ way.

Think of the most your face has ever blushed. Now multiply it by 10, compare it to mine, and be amazed at how they still don’t compare. I rolled my eyes and smiled in faux annoyance at the teasing. He did that a couple more times, but it had only worked on me once more before I started expecting it and deliberately ignoring him. And he started doing it every day for like a month.

Did he know? Was he just joking? Did he do it just because he noticed me staring? Did everybody notice? Was he laughing with me or at me?

I think I attribute this as the reason I freeze and quickly avert my gaze in the complete opposite direction when people sneeze. Perhaps this is why I myself have a weird holdup about sneezing in public. Unless it’s not just a me thing…

[atticfilth]

Okay so this one daydream has plagued me for years to the point of becoming an intrusive thought.

Imagine this person you’ve been pining over, but they’re so unattainable. Perhaps a coworker or boss. A friend of a friend. The neighbor you see once a week. You know you’ll never be with them, but there’s some insatiable need to see them come completely undone, just once. Head tilted back, breaths hitching, eyelashes fluttering, nostrils flaring. How intimate it would be to bless them. To be there, during a particularly high pollen count summer, to offer a tissue.

It’s something your professional/distant/unfamiliar relationship could never provide you. Not without a scheme.

You buy a little white fuzzy keychain plushie infused with the scent of coconut. Next time you see this person, you give it to them as a gift.

“It’s supposed to smell like coconut,” is all you have to say. Human nature dictates they would smell it to confirm or deny that statement. They bury their nose into the long fuzz to reach the body of the plush.

What nobody but you knows, though, is that you packed sneezing powder onto the plushie before arriving. If all goes to plan, right in front of you, this person will devolve into a desperate fit.

And the best part? It’s not suspicious that you’re looking directly at their every feature, you did in fact just give them a gift and were waiting with bated breath for their reaction.

“Are you alright? Oh my God… are you allergic to coconut?” you could say after countless blessings. You could take the plushie from them as you usher them somewhere more private to clean up. And when they’ve finally caught their breath, you could hand back a non-sneezy replica. You’ve gotten yours, and they’ll likely think it was a crazy adverse reaction to the manufacturing materials.

Is it right? No, not at all. Tempting? So very.