Blue || he/they 🏳️⚧️ genderqueer trans guy || 1999
DNI if you're under 18. Please don't reblog my content to non-snz/whump blogs.
All my fics can be found under the "my writing" tag as well as on this list (below the cut). Occasionally I post wavs, which can be found under the "my wavs" tag.
Open to DMs with women and queer folks of all genders.
My Writing
This list in chronological(ish) order unless otherwise noted, and the character(s) listed in parentheses is the main sneezer (for lack of a better term).
You can also find my fics on my AO3, where I use the same username.
Original Characters
These stories follow a queer friend group in the Portland, Maine area. Eddie and Clem are a lesbian couple living in a cabin in the woods south of Portland, where Clem runs an apothecary and dabbles in witchcraft. Eddie can see ghosts, but it's almost never a plot point beyond the first few stories. Jack and Corey are partners and live in Portland; Jack works at a bookstore and Corey is a barista. Frankie lives in Portland and runs a bookstore called Seaside Scribbles, where Eddie and Jack work. There, she meets Penn, a reporter who's new in town. They're all in their late 20s.
Lupe, Charlotte, and Toby are a sapphic polycule in the Portland area. They're all in their early 30s. Lupe is Penn's coworker, and Toby is a supervisor at the coffee shop where Corey works. Charlotte is a teacher.
Sniffles at the Apothecary (Eddie)
An Herbaceous Bath (Eddie)
A Midnight Visitor (Eddie)
Halloween Party Prep (Clem)
Movie Interrupted (Eddie)
Raking Leaves (Clem)
Unexpected Travelers (Eddie)
Bathtub Sneezes (Clem)
Sunflower Maze Mishaps (Eddie)
Christmas Candle (Clem)
Picnic Interrupted (Eddie and Clem)
Tender Loving Care (Clem)
Autumn Leaves (Clem)
Christmas Trees and Head Colds (Clem)
Christmas Lights and Brain Gremlins (Eddie)
Bad Timing pt. 1 (Jack)
Bad Timing pt. 2 (Eddie and Clem)
Bad Timing pt. 3 (Corey)
Bad Timing pt. 4 (Frankie)
Chocolate || Sweethearts pt. 1 (Eddie and Clem)
Taro Tea || Sweethearts pt. 2 (Frankie)
Nerds || Sweethearts pt. 3 (Corey)
Something Special, Reportedly (Frankie)
Strangers or Friends or Fill in the Blank (Penn)
The Trouble with Speed Dating (Penn)
Friendship Bracelets and the Flu (Frankie)
The Quiet Spaces (Frankie)
Found Friend (Clem)
The So-Called Meaning of Dreams (Penn)
Unspoken Things pt. 1 (Frankie)
Unspoken Things pt. 2 (Frankie, Penn)
Unspoken Things pt. 3 (Frankie)
Unspoken Things pt. 4 (Frankie, Penn)
Unspoken Things pt. 5 (Frankie, Penn)
A Break in the Silence (Penn)
The One Thing She Knows (Frankie)
Dyke Night (Penn)
Summertime Sniffles (Lupe)
Miscommunications (Frankie)
Easy and Slow (Jack)
Take Care (Charlotte)
Next Year (Penn)
Anything (Frankie)
Conference Crud (Lupe)
Catching (Charlotte, Toby)
Marvel
Love you, buddy: Canon-compliant Sambucky fics post-Endgame, with a few Bobquin and general Thunderbolts team fics here or there. Listed in vaguely chronological order, not the order in which I wrote them.
Just Five More Minutes (Sam)
If We Fall, I Only Pray Don't Fall Away From Me (Bucky)
Anybody Else But You (Bucky)
The Part of Me That Ain't Around I'm Always Talking To (Sam)
You're All I've Got (Bucky)
Now I Have to Act Like I Can't Read Your Mind (Bob)
I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute: Fics set in an AU where, after the events of Age of Ultron, Steve and company pull Bucky out of Bucharest to begin to recover at the new Avengers facility in Upstate New York. Fics focus on Steve and Bucky's relationship unless otherwise specified.
The first one is an attempt at vocal buildups and stifles, ft. a weird half sneeze or two (because it was really hard to keep them small after building up like that) and my dog’s collar clicking in the background.
The second one is me being as quiet as possible because I could hear my neighbors doing laundry but still wanted to try to coax a tickle out, ft. weird fizzy/bubbly sounds (I was sitting in a bubble bath) and the dryer buzzer at the end. I don't know why it sounds like I was breathing directly into my phone because I know I wasn't, but ... *shrug*
Also stifling everything so intensely made me SO sniffly by the end of both of these 🙈
it’s always ‘sneezing into a woman’s cleavage’ this, or ‘sneezing onto a woman’s chest’ that. where are my big breasted brothers, bro? i want more some more man titties, dude.
okay so! about a year ago there was a post going around (credit @pollinatedbosom ) asking for a snz community dating app. and while i dont have any programming knowledge (anybody in the community please hit me up if you're reading this and you do, we can make this happen) the idea did get me to thinking.
we can use a tumblr tag as a dating app, kind of. introducing: #feathr snz
i've made a template, just copy it, fill it out and post it tagged with #feathr snz, so people searching the tag can find you! i checked and made sure, this tag is not currently in use by any other community.
you can even link your feathr snz post in your pinned if you want people to be able to find yours easily!
i put a lot of thought into these, i will reblog with the explanation behind everything if anyone's interested but for now this post is long enough!
templates + examples below (text & image versions because have fun with it!)
Text Template:
[any image that you feel represents you]
name | age | pronouns | gender symbol | orientation | relationship style
About: a little bit about yourself
Seeking: what you're looking for in a relationship
[optional short wav]
Snz Info: a few snz details & snz fun facts about yourself
interact with this post if interested □ [check box]
send ask if interested □ [check box]
dm if interested □ [check box]
Text Example:
Name Mcname | 23 | she/her | ♀️ | bi | monogamous
About: Hi! I'm a singer/songwriter who loves to watch foreign language films!
Seeking: I'm looking for someone to trade wavs with, nothing too serious right now
[optional wav upload here]
Snz Info: I swear I must catch 75 colds a year, also allergic to dust, dogs, & ragweed
interact with this post if interested □
send ask if interested ✅️
dm if interested □
well, it is hard to organically meet people in this space. it's a bit huge and disorganized, and i know a lot of us feel a strong connection between this kink and how we experience intimacy.
if there are those of us who want to date within the community, there hasn't really been an appropriate space for that that's easy to browse, easy to update, and easy to access. If i could make us all an actual dating app i would, but i'm no programmer. so this is the next best thing!
the idea behind the template:
i wanted to give everyone an easy and fun way to put their info out there, without having to think too hard about what to say or how to organize it.
here is a peek behind the curtain on what reasoning went into this template's creation:
[any image that you feel represents you]
i know a lot of us don't want to share our faces publicly in connection with our accounts, but that doesn't mean we can't express ourselves! picrews, drawings, photos of environments that you feel represent you—do whatever you feel gets yourself across to someone
name | age | pronouns | gender symbol | orientation | relationship style
these seem like the most obvious points of identification. i did not include things like height, star sign, personality types, etc, because there has to be something left to talk about.
apps can get too granular with these and it keeps people from getting to know each other, so i decided to keep this part simple
a little bit about yourself
a place to put yourself out there and let people get a peek at who you are, to guage interest and see if you have anything in common
what you're looking for in a relationship
so that everyone is clear on what to expect and if it's something they also want too
optional short wav
because there is something to be said for knowing what someone's sneeze sounds like up front. for gauging interest
a few snz details & snz fun facts about yourself
also for gauging interest
interact with this post if interested [check box] send ask if interested [check box] dm if interested [check box]
different people like to communicate in different ways! maybe you want likes and comments, or maybe you want DMs or asks! here you can specify
why didn't i include:
preferences:
because you can keep track of that on your own, and preferences are often times bendy and hard to truly communicate. seems best to avoid confusion so as not to needlessly discourage people before you even know they're interested
location: girl this is the internet. we don't want doxxing.
why #feathr snz?
well. it initially was going to be hashtag feathr, in the style of like. grindr and tindr etc., but a lot of people who can't spell have aesthetic posts in that tag, so i added snz to the end 😂
over all i hope everyone has fun with this tag! i will be posting my own on here later ☺️
I no longer live somewhere with a 365-day allergy season, so I kind of forgot I had to think about allergies and, you know, take meds … and then spent all morning congested and itchy and wondering wtf was wrong with me.
Summary: A short & sweet little ficlet inspired by this A/B cold scenario 💕 in which S/cully catches the cold M/ulder has just recovered from, and is wholeheartedly and justifiably grumpy about it. Domestic fluff ahead - you've been warned.
Notes: Takes place sometime in S7 when things are certainly a little more ~cozy~ between the two of them and it's not just couches that they've shared.
Word Count: 1.1k
The first thing Mulder hears when he lets himself into Scully’s apartment with his spare key and steps inside is a sneeze —
“Huhh’ESSCHhiiuew!”
— that comes from the direction of the living room. It’s loud enough that he thinks she may well have not heard the door open, and is almost immediately followed by a second one, desperately smothered into what sounds like several tissues at once.
“—huhp'tTSCHieew! …nguhh..”
Judging by the weary, nasal little groan that follows, Mulder suspects he has caught only the tail end of what was likely a much longer sequence. The couch faces away from his vantage point in her front entryway, its high back concealing everything but an uneven pile of blankets at one end, beneath which he further suspects must be one very miserable Dana Scully indeed.
“Gesundheit,” Mulder calls out by way of announcing himself. He closes the door behind him and sets the keys on the entry table.
“That key is for emergencies,” the blanket pile grumbles. There's a rustling of fabric and Scully’s head pops up over the edge of the couch, looking flushed and rumpled and not at all pleased to see him. He can’t blame her, really.
Four days ago, it had been Mulder who was marooned on his couch beneath the two blankets he owns, his bones aching and his head throbbing — while Scully plied him with soup, decongestants, and an endless supply of Kleenex. She had checked his temperature, bullied him into drinking both water and orange juice, and stayed until he fell asleep.
She had also, he recalls with a fresh wave of guilt, sat beside him while he coughed, sneezed, and thoroughly contaminated every breathable molecule of air and surface within a ten-foot radius.
By Friday morning – the first day he’d begun to feel remotely human again – Scully had looked pale and drawn, and had proceeded to sniffle her way through the day while operating on increasingly terse, hoarse assertions that she was perfectly fine each and every time he had dared to ask. By lunchtime her voice had acquired a soft, telltale huskiness, and by the end of the day she looked about ready to drop.
Mulder doesn’t know how she does it, but he has long suspected Scully schedules her illnesses – or at least holds them at bay through some inexplicable act of physiological disciplinary will – for weekends and federal holidays, when she can both suffer and convalesce in private.
The same cold that had laid him out for most of the previous week must have been circling her for days, biding its time until the weekend — because sure enough, it’s now Saturday afternoon, and Scully appears to have been wholly struck.
"I tried calling you twice,” Mulder replies, “but you didn’t answer.” He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the couch, keeping it easily accessible should she require another layer anytime soon. He glances across the room at her desk, where the light on her answering machine is blinking red. “It could have easily been an emergency."
“I was sleeping,” she scowls, retreating further beneath her blankets again.
Now that he has rounded the couch, Mulder can properly survey what remains of his always-so-put-together partner. Only her face is visible among the nest of blankets Scully has made for herself – her hair mussed from sleep, her nose rubbed a vivid, tender pink, and her lips set in a chapped little pout. She looks, to Mulder’s private and considerable delight, unbearably dear, and in that moment he wants nothing more than to kiss that pout away. Still, he knows better than to try. Not yet, anyway.
The coffee table is littered with the evidence of a battle valiantly fought and lost – a bottle of Tylenol, two types of vitamin supplements, a box of tissues, and a half-empty roll of cough drops. A medical journal is being used as a coaster for a nearly-finished glass of orange juice and an empty mug of tea.
Scully eyes him warily as he surveys the scene.
“Go away, Bulder," she sniffles thickly.
Mulder does just the opposite, plopping down on the couch next to her and causing the cushions – and Scully along with them – to dip towards him. She makes a sound not unlike a disgruntled kitten as he presses the back of his hand to her forehead and tries to pull away, but she’s too thoroughly cocooned to get very far.
“You’re warm,” he murmurs, brushing her hair back from her forehead with his fingertips. “You must feel about as bad as you look.”
Scully fixes him with a dark, wounded glare, and Mulder immediately winces.
“That...came out wrong," he explains, offering her a sheepish little smile. He doesn’t add what he really thinks, which is that even feverish and scarlet-nosed and glowering at him from the depths of her blanket fortress, she looks more beautiful than anyone has any right to when in a state of abject misery.
Scully draws in a breath – presumably to tell him precisely where he can put his spare key and his bedside manner – but it catches suddenly, her eyelids fluttering shut as she shakes her head urgently, turning away as much as she can. Mulder hastily withdraws his hand and reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table, but she is already ducking into the blankets and burying her face in the soft folds, muffling another pair of helplessly congested sneezes.
"Bless you," he replies, offering her a tiny, sympathetic smile he knows she can't see.
Scully sniffles miserably and doesn't immediately emerge, uttering a muffled little grunt of acknowledgement from inside the blanket. It’s unclear to Mulder whether it’s a sound of appreciation or disdain, and he waits patiently for her to resurface. After a few long seconds she does, looking considerably more flushed, but readily accepting the wad of tissues he’s holding out for her without comment. She blows her nose with all of them, then tucks them into the open top of a second, empty box of tissues nestled between her and the side of the couch.
Mulder glances at the makeshift wastebasket and smiles. She’s nothing if not resourceful.
Scully gives him a tired look and sinks back against the cushions, tugging one of the blankets back up beneath her chin. Mulder lifts his arm so she can settle closer, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she relents and curls against him, her head finding the familiar place beneath his chin. She yawns, and it ends in a sigh that becomes a shiver, and he draws her a little closer, keeping the tissue box within easy reach of them both.
“How’s that cold of yours?” Mulder asks carefully. He knows better than to ask how she’s feeling outright, knowing the answer will be that she is fine, regardless of the truth behind it.
“It’s not my cold,” Scully mumbles grumpily against his chest, nestling herself even closer. “It’s yours.”
Mulder smiles and presses an apologetic kiss to the top of her head, feeling absurdly grateful that, for the first time in days, his nose is clear enough to breathe in the familiar scent of her shampoo.
“Sorry, Scully,” he chuckles into her hair. “No takebacks.”
imagining cold sneezes so fatigued that there’s no vocalization or far-spraying pressure behind it, it becomes just a nose blow with slightly more force and less predictability <3
I had a request for 'cartoony buildups with some announcing' and then another one for 'exaggerated buildups'
I felt they went hand in hand really
I should probably give a light NSFW warning in that it's a bit moany and sounds like something else is happening but it isnt lol. Possibly more moany than cartoony but that could also just be my accent
did you knowreal and true fun fact? whining and moaning and making a lot of noise is really really really good for allergies or a cold. scientists are saying: "its like tht thing where if you yell when youre hurt the hurts less or whatever". so there u have it. try some today.
