Triosk's Drabble Thread (75/101) - loads of fandoms, most recently Giri/Haji

[Triosk1]

Yay, thanks guys! Nice to know there are other Chekov fans One more with him!

#17 – Never

Fandom/Original: Star Trek (2009,2013 films)

Characters: Chekov, Kirk

Fetish: Chekov (male), allergies

Word Count: 250

Two weeks ago, Chekov had been excited, bounding off the USS Enterprise in high spirits, fidgeting through all the standard medical checks required before being allowed back on Earth. Now, he had to admit, he was glad to be getting back on board. New England in the fall had been breathtakingly beautiful, as spectacular as he'd always hoped, but he hadn't bargained for the high density of American tree pollen, to which, it transpired, he was highly allergic. He saw Dr McCoy give him a suspicious look from across the sickbay as he sneezed for the sixth time, but he could already feel the hypoallergenic, sanitised air of the ship soothing his itching eyes and sinuses. Medical passed without comment, he headed for his first shift back on the bridge.

"Ensign Chekov, prepare to broadcast a shipwide message." Captain Kirk, too, was pleased to be back, swivelling The Chair back and forth and itching to be off once more.

"Yes sir, heppy to," Chekov put in his code (the computer had finally learned his accent and made no complaints) and leaned over the mic.

"To all passengers end crew on board ze ship, please listen for a message from y-your...yo--Hih'tscht! Heh! Hih'tishh!...your Ceptain," Blushing crimson and refusing to meet anyone's eyes, Chekov turned the mic over to Kirk. He was pretty sure he'd never been so embarrassed.

"Thanks, Chekov, and gesundheit." Kirk chuckled. "Now I hope everyone had a great time off-ship--”

Yep, never so embarrassed as now.

Edited July 15, 2013 by Katrelle

[Spoo]

GAHHH. Oh man, I'm feeling that secondhand embarrassment. Poor Chekov! But still, awwwww.

[Dye]

Oooooh, Chekov! So cute, so embarrassed... Baby <3

kjhkjggfhkjfgs but yes chekov with allergies @Q@

[OCC]

Allergic Chekov is the. best. thing.

[VividBubbles!]

D'aaaaawwwwwww! Chekov, you so cute.

bye.

[Triosk1]

Two more Star Trek! One is asthma/coughing, no sneezing. I felt in a hurt/comfort mood more this week, but am now back in a full-on sneezep0rn mood, so expect more, I think. Also, thank you for the awesome feedback, it makes me happy in special ways

#6 – Squint

Fandom/Original: Star Trek (2009, 2013 films)

Characters: Kirk, Sulu, Spock

Fetish: Spock (male), photic

Word Count: 138

The crew on the Bridge prepared to drop from warp, orbiting Sol 6’13, a completely new sun in a completely new solar system. It was their first real exploratory mission, and nerves were very tense.

“Now approaching, Captain," Sulu informed them.

“Ok, Ensign, pull her out of warp. Let’s see what she’s got for us. On screen.” Sulu pulled back the dramatic lever, and the ship shuddered slightly, gyroscopes reasserting themselves to keep everything steady. The huge screen, previously black, was suddenly filled with a blazing red light. The entire crew had to squint, peering through half-closed eyes at a sight no human had ever beheld before.

“Well, would you look at that,” Kirk mused.

“Heeh...heh’atschu!” Spock sneezed loudly, interrupting the crew’s silent contemplation. “Excuse me,” he apologised, as the several crewmembers turned round to look, “...the light.”

#10 – Cough

Fandom/Original: Star Trek (2009, 2013 films)

Characters: Kirk, McCoy

Fetish: McCoy (male), allergies (asthma, no sneezing)

Word Count: 354

Jim Kirk entered Sick Bay and was met with the sound of coughing. Not terribly surprising, given the location, except that he couldn’t see any occupied beds – all seemed empty and tidy, neat hospital corners to all the sheets. Nevertheless, the coughing continued, sporadically, interspersed with what sounded like wheezing gasps, uncontrollable and concerning. Someone should sort this guy out, thought Jim, heading for Dr McCoy’s office.

“Bones?” He called, knocking and opening the door. The coughing, wheezing, gasping grew louder, and Jim exclaimed. “What in the hell!”

“Heeh...hypo...” Bones spluttered. He was sitting at his desk, hands on his knees, his face an unhealthy grey. Kirk, emergency training kicking in, scanned the room, and saw a hypospray resting on a corner unit. He threw it to Bones, who caught it, feebly. Several uncomfortable seconds followed, as McCoy attempted to calibrate the device, still struggling to hold back the barking coughs determined to rid his lungs of all breath. Finally, he had it set, and punched it to his carotid. The hiss of the release was drowned out by the doctor’s relieved inhale as his chest expanded at least. Jim, in the meantime, had acquired a glass of water, which Bones took gratefully, still coughing chestily.

“Now, Bones, what was that?” The doctor made an angry gesture at a box on his desk, which Jim hadn’t yet noticed. It looked like an old-fashioned packing crate, made of wooden slats, and containing...Jim peered inside...some kind of straw, protecting test tubes and sealed beakers. Bones explained, hoarsely.

“Ceti Gamma 7 ain’t the most sophisticated of planets. Seem to’ve packed their medical supplies in a mixture of straw and horsehair. Set off my asthma unexpectedly...”

“I didn’t know you had asthma.”

“You should read your crew’s medical reports more carefully. It’s only mild-“ Jim snorted incredulously. “Well, it would’ve been if I hadn’t stuck my head in the box before I’d realised.” Bones cleared his throat, watching the floor. “Thanks, by the way. Could’ve been a bit hairy back there.”

Jim quickly unpacked the remaining supplies, hoisting the offending box under his arm. “Any time, buddy.”

Edited July 20, 2013 by Katrelle

[Bruyere]

I love the idea of Spock being photic <3

[Masking]

Oooh boy, asthma. Been there, done that...once it happened after I ate some dark chocolate, of all things. Thank goodness it's mild.

*hugs Bones*

[sothenthere]

Great Sherlock Fic!

[Salamander]

Yay, I'm not even a trek fan and I love your drabbles. Always enjoy seeing them xxx

[Triosk1]

Yay, thanks guys! The feeling is entirely mutual, Sal

I don't know if anyone else on here is a Formula 1 fan, but I am in a big way (something about drivers with colds/allergies in such high-adrenaline, high-stakes situations), so this is a drabble about that. I'm also in a show at the moment, so theatre original ones might come up soon. Trying to keep writing quite regularly at the moment. This one is about Sebastian Vettel, three-times world champion, German racer for Red Bull, and Christian Horner, Red Bull's team principal, who I will definitely be torturing if I get the chance.

#64 – Unfair

Fandom/Original: Formula 1 racing

Characters: Sebastian Vettel, Christian Horner

Fetish: Vettel (allergies)

Word Count: 128

“Right Seb,” Christian began, walking Vettel around the newly-tuned and calibrated Red Bull. “We've adjusted the tyre pressures slightly...”

“Eh'tschht!”

“Bless you. And we've increased the brake front-weighting, as the Monza track is a bit more—“

“Ah'tschu!”

“Um, bless you. And, of course, we've shifted the hydraulics for more grip on the left-handers, after that moment on Friday.”

“Heh...Eh'kschoo!”

“Bless you. Look, Seb, are you alright?” Christian Horner looked at his driver more closely. The young German was looking a little under the weather: red-rimmed, watering eyes which, as Christian watched, closed once more in a pained scrunch, his nose disappearing into a pinched tissue.

“Eh'tschi! 'Tschish! Ugh, zorry Christian. I szeem to be allergic to Italy.” He sniffed, pathetically. “'S very unfair.”

“Yes, clearly Ferrari sabotage.”

Edited July 25, 2013 by Katrelle

[Dye]

Ggghhhaaaaaaaaa it's VETTEL OMFG

[Triosk1]

Yay! I'm glad there's someone else out there who is interested in F1! This is Christian Horner.

#31 – Calculating

Fandom/Original: Formula 1 racing

Characters: Christian Horner, Adrian Newey

Fetish: Christian Horner (cold)

Word Count: 248

The weather at the Nürburgring was miserable: driving, freezing rain, and wind blowing it right into the pit wall, getting under collars and down necks and generally causing discomfort.

26000, 27000, 28000...Christian muttered under his breath, concentrating on the figures on the screen in front of him, trying to ignore the increasing soreness at the back of his throat and itching in his nose.

31000, 32000... “Heh'KSHOO!” Damn. Lost count. Blinking rain out of his eyes and sniffing, Christian tried to focus on his calculations again. 32, 31, 30...

“Huh'Ashooo!” Blast. More sniffing and squinting and wiping rain from the screen. A sudden illumination from lightning and crack of thunder this time interrupted his counting.

A sudden, irresistible sneezing fit struck him, and he turned aside, cupping hands over his nose as the desperate, damp explosions hit.

“H'ISSH! ESSHOO! H'rreSHOO!” A beat, a shaky inhale, feeling rain drip from his eyebrows. Then: “H'RRSSHHooo!” God above. Sniffing again, he turned back for a third time.

But Christian wasn't the only man on the pit wall to have been calculating. Adrian Newey, chief technical officer, had been keeping an eye on the team principal from a couple of seats over. Four, five,...six. He disappeared for a couple of minutes, and then a steaming mug of tea was placed in front of the dripping man. In the intervening time the count had increased to eight.

“Here you are,” a comforting hand pressed Christian's shoulder. “Best British medicine for a German cold.”

[Dye]

Ooooooohhhhh~~ @W@ Oh man oh my god dskhjflkjhlafkhjdha aahhhh

[Triosk1]

Yet another! This one is set within a play, The Admirable Crichton, but as I don't expect anyone else to have heard of it, consider it original.

#40 - Swift

Fandom/Original: The Admirable Crichton (play)

Characters: Crichton, Lord Loam, Lady Mary

Fetish: Crichton (cold)

Word Count: 240

A butler is never ill, he is never even indisposed, Crichton repeated to himself, attending to his lordship's ring of the sitting room bell. Unfortunately, the mantra was not improving his head cold one single jot. He cleared his throat in anticipation of opening the door.

“My lord?” Gratifyingly, his voice was not noticeably hoarse.

“Ah, Crichton, I must speak to you about a valet for this trip.” Lord Loam had been in conversation with his eldest daughter, Lady Mary, who cast a friendly glance in Crichton's direction. He was aware, in the same moment as acknowledging it with a nod, of an irritation in his nose. He knew immediately that there was no point in resisting; better just to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. The uncomfortable business was accomplished with admirably swift economy of motion: pulling out his pocket handkerchief, Crichton sneezed twice.

“Eh'Chmpt! Eh'TCHshh!” Lord Loam was still waiting for an answer, and in polite company Crichton could not so much as sniff to clear his nose.

“Yes, by lord?” He saw Lady Mary frown, concerned. “I believe Rolleston will be mbost adequate.” Lord Loam seemed satisfied with this response, but the stress of conversing had put further strain on Crichton's irritated sinuses, and he had to suppress another sneeze. “Heh'Tchsh!” Raising his nose from his handkerchief, he once again caught Lady Mary's gaze.

“Bless you Crichton.”

“Thangk you, mby Lady,” he managed.

[Triosk1]

Hi guys! Ok, I know I haven't written anything on here in like a millions years. I haven't really written anything, full stop, which is a bit sad. So these are just a few originals to get back into the swing of things. I hope you like, but I know not many people read drabbles not in their fandoms, which is fair enough. The Oli ones are based on a very sweet lecturer I have, who appeared after reading week explaining that he'd had a cold, and coughed all the way through the lecture he gave. So, yeah. Plus, I decided I needed some more hurt/comfort in my life.

The Tonks one is a bigger idea I've had kicking around my head ever since I wrote A cold beginning, which is Remus/Sirius. Basically, what if Remus had an older sister, also training to be an auror with Tonks, and they were girlfriends? I might expand on that if I can. I realised recently that, probably, Remus is older than Tonks (HP geeks, please enlighten me?), so maybe there would have to be a younger sister...

#58 – Annoying

Fandom/Original: Harry Potter

Characters: Nymphadora Tonks, Sally Lupin (original)

Fetish: Tonks (allergies)

Word Count: 241

Sally had known Tonks' allergies in rain, shine and storm, but it never failed to amuse her more than strictly necessary.

“Honestly, Dor, why don't you just take a potion?” She asked, exasperated, watching as her girlfriend desperately tried to hold back what must be her hundredth sneeze of the morning.

“I heh! told you, they make me hah! sleepy.” Tonks waved a hand vaguely in front of her face, her button nose twitching madly, eyelashes fluttering.

“So what? It can't honestly be worse than this.”

“It'chu!” Defeat. Tonks's hair turned a violent shade of green, and she sniffed, wrinkling her nose to try and hold back the next

inevitability. “No. I have so much paperwork, it'll take me all – heh! - all yea-hih'tchu!”

“Bless you,” Sally purred, wrapping her arms around Tonks and hugging her from behind as she tried to rub her nose into submission. She spun her round, taking in her tear-filled eyes, now a slightly unnerving shade of electric blue. Then mischievously, Sally planted a kiss right on Tonks's quivering nose.

“Oh, Sal, you – heh! Ah-ah- beast...heh!” Tonks rubbed harder at her nose, to no avail. A flurry of sneezes burst forth, and Sally watched with amusement as her hair became a kaleidoscope of whirling colours, styles and lengths. “Hah'tchi! Eh'tchu! Tshoo-chu!

Heh'tch! H'tchi!” When the sneezing finally subsided, Tonks put a hand to her head in despair, grasping a long auburn curl. “You are so annoying.”

#83 – Dirty

Fandom/Original: Original

Characters: Sammy

Fetish: Sammy (hayfever)

Word Count: 191

He couldn't believe he'd been talked into this. Let's go for a walk, they said, the weather's so lovely for a change. The woods are looking great after all the rain. And now, here he was, traipsing along, no, through, a path that was basically just mud, falling behind ever five minutes because he couldn't stop sneezing. Sammy hardly noticed his hayfever in town, but some of the trees he was surrounded by were driving his nose crazy.

“Heh'Tchsh! Ah'tshoo! At'shish! Heh'tch-ISHOO!” Each sneeze threw his whole body forward, as Sammy fumbled blindly in his anorak pocket for his only scrap of tissue, eyes still squeezed shut and teary. “Heh'TCHU! TSHOO!” He stumbled, catching his foot on a tree root, and all 6 feet 2 inches of his lanky frame headed inexorably for the ground. There was a squelch.

Sammy opened his eyes, nose still tickling madly. Both hands, one containing a tissue, were now wrist deep in mud. As were his knees, and most of his left leg. Looking around, he could no longer see anyone from his group of friends. He was alone, allergic, and really, really dirty. Great.

#7 – Misplaced

Fandom/Original: Original

Characters: Professor Oliver Barnes

Fetish: Oli (cold)

Word Count: 205

It was uncanny. Every reading week, without fail, no matter how much he had on, his body took it upon itself to be ill. It was like half term for teachers; the slightest hint of a possibility of a break, and suddenly he was blowing his nose every two minutes and coughing like a 40-a-day smoker.

“Hah'SHOO!”

Without even getting started on the sneezing. Oli grabbed tiredly for his handkerchief before the next one arrived.

“Eh'SHOO!” Still sniffing, he frowned at his computer screen, reading over his slides for the hundredth time, in full awareness that no matter what he did, there would always be a typo somewhere that he'd missed. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he caught sight of the clock: almost midnight.

What was ironic about this cold was that his body's faith in reading week had been entirely misplaced: he in fact had six meetings with graduate students, thirty undergraduate projects to start marking, and a presentation to give to senior management. He wouldn't have been able to fit in giving lectures. Oli made another hurried swipe for his handkerchief, burying his nose in its folds as the inevitable sneeze hit.

“Huh...heh...Huh'ASHOO!!” It was going to be a long week.

#18 – Midnight

Fandom/Original: Original

Characters: Professor Oliver Barnes, Stephen Marchant

Fetish: Oli (cold)

Word Count: 232

It was Wednesday, the night before his presentation on the 'innovative and inspiring teaching practices' of the department, and Oli was watching his computer's clock tick closer towards midnight. His reading week cold was still in full swing, although thankfully his chest had cleared a little so he might at least be able to manage to deliver his presentation without too much coughing.

“H'ughtzhoo!” He blew his nose, trying, vainly to clear some of the congestion pounding in his sinuses. No luck. Removing his glasses, Oli pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, then opened them to continue staring blearily at the computer screen.

“Oli? Jeez, I thought I must be the last person in the office.”

Oli glanced up in surprise. “Me too,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “What keeps you here so late?”

“PhD proposals are due next week.” Stephen was just finishing at MSc with the department, keen but disorganised. “How about you?”

“Presentation to the Provost's committee tomorrow. I-” Oli's voice cracked and he coughed, drily, trying to keep it under control.

“Excuse me. I've got to tell them about the way we teach.” He paused, tiredly weighing up whether he was about to sneeze or not.

“Huh'nghshoo!” Apparently so.

“Bless you. Sounds riveting, but not worth staying up after midnight for,”Stephen decided, pragmatically.

Oli smiled.“Quite right. See you.”

“G'night.”

#77 – Secret

Fandom/Original: Original

Characters: Professor Oliver Barnes, Alexandra Simmons

Fetish: Oli (cold)

Word Count: 407

Thursday morning had arrived. Oli dosed himself up on cough syrup, painkillers and tissues, put on his sharpest blue suit, loaded his slides on every available USB stick he could find, emailed them to himself and put them in his Dropbox. He arrived fifteen minutes early, found a jug of water and a glass, assembled his presentation onto the projector, sneezed three times, blew his nose, and cleaned his glasses. Less than a minute before the Provost and his teaching steering committee started filing in, he inserted the 'n' into 'teachig' in his presentation's subtitle.

Forty-five minutes of talking, seven questions and answers, three glasses of water and only nine dry, restrained coughs later, it was all over. Oli shook the Provost's hand, closed the door behind him, and sank into a chair. When his hands had stopped shaking a few minutes later, he collected his things and headed back to his office.

He wasn't quite sure how he'd managed to keep his cold at bay during the talk (probably a mixture of drugs and adrenaline), but it returned in full force almost as soon as he closed his office door. He spent the rest of the morning a sniffling, sneezing mess, getting through his supply of tissues by lunchtime and nearly spilling tea all over his keyboard, caught out by a sudden coughing fit.

At midday one of his PhD students, Alexandra, knocked on the door.

“Cumb id,” Oli called out, thickly, still sniffing.

“Hi Oli,” Alex pushed her long blonde hair out of her face, smiling brightly at him. “How did the presentation go? Stephen told me you were telling the bigwigs about our department.”

“Really well, actually.” Oli was still a little surprised himself, but he had no time to elaborate. Holding up a hand, he raised his handkerchief. “Heh'SHHOO!” He inhaled for a beat, then jerked forward again. “IKH'SHOO! Eh'SHOO!” He swallowed, sniffing, trying to clear his head. “Excuse me.”

“Bless you.”

“Thagks. Listen, would it be ok if we rescheduled?” There was clearly no point trying to keep anything quiet after that little performance. He looked at Alex, clearing his throat. “I've got a horrible cold, and I'm thinking of taking the afternoon off.”

“Of course! Whenever you're feeling better.”

“Thanks. Maybe Monday afternoon?”

“That's fine for me – give you a chance to chill for the rest of reading week.”

Oli laughed. Maybe that had been his body's secret plan after all.

Edited March 1, 2014 by Katrelle

[count tiszula]

Lovely to see you back again! Actually I had meant to comment on the Crichton one, if only because Moi, I have heard of it, in fact there is a very fine 50s film of it starring Kenneth More[ who also did another desert island film with Joan Collins].

Of course, no one can believe after Johnny Depp that Barrie could have been so comparatively normal in that play. Even so, it is a really good sneezefic idea, especially with all those girls in Edwardian underwear exposed to colds and South Sea allergies.

But as to Tonks, this is a brilliant concept I have been waiting for for years. The only thing is that one of her highlight scenes in the canon is where she is perpetually altering the shape of her nose, and no one has EVER written that up. I suppose I should have a go myself......

Professor Oli is a charming figure too; but wait a moment, is it possible that you are still an undergraduate?

[fraggle]

I don't know if anyone else on here is a Formula 1 fan, but I am in a big way (something about drivers with colds/allergies in such high-adrenaline, high-stakes situations), so this is a drabble about that. I'm also in a show at the moment, so theatre original ones might come up soon. Trying to keep writing quite regularly at the moment. This one is about Sebastian Vettel, three-times world champion, German racer for Red Bull, and Christian Horner, Red Bull's team principal, who I will definitely be torturing if I get the chance.

#64 – Unfair

Fandom/Original: Formula 1 racing

Characters: Sebastian Vettel, Christian Horner

Fetish: Vettel (allergies)

Word Count: 128

You wrote about F1?!! And I missed it?!!

Gah! I love that someone wrote about Seb, it's a cute story. I hope you can write some more about him, I promise to notice sooner!!

[Triosk1]

This was going to be a drabble because I couldn't resist writing after recently watching Cambridge Spies, a TV drama from 2003 about four men from Cambridge University in the 1930s who became Russian spies during World War II. It’s really brilliant, and the four of them are just the most wonderfully stiff-upper-lip, Eton-and-Cambridge, English characters you could imagine, and it just seemed perfect.

But then it got a bit long, but it's going here anyway.

To give some background and visual aids, the main characters were:

Anthony Blunt, played by Samuel West. A little older than the others, always well-dressed, very prim and proper, very upper class, gay.

Guy Burgess, played by Tom Hollander. Angry, opinionated, gay, hot-headed, drank far, far too much and got into lots of trouble.

Kim Philby and Donald MacLean, played by Toby Stephens and Rupert Penry-Jones. Idealistic, brave, loyal, straight.

From left to right: Anthony Blunt, Guy Burgess, Donald MacLean and Kim Philby. Tell me you don’t want to torture Blunt.

Anyway, here it is:

#93 – Weather

Fandom/Original: Cambridge Spies

Characters: Anthony Blunt, Guy Burgess, Kim Philby, Jack Hewit, Donald MacLean

Fetish: Anthony Blunt

Word Count: 499

February 19^th, and it had been pouring with rain for three days straight. MacLean, Philby, Blunt and Burgess sat holed up in the house that Blunt and Burgess shared with Guy’s on-off boyfriend Jack Hewit, trying to avoid cabin fever with furious drinking, smoking, and reading. Anthony Blunt was under the weather, leaving him touchy and self-conscious, shivering next to the gas fire which was their only reliable source of heat. No one spoke, the only sounds the rain against the windows, the occasional rustling of Donald’s newspaper, and in the background an off-key whistling as Jack cleared up in the kitchen. And, of course, the clink of ice in Guy Burgess’s drink.

“Huh’ASHhoo!” Sniff. Clink. Rustle. Sniff. The tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Jack clattering plates in the next room. Anthony fumbled for a handkerchief with one hand, holding the page of his book open primly with his other. He turned aside, holding the cloth

up as he sneezed again.

“H’UUSSHoo!” Pause. “Huh’HUSHoo!” He blew his nose as quietly as he could, fiercely keeping his gaze fixed on his book, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Rustle. Sniff. Rustle. Sniff. Sniff. Clink. Sniff.

“God, could you just stop?!” Guy exploded, slamming his glass down on the table and glaring around. Anthony coloured, aggrieved.

“I have a cold,” he protested, voice thick with it. “And I feel wretched, thank you so much for asking.” Everyone avoided each other’s eyes. Kim Philby lit yet another cigarette.

“Oh, fuck your cold. Let’s go out somewhere, let’s go dancing, let’s get smashed, get in a fight, anything. I can’t stand being cooped up here any longer.”

“If you want to go, Guy, no one’s stopping you,” Kim pointed out. Guy didn’t move.

Tick. Tick. Sniff. Guy sighed irritably. Anthony turned a page. Sniff. Rustle. The rain poured down. Sniff. Guy sighed again and drained his glass. Anthony raised his handkerchief, eyes unfocused, mouth falling slightly open.

“H’USSHOO!” He dabbed at his nose with the handkerchief, sniffing, eyes fixed once more on his book.

“AAARGH!” In mock fury and real frustration, Guy grabbed his glass, blundered over to the drinks table and poured another. Anthony blushed further, watching Guy from beneath heavy blond eyelashes. Guy continued to make his drink with maximum noise and angry gestures. Peevishly Anthony snapped closed his book and stood up.

“You can be a real shit, you know, Guy,” he opined, thickly, before vanishing into his room.

A few minutes later there was a knock on Anthony’s door.

“What now?” But it was only Jack, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Brought you a cup o’ tea.”

Anthony sat up on his bed, chastened. “Thank you,” he murmured, inclining his head. Jack brought it in. As he took it, Anthony let their hands touch for just a moment longer than necessary. Jack didn’t pull away. As the door closed behind him, Anthony took a sip, smiling. Perhaps today wasn’t as miserable as he’d thought.

[sapphiremint]

Mmm...the stak trek ones are amazing. Chekov is so cute and BONES <3 ugh I love that chief medical officer to the moon and back

[SleepingPhlox]

I read these the other day on my phone and commenting is hard on my phone so I wanted to come back here when on the computer and leave a comment about how much I enjoyed reading these. Then I couldn't find the dang thread again, but I found it, and now I can finally tell you how much I enjoyed reading these. So...I enjoyed reading these. Seriously, those Buffy ones...man, I had the biggest crush on Giles back in the day so it was very very nice to stumble across this thread.

[Triosk1]

Ok, totally resurrecting this thread and I'm not sorry. Have a Giles from Buffy cat allergy drabble and a Lupin from Harry Potter cold drabble. Yay!

 

#92 – Victory
Fandom/Original: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow
Fetish: Giles (allergies)
Word Count: 235

“Hello? Giles?” Xander called into the library, looking for the fusty librarian among the shelves of leatherbound tomes. But he was met with the sound of sneezing.

“Hah’TCHISH!! Heh’TCHU!...Over here.” Following Giles’s voice, Xander found him at the very back, crouching down and peering into a particularly dusty shelf of ancient volumes. As he watched, Giles turned away from the books, sneezing forcefully into a white handkerchief.

“Hah’TCHU!! Eh’TCHU!! Hah’TCHISH!!” The sneezes tumbled over one another, but Giles seemed to ignore them completely, immediately turning back and moving a few volumes aside, looking right to the back.

“You know, Giles, for someone allergic to dust, maybe ‘librarian’ wasn’t the wisest career choice,” Xander opined.

There was a dull thump from the back of the bookshelf, and Giles reared back from it warily. As Xander watched, a large, evil-looking black tomcat, all scarred ears and arrogance, stalked out from between two manuscripts.

“Victory!” Giles watched it in smug satisfaction as it made its lazy way all the way to the library doors and out down the corridor. Then he removed his glasses and rubbed his itching eyes with the back of a hand.

“I am not, nor have I ever been, allergic to dust,” he said, with dignity. Then his face crumpled and he fumbled with his handkerchief. “Cats…heh!...however…” he choked out as his breath hitched, ready for another flurry of sneezes. “Are an…entirely….heh!....different…matter!....hah’TCHU! eh’TSHOO!! Hah’TCHSSH!”

 

 

 

 

#82 – Magic
Fandom/Original: Harry Potter (Order of the Phoenix/Half-Blood Prince era? I’m a bit vague on the timeline)
Characters: Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks (before they get together)
Fetish: Remus (cold)
Word Count: 579

Rain lashed at the windowpanes and Tonks heard a crash of thunder as she stirred the pan on the hob, relieved that she had a reason to be in Grimmauld Place tonight, even alone. The candles weren’t exactly homey, but it was warm and dry and that was something, times being what they were. She heard the front door creak open, and the hairs rose on her arms. Gripping her wand, she moved silently to stand out of sight beside the doorway.

The man was wearing an old, misshapen raincoat with a hood which covered his face, and he was dripping all over the hall carpet. He held an equally battered-looking suitcase, which he put down, closing the door behind him. He took out a crumpled handkerchief and sneezed.

“H’huh’SHOOO!” He peered into the poorly-lit corridor. “Anyone home?” He conjured his falselight, the signal used to identify fellow members of the Order as who they said they were.

Tonks stepped out into the hallway, conjuring hers gladly. “Remus!”

Lupin’s face broke into a weary smile. “Tonks! Filthy night.” He started to remove his still-dripping raincoat.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She came to him, arms open, but he warded her off with a hand.

“Don’t come too close. I’ve got a cold.”

She ignored him, gladly wrapping her arms around his chest, tucking her face into his shoulder. He could feel the tension in her body, the stress of the past month’s hiding and spying and losing taking its toll. Gently, he hugged her back, and she felt his body slowly relax into the welcome human contact. As they pulled apart she looked him up and down.

“You look done in,” she declared. “Supper’s almost ready, it’ll stretch to two, and I’ll put the kettle on. Plenty of the bedrooms are made up.”

Remus followed her into the back kitchen, but had to pause for second.

“Huh’gzh’SHOOO!”

“Bless you,” called Tonks. He even sneezed like he was exhausted. Remus sat down at the large kitchen table, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, and blew his nose. Tonks placed a bowl of stew and a large mug of tea in front of him. He took one mouthful and smiled again.

“Heaven. Thank you for this – I wasn’t sure there’d be anyone here.”

“Arrived yesterday – had a message from Dumbledore.”

They sat in unusual but not unpleasant silence, intent on their food. Remus couldn’t stop sniffing, the warm room and now hot stew making his nose run even worse than before. Finished, he pushed his empty bowl away, and stretched.

“That was delicious.” He stopped, caught out by another sneeze, just managing to grab his handkerchief and turn away in time. “Huh’SHOOO!”

“Bless-“ Tonks began, then stopped.

“H’huh’GSHOOO!...ugh…” He refolded his handkerchief and blew his nose, wearily.

“Bless you.” Tonks picked up the bowls and spoons to wash them. Remus was just starting to nod off at the table when there was a sudden crash and he startled awake.

“Damn!”

He saw the two bowls had fallen and shattered on the floor. But he was shocked to see that Tonks was close to tears.

“Oh. No, it’s alright, look,” he said hurriedly, picking his wand up off the table. A quick flick, and the bowls reformed without the slightest trace of cracks. Tonks picked them and turned to put them away, hiding her face.

“I wish magic could fix everything as easily as broken bowls,” he heard her whisper.

Edited June 2, 2017 by Katrelle

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Giles and Lupin...have I died and gone to nerdgirl heaven?

[Triosk1]

Another one! It's original, I had more ideas about these characters, so I might chain a few drabbles together at some point.

#49 – Sweat
Fandom/Original: Original, set in an fictional Oxford college
Characters: Alex (female DPhil student), Anthony (male Junior Research Fellow)
Fetish: Anthony (hayfever)
Word Count: 339

On her way along the top-floor corridor, Alex spotted a familiar name on a very shiny brass plaque. Seeing the door ajar, she knocked.

“Come in,” called a muffled voice.

“Hi Anthony, it’s just me. Alex. We—wow…” she trailed off as she got fully inside the room. It was sweltering, far hotter than the outer corridor or, in fact, the overcast June day outside. Anthony was sitting at a desk in his shirtsleeves, tweed jacket discarded on the back of his chair. His dark curls were damp against his forehead, and he held a white linen handkerchief in one hand.

“Sorry,” Alex continued, breathless in the heat, feeling sweat break out on her upper lip and her back under her t-shirt. “Um, is there some reason you want your room to be a thousand degrees Celsius?”

Alex gave a wry smile, and gestured upwards. Following his lead, she saw that the ceiling of the room was criss-crossed with ancient-looking copper pipes, no doubt part of Beaufort College’s antiquated hot-water system. “Oh. Have you asked anyone about it?”

“Yes. I spoke to the Domestic Bursar’s secretary. Apparently there’s nothing to be done. There are no other rooms available and the pipes can’t be further insulated.” He paused for a second, and rubbed at his nose, then continued. “In fact, I got the impression that he felt that as the pipes have been here longer than I have, they had the prior claim.”

“Sounds like Jeremy.” Alex tried to find a silver lining. “Well, at least you have a great view.” The open window looked out onto the glorious sunny quad, complete with undergraduates playing croquet.

Anthony nodded distractedly, before directing a volley of violent sneezes towards his handkerchief. “H’TSHOO! Hah’TCHOOO!! AH’TSHOO!!”

“Bless you!”

“Thanks.” He lowered the handkerchief, and rubbed at his nose again. “Yes, it’s a nice view, although I’d rather I could keep the window closed. It’s–” He paused, eyelids fluttering over his green eyes, then sneezed again. “Hah’TSHOOO!...sorry, it’s driving my h-hayfever….AH’TSHOOO!...crazy,” he finished, lamely.

Edited June 11, 2017 by Katrelle

[tma]

  omg!  I *love* these characters!  So cute!!