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people who sneeze when their nose gets physically cold but it ghost is such a banger concept but ALSO, i raise you, the (sort of) reverse of 'oh yeah when im cold i sneeze' but actually they're allergic to ghosts and said ghosts keep booping their nose (either metaphorically or literally lol)
YES THIS IS THE VIBE!! I also love the idea of the ghost being far too bashful and embarrassed to be too close to the living character just because they know they’re the cause of allergies, while also kicking their legs as they go searching about for what could be making them so sneezy
MOON SNZFIC LET'S GOOOO
I've watched multiple playthroughs, and the way that ppl struggle with the difference between the sound cues (which I think are distinct) makes me wonder if the creator is one of us
I HAVE TOO OMG! Of course I’ve played it (have a night-mode perfect in the first one and still waiting for the opportunity to perfect the second which I know I’ll do first try). BUT!! I have noticed a few people were struggling with the cues and in my mind I was siting back like “wdym, you can clearly tell the difference is ‘hehh’ and ‘hih-’ right??? Can’t everyone tell that??”
I highly doubt the creator is, but I DID do some digging and I THIINK the voice actor for the moon is a big-name comedian (C/ha K/ato I believe???) who has a few jokes/gags revolving around sneezing. I have yet to find references for the jokes themselves but I have been digging… either way, it’s a really silly delightful inside joke!!
Prompts have been on rotation in my head and I’ve landed on:
Someone politely requesting another person catch their sneeze. I see the reverse of this a lot, as do we all—where someone already has a tissue at the ready.
But I raise you: a character having their hands full and trying to fight of a sneeze. The congestion in their voice is a warning in itself of just how full their nose is. For whatever reason, they can’t put down the thing occupying their hands, but they know that if they sneeze, it’s gonna make a mess.
In this fleeting moment, the person next to them is their only hope at abating disaster. “Could you get me a tissue?” Becomes a wordless implication as the person fetching it realizes they can’t simply hand them the tissues, but needs to go the extra mile.
AN: 1500 words!! OH JOY AND WHIMSY!! I LOVE MY SILLY NOIR DETECTIVE!!! 😭 i miss u babygirl (48 year old man) also conquering my fear of writing SWH by putting him in an old timey phone booth on the line with @quosterking's Rashun. love these two freakos
On the Wire
“Number please?”
“Cortex 4856.”
“Connecting you!”
Jesus Christ, he was soaking wet. Biddley wrung out his sleeve into the puddle soaking his shoes at the bottom of the phone booth. It was pouring outside, which is awful weather to be tailing someone in…
There weren’t many people around, that's for sure, and the ones that were out here were rushing by under umbrellas. It’s why losing the trail was so insulting! How’d he lose one of the five people outside of their house this night? The weather had lessened to a drizzle, but an eerie fog had made up for the lack of visibility.
He sighed, wrapping a damp coat around himself. He didn’t take the car — idiot — because following someone on foot would be more conspicuous, and he didn’t want to be mistaken for a taxi. Didn’t think about the possibility of bad weather until he was already out and stuffing Polaroids into his jacket. This guy was accused of taking a fat cut of money out of his business partner…a business partner who was found dead not long after. Biddley had a soft spot for taking cases for widows; it’s probably why he was out this long.
“Hello?” Came a voice over the phone.
“Rashun! For God’s sake!”
“God’s sake what? I can hardly hear you! Speak up, old boy…”
“Thought the phone would never stop ringing,” Biddley muttered, looking around as Rashun scoffed in disbelief. It was dark as hell out, save for a street lamp. He swore he saw something moving around in the edge of the light, “It’s raining…any chance you got it in you to drive?”
“Where are you now?”
“Hmm, corner of Leeway and and Providence…”
He couldn’t see the street signs in this weather but knew roughly where he was. The phone booth provided momentary shelter, even if it was in the dark, away from the reach of the street lamp.
“Right...There’s a diner a block down. I’d hate to ask, but if you are calling me from some phone booth, you are likely going to leave to make the walk to wait for me, I assume? Unless you’re feeling bold enough to stay there…”
“I’ll make my way…how long will you be?”
“I can aim for twenty. Or- perhaps twenty-five. Low traction and low visibility.”
“Fine— I-“
Biddley cut himself off. The phone shifted, pressed tight against his cheek. He breathed once into the mouthpiece but stopped. A crackle.
“…Biddley?”
“Shh!”
He caught a shadow from the corner of his eye: someone milling about near the street lamp. From his vantage point, there was a car in front, blocking out a majority of the light, but he saw a figure appear, wielding an umbrella and emerging from the darkness. They snuck into the backseat, illuminated by the street lamp.
He heard Rashun on the other end. A faint buzz of electricity as his breathing crackled through the wire.
“Spotted my man…”
“Where?”
“Right in front of me. I recognized his hat…He’s getting out.”
He did. In a change of clothes. Biddley could tell by the silhouette as they slipped out. Something was in his hand. A shovel of some kind? Or a wrench…?
He gently set down his arm, resting it against the booth’s small counter for stability. Last thing he wanted to do was make himself known and startle this guy. Discretion is key…
Water dropped from his hair and crested his cheek. Another slid down the side of his nose and pooled around the curve of his nostril. He was holding his breath to keep still and instinctively exhaled.
“Rashun…”
“Yes?” Replied quietly, “I’m going to keep quiet so long as you whisper first.”
“He’s picking a lock to some building…snf! Uhh, I think red brick. Or dark, at least…”
“Noted…”
“Huhh…khrmm!”
He delicately pressed a knuckle to his nose. The man had taken out his tools and began to fiddle around with the front door of this supposed red-brick building. Biddley saw him lift his head as he cleared his throat and immediately swallowed to prevent a cough.
“D-Damn-“
“Everything alright, s-“
“Hh—mMPF!’dSSCHhh!! Huh!rRRSChhh-!!”
Biddley opened his eyes in time to spot the man tense, look up, then pivot his head. In the booth, he remained perfectly still, the wet gabardine lapel of his coat smothered over his face, the phone earpiece still up. Rashun was silent on the other end. He heard a hesitant breath, which indicated a question, but he couldn’t risk an answer. The crook’s gaze passed right over him; he felt it, like a lighthouse beam catching a stationary vessel, unacknowledged. His nose was running from the sudden disturbance — curses, he’d broken it too many times for it to just stay idle! The muffled sneeze had done something to the healed-over fracture that grazed his nerves, and he found himself biting his lip in hopes of staying still.
His head turned away. A sneeze was painfully stifled between his thumb and forefinger, numb from the cold rain. Pain shot between his eyes. He hated stifling. That’s what a broken nose gets you. It itched still, and he was forced to muffle another, head dipping in a violent but thankfully silent jostle.
After the third, he gulped down some air and squinted to find that the man had stood.
“Hhf—“
“Biddley-“
“Sh!”
His voice was sharp. Breath whistling over the old, rattly wires in a distorted crunch on the other end.
“HhdH!hHNGkksshhh!! Hah…Jesus…”
His stomach rolled to his throat, seeing the man take a few steps back and eye the streetlamp.
A few steps closer.
Biddley reached into his coat and felt the warm grip of his revolver. A car rolled by on the main street, and the rushing sound of water and rain hitting its roof provided a decent enough cover for the noise.
“Hh—!hrssSSCHHhff!!”
Fuck. He blinked back tears. He barely moved, staying positively still save for a deeply repressed jolt of his head. One could only hope the minimal light didn't give his position away. Smothering his nose hurt like the devil. The man had skittered back in fear of being spotted by the random driver and ducked into the open door. A light inside flickered on for a moment, then off.
Hm.
No nearby buildings. Seemed like a storefront. Maybe roof access…
Biddley shakily brought the mouthpiece back with a wet, sniffly exhale.
“Rashud…”
“Thank goodness you’re alive.”
“I’ll meet you in half ad hour. Going to figure out what’s up with this guy…’n get the law on the line. A little breaking and entering, nothin’ big. On standby.”
“You’re going in after him?”
“I’ve got a hunch. Somethi’g tells me he’s here to tie up loose ends, if this is his place of business.”
“See in you a bit, then. Keep well. Don’t do anything foolish. And for the love of God, sir, don’t sh-“
He hung up with a scrub under his nose and another sniffle.
Oh. Wait. Bother! He fished around his pockets, hoping to find another dime, but he only dug out a sopping wet cigarette and a set of house keys. He was going to ask Rashun to bring him a dry handkerchief. Oh well. Wouldn't be worth the time.
He exited the phone booth and breathed in the smell of rain on wet concrete before slipping in through the open door.
-------
The most the fuzz would find by the time they arrived was a man tied to the handrail of the stairs, a suitcase of stolen bills laid open at his feet, and a single photo neatly in front of it of an older, more horrific crime scene. On the back, a number to a private investigator's office, one that the men at the precinct would know well enough.
A street over, in a diner, Biddley had wrung out his coat (to the owner’s distaste) and was drying his hair with the napkins at a booth seat. A plate of mostly eaten pie sat in front of him, sentineled by a few used tissues. He blew his nose only to sneeze again.
“Unsure that isn’t a broken nose at this point, going out in the rain all the time- Paying at his expense?” Rashun pointed as Biddley thumbed over the only dry thing he had on his person. Just a few bills from a recently collected folder of documents and photos, enough to cover a single order of dessert and two coffees.
“Considering it as a bonus. I’ll invoice the boys if they call.”
He watched as Rashun ran a few numbers through his head.
“Hardly ethical.”
“And I’m no Saint Mary. You want a coffee before we head back?”
Rashun answered with a nod and a shrug, and Biddley raised his hand to the tired waiter at the till. Another case closed.
Someone who always sneezes exactly 1.5 times. By that, I mean when they sneeze, a false start always follows after it.
This person has never fully experienced the relief of a sneeze because the hitching that follows puts them on edge again, only to fizzle out. It leaves them a ticklish mess for the next minute, and it’s enough to stun them.
Maybe it’s gotten to the point where their friends hurry to help them sneeze. Or maybe they crack jokes instead—telling them that second sneeze is a lost cause.
And it’s worse because in very rare cases, that elusive second sneeze does come out, and it’s incredibly rewarding. It’s what has them desperately trying to encourage the second sneeze whenever the first happens.
Maybe a significant other says they “just have a shy nose”(Which, aside, pair a character with a stoic or walled-off personality with a “shy nose” and it’s perfect).
The living resident gets especially sneezy any time the two phase through one another. Their nose gets runny and cold, they get immediate chills if it’s bad enough. They’ve just chocked it up to a weak immune system from acclimatizing to the area, or pollen allergies.
But this extends to things the ghost touches, too. The ghost is grabbing a coffee for themselves (just a habit they haven’t been able to break in life), but as the sniffly roommate uses the same mug for their chamomile tea, their nose can’t stop tingling whenever the cup nears their face.
The ghost has doubtlessly fantasized about just directly pestering their nose from beyond the grave, but is FAR TOO humiliated and shy to do so. One day they’ll be brave enough to introduce themselves.
I need someone who is newly embarrassed by their sneezes. Someone who didn’t used to be shy or bashful about them until a few friends or their significant other dotes on them and calls their sneezes cute. Now, whenever they need to sneeze, they already start blushing because the current subject matter has died down in favor of tuning in to their build-ups.
@ktaaaashu I'M SO GLAD my Moon propaganda is working as intended LOL!!! But seriously thank you so much for the glowing words, I definitely did not know if this would be fire or a flop!!
Characters: Unnamed Ghost, Moon, and Storyteller (from Rhythm H/eaven G/roove) Also, a brief mention of a new RHG OC, Werewolf
Words/Length: 1500 (~10 min)
Note: Yeah, it’s happened. My first ever fic that isn’t an OC fic comes from this god forsaken game. It’s also the campiest, goofiest fic I’ve ever written, so please keep that in mind! If you’re looking for a silly 10-minute read for spooky month, it’s a blast. Check out this post for context! ANYWAY! There’s some really silly fourth-wall breaking going on here, and a lot of nods and references to the game itself and musical terminology (shoutout to my music nerds out there, or generally anyone who's played the game, this one’s for you)!
[DO NOT RB TO NON-SNZ BLOGS!!!]
T’was an eerie twilight in the neglected countryside. The wind sang its bone-chilling song through the gnarled branches of barren trees. The dead, pale grasses whispered in its wake with cascading ripples. As the last slivers of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, a steady pulse of life flooded the cemeteries. Headstones began to glow as their ghostly inhabitants roused from their eternal slumber once more.
What would one call a group of specters? A swarm? A school? A scream, perhaps? It mattered not: this was a community, a family only found post-mortem, but no less meaningful.
These spirits were restless. Spinning circles round one another, their hands interlocked. The gentle ghouls skipped and frolicked with echoed cackles. They filled the early night with cheer and chitter—an evening of pranks and parlor tricks was always cause for celebration, after all.
Only once a millennium comes a night as spooky as this…
A fanfare of wolves announced the rising moon. And in its overwhelming light, all bathed by it shuddered with unease. The moon’s eyes flickered over the valley, lips curling in deep satisfaction at the sight of sudden scattering and panic. No introduction was needed, everyone knew not to look it in the eyes…lest they wanted to face its judgemental wrath.
The foul light grinned artfully. “Cowards, the lot of you. I’ve hardly gotten a moment to deliver you a proper fright!”
Mocking laughter filled the night sky as the specters fled behind headstones and fence posts. But just as it had started up, the moon’s laughter waned quickly. Not exclusively from boredom, but something had caught its breath.
“Oh, it’s far too early in the night for this to start up again,” the moon scoffed and scrunched its wicked face into a scowl. Yes, the moon’s weakness, it’s increasingly-testy nose. If its reign of terror were to begin, so too must begin the sneezes.
It would be a lie to say the moon’s hitches were unpredictable. Everything in this world was bound to rhythmic frequencies—and that was where the moon drew its haunting magic from in the first place. Rhythm was power, and a force that every soul was subservient to.
“Hehh— hehH? hEHhk’sSHHhw!!” The first of doubtlessly many, measured into merciless monotony. Two hitches, one sneeze, evenly spaced to around eighty-six beats per minute. The sour moon blinked lingering tears gathered at the corners of its eyes. Reprieve was short, its nose was already twitchily priming for another: “Hih- hih! hHik’shh!!” That, a deviation: an anticipated eighth-note falling just shy of the fourth beat.
This was how the night was to go…fittish sneezes in clusters that didn’t dare to let up once they began. But with it came eerie energy, taking the form of swarming bats and swirling clouds.
“Oh, I simply don’t understand it,” growled the moon through its teeth. “Sneezing—why must it be sneezing? Surely laughter couldn’t have been where my magic is scyphoned from?”
Every vampire has their stake, every werewolf, their silver.
“Sneezing is not the stuff of night terrors, frankly.”
Perhaps the moon wasn’t putting the effort in.
“Hey!”
“I, for one, agree. I think the moon has lost its touch!”
A perplexed pause permeated the starry night. The voice belonged to a lonely ghost, standing in the open valley with arms crossed over their chest. Their head was turned away, and the moon took great offense to it.
“Wh..? Ahem, oh my, brave spirit, are we? Why part from your shivering friends behind the wooden planks?”
“They don’t see through your tricks like I do,” they answered simply, shrugging. “But soon, they will join me in troves, I bet!”
The seething moon’s eyes narrowed, and a crescent smile tore past its lips. “And why do you refuse to meet my gaze? Terror still claims you, doesn’t it? And so long as it does, I have power over you.”
“Not quite, moon. I only fear that your cruel machinations have grown less cruel and more…boring.”
The moon burned red with embarrassment. Its pupils trembled with stifled rage. “Snff!! What are you insinuating?”
“You’re hardly fearsome anymore. At least not to me. Your sneezes are far too predictable, I could evade your sight with my eyes closed if I so wished.”
There was a ticklish pause, “hHEH-kSHHhw!!” Lightning clawed across the partly cloudy sky, and the very ground trembled.
“Bless you.”
“A blessing?!” The highest offense of all, “who do you take me for?! To be blessed by a common specter, as if I were a siHh—hiH-!! Ikk’sshh!”
“Bless you again, a what?”
“Ik’sshw!! Hik’shh— hiH- hih! Ik’SSHh!!”
The ghost tapped their boot in the dead grass impatiently. “Take your time! Bless you.”
“D’uh- snFfle!! Oh forget it, rest assured I’d sneeze you away if I could…” but the moon couldn’t, of course. All it could do was hang helplessly in the night sky, a sniffling mess of itself. “You aren’t helping—who’s side are you on?! Pelting me from afar with your pathetic words!!”
I’m merely here to tell a riveting story. Pay my words no heed.
A defeated sigh. “Too predictable, you say…is that a challenge?”
“If you wish it to be, it is. I think you’ve been holding back.”
“C…caught, I suppose, this tickle’s been…pestering me a good moment, I’m afraid…snf!!”
“No, not like that, I mean holding back your skill! Switch it up a bit, if you’re looking to get a fright out of someone. Surely you haven’t forgotten that the element of surprise is a friend of yours?”
The pale orb pondered these words with great rapt. “…right. Where’s Werewolf?”
He had never been more eager to hear his name. A triumphant howl made his presence known from the nearby manor's courtyard, where a dark-furred canine shredded a power chord on a sleek electric guitar. Behind him, a handful of ghouls and beasts—skeleton on drums, zombie on keys, the works.
“Yes, yes,” the moon piped them down with a roll of its eyes. “Something in five, can you handle that?”
A big thumbs up answered, and a riff in 5/4 began. The rest of the band was quick to hop onto it, pushing 175 beats per minute.
Take heed, sneaky spirit! You’re in the realm of complex meter now, and simple sneeze patterns won’t fit here.
“Won’t this be a twilight trial for you..! HhHhope you’re a quick learner, I feel another fit coming on…”
5/4 was broken into 2 and 3 beats respectively—both too fast and too slow all at once. It worked perfectly for more dramatic build ups, sudden sneezes, polyrhythmic hitches, and other dastardly tricks that would have a common ghost melting under the pressure. Not our protagonist, however; they had been a musician in their living days, and the intensity was an appreciated spike in difficulty.
The moon had surprising control over its own sneezes. It was no easy task to sync your hitches to such a heart-pounding tempo.
“HhH- hh- hh-! ht- aASShhew!! hHEHh! Hh…hEK’sschww!! Ik’SSHh!!” As the werewolf clawed up the fretboard with a diabolical riff. Yet the ghost held true, patiently waiting for the right windows to evade the moon’s ghoulish gaze.
Suddenly, a triplet: “hah-hHAt’iishhew!!” That was uncalled for, that was unrehearsed!! The poor spirit staggered into an exposed space, letting out a frightful yelp. A single miscalculation sent the skies into thunderous torment. So close to the end, too…
“Oh, shame, there goes that perfect stride~!” The moon scorned. “Goodness me, I’ve frightened you, still as stone. Unless you are stone, and my magic’s gotten stronger.”
One would imagine the sky would get brighter the bigger the moon is. Yet here, as it loomed closer, the stars flickered from the sky like a dying power grid. Inky black bled into the horizon, leaving only a thin halo of indigo around the moon’s wicked face.
No one could stare at those terrible eyes without recoiling in painful embarrassment and humiliation. It felt like dropping a cake at a birthday, or falling on your face in the snow. Perhaps fighting off a sneeze during a public speech…
Yes, the eyes of judgement were as red as they were dastardly. The ghost fell victim to it, and trembled with terror.
“Hhah, you—you got me there, I’ll admit,” the spirit shielded their little eyes, visibly embarrassed. The moon looked them over, lips pinched in thought.
Then, a melodramatic groan. “Ohh, fie, fie! There’s no satisfaction in this. I have to come clean: I lost myself around the end bit, my hayfever got the better of me. That last sneeze was hardly within the whims of my control.”
“Didn’t know the moon had good sportsmanship…bless you—if it’s any consolation, everything else was a pleasant surprise..!”
“Was it?” Sniffled the moon, before cracking a smirk. “Quite the interesting individual…bold, willing to push for a proper scare. I like your tenacity for terror, spirit.”
“Appreciated…don’t listen to the storyteller, I think your sneezes are plenty frightening.”
A strange means of bonding, but oh well. You can’t win them all.
From the storyteller:
You were well prepared, and…
You didn’t falter to the moon’s build-ups, and…
Phantasmal focus.
Amazing!
am ngl, the moon fic was a refreshing surprise! i was cringing at the concept up till this point (not from your work, i just didn't see what was hot abt them), safe to say you won me over, and I'm a moon fan now!
ANON this is such a glowing compliment!!! I’m so glad I’m microdosing snzblr on this damn character.
And to your credit, I think that snzblr needs to play around more with the idea of snzfics/art that isn’t immediately boner fuel and is instead cozy or SUPER CAMPY, in this example. A lot of my interest for snz was forged from watching cartoons or playing games, because sneezing’s often a comedy gag, as we all know.
TLDR: I’m glad this was a refreshing surprise!!! We all need to campy silliness more.
Characters: Unnamed Ghost, Moon, and Storyteller (from Rhythm H/eaven G/roove) Also, a brief mention of a new RHG OC, Werewolf
Words/Length: 1500 (~10 min)
Note: Yeah, it’s happened. My first ever fic that isn’t an OC fic comes from this god forsaken game. It’s also the campiest, goofiest fic I’ve ever written, so please keep that in mind! If you’re looking for a silly 10-minute read for spooky month, it’s a blast. Check out this post for context! ANYWAY! There’s some really silly fourth-wall breaking going on here, and a lot of nods and references to the game itself and musical terminology (shoutout to my music nerds out there, or generally anyone who's played the game, this one’s for you)!
[DO NOT RB TO NON-SNZ BLOGS!!!]
T’was an eerie twilight in the neglected countryside. The wind sang its bone-chilling song through the gnarled branches of barren trees. The dead, pale grasses whispered in its wake with cascading ripples. As the last slivers of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, a steady pulse of life flooded the cemeteries. Headstones began to glow as their ghostly inhabitants roused from their eternal slumber once more.
What would one call a group of specters? A swarm? A school? A scream, perhaps? It mattered not: this was a community, a family only found post-mortem, but no less meaningful.
These spirits were restless. Spinning circles round one another, their hands interlocked. The gentle ghouls skipped and frolicked with echoed cackles. They filled the early night with cheer and chitter—an evening of pranks and parlor tricks was always cause for celebration, after all.
Only once a millennium comes a night as spooky as this…
A fanfare of wolves announced the rising moon. And in its overwhelming light, all bathed by it shuddered with unease. The moon’s eyes flickered over the valley, lips curling in deep satisfaction at the sight of sudden scattering and panic. No introduction was needed, everyone knew not to look it in the eyes…lest they wanted to face its judgemental wrath.
The foul light grinned artfully. “Cowards, the lot of you. I’ve hardly gotten a moment to deliver you a proper fright!”
Mocking laughter filled the night sky as the specters fled behind headstones and fence posts. But just as it had started up, the moon’s laughter waned quickly. Not exclusively from boredom, but something had caught its breath.
“Oh, it’s far too early in the night for this to start up again,” the moon scoffed and scrunched its wicked face into a scowl. Yes, the moon’s weakness, it’s increasingly-testy nose. If its reign of terror were to begin, so too must begin the sneezes.
It would be a lie to say the moon’s hitches were unpredictable. Everything in this world was bound to rhythmic frequencies—and that was where the moon drew its haunting magic from in the first place. Rhythm was power, and a force that every soul was subservient to.
“Hehh— hehH? hEHhk’sSHHhw!!” The first of doubtlessly many, measured into merciless monotony. Two hitches, one sneeze, evenly spaced to around eighty-six beats per minute. The sour moon blinked lingering tears gathered at the corners of its eyes. Reprieve was short, its nose was already twitchily priming for another: “Hih- hih! hHik’shh!!” That, a deviation: an anticipated eighth-note falling just shy of the fourth beat.
This was how the night was to go…fittish sneezes in clusters that didn’t dare to let up once they began. But with it came eerie energy, taking the form of swarming bats and swirling clouds.
“Oh, I simply don’t understand it,” growled the moon through its teeth. “Sneezing—why must it be sneezing? Surely laughter couldn’t have been where my magic is scyphoned from?”
Every vampire has their stake, every werewolf, their silver.
“Sneezing is not the stuff of night terrors, frankly.”
Perhaps the moon wasn’t putting the effort in.
“Hey!”
“I, for one, agree. I think the moon has lost its touch!”
A perplexed pause permeated the starry night. The voice belonged to a lonely ghost, standing in the open valley with arms crossed over their chest. Their head was turned away, and the moon took great offense to it.
“Wh..? Ahem, oh my, brave spirit, are we? Why part from your shivering friends behind the wooden planks?”
“They don’t see through your tricks like I do,” they answered simply, shrugging. “But soon, they will join me in troves, I bet!”
The seething moon’s eyes narrowed, and a crescent smile tore past its lips. “And why do you refuse to meet my gaze? Terror still claims you, doesn’t it? And so long as it does, I have power over you.”
“Not quite, moon. I only fear that your cruel machinations have grown less cruel and more…boring.”
The moon burned red with embarrassment. Its pupils trembled with stifled rage. “Snff!! What are you insinuating?”
“You’re hardly fearsome anymore. At least not to me. Your sneezes are far too predictable, I could evade your sight with my eyes closed if I so wished.”
There was a ticklish pause, “hHEH-kSHHhw!!” Lightning clawed across the partly cloudy sky, and the very ground trembled.
“Bless you.”
“A blessing?!” The highest offense of all, “who do you take me for?! To be blessed by a common specter, as if I were a siHh—hiH-!! Ikk’sshh!”
“Bless you again, a what?”
“Ik’sshw!! Hik’shh— hiH- hih! Ik’SSHh!!”
The ghost tapped their boot in the dead grass impatiently. “Take your time! Bless you.”
“D’uh- snFfle!! Oh forget it, rest assured I’d sneeze you away if I could…” but the moon couldn’t, of course. All it could do was hang helplessly in the night sky, a sniffling mess of itself. “You aren’t helping—who’s side are you on?! Pelting me from afar with your pathetic words!!”
I’m merely here to tell a riveting story. Pay my words no heed.
A defeated sigh. “Too predictable, you say…is that a challenge?”
“If you wish it to be, it is. I think you’ve been holding back.”
“C…caught, I suppose, this tickle’s been…pestering me a good moment, I’m afraid…snf!!”
“No, not like that, I mean holding back your skill! Switch it up a bit, if you’re looking to get a fright out of someone. Surely you haven’t forgotten that the element of surprise is a friend of yours?”
The pale orb pondered these words with great rapt. “…right. Where’s Werewolf?”
He had never been more eager to hear his name. A triumphant howl made his presence known from the nearby manor's courtyard, where a dark-furred canine shredded a power chord on a sleek electric guitar. Behind him, a handful of ghouls and beasts—skeleton on drums, zombie on keys, the works.
“Yes, yes,” the moon piped them down with a roll of its eyes. “Something in five, can you handle that?”
A big thumbs up answered, and a riff in 5/4 began. The rest of the band was quick to hop onto it, pushing 175 beats per minute.
Take heed, sneaky spirit! You’re in the realm of complex meter now, and simple sneeze patterns won’t fit here.
“Won’t this be a twilight trial for you..! HhHhope you’re a quick learner, I feel another fit coming on…”
5/4 was broken into 2 and 3 beats respectively—both too fast and too slow all at once. It worked perfectly for more dramatic build ups, sudden sneezes, polyrhythmic hitches, and other dastardly tricks that would have a common ghost melting under the pressure. Not our protagonist, however; they had been a musician in their living days, and the intensity was an appreciated spike in difficulty.
The moon had surprising control over its own sneezes. It was no easy task to sync your hitches to such a heart-pounding tempo.
“HhH- hh- hh-! ht- aASShhew!! hHEHh! Hh…hEK’sschww!! Ik’SSHh!!” As the werewolf clawed up the fretboard with a diabolical riff. Yet the ghost held true, patiently waiting for the right windows to evade the moon’s ghoulish gaze.
Suddenly, a triplet: “hah-hHAt’iishhew!!” That was uncalled for, that was unrehearsed!! The poor spirit staggered into an exposed space, letting out a frightful yelp. A single miscalculation sent the skies into thunderous torment. So close to the end, too…
“Oh, shame, there goes that perfect stride~!” The moon scorned. “Goodness me, I’ve frightened you, still as stone. Unless you are stone, and my magic’s gotten stronger.”
One would imagine the sky would get brighter the bigger the moon is. Yet here, as it loomed closer, the stars flickered from the sky like a dying power grid. Inky black bled into the horizon, leaving only a thin halo of indigo around the moon’s wicked face.
No one could stare at those terrible eyes without recoiling in painful embarrassment and humiliation. It felt like dropping a cake at a birthday, or falling on your face in the snow. Perhaps fighting off a sneeze during a public speech…
Yes, the eyes of judgement were as red as they were dastardly. The ghost fell victim to it, and trembled with terror.
“Hhah, you—you got me there, I’ll admit,” the spirit shielded their little eyes, visibly embarrassed. The moon looked them over, lips pinched in thought.
Then, a melodramatic groan. “Ohh, fie, fie! There’s no satisfaction in this. I have to come clean: I lost myself around the end bit, my hayfever got the better of me. That last sneeze was hardly within the whims of my control.”
“Didn’t know the moon had good sportsmanship…bless you—if it’s any consolation, everything else was a pleasant surprise..!”
“Was it?” Sniffled the moon, before cracking a smirk. “Quite the interesting individual…bold, willing to push for a proper scare. I like your tenacity for terror, spirit.”
“Appreciated…don’t listen to the storyteller, I think your sneezes are plenty frightening.”
A strange means of bonding, but oh well. You can’t win them all.
From the storyteller:
You were well prepared, and…
You didn’t falter to the moon’s build-ups, and…
Phantasmal focus.
Amazing!
ADKSDFKNASNDKVNJNJKVANSJLKDJKFASBDJ WORDS CANT DESCRIBE HOW HARD 'DUSTY PROLOUGES' HIT 😭😭😭
the self depricating remarks and apologizing for sounding gross in order to 'say what everyones thinking before they get a chance to' type deflection is so real
whether knowingly or not, someone hurt this man in the past and i WILL personally beat them up for making fun of him and making him think these things about himself >:( <3
(hes so real for all of this and i love him so many and probably somewhere in there is some self love that i dont fully want to unpack rn lol)
RIGHT YOU GET IT!!!
Projecting onto Mycah is such an interesting thing for me, because (at least in this point in life, and also referenced in With Softened Eyes) that he doesn’t view himself as appealing/attractive. Which is straight up incorrect, obviously!!
💬 0 🔁 3 ❤️ 36 · With Softened Eyes · Quosterking art has returned ever since like...sicktember. I wanted to do a pretty big 'I'm BACK' sor
Something about me, the writer, seeing how easy it is to say “silly Mycah, you don’t know how sweet and beautiful you are” is comforting because I hope someone in the future is able to look at me and say the same thing to themselves. That’s why the projection is so therapeutic!!
On a big lore aside, is it crazy to say out loud that (while he didn’t start it) Thomas was probably the one to hurt/further pronounced those feelings in the first place??? In their first year of university when the two were roommates, they started out sworn enemies and did NOT get along at all. They traded off some pretty hurtful things to one another, but near the end of that year, they had to put their heads together to get through a huge hurdle, and came out of it on the other side as incredibly close friends. The dynamic of a close friend who once said some horrendous shit to your face is a really really good one, especially given the long term effects.
Are you planning to release sternutation incantation when its fully complete? or more in 'chapters' (or in this case class periods?)
Absolutely!! The original goal was to release it this November, but telling by my progress, it may be a bit after.
I’ve been playing with the idea of doing it in three parts. There’s the morning (the demo), the midday that takes you all the way to lunch, and then the rest of the day, so they would make for clear sections!! Maybe I’ll do a poll to see what the people would want…
Either way, the plan is to release it in its entirety once it’s complete and post it here! For more updates, you can check the first tag :D
YOU SENT ME A SIMILAR ASK, SO IM GONNA GET UR ASS NEXT 💥💥💥
🤩 &/or 🖋️ for the ask game !!!!
- @snifflyhermit
Ask me some questions!!!
CAUGHT red handed, I gave you an ask I didn’t even know how to answer myself and now I have gotten my karma!!
🤩 - Is there any symptom/torture tactic/snz trigger that you haven't portrayed or seen yet that you'd like to try?
G/T or Macro/Micro Inducing that is very intentionally led by the larger character. One of the main drives behind Kilo was having a character that looks like they could be an intentional inducing tool. So often in my works I put the smaller character in more control, but I haven’t really tried it the other way around. Oh, to have a giant character try to work out a stuck sneeze by inducing with a tiny character, or even just sniffing them up and letting them take care of it.
🖋 - What is your favorite media that you have made? (Illustrations, writing of any kind, WAVs, manips, etc).
I'll break this one down:
Illustrations wise, my recent favorite has to be this Runough art I did a few weeks ago. I really experimented with the POV shots and motion blur, and I think it came out super well!!
💬 0 🔁 13 ❤️ 73 · A Tiny and Ticklish Tormentor · I thought it would be fun to make a piece in the micro's POV, where their tickling (wheth
I'm very biased towards the fics side, just because of the MASSIVE project I'm putting together and how it's literally the BIGGEST project I've ever worked on for snzblr. Literally the main reason I haven't been posting as many fics here is because I have easily over 30-50k words in this thing's full version that I'm working on!!!
💬 0 🔁 25 ❤️ 120 · Sternutation Incantation - The Book of Many Sneezes ₊˚. · A Choose-Your-Own Snzfic - PLAYABLE DEMO!
Demo title page by
