Ahhh your most recent fic its so sweet n cute and i absolutely adore phonecall snz concept, would you consider writing something ( maybe with the same character if it fits him? ) with someone with an equally uncontrollable cold and only a scarf to contain all that mess...? love ur work thanku ~☆
thank you anon!! 🙈 sorry it’s taken so long. thanks for the ask, I had fun writing it <3
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Enough (m, illness)
this features my ocs Jack and Jess from Try Again. in this one, Jack has just finished working a day on site and is waiting to be picked up.
warning for mess | 1.2k words
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He was filled with tea and regret and snot. Digging his hands into his pockets, Jack wandered to the end of the subway entrance, further from a couple of other people waiting for their rides. A sniffle dragged the moisture back into his skull, and a cough rattled it all. Too loud and too painful. Not enough energy to be trying clear the muck so often.
It would be a while before Jess would arrive. But Jack was more than ready to leave. He’d only come in to work for a research and design session, confirming a few things that were uncertain on his sound plot. Despite clutching an overpriced extra large ginger tea for most of it, his cough seemed to only be getting worse. A white hot soreness, an itch at its tamest, lingered in his flooded, inflamed sinuses. Begging for attention at every moment. Unreasonably flickering with the need to sneeze - perhaps the smoky October air was a good enough excuse.
“*hsddrff!* unh… *sngk!*”
And the sneezes were bounds more dramatic than the coughing. They tore from him in awful, desperate volleys, and had soaked through his entire pack of travel tissues and two napkins from the cafe over the course of the meeting.
“*snnrk* *koF!*” And no way was he going back into the building.
Jack sucked in a liquid sniffle. His fingertips felt around the damp layers of the napkin he’d saved. He sighed inwardly. This cold was just… “*snNrfh!*” …so itchy. “*hsdrf!*” So wet. The last napkin was too thin to sneeze into, too damp to hold up against such catastrophic force. And wetness, really. “sddrff” But he was going to sneeze. A casual thought as he blinked at the grey sidewalk, sniffling back so much mucus that it was running down his throat.
He was losing the battle. “h-hh! heiH’-!” His tired eyes narrowed. Turning casually to face the other end of the sidewalk, his long, frozen fingers made a clumsy grab for the scarf around his neck, and pulled the fabric over his mouth and nose as the urgent reflex crashed through his shivering form, bending him almost double. “HAAAAAESSCHhiuhh-“ Throat scraping, exclaimed, and more strenuous than relieving. Jesus, he thought, eyes bleary. If there were birds in the nearby trees, they’d have flown away.
He drew some thick, liquid sniffles, carefully wiping his upper lip with the inside of his scarf. It was red and black wool. Believe it or not, softer than tissue. “*sdrff! sddrffh*…. ugh.” He shook with a sudden bout of coughing, and snuffled some more. Then his breath was making decisions for him again- “-hihh! hiH? *sdDrff!*” He sniffled, sharp and panicked, triggering the reflex again in his flooded, aching sinuses. “hihhhHH, hhYAAAASSCHHIEWWh!!! *hsdrk! koF!* heiH?? HeiyY’AASSSCHHIEWWwh!!!”
The two utterly thick, blasting sneezes had soaked a wet patch on the inside of his scarf. The scarf itself was nice, a subtle-looking though expensive thing that Jess had bought for him a while ago, insisting it would help with his tendency to catch colds. He sighed, snuffling wetly, panting through dry lips. Thin mucus ran down his upper lip, making his nose burn. He didn’t think before lifting the front of the scarf in both hands, and releasing the next trio of itchy, inevitable sneezes into the plush woven fibres.
Jack stood there, panting, exhausted. The scarf obscured his flushed, overflowing nose, and his eyes were weighted with a film of tears, stinging with the buzzing between them. He sank onto the concrete ledge of the station window. Breathing slowly, exhaling swirls of vapor into the chilly air. He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and looked down with longing at his lock screen. The dull time of day, no new texts or calls. Jack stared hazily out at the cloudy landscape, at the mud at the edges of the curbs. His fingers found the courage to lift his scarf again, over the lower half of his face, and he exhaled through his nose, adjusting to find drier cloth, expelling what he could from his swamped nasal passages.
“ngh….” He lowered the scarf, holding it so the drenched fabric wouldn’t touch his neck. His nostrils flexed with whistling sniffles. The cold air rushed the tender membrane, prodding and stirring up the sore, sneezy irritation. “hnh…”
Jesus, enough…
His eyes felt hot, fluttering shut. The itch fizzled with the thoughtless sniffles, moving like a light burning down a sparkler. His upper lip was damp, and the saltiness met his tongue again.
“*hsnnrff! sdrf*” Just then, his phone buzzed, and his hand moved to his pocket. Jess’ smiling contact photo lit up the screen. “*ahem!-grmm! snNrk! grmm~*” He swiped the little receiver icon across with his thumb and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello,” he breathed, more vapour escaping his lips.
“Hi darling,” Jess’ voice sounded a bit distant, like she was using the car speaker. “I’m almost there. I’m sorry, there’s a bit of construction on Greene and I had to go through a neighbourhood.” Between her voice and the thought of a warm car ride, Jack was softening, thinking he wasn’t feeling very well at all.
“That’s okay,” he rasped, and cleared his throat. He heard her continue on about something traffic-related but started to lose focus as his eyes stung again, his sinuses heavy and hot with irritation. “I’b-“ he huffed. “Jess, I’b-hh! hUHt’TDSCHHh-!!”
Oh, ew- he thought to himself. He’d managed to pull the phone away from his face, turning his head before sneezing messily, ejecting thick snot onto his upper lip. He sniffled frantically, making all sorts of crackling, slurping sounds, pulling the scarf to wipe his face and cringing as the wet fabric touched his skin.
Rather than a choked, breathless, “I’m sorry,” his nose took precedence over the situation and- “rrRR’AAASSCHHIOOo!!!-ESSSCHHIUHh!!! heHh?! HAAAARSSCHHIUHh- *koF, KOF! sddrff! kof-*”
“Bless you, darling, you poor thing, oh- there you are. I’m here now.”
Headlights shone along the sidewalk as Jess’ black sedan arrived. Jack hadn’t heard her last couple of sentences, but he could see her, and quickly used the handful of bunched scarf fabric in his hand to wipe his streaming face. He snuffled hard, and stood, clutching the damp scarf in one hand.
As he walked over to the car, he breathed some hoarse words into the phone. “‘b sorry, *sdrff!*”
“Enough with that,” she’d reached over to open the door to the passenger seat. The rumble of the car filled his ears, and the heat, and the heat kissed his face, and soon she did as he crumpled into the seat. “Goodness gracious,” she tutted, a hand on his cheek, looking him over.
He coughed and clicked his seatbelt into place. When he looked up, she was reaching over, grabbing something at his feet and placing it between them on top of the drink holders. Tissues. Jack tugged at his scarf and folded it haphazardly in his lap, hiding the sodden fabric before pulling one, two, and fuck it, three…
“Let’s take the highway, yeah? Have you eaten dinner?”
“-‘eEEISCHHIUE-!! Doe…”
“Bless you. You can lie down when we get back. I’ll boil up some ramen and chicken, how does that sound? And I’ve got all sorts of tea from my last client. We can explore that together…”
“Mbkay…”
The sound of ticking joined the humming as Jess turned on the signal. Off they went, under the overcast sky.
ough. there’s something about this summer air or my weird sinuses that these days I don’t even need chhinkni to start sneezing in the middle of playing piano or most other mundane things. I may have to try a nose spray cuz my generic allergy meds don’t seem to be helping with the congestion
ough. there’s something about this summer air or my weird sinuses that these days I don’t even need chhinkni to start sneezing in the middle of playing piano or most other mundane things. I may have to try a nose spray cuz my generic allergy meds don’t seem to be helping with the congestion
Anyway you folks do you know what's hot? Hitches that catch. All sorts of marvellous hd-! and hhit...! and h'gh!! sounds. Like yes gasping and panting is choice already but just that extra extra audibly desperate edge telling you that someone is really really ready to explode.
hey, thought I’d share a bit from this thing I’ve been writing for wip wednesday. fancy wedding reception and a female guest who’s affected sneezily by alcohol. x
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Quarter to Ten-ish. The traditional dances had been danced and only a few remained up there swaying. I might’ve been up there too, but I wasn’t too familiar with the last couple of songs. Also, I was too sneezy to dance. Served me right, I guess. My glossed lips were parting again. Black and blue glitter twinkled on the edges of the gold satin napkin I’d pulled from my lap. My eyebrows wrinkled as if to express exasperation or confusion as my breaths played tug-of-war with the warm evening air. “Achoo,” my friend supplied. I exhaled, muscles relaxing. My elbow jerked in his direction. “*snnff*…” One of my nostrils was blocked, though both were hot, in a constant state of runniness. “Are you gonna sneeze?” he mused. Bored. Watching the sparse individuals on the dance floor. I reached for the stem of my third glass of white wine. I gulped down the bitterness and set down the glass. The sensation hit my nasal passages like gasoline on a flame. I let out a slow breath. On the inhale, I focused on the irritation, my eyes narrowing until they squeezed shut. “hh’it’TDSCHhh-!! hh… *snfff!*” I turned away squinting, lifting the damp corner of my napkin. “hihh? haET’CHIEWWh!! *sngk*” I sighed, starting to feel a bit heavy. A hand ran down my back, steadying me a little. “Bless you.”
The end of the thermometer hangs from their dry, flaking lips like a sucker or cigar, their posture as lax, maybe more. While you’re waiting, they stare. Gaze heavy, nearly gone, hanging on just enough for them to glare their contempt - understandable. They keep staring as they drag a viscous, mucky sniffle, the rims of their nostrils writhing with it. Raw from abuse, cavernous and glinting. Air hisses softly through their teeth. The thermometer beeps. Quickly, you take it. They snuffle and lift a wrist to scrub fiercely, audibly at their nose; a flushed irritated mess of wet skin and cartilage. The urge to nag them not to is intercepted by the number on the little screen, as it confirms your worries. They adopt a raspy soap opera voice, slouching back into the couch cushions. Sweat gleams on their smiling face as they ask in a dry husk: “Give it to be straight, doc. How bady days I got?”
hiyo. this is gonna sound fake lol so earlier I was bra shopping at the mall and I went into the fitting room. and while I’m in one of the little cubicles I heard a girl outside tell her coworker “I just got a wave of cologne”. and a couple minutes later I get the wave - it’s this fruity, sweet scent, and idk if the store even sells perfume but it was like someone was spray testing it
and I have no clue if it was related or just coincidental but when we left the store I kept sneezing. and naively I didn’t have any tissues in my pocket and doing the brave turn-away-wrist-cover thing and sniffling but we stopped to have lunch at a cafe where there were napkins. even when I got home I kept sneezing. had a nap woke up and sneezed more. I find it so weird bc I could blame the pollen and me being unmedicated but it rained a lot today so I’m rly not sure
(my friend also warned me to wear a hood going between the parking lot and the entrance so I wouldn’t catch a cold but we’re knocking on wood there)
hey sorry yeah lemme just *leans over the middle console to change the radio station* wait *opens the console and turns on the overhead light to rummage through cds* *gasps and sneezes, misting the air and getting spray all over the dashboard buttons* ‘scuse me, sorry *hacking coughs* *clacking plastic* hm. eesh. Ah! *shoves a disc into the slot and presses the cd button* yea crank it *disappears into the backseat* *honking ensues*
cold whump scenario where the caretaker has to save and quit out from a draft/project/piece of software to get their overworked sickie to get some rest. carefully finding their way through unfamiliar technology to save the work while the other protests, uncharacteristically emotional, highly symptomatic. googling how if they have to
my oc again, sick with a cold and reading a poem aloud about being sick with a cold. a bit about caretaking too.
cw: light mess | 800k words | pt III & IV on here, all parts on the forum
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~New recording 171~
The recording starts with a soft shift. A heater hums in the background. He slouches over the desk, weary and warm, his brow shining with sweat. Next to the open book is a steaming mug of ginger tea.
His gaze falls over the selected text, and he straightens a little, clearing his throat. “*ak’hrrem! grmm!* Hi.” The word comes out flat, and he chuckles dryly, weakly. “I… *grmm!* I dod’t eved kdow, *sddrFh!* if… if by voice is loud edough, *kof, KOF!*” He breaks into an itchy, phlegmy cough, turning his head away from the desk. “…Gosh,” he mutters, his voice cracking. “Sorry. I, uh… *sddrff!* I have a bit of a cold. *hsdrffh!* Oh by goodness, *sDDRFF!*”
He hastily lifts the hanky clutched in his right hand, and folds it over his dripping nose for a long, liquid blow. Afterward, he’s still left sniffling, his voice very nasal but a touch clearer.
“A’d, ub… I thought I’d read a text that has beed… requested, mbultiple tibes… a’d I’b godda- euUGH’CHIEWW!!! heihh! hAED’SSCHIEWWwh!!! Ohh… Excuse be.” He rubs his nose with the hanky, breathing through the soreness aggravated by each desperate sneeze. “Ub… It’s called ‘The Apartbedt Id The Sky,” by Ebily Caroll. *sdrff*”
The dight after your plade took off
I lay alode id the empty loft.
The city below id e’dless *sddrff*… fehhst...tivities…”
The word becomes a breathy whisper, the vibrations of his speech teasing at his sensitive nose. The centre of his face is heavy with congestion. Sniffling adds to the precarious sensation, thick mucus shifting in his itchy, swollen nasal passages.
“…hih? *s-snnrffh* h-heih?? Ehh-“
His chest swells with a huge gasp as the urge to sneeze consumes him, and a wet, bursting expulsion soaks the damp handkerchief. “yYY’AASSCHHIUHHh!!!” Another gasp, and- “AAASSCHHIEWWw!!! -’AAASSCHhiew-!!” He groans softly, snuffling and gently wiping his face. His raw, chapped nostrils twinge against the drenched cloth. With one hand, he lowers the soiled hanky, and reaches for another on the side of the desk.
He sits there for a moment. Breathing carefully, letting a dazed feeling linger and slowly recede. The cloth is soaked through already, and he lowers it, drawing thick, soupy sniffles. The sneezy feeling lingers. Sniffling seems to interrupt it a bit, but his sinuses are aching. He absolutely needs to blow his nose. “Excuse be,” he exhales.
His hand moves toward the last handkerchief. With a sigh, he drops the soiled one in the hamper and folds the fresh one. Again, he blows his swollen, aching nose, making congested honks. He gently wipes his deeply flushed nose and sucks in a few sharp sniffles.
“So sorry,” he pants, a hoarse utterance. He lifts the corner of the hanky to dry his eyes. “*sngk*…*g’hmb…grmm!~* Where was I…”
“The city below id e’dless festivity, *ahemm!*
Up here I’d brood, a’d thigk of whed you’d visit be.”
He lifts a curled index finger and pushes his knuckle against his right nostril, as they both flared wide.
“Back whed by deadlides hu’g over- hD’JSCHIEWw-!! *snnnrk!* …by head…
…iehhh… HAAAESSCHHIUHhh!!! … oh…”
The ear-splitting sneeze shreds his throat, dropping his voice by a few decibels.
"Your voice warb id by ear, *ahem!* a’d the thi’gs that you’d said.
By head ablaze, mby speech udsou’d
Each ragged breath dryi’g mby mbouth
A’d id the hours of peace we’d fou’d
I’d sdeeze so hard I’d shake the grou’d.
But eved whed the hour was late
Sat up id bed, you’d touch by face
… *sdrff!*
A’d all the while, *koF!* I shook with- ESSCHHiuh!! -with ndoise, hihh?? huH’ESSCHHIUE-!! *sddrffh*
Your steady ha’d a’d tender voice…”
The heater hums in the back. A soft pause lingers, and he lifts the damp cloth to blow his nose. He emerges, eyes drooping, his pink nostrils still flexing with thick sniffles.
“*grm!* … *snnff*
A bag of ice to soothe by crowd
A pill and drigk to lay be dowd.”
A wet, phlegmy cough rises in his throat. He winces as a more violent, barking cough does the job of clearing it.
“The apartbedt sobewhere id the sky
Above the streets, us scrapi’g by.”
His shoulders rise and fall, laboured, as if he’d been journeying uphill on foot. The edges of the wet hanky pinched between his fingers. Still visibly clammy, feeling tempted to forget the text and zone out. Lay his head down on the cool surface of the desk. But only a little bit remained. He could finish it.
“*ah-he-hem!* *sdrfh!*
A bligki’g light to grace the dark
I’d thigk of days lo’g past the spark
A voice like yours to conjure whed
I lay udwell, alode id bed.”
There’s another quiet break at the end of it. He sniffles lightly, soft on the recording. Finally, he gently clears his throat and reaches toward his phone, lying face up on the desk.
