Iety makes drabbles

[iety]

So, it looks like I finally caught up to this bandwagon and took a flying leap onto it. I have very little in the way of introduction, other than to say that this skips around a lot in terms of what the topics are. A lot of the time it'll be fanfiction, but sometimes there will be original stuff. Fandoms so far include lots of Rammstein, a little of Lord of the Rings, and various EDMs (electronic dance musicians).

ermm~ let's begin! You all know the list by now so I won't repost.

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79 – Music

Fandom - Rammstein

Leaning on the doorjamb, Till looked silently in at Flake. The refrain he was playing was sweet, overlain with effects, tripping and experimental. His long, pale fingers spidered carefully over the keys, his glasses slipped far down to the end of his nose as he peered at all the buttons of his complicated instrument.

And every so often, he would stop, curve his thin body away from the keyboard, and sneeze just as carefully as his playing. It created a punctuation to the music, seeming to become part of the song.

“We should record it like that,” Till spoke up, stepping into the room.

“Ha,” Flake responded, tone thick and acidic. Then; “hp’TSCHT'eh! Ah, god.” Digging a near-depleted packet of tissues out of his pocket, he blew his nose. “Fucking America. Full of…hp'TSSCH! Plants and shit.” Another blow.

“Berlin doesn’t have plants?” Till smirked.

“Not ones that make me—hept'TSSSCH'ehh! God damn it!” In frustration, he pounded an angry fugue out of the keys—though, given the sparkly ripple sound still in effect, it wasn't quite as menacing as he might have hoped.

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43 – Contagion

Fandom - Rammstein

They weren't sure who it started with.

All they knew was that one moment, they were healthy and excited at the start of a tour – and the next, they were all laid up, ill to a man.

“I'm going to find out who did this to me,” Richard groaned, slouching toward the communal fridge, “and set them on fire.” He pulled open the fridge, the cold air immediately making him shiver and sneeze. “Hiihp...yssschhuuu! Ngh.”

“Nope,” Till rumbled from the couch, swathed in a quilt and paging through a Spanish translation of the last Harry Potter book. “Already laid claim.”

“Of course.” The fridge door was slammed shut and Richard shuffled over, chugging a tall glass of orange juice. “Of course you have.”

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I have a lot of these written already so~ expect updates regularly? Heh.

[Scion]

Not at all familiar with this fandom, but I really like these and the sneezes are beautiful.

[Natto]

The contrast between these scenarios and the music that this band plays is kind of amazing. Never thought I'd see something like this, but hey, it's pretty awesome.

[Anonymouse]

I love Rammstein and I love these drabbles. Like Natto said it's an interesting contrast. I'm so glad you have more written, I'm looking forward to more updates!

[iety]

@Scion - Thank you so much! It's an honor when someone who isn't familiar with the fandom still gets into it especially since I love your writing~

@Natto - I have such a weakness for making this band all fluffy and snuggly, I just can't help myself.

@AnonyMouse - Thank you! Well get ready because here comes some more~

But first a note: Something I forgot to mention in the first post was that there's definitely gonna be some male/male relationships goin' on in these. Apologies if it's not your thing, but that's how I roll.

These next three are a series of sorts.

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1 – Kink

Fandom - Rammstein

The third interviewer walked in, and Flake decided he disliked her. Press gauntlets were always shitty, and the only thing worse than an interview was an interview alone. For that he had Till with him, but this woman, with her terrible pantsuit and bad hair, was about to cancel out any good juju he might have already drummed up. Dislike was too soft a word.

That is, until she flipped her poodle coif and wafted cheap perfume their way. For Flake, it didn't offend much other than his good taste. But next to him, Till cringed lightly and brought a loose fist up to hover under his nose.

On the other hand, Flake thought, this could be fun.

22 – Embarrassment

I can't believe this.

I knew what was going to happen as soon as that smell hit me. Cheap perfume is my guaranteed weakness. Subtle nudges to my septum didn't do a thing; in fact, they made it worse. My breath caught silently.

Starting in on her questions, the interviewer tossed her hair again, releasing more perfume. My eyes started watering. Shit, I was really going to sneeze.

I tried stifling the first one. It came out as a humiliatingly loud “hp'pbshfft!”. Flake glanced at me, hiding a smile behind his fingers. At least one of us would enjoy this.

The thought distracted me enough to keep me from noticing that the next question was for me.

What other choice did I have? I tried. “Ah, well we...we hope...sorry, hold—HUH—HFFSSCH!” Barely muffled it into my bicep, and more were on the way. Fuck this. Getting up to leave, I stumbled with another sneeze. “HFFSSCHSH! Uh...” I bumped into my chair and knocked it against the interviewer's. She was staring at me as if I'd just peed all over her shoes. I sneered at her—and sneezed again. “Uh'HFFFSSSCH! Nnh, sorry. I think it's your per...perfume. Snf!”

Her look got even more sour. Excusing myself, I left, ears burning, swiping at my brimming eyes, desperate for some quiet place where I could recover what little dignity I still had.

46 – Enraptured

“You okay?” Flake peeked into the handicapped stall.

“Getting there.” Lifting his head from a mass of tissues, Till snuffled, eyes wearily shut. Flake crept into the stall and locked the door behind him. He'd finished the interview solo and gotten out of there. Now he watched Till's flushed nostrils flutter, watched his broad chest hitch with his breath. Watched. Couldn't look away.

“Hih...EISSSCHhfffsh!” He let it pitch him forward into the tissues and stayed there a moment, nuzzling the paper.

Flake melted. “Bless you.”

“You always say that like you want to jump me. Hh...Egssschhfff! ...fuck, that stuff really got to me.”

“Mhm.”

This time, Till's laughter was less weak. “You're really turned on, huh?”

Another nod.

“We'd better ask her the name of that..scent—huh'ISSCHhff!”

“Yeah,” Flake sighed, having barely heard what was said. The interview, the scent, whatever would come that evening, was all lost here, in the face of what was before him.

++++

/derps away

[queenie]

I don't even know this fandom, but I've immediately become a fan.

[Scion]

Something about that was really hot (I mean, even more than the usual lol, like extra hot), even though I actually felt really bad for Till.

Edited April 15, 2011 by Scion

[Butch]

Nice drabbles! I'm not familiar with any of the fandom, but it's still fun to read.

[iety]

Thank you guys so much <3 Apologies for not updating sooner; here's some more~ If there isn't a little *** divider between the drabbles, that means they're related. All Rammstein (again, hurr)

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2 - Science Fiction (inspired by the Mutter album art where the band posed as specimens preserved in jars.)

He wakes.

He is floating.

He hurts. His eyes sting against the fluid. For a moment, he is just suspended, staring dazedly through the murky liquid. Then a burning sensation prickles up in his sinus. He knows what's about to happen. Feebly, he kicks for the surface. A tug at his bellybutton holds him back, and though he waves his hands frantically in the thick liquid, he can't find what's attached to him.

The sharp taste of adrenaline leaps higher in the back of his throat. He propels himself upward again, unprepared for the sharp, raw pain when the thing at his stomach rips away. He surfaces into bright light, with liquid up his nose, and his first action is to cling to the side of his container and sneeze and sneeze.

***

3 – Frightened

“Ready? We're on in a half-hour.” Flake lopes into the room, and Till wants to punch him for looking so relaxed.

Instead, he takes another drink from the bottle of Jaeger, winces, and has to wait to swallow before he can cough a watery, affirmative answer. Never mind that heart is clenched into a hard fist, a fever is scrabbling for purchase in his system, and all he wants to do is fucking leave.

A few more drinks and he'd be gone enough, anyway.

Flake stares at the bottle, contemplating taking it away. Then he reckons the likely consequences, and leaves.

73 – Don’t

They go on, and Till is very drunk. It's only their third show, so no one can really tell if he skips a verse or gets words wrong.

Not that this makes up for much.

During instrumental breaks he sways behind the mic, unable to look at the audience. Flake watches him, nearly missing several keys.

“Are you going to be all right?” Flake asks, afterward, having watched Till crawl into bed. There's already water and a trashcan at the bedside, for various inevitabilities. He creeps nearer, kneeling on the bed, and fixes tangled bedclothes. Fever is radiating from the body there in thick waves. “Could I--”

Till rolls sluggishly away. “Don't.”

***

18 – Midnight

The sky was pitch black and a multitude of stars rolled by in a dizzying wash you never saw in the city. Staring at them made Schneider feel like he was about to detach from the earth's surface and be flung out into space.

The wine probably wasn't helping. He plonked the bottle into the grass between himself and Paul. They'd been out there for hours, just staring up at the sky.

Paul made a grab for the bottle and Schneider watched him try to drink while lying on his back. He succeeded only in getting wine up his nose, jerking upright with a sneeze while Schneider laughed.

***

4 – Fake

“And her?”

“Yep. Also fake.”

Flake tilted his head, disbelieving. “How can you tell?”

Till shrugged. “They look too good.”

“Her breasts are fake because they look good? Sound logic.”

“You want details? Too round and perky for their size, don't move with her, and she hugged me earlier; hard as rocks. Plus, the nipples are—oh, shit.” The aforementioned lady was making a drunken beeline for them. Till moved like he was trying to hide behind Flake, which made about as much sense as a rhino hiding behind a stick insect.

“Hey,” said the groupie, “are you guys going to the afterparty?”

And when Flake answered, he suddenly sounded like he had the most hideous cold known to man. “Don't know. We're quite ill, the both of us.” He jabbed a pointy elbow into Till's side and forced a cough out of him. “Flu, probably. Could be swine flu. Anyway, where was that party?”

Frowning, the lady fled posthaste, tossing them some excuse about her friend being over there.

“You're an ass,” Till chuckled appreciatively as they watched her go.

Flake sighed in mock regret. “Apparently we're just not alluring enough for her to risk infection. Think she'll go for Richard next?”

Till shrugged and sipped his cocktail. “She'll have to join the queue.”

++++

/is not even funny

/flees

[Scion]

Wow, interesting. You're so creative. Something about these just...I don't know...is so unique and interesting.

[obsessed]

I love your writing style!

[iety]

Thank you guys so much! Can I just hug you all? Okay? Okay. It's gonna happen.

These next three were inspired by actual stuff that happened on a recent tour; their keyboardist Flake ended up getting pretty sick and had to go to the hospital for a night, and was temporarily replaced. This is super fluffy and gay, just warning you haha 8D

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16 – Three

Paul wakes up to voices in the room next door. He rolls over towards the clock to find out that it's three AM. That's an hour that never bodes well, so he wraps himself in a blanket and shuffles out into the hotel hallway.

He's in time to see Till helping a bundled-up Flake towards the elevator. “What's up?” Paul asks.

Till answers; “He's really ill. I'm taking him to hospital.” Flake is pale and shivering. Till looks frightened. No matter the image the man tries to project, everything shows up in his eyes.

Paul steps out, shutting the door behind him, still trailing his blanket. “Can I come with?”

Both of the others nod in unison, and the three of them make for the elevator.

57 – Hospital

“Hey.”

He wasn't quite ready to open his eyes, but Flake tipped his head in the direction of the warm voice, warm body sliding into bed behind him.

“Wow. They've got you hooked up to shit...” the voice trailed off. Unsticking tacky eyelids, Flake saw hospital gown, his own skinny wrists, plastic bracelet, IV cord. He saw legs along the outside of his own, hands gently at his waist. With effort, he swiveled around and met Till's unsure smile.

“Hi,” Flake said, wincing at how terrible he sounded.

“I'd ask how you're feeling, but,” shrug.

“Awful,” Flake said anyway, because he needed to. The change in position was making his nose run. “How did—snfsnff—how did the show go snif last night?”

“It was fine,” Till answered, watching Flake slowly drag a forearm across his face. “You want tissues?”

“No, it's...ihh—h'h'hh—ihg'tsscht! -uh. Hh'pschish! -aagh.” The sneezes tensed muscles he really didn't want to tense.

“Here, let me...” Till stretched for the box of tissues on the bedside table, nearly tipping them both out of the bed, “fuck, sorry,” but ultimately succeeding. Pulling out a handful, he cupped them against Flake's nose. “Blow.”

Flake obeyed. It was embarrassing, but he was so tired and so ill he wanted to bury his entire self in those tissues. He settled for his nose. “Thank you,” he sighed, after. “'m probably gonna fall 'sleep again.” He could already feel himself drifting. Words wouldn't come out right. “You'll stay?”

Warm arms encircled him. “Yeah, I'll stay.”

13 – Care

“What room is he in? Shit, we're late.” Richard was queening his way down the hall, already on edge after being told to put out his cigarette.

Schneider trailed quietly behind. “Room 238, I think,” he offered.

“Right right okay. 232, 234...238! God,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in distress as he pushed down the door handle and swung the door inward, “we didn't get him a gift or anything, I think you're suppos—oh.” Richard stopped short.

On the bed was Flake, black hair in stark contrast with his paleness. Behind him, as curled around him as someone could be, was Till. Both were asleep. Their right hands lay loosely entwined at Flake's hip.

There was a moment of reverent silence.

Then; “Oh,” Schneider sighed, “that's quite swee--”

“I'm awake,” Till rumbled, not opening his eyes. “If you didn't bring chocolates, get out.”

The only response was the sound of a door quickly shutting.

[Scion]

Aww, I liked that! It's IS sweet! All cuddly and huggy and stuff! And beautiful sneezes as always.

[Zane]

I'm not familiar with the fandom either but these are really good, thanks for writing them! I'm looking forward to more.

[iety]

More, MORE! Moo hoo ha ha! ...cough...

Here are some more. Still within the same fandom, but I promise some more variety will start popping up soon~

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45 – Sore

“I can't believe you jumped on my back,” Till groaned, shuffling across the room to land heavily on the bed, facedown.

“Oh, please.” In the bathroom, Flake was washing off stage makeup. “You'll be fine.”

“I'm hardly thirty anymore,” was grumbled into the bedclothes. Till was sure the stunt had made for a good show piece, but now, hours afterward, he was feeling the effects. He heard Flake exit the en suite and approach the bed. Then the mattress dipped and his legs were being straddled. “What's this?”

Long, skilled fingers came down to start kneading his shoulders. “I'm expressing my utmost apologies.”

Till sighed happily. “Apology accepted. But don't stop.” He added, when Flake's hands left his skin.

“Don't worry, I just need some lotion...” A bedside table drawer was rummaged in, and a bottle of hotel lotion was discovered. It was uncapped and unleashed.

“God, that smell.” Till tried to push his face further into the duvet.

“Bothering you?” Those amazing hands kept working.

“H'hh'EGSSCH!” came the affirmative answer.

***

54 – Needles

“I'm doing it today. Want to come with?”

Richard looked up to see Till leaning in the doorway. “Could you be more specific than 'doing it'”?”

“Fine. I'm going to get a big, thick needle pushed through my cheek, in order to make a hole large enough to fit the cable needed to power the LED light that will be in my mouth for the music video. Specific enough?”

“Oh, god.” Richard winced. “Why would I want to see that?”

“I'll buy you a drink, after.” Till gave a winning smile. “Fancy drinks. Plural.”

The fact that he planned to go out drinking after getting his cheek pierced pointed to a huge flaw in the logic, but Richard was easy, and agreed. They'd been trying to make nice, recently. Apparently, this was part of it.

“Ugh,” he shuddered in preemptive horror on the drive there. “I keep imagining that you'll sneeze or something during it and get half your face ripped off.”

Till scoffed. “Not possible.”

Even so, when the needle is slowly, almost, halfway through, Till lets his brow crease and his eyes fall shut and his breath catch. Just for fun. The real challenge is keeping himself from laughing when Richard shrieks and nearly falls off his chair.

***

5 – Pencil

Whatever Schneider could get his hands on, he drummed with. Fingers, twigs, kitchen utensils. When he got his own kit, he tried to bring the sticks with him everywhere he went. A hundred different beats could spill out of any surface he chose. It got so that he'd physically miss the sticks when he was without them. They were comfort items, like a child's blanket.

And now, ill, stuck in bed, all he's got is one pencil that someone left on the bedside table. It taps a slow rhythm on the mattress with one hand, as he catches sneezes in the other.

***

25 – Mistake

Till met him at the door with a kitten in each hand. They were mewling and wriggling and Flake couldn't help but smile at them as the door opened. Till, however, looked and sounded the picture of misery.

“Hey,” he stepped aside to let the other in. “Thags for—f'r—snxt!”

It took Flake a second to realize that had been a sneeze, wetly stifled. “Bless,” he offered. “Why did you...?”

“If I dod't, id scares theb. Mbeet Asterix,” he lifted one kitten, tiny and white, “ad Obelix,” lifting the other, roly-poly and orange. They were set down and toddled away in the direction of the kitchen, where three more fuzzy little things skidded around on the linoleum.

Flake was already holding out a box of tissues, top ripped open and white squares presented. Till grabbed a handful, then the box itself.

“So,” said Flake, “what have we learned from this?”

“Volunteering to cat-sit was a vehhvery—hgk'SSCHHSH-uuu! Ah...big mistake.”

***

61 – Idiot

“Snei. Sch. Shchneiderr. Iss'me. Rich.”

When your friend needed three tries to say your name, he was very drunk. Despite it being 2AM, Schneider sat up in bed. “What's going on?”

“Fucked up.”

“You fucked up or you are fucked up?”

“Buhh—both—Aeessch!” Though directed away from the phone, the sneeze was obviously harsh and tired. When Richard spoke again he was so stuffed up he was nearly unintelligible. “Blease cub ged be. Aagsschhuuu! I'b dot hurt. I just deed a ride. Ad a tissue. Snrrf. ”

Schneider was already up and putting on his shoes. “Okay. Here I come.”

“You're an idiot, by the way,” he said, after Richard had climbed into the backseat to fall gratefully on the Kleenex there.

“Yeah,” Richard groaned between honking blows, “I know.”

[Scion]

Ahh! How did I miss this!?! I still LOVE the way you spell sneezes. Yumyum.

[March Hare]

SHIT but these are good. RGH, fuckin Rammstein set my pants on fire even without the sneezing and you write them extremely well. I was always afraid to check these out but I should have known better you're not a Rammstein n00b, after all. And I LOVE how you've all sort of strung them together like a string of very precious beads.

I need me some Rammstein right now. You are brilliant.

[iety]

Scion - Eep thank you so much! Writing sneezes is almost an art in my mind~

Maru-chan - HNNNG I know right? They're a traveling horde of sexy sexy mothers 8) Thank you so much, I'm so glad you like it <3

/flings moar

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39 – Muffle

Olli liked the tour bus. Everyone else chose to go by plane and stay in hotels these days, but Olli stayed with the bus. After the first few weeks, it was like a little traveling village. You made your own space, your own bed, and on a calm night you'd find yourself relaxing in the back with some wine and a movie and the friends that traveled with you.

It was comfortable and familiar and he liked it.

That is, until partway through the tour, when he caught the sneeziest cold he'd ever had in his life.

Surrounded on all sides by bunks full of crashed out travelers, Olli doesn't dare make undue noise. He's curled up under the duvet with a box of tissues, a handful of the paper pressed to his face, reducing each helpless outburst to a soft “Hm'pffh!” The fit seems to go on forever. When it finally ends, he's left exhausted and aching, still tickly but too tired to keep sneezing. He already knows what'll wake him in the morning.

***

21 – Pollen

“'Oh yes Flake, let's all go for a walk in a lovely field, it'll be so relaxing.' --Hb'BSCH'uu! 'Don't mind me, I'm just going to disturb this giant patch of ragweed.'”

“Stop bitching. Into the shower with you.” Till was already stripped and staring at Flake with arms crossed.

Grumbling, Flake got his kit off. The movement shook more yellow motes out of his hair, which sent him reeling into another sneezing fit. Sighing, Till herded him into the shower stall. The water was already running hot, kicking up steam.

“I hade sdeesig!” Flake snuffled in impotent anger, water beading on his glasses. “Uhb'dJSSCH! Hh...DJSSCH'uu! Oh...snrrf...” He snatched a washcloth from a hook on the wall and buried his face in it.

“Sneezing hates you.” Till dispensed shampoo into his hand, coated his palms, and began working it into Flake's hair.

***

84 – City

The first time he traveled to Berlin on his own, he was nineteen. Through long phone calls to Schwerin, Paul convinced Till to Come To The City. He's nervous, though he'd never admit it. He falls asleep on the train ride over and wakes just as they enter Berlin, the beginnings of a cold buzzing in his nose.

The city is going into summer, drying out from a wet spring. Till frowned out the window at all the concrete. Cities would never be his kind of place.

Paul meets him at the station. With him is a tall, skinny sixteen year old whose oversized pink shirt and homemade haircut make him look like someone's unfortunate sister. He's introduced as Christian. He plays keyboard in Feeling B.

“You can call me Flake,” says Flake, as he shakes Till's hand.

“Mm,” Till hums distractedly and steps back. He knows its impolite, but he's had to sneeze ever since he stepped off the train and now it's finally--

“Hsz'SCHSSHH! Ah...sorry.” He grunts, barely ducking under the cover of a cupped hand.

Flake smiles warmly. “Bless you,” he says. “Welcome to the city.”

72 – Remedy

That night, they go out drinking, and it is a bad idea. When Till woke, it was impossible to tell where the hangover ended and the cold began.

“You're awake,” said a voice; a wretched voice that pierced into his skull.

Groaning, Till found the strength to open one eye. Flake was standing over him, holding a plate and a glass. “Breakfast,” he said, and set both on the floor next to the couch. On the plate was a bacon roll, a pickle, two painkillers. In the glass, water. “It'll make you feel better.”

“HSZ'schuu!” Till sneezed, then said, “uhb. Thanks.”

And then, somehow, he was being presented with a handkerchief. Dazedly, he took it. ”You're welcome,” Flake smiled, and padded away into the other room.

Between the pounding headache, the off stomach, and the constant sneeze breaks, he could only get the food down slowly. But it did make him feel better.

[Scion]

'Don't mind me, I'm just going to disturb this giant patch of ragweed.'”

“Sneezing hates you.”

Love these. And still, best freaking sneezes everrrrrr.

[iety]

Thank you so much, Scion! Hehh you flatter me <3

Here are some more derps. More gay Germans!

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88 – Tattoo

Paul's new tattoo is oddly sensitive. It's healing, still a little pink. Olli likes to drag his fingertips lightly over the ink, to watch Paul shiver and see chill bumps race up his shoulder and across his chest.

Olli has long since memorized Paul's various physical responses, but new material is always welcome.

One night, he discovers a trick. Peel back three layers of blankets to expose the freshly adorned bicep, and Paul is already a bit shivery. Trace fingers over the sun design and his eyelids flutter to half mast, nose twitching. An even lighter touch. Another. Paul's skin is pebbled, his nostrils flaring into wide circles.

“Heih--” he huffs, squirming.

A last graze tips him over the edge.

“H'isch'oo!” Cringe. “Heisch'oo! Huh...HEISSCH'oo! Ohh...” Paul lies there for a moment, sniffling, accepting the tissues Olli gives him.

“I like your new tattoo,” Olli says at length.

Paul tosses the papers in the direction of a trashcan. “Me, too.”

***

12 – Sin (inspired the Rosenrot video)

This is dangerous.

Ever since she emerged, twirling, from the center of the other dancers, her skirts and ribbons billowing out to entrap him, he has known this must be Sin.

These feelings haven't surfaced in years; they have long since been eradicated by his exemplary devotion to the Lord.

Or so he thought.

They walk together, and he engages her in a conversation about the Bible, if only to convince himself his motivations are pure. She can read, which is rare among those he meets while traveling. The girl nods and responds smartly, eyes bright with a foxlike glint.

In the forest, she picks weeds and flowers until, by chance, she finds one that makes him sneeze. The sweet girl sits on the monk's chest and waves the plant beneath his nose, pollen yellowing his septum and the stretching rings of his nostrils.

He sneezes until he can't anymore, going from reluctant, itchy outbursts to desperate rushes of sound, to breathless sprays, to nothing. Nose completely blocked, eyes still streaming, he watches the girl giggle over him, and he prays to her as devoutly as he did to the last God.

***

99 – Lazy

Beams of yellow light spilled into the bedroom and pooled on the floor. They crept over the rumpled bedspread, to fall across closed eyelids that flickered and squinted open.

Sighing, Flake escaped into the dark, body-warmed cave of blankets. There he found Till, eyes just barely opening.

“Morning.” The bony cage of Flake's body butted comfortably up against Till's tanklike construction. “Plans for the day?”

Till wrinkled his nose and nuzzled it against the mattress. “Sneeze.” A hazy look, intensifying, plateauing. “Help me out?”

One thin arm emerged from beneath the duvet to fumble out a tissue packet from the bedside table. Rolling one into a tight point, Flake cupped Till's chin. “Of course.”

[obsessed]

Your writing is so lovely.

[iety]

Long time no post! Sorry about that This time there's something other than Rammstein, finally.

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]10 – Cough (phlegm warning!)

“Wow.” Richard peered over the top of the latest 'Die Bild'. “You look like shit.”

Slumped at the other end of the table, Till gave him a look that could have cracked glass. “I've been in bed for three days sweating out a fever. What the fuck do you expect?”

“It's not like I'm wrong,” Richard snarked back. It was true. Three days of coughing, sneezing, and laying in his own sweat had left Till looking wrung out, and his voice sounding much the same.

“Whatever.” Till grimaced, and began a fresh coughing fit. They rumbled thickly up from his chest in a seemingly endless roll. Partway through he left the room, and Richard could hear him hacking and spitting.

“Don't give me that look,” Till grated when he came back, in response to Richard's disgusted sneer. “You're lucky I went out to do that, considering there's a sink right h...h-here.” More coughing, interspersed with swearing.

“For god's sake.” Rolling his eyes, Richard folded his paper and got up to lead a still-coughing Till into the living room. “Sit down on the couch. Stay there. I'll be right back.” When he returned, it was with a little jar of Vicks. Straddling Till's lap, he hiked up the manky pajama top the man had worn for the last three days. This was met with little other than a weak complaint, which got stronger as the rub was applied.

“That's cold!” Till writhed in protest.

Richard just rubbed harder. “Quiet. It'll warm up. Deep breaths.” He nodded in approval as the broad chest beneath his hands expanded wide, settling into a regular rhythm.

Once the Vicks was rubbed in, Richard fetched a blanket, tissues, and the TV remote.

“What's all this about?” Till asked, sleepily but truly bewildered. His and Richard's dealings were terse at best, especially lately. This was an unprecedented show of giving a shit.

“I'm trying to be nice, you thick fuck.” Richard shoved forth a glass of water. “Drink this. It's good for you.”

***

78 – Shut Up

Original

From behind a stack of books, Christian emerged, squinting suspiciously. He'd been going through a new shipment, enjoying thoroughly the smell of ink and glue and paper, the crack of old book spines, the worn covers, unknown languages spilling out—and the library had been quiet. Had. But now...

“Hck'KNX!”

Someone was sneezing in his library. And for all the effort they were obviously making, they were still being loud. Replacing his quill in the inkwell, Christian stood and came out from behind his desk. Though it was a massive place, no one could hide from him in The Archive. Christian found the man in the non-fiction section, in front of Ernst, Georg; Esoterica Vol. 5. It was the groundskeeper, Dietrich, with whom Christian had but a perfunctory relationship. Standing at the head of the aisle, Christian cleared his throat.

The man looked at him blearily, and sneezed again. “Hgk'KNXSschue!”

“Indeed,” Christian responded, plucking a white handkerchief from his breast pocket. “The effort is appreciated, but if you don't let it out, you're only going to continue noising up my library. Come here.” He beckoned. Obviously near another sneeze, Dietrich reached for the cloth.

“Ah ah.” Christian took a step back. “I will be the one holding this, thank you very much. Now, come.” Held over a cupped hand, the cloth was offered. Leaning in awkwardly, Dietrich hovered his nose before the offered hand. He cringed—and huffed out a loud false start, as if he was now unsure of his desire, or indeed his ability, to sneeze.

With a longsuffering eye-roll, Christian cupped the back of the man's head and guided him forward, holding his nose within the cloth. The touch seemed to be all he needed, rocking forward with a much-relieved, “Heh...HFSSCH'uu!”

“Goodness,” came the dry remark. “Any more?” Dietrich shook his head. “Right then. Blow, please.” Christian gripped a bit more firmly. To his surprise, obedience was instant and enthusiastic.

“Pardon,” the man mumbled, stepping back. “I disturbed some books and the dust...”

“Perfectly understandable.” Fastidiously refolding the hanky, Christian tucked it back into his pocket. He himself was, by now, used to the constant coating of dust, but an especially large cloud could still send him scrambling for something to sneeze into. “Now that that's done with; Perhaps I can help with what you're looking for.”

***

63 – Control

Original - you'll see more of these guys

Their reunion at the airport is hardly the sort of thing one can properly describe. Afterward, Pascal remembers how wet his face was under his glasses and Olivier remembers feeling of Pascal's hands gripping his arms.

Later, maybe hours later, they're at Olivier's having a good stare at one another. They both bite their tongues to keep from saying “you look so different” for the nth time.

Tilting his head, Pascal noticed something new. When he reaches for Olivier's face, the other man doesn't flinch away. “You've broken your nose,” Pascal strokes lightly over the bump of poorly fused bone, not missing the twitch it elicited. Fingers search for a hold and pressure is applied. Olivier's breath stutters.

“You're going to make me sneeze,” Olivier murmurs.

“Yes,” Pascal replies, “eventually.”

Edited January 26, 2012 by iety

[Dye]

Oh, my, these are glorious... <33333

[iety]

I'm sorry for neglecting you drabble thread ;w; Please forgive me. Here is another increasingly random assortment of drabbly things!

***

6 – Squint

Fandom - original

Vision reduced to a squint, Mikhail wailed discomfort from his perch on the couch. Loudly.

Herding mewling little demons into cat carriers wasn't enough of a distraction, and Olivier eventually broke. “For gods' sake,” straightening, sighing, “quit whining.”

“But I'b biserable!” Mikhail's red nose twitched and flared yet again. “Heih'YSSCHuuu!”

“Take comfort,” Olivier says, stooping again to herd the last smoke-trailing things into their basket, “that you are one of the rare few who can claim allergy to a supernatural being.”

8 – Joy

Fandom - Rammstein

to the bafflement of most, If not all, he met, Paul is an eminently joyful man. He is always smiling in that genuine way he had. It was not a facetious smile. It was infectious.

Even then, as ill as he was, in the middle of a sneezing fit, he still grinned.

“Oh wait, wait, anoth—hehh—yeh'KSSCHhew! Nh.” He laughed. “How many is that?”

Till made another tally mark. “Thirty-six.”

Paul laughed harder.

23 – Alcohol

Fandom - Rammstein

“Okay, whose bright idea was it to give him Jaeger in lieu of cough syrup?”

Unable to stop snickering, Aljoscha looked up and met Flake's furious expression. “Eh?” he raised his hand with drunk caution. The men sitting on his either side quickly found distraction elsewhere.

“You cruel fucker, now he's--,” At this moment, an amorously drunk and feverishly delirious Till decided to wobble out of the hallway. “Well, like this,” Flake finished, as the other man growled and tugged him in the direction of the bedroom, unresponsive to warding swats.

“I don't see why you're so upset,” Aljoscha snickered. “Go on, we'll turn on something loud.” And he did, flicking on the TV and turning it up loud enough to drown out Flake's yell of frustration.

82 – Magic

Fandom - LOTR

“I could do that.”

Pippin is well into his third ale when he says this, so excuse Merry if he doesn't take him too seriously.

“That?” Brows raised, he tips his head to where Gandalf is conjuring more butterflies.

“Of course!”

it's unkind to bait his drunken cousin, but Merry can never resist. Five minutes later found both of them behind an empty tent, Pippin clutching a vial of strange powder and Merry struggling not to laugh.

“How, exactly, are you going to do this then?”

Uncorking the vial, Pippin tipped too much of the stuff onto his palm. “Simple. It's all tricks anyway, he just does--this--” Pippin clapped, sending the powder on his hands into a great cloud that settled about his head; in his curls and eyebrows, on the tips of his ears and nose. First, he frowned, disappointed at the failure. Then, he started to sneeze. And sneeze. And sneeze some more.

Merry grimaced. “Oh dear.”

29 – Purple

Fandom - LOTR (continuation of the previous)

They hid in Fredregar's wine cellar, knowing if Gandalf spotted them, he would instantly be suspicious. Someone had turned one corner into a cozy drinking spot, and it was there they sat. Pippin huddled instinctively against Merry's chest, thoroughly weary of sneezing but unable to stop.

“Yeh—hh—TSSCHheeh! Nh. Wonder how many that's been.”

“Maybe we should start keeping count.” Merry chuckled. The warm rumble of his chest under Pippin's head was a comfort.

“Feel like....maybe...almost...d-duhh'HUHH—done—tsschheeih!” With that, a nebulous cloud of purple was sneezed forth from Pippin's nose and mouth. It floated before them for a moment, and disappeared.

“What on earth?” Merry gawped, while Pippin relaxed, finally relieved, and drowsed off against his chest.

***

~rolls out~

Edited July 16, 2012 by iety

[fraggle]

Merry and Pippin are sooooo cute.