Why is my social media trying to sell me sneezing as some sort of meditation? 'The only time we're not thinking is during a sneeze or an orgasmn.' Sure. I love both. You caught my attention.
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@mimikusu
Why is my social media trying to sell me sneezing as some sort of meditation? 'The only time we're not thinking is during a sneeze or an orgasmn.' Sure. I love both. You caught my attention.
I know I'm being very particular once again, but can I maybe have someone who's basically turning into a big whiny and very dramatic baby when sick? Someone who desperately needs their Mommy/Daddy to watch and fuss over them? Especially if they're very capeable and self-sufficient when they're healthy. Someone who's basically a strong top most of their time, but a very bratty bottom when they're having so much as only a hint of a cold.
I don't know if anyone even cares, but I needed a closure for this one.
Here's a little scribble loosly inspired by @empresskaze's backroom-post and @silklined's tags.
Person whose job is in a backroom/storage room, some place that's normally cold espc in the winter when their workplace doesn't heat those areas.
So person is back there doing w/e, feeling cold, maybe has a sweater on. Sniffles begin, needing to rub their nose.
Person doesn't think much of it as theyre used to it, but after working in that room for several days, they're sneezing, shivering a bit, coughing but need to do their job so they just continue on.
For the prompts —
“Is there anything more annoying than being sick outside of cold and flu season?”
— for whoever it makes you think of first!
Well. This went places I wasn't expecting. I hadn't really planned to explore R/ipper and 1970s G//ethan, nor had I planned to play around with the idea of Kink!G/iles quite yet, but here we are. Can also be read as kink!E/than if you want, though that's not explicitly the case. Not quite 18+, but I think it's pretty clear where this is going.
Contains: male cold sneezing, mlm, a bit of mess, implied past contagion
“Is there anything more annoying than being sick outside of cold and flu season?” E/than asks petulantly from where he's draped over one end of the sofa. "Thatcher?" R/upert suggests with a lazy yawn, raising a knuckle to scrub idly at his left nostril. There's a tickle lurking just out of reach, not quite enough to actually make him sneeze, but it won't seem to go away either. E/than rolls his eyes theatrically, crumples the tissue he's just blown his nose into, and considerately lobs it at R/upert's head.
I totally forgot that I did this. Thank you for reminding me! It's an alltime favorite!!
Here's the promised second half. 🙏🏻
NSFW under the cut. 💕
Unlawfully sick!
Lately I can't help but be stuck in a loop of: going out dancing/drinking/whatever while getting sick and subsequently getting worse. And by the time they're home, they can't keep themselves from sneezing and sneezing and sneezing... and while the activity would have been enough to leave them craving, the fact that they keep sneezing like that is making it worse...
Trouble In Paradise Part 3 - Ambrose and Cecil
aka the picnic fic
Part 1 | Part 2
this part is more angsty then illness. not betad im too tired. oh there's an Easter egg in this part for readers ^^ wonder how many will notice
~~~~
Molly worked her magic as best as she could providing hot herbal wine to sooth Ambrose's cough. The mustard plaster wasn't his favorite but anything to rid himself of congestion if only for a few hours would be worth it.
“You look quite handsome, sir, if I may say so.” Molly said as she pulled Ambrose's hair into a ribbon tying it back.
“Thank you, Molly.” Ambrose smiled, tucking a handkerchief into his sleeve.
His reflection in the mirror looked better than he felt, the dark blue coat paired with the powder blue waistcoat was a nice change from his normal brown attire.
“Enjoy yourself tonight Mr Beaumont and please alert me if you need anything, I shall be helping Lord Lockhart's staff.” Molly said as she opened the door.
“Thank you and I will.” Ambrose nodded.
Letting out a raspy sigh, Ambrose once again fiddled with his tie before heading out and down to the main ballroom.
The halls were packed with guests socializing, laughing, gossiping as Ambrose weaved his way through the crowds trying to find Cecil.
Freddy caught his eye and winked at him then turned his attention back to the man on his arm and the woman on the other.
Rolling his eyes, Ambrose finally saw Cecil in with a large group of people right near one of the entrances to the ballroom.
The string band played, waiters offered drinks, and guests maneuvered their way in.
Ambrose relaxed a bit when he approached Cecil who was engaged in a conversation with a man Ambrose knew but not by name.
He waited for a break in the conversation before alerting Cecil to his presence but noticed Edmund Lockhart staring at him.
Swallowing hard, Ambrose cleared his throat hoping Cecil would turn but with all the chatting, it went unheard.
Several minutes passed before he caught Cecil's eyes.
“Ambrose?” He turned with a frown, then leaned in, “You shouldn't be here.”
Taken aback, Ambrose scoffed, “And why not? I told you earlier I'd be attending tonight, what gives you the right...”
“Cecil!” Lord Lockhart's voice boomed over Ambrose's as he approached both men, “You've many more suitors to meet, let's not keep them waiting.”
Cecil's expression pained momentarily then returned to stoic before his father noticed. “Yes Father.” He turned back to Ambrose, “I will speak with you at a later time.”
Ambrose nodded curtly. "Of course, I apologize for interrupting." The effort to keep his voice steady was taking its toll. So he stood silently several feet away while he watched Lord Lockhart efforts to find his son a better suitor bow, curtsy, and brown nose their way into the conversation.
Ambrose kept his mouth shut, taking a glass of wine whenever a servant passed with a tray.
Occasionally, Cecil would look his way but the glimpses were always fleeting.
He felt pressure building, that burning sensation in his lungs, so excused himself to a quiet corner where he coughed into his handkerchief, and desperately fought tears.
Closing his eyes he took a breath. This wasn't new. Cecil would always garner attention. Ambrose simply yearned for it not to be at Edmund's hand.
"Why doesn't he concentrate on Freddy?" Ambrose muttered under his breath as he rubbed at his nose again.
"Because even his Lordship recognizes folly." A tall man, probably Ambrose's age stood next to him now. Finely dressed in a deep green waistcoat and tan satin ascot, his light green eyes were friendly as smiled at Ambrose who was briefly taken aback.
"Oh where are my manners," He said putting out his hand, "Carlton Lane, nephew of Lord Lockhart, my mother is his sister, Lady Avis Lane." Carlton pointed to a woman in a lovely blue dress and hat near the center of the room, surrounded by others.
"Ambrose Beaumont, pleasure. But please do not take offense for not taking your hand, I am feeling a bit under the weather today." He sniffled quickly then bowed.
"Ah so you're Cecil's appraiser. He speaks very highly of you." Carlton said, taking out a cigarette case and offering one to Ambrose.
"No thank you and does he? With all the news over his Lordships recent acquisitions I'd assumed he'd forgotten about me." Ambrose said, forcing his tone to remain pleasant.
Cartlon chuckled, "I was with Lord Edmund as I've taken an interest in antiques. I heard Cecil mutter several times how his father was over paying." He looked directly at Ambrose, "Also weren't you the one who knew that Van George painting was a forgery purely based on where the artist had put the signature? Brilliant work."
Ambrose felt his face flush, "I thank you." He said taking a drink hoping to thwart the cough he felt brewing.
The music ended, both men clapped softly. The orchestra struck up music meant for dancing. Ambrose cast a fleeting glance at Cecil who seemed to be in depth in conversation.
"It appears dancing will start," Carlton looked at Ambrose, "Do you?"
"N-No...not really," He sniffled hard, "I'll stay near the wall for this."
Carlton nodded, "Pleasure meeting you." Then headed off striking up a conversation with another gentleman before they took their positions on the floor.
Ambrose let out a sigh which turned into a cough so he quickly went out onto the balcony for some air. The night was pleasant but still too chilly for Ambrose who coughed again hoping the fresh air would do his lungs some good.
The balcony overlooked the garden he and Cecil walked arm in arm, in several days beforehand. How he wished they could again.
Reentering, Ambrose once again took a glass of wine and looked to where Cecil had been conversing; however he was gone. Confused, Ambrose searched the crowd surrounding the dancers until his eyes fell on the dance floor. His heart sank as he nearly dropped the glass.
Across from Cecil on the dance floor stood a beautiful young woman. A finely crafted jeweled comb sat prominently in her shining black hair. Her dress, a vivid purple probably woven from the finest silks money could buy, draped perfectly over her body. Ambrose watched them as they danced, turning in time to the music, eyes locked on the other. Oh to be that close in public.
Ambrose swallowed hard before taking another sip of wine. A trio of women also seemed to be watching the dancing as they whispered between themselves.
"Excuse me, ladies." Ambrose forced himself to calm down. "Might one of you tell me who that exquisite young lady in the purple dress is?" He pointedly made no mention of Cecil.
The women exchanged knowing looks, then beckoned Ambrose closer. "Miss Amelia De La Croix, daughter of the Countess De La Croix." One of them answered.
"Rumor has it, her mother is eager to marry her off this season after the death of the Count." Another said, fanning herself, "Her mother wants an heir as soon as possible."
Ambrose felt his smile crack slightly, "Oh really?"
"Yes, apparently Lord Lockhart invited her personally to meet his son." The first lady answered.
Ambrose fought back his anxiety, which nearly bubbled over. "I...wasn't aware his Lordship was still pursuing options for his third son." He lied and then finished his wine.
"I heard it's because his son," The third lady motioned to Cecil, "is currently courting someone in the working class."
The other two women gasped playfully, one covering her mouth with a gloved hand. Ambrose suddenly felt quite light headed, the room went out of focus momentarily. Thankfully the gossiping women did not seem to notice.
"Really?" The first woman said, "No wonder he's trying to find a better suitor. However that's not as scandalous as Lord Jamison Cartwright apparently taking in a chimney sweep."
The other two women's mouths dropped, "Is that why Lady Agatha is here unaccompanied?" One asked but Amrbose was no longer paying attention. He held onto the wall for support as he felt his knees might give out any moment.
The music ended and he watched Cecil bow to Miss De La Croix as she smiled perfectly at him. Not able to take anymore, Ambrose rushed past the still gossiping women, passed the dancers, the orchestra, out the side door into the hallway as tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Mr. Beaumont?" Molly called to him as she followed down the hall.
"I wish...to be alone please." Ambrose forced out not looking back at her.
Slipping through the door meant for staff, Ambrose hurried down the hall towards the guest rooms exiting to the main hall.
Grasping his bedroom door handle, Ambrose had not even stepped one foot in before he bent over weeping. Leaning against the closed door he sank to the floor grabbing his knees. Choking sobs mixed with gasping wheezes escaped him.
The image of Cecil dancing with her wouldn't leave his mind.
Finally Ambrose could cry no longer, every emotion lay spent on the floor so he pushed himself up staggering to the bed.
Wiping tears away he heard the chamber door open. "Molly, I said I wish to be left alone..."
"Ambrose." Cecil whispered his name as he shut the door.
Ambrose looked over but then back down at the handkerchief he fiddled with in his hands. "Mr Lockhart, to what do I owe this honor? Shouldn't you be conversing with the suitors your father..." He stopped abruptly as Cecil had wrapped his arms around him from the back, pulling him close. He felt Cecil's warm face buried in his neck.
"H-Hart..." Ambrose's lips trembled.
Neither spoke, Ambrose could only hear how intense his heart beat against his chest, as Cecil clutched him.
"Forgive me, Ambrose." Cecil finally managed, releasing his grip only to spin the other man round. "Though I will full accepted if that is never possible." It was then Ambrose noticed a dull wetness at the corner of Cecil's gray eyes. "Never did I wish to upset you as I have these last few days. Never have I felt so angry with myself at how I handled my affairs. Never have I wanted anything but what I have with you." Bringing his hand up he wiped away a tear from Ambrose's face. "I know I do not always make my feelings public but you are all I desire and wish for when I'm alone at night." He whispered breath shaking as he spoke. Cecil pressed his forehead against Ambrose's, thumbing his cheek. "I yearn for your gentle smile when you gaze in my direction, the touch of your hand against mine, your tender embrace."
Ambrose brought his arms up holding Cecil close to him. "You are forgiven, my Hart." He said softly as tears fell. Ambrose sniffled harder needing to pivot a bit to rub his poor nose. He could feel a sneeze building but Cecil's embrace felt so warm against him he did not want it to end. Hoping to deter it, he sniffed again, even moving the position of his arm to let him rub in a very ungentlemenly like fashion.
Cecil chuckled, stepping back, as Ambrose's brow knitted. "Bless, belle."
Before Ambrose could reply, his breath hitched, and he brought his handkerchief up.
Heh-TSCH’iew! Hhh’juschew!
"I'd hoped your health had improved." Cecil aaid as he walked over to the fire, adjusting his waistcoat with one hand as he ran a hand through his hair with the other. Using the fire striker to lite the tinder in the fireplace, soon the hearth glowed with warmth.
"It has...I think." Ambrose said behind in his handkerchief as Cecil stoked the fire. "Better than earlier when I met..." He instantly cut himself off as he had not mentioned Freddy to Cecil.
"Ephraim already informed me of your meeting." Cecil exhaled. "I must speak with him."
Ambrose did not think that would solve anything but kept his thoughts to himself. "Molly provided me with a mustard plaster and herbal wine, so I was feeling better for a while." He turned sneezing again. "It appears though that's worn off.”
"Promise me you'll stay in bed tomorrow." Cecil said lowly as he took Ambrose's free hand in his. "It pains me to see you ill."
"And what of you, Hart." Ambrose asked, squeezing Cecil's hand, "You try to hide it but I see the dark lines beneath your eyes, the beads of sweat which pepper your brow, you're fevered aren't you? Please be truthful."
Closing his eyes, Cecil's shoulders heaved a heavy sigh. "I am...not feeling my best, no. It is nothing...I will..."
"Rest accordingly tomorrow before the auction, then slip away after." Ambrose said sternly. "Let Clifford handle everything, that's his job as the first born. We could have time to ourselves again."
A pained expression crossed Cecil's face as he opened his eyes, "That does sound pleasant. However, there is too much on Clifford's plate currently hence why I'd been heading the auction and my aunt the subsequent parties. Also there's a fox hunt tomorrow."
Ambrose frowned, "You abhor the sport."
"I do yes, however Henry Forthright, the Earl of Westchester, will be attending, my father has requested I attend in Clifford's absence." Cecil said, still looking at the fire, unable to face Ambrose.
"I see." Ambrose replied quietly, sniffling again. "Perhaps then...I'll simply return to Holland House as I do not expect much time with you here." He rubbed his nose against his handkerchief.
Cecil finally faced Ambrose, "I...I will not stop you, belle. You have every right. But know the pain I would be in daily not seeing your smile, hearing your voice..." Placing his fingers beneath Ambrose's chin, he tilted his head up, "Please reconsider."
Ambrose's lips trembled, his chest burned from breathing heavily, he wanted nothing more than to bottle this moment but his weak lungs interrupted him forcing him back as he coughed dryly.
Cursing to himself, he shook his head, "I will...sleep on it, Cecil." He coughed again, a delicate wheeze escaping, "For now I must rest before I take a turn for the worse." He began unbuttoning his waistcoat.
"Of course." Cecil's stoic manner returned as he placed his hands behind his back, "Shall I send Molly to assist you, bring tea perhaps."
"That would be...appreciated." Ambrose coughed again. "As I expect to not be at breakfast, please pass on my apologies." He suddenly felt exhaustion washing over him.
Cecil nodded, "Of course. I do hope I will see you tomorrow after the hunt...but..." He paused looking longingly at Ambrose. "Please let me know of your decision." Cecil stepped forward again hand raised as if to cup Ambrose's face but then it faltered. "Goodnight Ambrosia." He said softly, then headed for the door.
"Goodnight."
He was alone again. Ambrose did want to attend the auction but it pained him that he wouldn't be up there with Cecil speaking on the items, he wasn’t sure if he could stand watching Reginald in his place.
Sitting on his bed, Ambrose let out a long sigh. "Perhaps returning is the best plan." He said to himself. Was being away from Cecil truly better than simply not being near him? Ambrose continued to mull it over as he changed into a night shirt and drank the tea Molly had provided.
His last thoughts before driftly to sleep was the feeling of Cecil's hold on him earlier.
draw skibidi toilet
Anon... I have no idea what it is that you require me to do. Believe me, I tried. 🥲 Unfortunately I'm not into the fandom... so unless you care to elaborate, I don't see myself doing what it is that you request of me... You're invited to enlighten me, however.
I was desperate for OC art and the wonderful @mimikusu agreed to an art trade. Here is the fic I wrote for Simon and Niko, based on this prompt they posted around Christmas last year. This was a treat to write and such a fun exchange. Thank you Mimi, and I hope you enjoy your fic!!
All The Way Home I'll Be Warm
“I don’t know why I put up with you, Nikolai,” Simon grumbled to himself as he threw his bags down in the hotel room he had just checked into. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, I swear.” He huffed to the window and glared at the snowflakes drifting down, scrubbing angrily at his dripping nose. The town below was already bustling with life as the Christmas market prepared to open. Colored lights, pine boughs, red and green decorations, and what looked like hundreds of merchant stalls spread out as far as the eye could see. Simon rubbed his eye, behind which a headache was already forming. He groaned, coughed, and tried to blow his nose, but it was stopped tight with congestion.
“I hate these damn festivals,” Simon growled. “Why the hell Niko loves them so much I’ll never know. God, I wish I could cancel. I already feel like shit. But he would think I’m just making excuses. Ugh.”
He let his head fall into his hand as he continued to glare out the window. He missed Niko so much, and that was the only reason he was here right now. Simon had been traveling for work nearly all of December, and it seemed like he had hardly seen his boyfriend. In a few days they would leave to see their families for the holidays, so this was their only chance to spend time together. Niko had been begging to go to this damn Christmas market for months, and Simon had finally caved and booked the hotel and flights, though he made sure to complain the whole time about the expense, and how foolish these markets were. It made Niko so unbelievably happy, though, and that was what Simon wanted in the end.
I've been ungodly horny the past couple of weeks for something that involves mirrors, sex and a cold... and I finally decided to do something with it. I've been contemplating whether to post it here, because it's so shamefully graphic. But in the end, I couldn't resist. I put it under the cut, because I don't want to be banned and I care for my dear ace followers who can not be bothered with this! I love you and you're valid. 💕
So... queer NSFW under the cut. It was nice to draw some t!ts for a change. Hope you don't mind.
I just survived surgery and now I get to spend all day home in this apartment complex... You really can tell it's cold season when your neighbour all of a sudden is having fits of screamed sneezes throughout the day.
Rolling their eyes before a fit. Is it annoyance? Is it involuntary? Who knows, it's hot.
Ok so forgot about Snztember until it popped onto my feed again. Saw a couple prompts that fit Ambrose and since September is his and Cecil's anniversary of being created (4 years you kidding me??), here's something on them. They'll also appear later in Sicktember.
5. "you can't get sick from the rain" - and yet
7. handkerchiefs
~~~~~
Cecil pulled back the heavy front window curtain again while clicking open his watch. The gas lamps lighting the outside walk were now lit, flickering comfortably in their glass house so the rain couldn't dowse them. Even without the lamp light and his watch, Cecil knew the hour was late, later than he'd anticipated for Ambrose's return.
"Any word, sir?" Molly had come up behind him, hands clutching her apron, twisting it.
"No." Cecil replied tightly, hand still on the curtain before he let it slip from his fingers.
"I see. Well Mr. Beaumont's room is all ready when he arrives. Fire roaring in the hearth, bed warmer heated, tea brewed." She smiled hoping it would put her master at ease.
"Thank you, Molly." Cecil said looking at his watch again.
Bowing slightly, Molly excused herself and met Philip at the door, whispering to him. He nodded, looked at Cecil, and then followed Molly down the hall.
Hands clasped behind his back, Cecil walked the short length from wall to wall while keeping an ear out for any approaching carriages. All he heard was rain pelting the windows.
Another half an hour passed as he began pacing circles around the sofa when the sound of the front door opening alerted him. Confused on why he hadn't heard horses, Cecil rushed out into the parlor, Molly and Philip joining him from nearby rooms.
"Ambrosia." He said softly as his appraiser entered, cloak drenched from the pouring rain.
"Cecil, apologies, I..." Philip had barely removed the soaked garment as Ambrose turned away sneezing into his shoulder. "I...wasn’t able to..." His breath shuddered as he spoke, body shivering as Molly wrapped a blanket around him.
Cecil wasn't listening as he ushered Ambrose inside, away from the drafty front door. "Hush, belle, come your room is ready."
"I'm fine, only a bit chilled..." His breath hitched hard, Ambrose buried his nose into the blanket, stifling it.
"You are soaked, belle." Cecil kept his hand on Ambrose's back as they climbed the stairs. "Why didn't you find a cab?" He asked turning the handle to the bedroom. The warmth of the fire immediately hit them both.
Ambrose let out a relieved sigh as he sat near the fire. "Given the later hour and rain not many were on the streets, those I passed were..." Head titled back, he inhaled sharply, sneezing wetly into the blanket. "Were taken." He finished, kicking off his shoes.
Cecil went to the dresser pulling out a nightshirt, "Here change, you must get out of those clothes, you'll catch your death."
Letting out a groan, Ambrose stuck his hand out from the blanket, taking the shirt, "You cannot fall ill from the rain, Hart." He stood, shedding the blanket caused his shivers to return.
"Ambrosia, please, you're trembling from the chill." Cecil pressed his lips together, "Do you require assistance?"
Ambrose's pale face flushed red, "No no, I'm fi..i...in" He stammered before sneezing twice. "Bollocks." He whispered as he began unbuttoning his waistcoat.
"Here, belle." Cecil said handing him a handkerchief. "Molly said she had tea ready, I'll go fetch it." He looked sadly at Ambrose and then left.
Outside, Cecil ran a hand over his face, exhaling hard. He then heard the familiar steps of Molly walking up the stairs. He instructed her to knock but wait as Mr Beaumont was changing.
"Tell him I will return shortly." He added before heading down the hall to his study. Inside, Cecil pulled at his collar, loosening his tie as he went for the decanter. Pouring himself a brandy, he threw it back, gritting his teeth as he refilled it. That one he took a gulp before leaning the glass against his forehead. Exhaling hard, Cecil set the half full class down on the table, then went to his writing table. Clearing his throat he flipped through some files, made a few notes, gathered a small pile of paper he would need signatures on.
About 20 minutes passed before Cecil fixed his collar and tie before heading back down the hall.
Slowly he opened the bedroom so as not to disturb Ambrose if he'd fallen asleep.
"I was wondering if you'd come back." Ambrose, who now laid in bed, shawl over his shoulders, said with a smile. He held a teacup in one hand.
"Yes, well I had some documents to oversee. And I wanted to give you a moment to change." Cecil took his place on the end of the bed. "If you'd sent a letter about your lateness, I'd have..."
"It's fine, Cecil." Ambrose said a bit harder than normal before sipping his tea. "I am warm and dry now." He set the cup on the bedside table.
Cecil nodded but then heard, Ambrose's breath hitch. He looked at the fire as Ambrose muffled three sneezes into the handkerchief.
"Bless, belle." He replied as Ambrose rubbed at his nose, sniffling thickly. "Do you require anything," He paused before offering medicinal comforts, "Besides tea?"
Ambrose shook his head, "No, I will be retiring soon. Tomorrow I must finish those expenditure reports for..." He blinked rapidly, breath hitching but a few seconds he simply blew his nose.
"Don't worry yourself over reports," Cecil reached over and squeezed Ambrose's thin arm, "All that can wait until you've recovered."
Frowning, Ambrose stared at him, "I'm fine Cecil, whatever this is I'm sure will be gone in the morning."
"Ambrosia," Before Cecil could reply further, Ambrose pulled at his covers, evicting Cecil from the bed.
"Goodnight, Hart." He said, the pet name a bit raspier than before.
"Goodnight belle." Cecil whispered then blew out the bedside lamp. He stole a look back before exiting the room. Ambrose's back was to him. Sighing, he softly shut the door.