Bits and Pieces (Rivers' short fanfics, updated 09/06/18)

[queenie]

I desperately, desperately want these stories of Poe. 

[RiversD]

I too, am a sucker for such things. And for warm fuzzy atmospheres. So I'm really glad I was able to create that and suck you in! *badum-tsh*

On 03/01/2017 at 7:30 AM, Zwee said:

Um, yeah! He does! That spelling is gorgeous, plus completely fitting for Finn. I can just hear it.

Also! Sweaty heat allergy misery! And! Distraction from allergy misery by telling an exciting story! Perfect. Plus there's something ridiculously endearing about Poe acknowledging every single one of Finn's sneezes that's just making me smile.

Btw I totally write sneezefic on buses too. (Well, I write it in my mind) Thanks for this loveliness!

Ah, thank you! Hearing that my spellings were appropriate/enjoyable always makes me all blushy-happy.

I find Poe ridiculously endearing 100% of the time. I can but try to communicate this to the world. Thank you again!

On 06/01/2017 at 2:55 AM, queenie said:

I desperately, desperately want these stories of Poe. 

You have my total understanding. I keep wanting to start writing one myself but then I get all flustered and red in the face for some reason... perhaps they're better in my imagination though. One day... one day...

 

A switch in fandoms, now. Behold, my first (and I'm 99% sure my only), Good Omens drabble!

Title: Sunday
Character: Aziraphale
Fandom: Good Omens
Tags: photic, handkerchief, technically non-human? (but only just)
Authors Notes: set between the last few chapters of the book.

On the Sunday after the apocalypse was cancelled, but long before Saturday night had taken the hint, Aziraphale went to church. It was called St Mary in the Vale, built on land that indeed might have been taken for a vale, before the sprawl of the city and the implacable progress of the railways had done their weary work. Now the churchyard was an island of green space, hemmed in by concrete and asphalt.

In keeping with tradition, the church was never locked, though these days its draperies, detachable ornaments, and more valuable books were nightly removed to a place that was. Aziraphale rather liked St Mary’s nocturnal appearance, the quiet hall with its unadorned stonework somehow soothing to the soul. Tonight, he walked the central aisle to the altar, his footsteps carefully making no sound that would echo in the moonlit cavern of the hall. He knelt on the step up to the altar, and closed his eyes. Of course, it wasn’t really a holier place to do this than any other, but the ambiance was comforting. Besides, this was the only bit of floor that had a permanent carpet, and the flagstones were radiating chill. So Aziraphale knelt, and started to pray.

“Our Father, or at least, I hope so. It’s me, Aziraphale. Hallowed be your name, and many thanks if you played any role in today’s, um… catastrophe? Something like that. Your will be done, as I sincerely hope it is being, on earth…”

Aziraphale rambled on for a time, his prayer becoming less jumbled as he did so, in line with his slowly settling thoughts.

“I know, technically, I rebelled. But I’m rather hoping I didn’t fall. So… here I am, I suppose. Still wishing to be on the side of light and good and the ineffable plan. Whatever it is. Sorry. Not really doubting, honestly, just seriously confused…”

He prayed until his knees were sore and his hands were frozen, but his soul was resting peacefully inside him for the first time in weeks.

Outside, the sun had risen. As he pulled himself to his feet, knees protesting all the way, the light from the east window caught his face and momentarily dazzled him with its glare. It had a secondary effect, too, one he was well used to experiencing after six thousand years. By the time the spark in his sinuses has produced a full-grown tickle, he had a handkerchief on hand to catch the result.

“hs-chff! hih’sschff!”

He could have stopped it happening with a thought, of course, but he’d rather got into the habit by now. He had never adopted sleep in the same way Crowley had, books being generally a more interesting way to pass the time in recent centuries, but there was something about sneezing that made him loath to do away with it altogether.

His nose still felt a little pricklish as he strode back down the aisle, but he let it be for now. If it lingered long enough to become annoying he could wish it away.

In the event, the wash of pale daylight that greeted him as he stepped from the church proved more than enough to tip what remained of the disturbance into reflexive action. Aziraphale bent towards the grass with a final, relieving sneeze.

“h’chssch!”

“Gesundheit.”

Aziraphale spun around. Crowley was perched atop the sloping tombstone of one J.H.Carruthers, which allowed him to balance on the boundary line between consecrated and unhallowed ground. It was a line the Demon often trod, in Aziraphale’s opinion.

“I thought you had gone-” no, not home, Crowley wouldn’t feel comfortable in that flat for a little while yet, but surely- “somewhere else.” He finished, lamely.

“Oh, I’ve been wandering about.” Crowley told him. “Seems like the right kind of night to be wandering, if you know what I mean.”

“I tried that,” Aziraphale admitted. “Didn’t do much for me. I felt all, sort of… lost. Ended up here.”

“Ah, there’s the difference, you see.” Crowley smiled, showing a little more teeth than a human would have been comfortable observing. “You angels expect there to be an anchor to come back to in the end. Demons are used to being lost.”

Aziraphale’s brow wrinkled, but he conceded the point nonetheless. “It is your basic state of being, I suppose. Still, I feel sure that if you truly-”

Crowley made a small sound of warning in the back of his throat. “Not tonight- not today, Angel.”

“No,” Aziraphale agreed, raising a conciliatory hand. “Not today.”

After all, today was the first day of the rest of their lives. Best to spend it wisely.

"Shall we walk?"

[queenie]

Ahhhhh Crowley and Aziraphale. My own true loves <3

[Garnet]

Oh man, oh no. Rivers, you can't do this to me. My weakness for the late Pratchett is too great and you are so good at imitating his and Gaiman's writing styles! This seriously could have been a missing chapter from the book, you have the quirky and lilting tone exactly right. Also, as is the usual when I'm reading a super good fic, I again forgot that sneezing was even a thing until it happened, and then it was just doubly exciting all the way through. 

I really love Aziraphale's opinion about it, too. One of the few "human" concessions that he wholly embraces, how sweet and a very interesting angle on it. 

And Crowley! And their conversation. Aw, my heart. You are too good to us, Rivers <3

[RiversD]

On 10/01/2017 at 10:31 AM, queenie said:

Ahhhhh Crowley and Aziraphale. My own true loves <3

Such babes.

On 10/01/2017 at 11:27 AM, Garnet said:

Oh man, oh no. Rivers, you can't do this to me. My weakness for the late Pratchett is too great and you are so good at imitating his and Gaiman's writing styles! This seriously could have been a missing chapter from the book, you have the quirky and lilting tone exactly right. Also, as is the usual when I'm reading a super good fic, I again forgot that sneezing was even a thing until it happened, and then it was just doubly exciting all the way through. 

I really love Aziraphale's opinion about it, too. One of the few "human" concessions that he wholly embraces, how sweet and a very interesting angle on it. 

And Crowley! And their conversation. Aw, my heart. You are too good to us, Rivers <3

Girl. Girl. You make me so happy, you really do. It felt slightly sacrilegious to touch anything even slightly Pratchett, and I'm so, so relieved you think I pulled it off.

 

Title: Houston
Character: Martin Crieff
Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Tags: allergies, tissues, noseblowing.
Authors Notes Very short, but I couldn't be bothered to whittle it for my 100-word thread.

Martin scrubbed at his eye with the heel of one hand. “I hate Autumn.”

“The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?” Douglas replied, lazily scrolling through the map-app on his phone. “Surely not!”

“I- hgh'ESCHH!” Martin had obviously tried to contain the sneeze, but succeeded only in dragging it painfully through his throat.

“Bless you.” Douglas cast a glance towards Martin, who was now wrestling a tissue out of a travel pack. “Can it be that sir has a personal vendetta against the season?”

Martin blew his nose with a gurgle and groaned. “The season has a personal vendetta against me, Douglas. At least, it does in North America.”

Douglas frowned, very slightly. “You should have taken something.”

“I didn’t think we were going to leave the airport!” Martin wailed. “I thought I’d be spending this visit in an air-conditioned room, not wandering around Houston looking for a-a-” his exasperated stammer developed into a series of quick, irritated breaths and he clasped the tissue back to his face as he digressed with a sneeze.

“hih-ghISSCHhuh! Ughh. I’m sorry Douglas, but I didn’t foresee spending my afternoon on a quest for a bloody signed bowling ball!”

“No, I confess that would have taken a particularly paranoid imaginative leap.” Douglas sighed. “Still, you do work for MJN Air, Martin. A wide variety of implausible circumstances seem to arise once GERTI pokes her nose onto the scene. Come on, there’s bound to be a chemist around here somewhere. This is America, after all.”

[queenie]

Ah, Douglas's tone is perfect! I love his arch condescension that secretly covers how much he cares. 

[RiversD]

On 21/01/2017 at 6:20 PM, queenie said:

Ah, Douglas's tone is perfect! I love his arch condescension that secretly covers how much he cares. 

Thank you! Characters like that are always a little nerve-wracking to write for, largely because they're written as smarter than I am.

Another quickie:

Title: The Trouble with Tickles
Character: Montgomery Scott
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Tags: allergies,
Authors Notes From a request on Tumblr for Tribble-allergies.

“Bones, can you come have a word with Scotty, please?”

“What?” the doctor put down the padd he’d been writing on and gave the little speaker on his desk his full attention. “What do you need me to say that you can’t?”

“It’s not that I can’t,” Kirk told him, sounding more than a little embarrassed. “I have, it’s just that he’s not listening to me.”

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he isn’t. Is it at least a medical matter? Because I’m not coming down there just to soothe your ego.”

“No, it is! He’s, uh… he’s having a reaction all to the Tribble fur that’s hanging around down here. But he won’t let me order him off his shift.”

“Dammit, Jim, are you his captain, or aren’t you?”

“I know, I know, just… will you come and look at him? I’ll feel better about forcing him to stop if I’ve got an official medical opinion on it.”

McCoy sighed and stood up. “Could have opened with that, you know. I’m on my way, give me five minutes, alright?”

“Thanks, Bones.”

---

“Good Lord, man!”

“Eh, it’s no’ as bad as it looks, Doctor,” said Montgomery Scott, a man currently viewing the world through eyes the color of raw prawns. A large wall-panel had been moved aside in Engineering, and he had one arm in it almost up to the shoulder.

“My ass it is! What are you even doing over there?”

“Cleaning out th-hh’tchiu!”

Scotty paused just long enough to bury the sneeze in his elbow, then turned back to his task.

“Cleaning out the emergency over-ride wiring, Doctor. Clogged right up with hair from those pesky beasties, they a- ar- ah!”

Scotty took a step back from the panel gap, too-glossy nose twitching aggressively, and raised his arm again.

“hh-eht’chiuh! ‘tchiu! hhih-tchh! tchh! ht’chuh!”

“Not half as clogged up as you’ll feel if you keep that up!” Bones protested. “Look at yourself! Can’t someone else clean those things?”

“Oh, it’s a long, fiddly job, Doc.” Scotty shook his head, “I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do it for me.”

“Wouldn’t let them, more like,” Kirk snorted. “Come off it, Scotty, we all know you don’t want anyone messing with your little adjustments.”

“Are you suggesting I’d tamper with Starfleet-issued wiring layouts, Captain?” The tears rimming Mr Scott’s eyes very nearly rendered his shocked tone believable. Kirk shook his head.

“It’s fine, Scotty. You know me- as long as it works. But take Bones’ advice on this one, won’t you?”

Scotty sniffed, the sound of it making both the officers opposite him wince. “I can cope, sir. Wouldn’t want to leave this untended to for sake of a spot of sneezing.”

“Is that what you’re calling it, you-” McCoy began, but Kirk laid a warning hand on his shoulder and he simmered down enough to growl, “Jim, your allergies are bad enough that you know what he’s going through. Tell the man he’s being an idiot if he doesn’t take an hour and a hypo of anti-histamines before he goes anywhere near those wires again. And if he ignores that,” he snarled as an afterthought, “I’ll put him on forced medical leave for a week!”

Jim sighed. “Mr Scott, will a pause of half an hour have any significant impact on the safety of this ship?”

“Half an hour? I said-ow!” Bones glowered at Kirk, who had kicked him sharply in the shin before continuing to stare down Mr Scott as though he had done no such thing.

Jim Kirk had lost perhaps two stare-offs in his life to date, and sure enough, Scotty looked down first, scrubbing at his nose in a gesture that might have been bashful but was far more likely to signify an unpacified itch.

“Well… probably not, sir, no. But I can’t leave it forever, or it will, no doubt about it.”

“We’re not asking you to, Scotty.” Jim smiled, knowing they’d won already. “Just let Bones have his way for a while, then you can come back and see clearly, alright?”

“ahdt-chUH!”

Kirk wasn’t entirely sure how much of his last sentence Scotty had heard, having been building up to that vehement sneeze for most of it. Still, his Chief Engineer recovered himself with a liquid sniff, swiped his wrist across his leaking eyes, and said,

“Aye, perhaps you’re right there. Lead on, Doctor. Only not too far ahead, or you’ll turn into a blur to me.”

“I’ll- well, of all the stubborn, pig-headed…”

Kirk nudged him again, quite firmly.

“Just take him away, Bones.”

[Shamaël]

YAY, Star Trek!!! Your sneezing Scotty is very in character, completely devoted to his beloved Enterprise...

10 hours ago, RiversD said:

The Trouble with Tickles

Hehehe, love the title.

The dialogue between Jim and Bones is just brilliant. The whole interaction between Jim and Bones is, in fact.

10 hours ago, RiversD said:

Kirk wasn’t entirely sure how much of his last sentence Scotty had heard, having been building up to that vehement sneeze for most of it.

Oh. Oh, yes, that was a great sentence.

Thank you for this one! (And remember that if you're in the mood for some Star Trek you still have "Xenobiology 101" waiting for you...  Okay, okay, I stop talking.)

[RiversD]

@Aliena H. Thank you! It means a lot when you think my stuff rings true to character.

On 09/02/2017 at 10:06 AM, Aliena H. said:

The dialogue between Jim and Bones is just brilliant. The whole interaction between Jim and Bones is, in fact.

*hugs self, then you*

On 09/02/2017 at 10:06 AM, Aliena H. said:

Thank you for this one! (And remember that if you're in the mood for some Star Trek you still have "Xenobiology 101" waiting for you...  Okay, okay, I stop talking.)

Your impatience is noted and appreciated. Don't worry, I'll get to it in time.

 

Title: 10 Minutes Alone
Character: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers
Fandom: Captain America: The First Avenger (MCU)
Tags: dust, male + female sneezing
 

Steve held out a hand to help Peggy over a fallen beam. It wasn’t a serious obstacle, but she didn’t argue. They only had a short window together before the rest of the gang caught up, and she didn’t intend to waste it.

The farmhouse wasn’t badly damaged, but looked to have been deserted for some time now, the evening sunlight picking out the dust that coated every surface and drifted in the air. They found their way into what had once been the dining room, the long wooden table and heavy sideboard still in residence.

“Maybe we’ll eat in here tonight,” Steve suggested. “Remind the others what civilization feels like.”

“A close approximation of it, at any rate.” Peggy drew a line in the dust with her finger, then used her other hand to rub at her nose as it prickled with sudden irritation.

She curled her arm around Steve’s hips and pressed close to him, only to pull away almost immediately as the aggravation returned.

“Peggy?” Steve touched her arm gently, evidently confused by the shift in pace.

“Just a muh-moment…” Peggy paused, fanning a hand impatiently beneath her nose until it bowed to the inevitable.

“heh-ishoo!” She straightened up, rubbing a lingering itch into submission with the back of her hand. “Excuse me.”

“Bless you!” Steve looked her over briefly. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly. I think the dust got to me, that’s all.”

Steve frowned at the room, seeming to fully appreciate its blanketed state for the first time. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t think.”

He gave a small laugh at that, surprised at himself. “Strange. Back when my chest was bad, I would have been worrying over that before we even passed the door. We can move if you’re going to be uncomfortable in here.”

“No time for that. Come here.”

Peggy took back the initiative, grasping Steve by the shoulder-straps and pulling him up to an uncluttered stretch of wall, where he finally took the hint and kissed her.

Despite the slight grainy feeling developing in her right eye, Peggy was just starting to enjoy herself when Steve pulled back, a faintly uncertain look on his face. Thinking he might just be a little hesitant, Peggy moved to re-engage, but Steve blocked her, putting his finger to her lips instead. She might have taken affront at this had Steve not, barely a moment later, turned his face away from her and bent at the waist with an emphatic pair of sneezes.

“ESSCHhoo! ah- ERSCHHhoo!”

“Bless you!”

Steve sniffed, smiling sheepishly in the aftermath. “Wow, excuse me. I guess it really is dusty in here.”

“Yes.” Peggy rolled her eyes at this statement of the patently obvious, then rubbed at her right, which was really starting to itch.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she declared. “If the dust here’s bad enough to get to you, I doubt that my nose will hold out too much longer. Let’s find some fresher air.”

[Anonymouse]

These two...  The sneezes and related commentary were perfect.

[Rook]

STEEEEEEEEGGYY NUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH

[Evilduckling108]

That Steggy drabble is so incredible, I love it! Just when I thought I was getting over my *ahem* obsession with Peggy Carter too. Ugh, I just really love it, it's so well done and I'm just 

[RiversD]

On 01/03/2017 at 1:13 AM, AnonyMouse said:

These two...  The sneezes and related commentary were perfect.

...Thank you. I'm so happy you're still reading this thread!

On 01/03/2017 at 2:18 AM, batmansgirl said:

STEEEEEEEEGGYY NUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH

Hey, girl! Loving the enthusiasm. Thanks!

On 02/03/2017 at 2:59 AM, Evilduckling108 said:

That Steggy drabble is so incredible, I love it! Just when I thought I was getting over my *ahem* obsession with Peggy Carter too. Ugh, I just really love it, it's so well done and I'm just 

One does not simply 'get over' Peggy Carter. Thanks so much! I really respect your opinions re:Peggy, so I'm super glad you liked this.

 

Hey, @Aliena H. you were after some Fred, right? It's a little late for his birthday, but here it is!

 

Title: Behind Door Number One
Character: Fred Weasley
Fandom: Harry Potter
Tags: allergy/induced, not sure which to call it.

“Merlin!”

The exclamation was accompanied by an almighty bang that rattled the twins’ apartment. George’s tea slopped out of his cup onto the table, but he paid it no mind, rushing to find out what had happened instead. When he reached the ‘lab’ door, however, he was met with the thump of weight striking the other side, as though Fred had flung his body against it. George hesitated with his hand on the knob and called out:

“Fred? You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, just d-dohn’t come in.”

George relaxed a little. Fred’s breathing was pretty ragged on the other side of the door, but he didn’t sound frightened. That suggested an accident rather than an attack, which was comforting in the extreme.

“Why not? What did you break?”

Fred’s voice was quivering still more as he tried to reply to that.

“I- h-hang oh-on- ih’chschhuh! Justasec…hh’isschuh! Ah…hah…ih’ssschuh!”

George stared at the door nonplussed for a moment, then started to laugh.

“You dropped the myrtin-root powder, didn’t you?”

“Not dropped-” Fred panted “-more like blew it up.”

George leaned against the wall, grinning. This was suddenly much funnier to experience from this side of the door. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“Trying to c-combine it with those prickweed pods we were testing-” Fred’s nose was obviously still being bothered. He was sniffling frantically around his words, breaths getting shorter all the time.

“Oh. You were thinking something pop-and-spray for the defensive line?”

“Ye-ugh…” Fred broke off, unable to even finish the word. Even from the other side of the door, George could hear his breath hitching, short gasps rising in pitch until:

“ISS’CHUH! hh’ssch! 'issschuh! hhih’tischh! h’tssch’ih!” Fred surrendered to a brutal fit of sneezes, the irritation behind them so audible that it started to make George’s nose prickle in sympathy. He rubbed the psychosomatic itch away and waited for his brother to regain some breath before he asked,

“Fred? What’s happening in there?”

“The powder’s gone… really fine. As in, it’s pr-pra-ahh’tschhuh! Practically a g-gas.”

Two more sneezes followed in quick succession, and George allowed himself to become a little more serious. These could be pretty volatile materials, after all.

“Do you want me to come help out? It sounds li-”

 

“NO!” Fred’s answer was so vehement he had to pause and cough before he could continue, “If it gets into the house we’re b-both going to be sneezing for weeks. Just sit tight, I can clear it up.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound in the best shape for spell-work.”

“Like you- hh! -you’d do any better if I let you in h-here- hh’isssch! Isschuh!.” he sniffed. “Your nose is more sensitive than mine anyway.”

“It is not!” George protested, stung.

“Yes it ih-is. Remember that big cobweb at Grimmauld p-place? h-hh! h’tsschiuh!”

“That’s not proof! I walked into it! The dust was all over my face! It was in my face! Besides, what about you and that Chizpurfle repellent, eh?”

“I w-was hamming that up.” Fred stammered. “So mum would let me- ah’hisschh! Ihssschuh! Ugh, let me go outside.”

“Speaking of,” George said, leaning on the doorframe to get his ear closer to the door itself. “You’re starting to sound pretty bad. Are you absolutely sure you don’t need any help in there?”

Fred growled. “You open that door and I’ll hex you. If you want to help, try and be sympathetic when I come out.”

“What, cold cloths and hot tea, that sort of thing? Not sure I’ve got it in me,” George joked, then went to put the kettle on. All that sneezing would be punishing Fred’s throat, after all. He was pretty sure they had some honey somewhere too…

[Shamaël]

On 05/04/2017 at 2:57 PM, RiversD said:

you were after some Fred, right? It's a little late for his birthday, but here it is!

Yes, thank you so much!!!

On 05/04/2017 at 2:57 PM, RiversD said:

That suggested an accident rather than an attack, which was comforting in the extreme.

I'd say this happens at the end of the 6th book???

On 05/04/2017 at 2:57 PM, RiversD said:

This was suddenly much funnier to experience from this side of the door.

Mwahaha. I love the twins.

On 05/04/2017 at 2:57 PM, RiversD said:

If it gets into the house we’re b-both going to be sneezing for weeks.

Well, that wouldn't bother me, to be honest.

Thank you for the Weasleys' interaction - always a pleasure!!!

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Nice one with the Weasley twins.  

[RiversD]

Thank you, both of you! You're so lovely for commenting on these.

Back to Lupin now. Set during OOTP. Remus wants Sirius to trust him, I guess.

 

Title: Tell
Character: Remus Lupin
Fandom: Harry Potter
Tags: allergies

Remus set the kettle down with a longsuffering sigh.

“You went out again, didn’t you?”

“What’s that?” Sirius’ question sounded innocent enough, and when Remus turned to face him, he was wearing the face to match. Remus had known him too long to be thrown off by either. He rubbed a finger against his freshly prickling nose and said,

“You sneaked out of the house and went for… for a run, as Padfoot. Found a park or something, stretched your legs. You know what I mean.”

“What, against direct orders?” Sirius scoffed, bitterness lacing his tone. “I’m not stupid, Moony.”

Remus frowned. “Nor am I, Sirius. And I don’t think you’re stupid, just frustrated. As I would be- as I am, on your behalf. So I’ll thank you not to treat me like the enemy here, alright?”

They locked eyes for a long moment, then Sirius looked away.

“Sorry, Moony. It gets so it’s automatic after a while.”

“I know,” said Remus, more gently now. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed sharply, translating the prickling sensation to his eyes. “I really do. That’s why I don’t want you to forget that some of us are on your side. It’s far too easy to do.”

“Sorry,” Sirius repeated, still avoiding eye contact. “It feels like everyone makes assumptions about me these days, that’s all.”

Remus sighed, made a snap decision, and extended an arm.

“Come here.”

Sirius accepted the hug without complaint. Remus nestled his chin onto his shoulder, and took a deep breath.

This had exactly the effect he had anticipated, which didn’t make him regret doing it any less.

“hh’tssch!”

The sneeze came on so suddenly that Remus could feel Sirius jerk with surprise beneath his hands.

He stumbled back, disentangling his arms from Sirius’ just too late to fully cover the spray of the next urgent sneeze.

“hh’ehtsschue! 'tsscheue! heh-tssch! tssch! hh-uhh-esschhue!”

He rounded off the fit with a drawn-out effort that bent him deep into the nook of one elbow. Recovering, he heard Sirius give a low whistle of surprise.

“Bless. Are you-”

“You’re covered in grass pollen.”

Remus straightened up and scowled at Sirius. His eyes were watering.

“I don’t blame you,” he told him, “but don’t you lie to me.”

[queenie]

Remus Lupin: Allergy Detective is a headcanon I can get behind. 

[tenderwarrior]

On 1/21/2017 at 9:41 AM, RiversD said:

Such babes.

Girl. Girl. You make me so happy, you really do. It felt slightly sacrilegious to touch anything even slightly Pratchett, and I'm so, so relieved you think I pulled it off.

 

Title: Houston
Character: Martin Crieff
Fandom: Cabin Pressure
Tags: allergies, tissues, noseblowing.
Authors Notes Very short, but I couldn't be bothered to whittle it for my 100-word thread.

Martin scrubbed at his eye with the heel of one hand. “I hate Autumn.”

 

 

“The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?” Douglas replied, lazily scrolling through the map-app on his phone. “Surely not!”

 

 

“I- hgh'ESCHH!” Martin had obviously tried to contain the sneeze, but succeeded only in dragging it painfully through his throat.

 

 

“Bless you.” Douglas cast a glance towards Martin, who was now wrestling a tissue out of a travel pack. “Can it be that sir has a personal vendetta against the season?”

 

 

Martin blew his nose with a gurgle and groaned. “The season has a personal vendetta against me, Douglas. At least, it does in North America.”

 

 

Douglas frowned, very slightly. “You should have taken something.”

 

 

“I didn’t think we were going to leave the airport!” Martin wailed. “I thought I’d be spending this visit in an air-conditioned room, not wandering around Houston looking for a-a-” his exasperated stammer developed into a series of quick, irritated breaths and he clasped the tissue back to his face as he digressed with a sneeze.

 

 

“hih-ghISSCHhuh! Ughh. I’m sorry Douglas, but I didn’t foresee spending my afternoon on a quest for a bloody signed bowling ball!”

 

 

“No, I confess that would have taken a particularly paranoid imaginative leap.” Douglas sighed. “Still, you do work for MJN Air, Martin. A wide variety of implausible circumstances seem to arise once GERTI pokes her nose onto the scene. Come on, there’s bound to be a chemist around here somewhere. This is America, after all.”

 

 

Um, this was AMAZING! While I don't watch Cabin Pressure, all the characters were super cute and you spelled the sneezes out so well! 

[RiversD]

On 16/06/2017 at 3:18 AM, queenie said:

Remus Lupin: Allergy Detective is a headcanon I can get behind. 

Lol! I applaud your phrasing, ma'am.

On 16/06/2017 at 4:15 AM, tenderwarrior said:

Um, this was AMAZING! While I don't watch Cabin Pressure, all the characters were super cute and you spelled the sneezes out so well! 

Aw, thank you! I'm always glad to know which spellings work for people, and character praise makes me all fuzzy inside. Cabin Pressure's definitely worth your time- it's a radio sitcom with half-hour episodes, so not too draining! BBC though so I don't know what the availability is.

Purple prose below. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Title: Ride
Character: Fitzwilliam Darcy
Fandom: Pride and Prejudice
Tags: dust

It was a fine day, towards the close of a blazing Derbyshire summer, and Pemberley was drenched in the late morning sun. Elizabeth was descending the main stairs when she was surprised by the sound of a loud masculine sneeze, which echoed through the otherwise quiet hall.

Turning curiously at the foot of the stairs, she perceived her husband, still in his riding gear after his journey to town. He stood in the shadows at the far end of the hall, a white handkerchief clasped to the lower part of his face.

“Darcy!”

She made her way towards him, perversely pleased to see him startle at the sound of his name, and by his evident discomfort at having been discovered. He could be bashful about such things, she knew- in fact, she suspected that he had retreated to the house precisely in order to escape the eyes and ears of the grooms. Certainly that sneeze had not been the result of a mere passing irritation, for he was still blinking too rapidly, and when he spoke his voice was thin and weakened by continuing need.

“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I didn’t see you th-”

His desire to prevent it was obvious, but his sentence guttered out in response to the over-riding imperatives originating in his nose. His eyes lost their focus, and his mouth its steady line. Defeated, Darcy hastily raised his handkerchief and muffled a vicious sneeze into its folds.

“Hh’SSCHFF!”

“God bless you!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Are you well, Darcy?”

Darcy nodded, lowering the cloth and wrinkling his nose as if displeased by its betrayal.

“The roads are more than usually dusty today. I seem to have coated myself in half the county.”

An exaggeration, but an understandable one. From her fresh vantage point Elizabeth could clearly see the layers of pale dust that clung to his every item of clothing. Small wonder his nose had taken offence- even his hair was playing host to the stuff. She tutted.

“So I see. You look twice your age, though I confess I shall be glad if you look half so well at sixty.  Go on with you then, and see you bathe before you dirty every carpet in the house.”

[Bruyere]

This was lovely, you write Elizabeth so well.

[Esile]

I love a good P&P storie and this is one. Cute and delicate. Well done.

[RiversD]

@Bruyere Thank you so much!

And @Esile, I am super flattered that you used one of your first posts to tell me this. Thank you!

All things considered, I like this one better than I did when I first finished it, so...

Title: Morning After
Character: Sirius Black
Fandom: Harry Potter
Tags: illness, coughing

It was the morning after the full moon, and Sirius was loitering in Lupin’s garden, leaning on the gate and watching clouds blow in across the hills. It wasn’t the most sociable place to live but, circumstances being what they were, he wasn’t about to complain.

Remus had cultivated quite an herb garden on the south side of his house. Standing downwind, the air was faintly spicy with the mingled scents of upwards of thirty plants. Practically a home pharmacy, if you knew how to use it, and Sirius suspected that Remus knew exactly how.

He couldn’t help noticing, though, the aconite planted at significant points just outside the garden wall, or the silver tracings on the hinges of the gate. Potion or no potion, locks or no locks, Remus didn’t trust himself enough to take chances. Sirius sighed, then coughed harshly over the woodwork.

He rubbed his chest and scowled. He had been down with this cold for more than a week now, and he was impatient for the day it would finally give up and draw its lingering tendrils out of his chest. He had more important things to do than feel sorry for himself, and he didn’t like the way Remus looked at him when he coughed. He wasn’t ready to be cared about like that just yet.

“Sirius!”

The call came from the cottage, and Sirius turned to find Lupin watching him from the doorstep, a mug of tea cradled in his hands. He looked pale and drawn, but not too bad, considering the wringer each moon cycle put him through.

“What are you doing out here?” he chided, “You’ll freeze.”

Giving you space, was the honest answer, but not one that was likely to pass Sirius’ lips in a hurry. He started walking back towards Lupin, uncomfortably aware that his nose was starting to run, but not willing to call attention to it right now.

“I thought fresh air was supposed to be good medicine?”

“Fresh air yes, damp air no. You’ll give yourself pneumonia the way you’re going.”

Sirius bent his head to pass through the low doorway, allowing himself a gentle sniff as he did so. “Is it my fault you live halfway up a mountain?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Don’t be facetious, Sirius.” He turned away and began to lead the way back into the shelter of his cottage.

Sirius wasn’t stupid enough to push it. Not this morning. “Sorry.”

He wanted desperately to leave it at that, let Remus forget about him and get back to taking it easy, but the trickle of moisture in his nose was tickling urgently now, and even as he raised his sleeve to his face he knew it was going to be too little, too late.

“eh-hh’SSCH! ihSSCHah!”

By the time he had straightened up and wiped the moisture from his eyes, Remus was facing him again, his face radiating concerned exasperation.

“You need to be warmer than this.”

“Honestly, Remus, I’m basically fine now-”

“No.” Remus’ tone would brook no argument. “Come upstairs with me, and we’ll have a look through my old jumpers. You’ve lost weight since the last time you tried to borrow my clothes. There’s bound to be at least one we can stretch to fit you.”

[RiversD]

MFU ficlet, in which I shamelessly adopt @Bruyere's idea of Gaby and Illya being very amused by Napoleon's endless list of allergic triggers.

 

Title: Vanity
Character: Napoleon Solo
Fandom: The Man From U.N.C.L.E
Tags: male, allergies

 

“Seriously, Solo? I’m starting to get worried now,” Gaby called over the sound of running water from the bathroom. It had been running for longer than any man should reasonably require to bathe.

When there was no response, she called again, louder; “Alright, you have five seconds before I have Illya break the door down!”

That got a response.

“Just a moment!”

Well, at least he hadn’t climbed out of the window, Gaby reflected. Not that she personally considered Napoleon to be a flight risk any more, but the CIA were always sending their group little reminders to be careful with their ‘asset’.

The water shut off, and there was a general shuffling about before she heard the bolt slide back and Solo pulled the door open, scowling at her through pink and bloodshot eyes.

Gaby was not so easily cowed, however.

“What have you been doing in there?” she demanded.

“Washing my face.” Solo offered the remark with his trademark sarcastic impudence, but there was something altered in his cadence that gave Gaby pause. She looked him over again, took in the water still clinging to his hairline, the flush dusted across his cheeks, and the raw pinkness that not only surrounded his eyes but his nose as well.

“Are you alright?”

Solo seemed momentarily confused by her sudden change of tack, then frowned petulantly, evidently realising that his discomfort was still legible on his face.

“Perfectly fine,” he snapped and then, the universe having a certain sense of humour after all, immediately contradicted himself. His nostrils flared ticklishly, his mouth twisted with a gasp and, almost before he knew it himself, he was pitching forward with a pair of damp, irritated sneezes.

“hh’SSCHEW! hih-essch'ew!”

“Gesundheit.” Gaby thought she could see where this was headed. “What’s making you sneezy today?”

Napoleon glared at her, but had nothing to offer in return. He couldn’t deny that his nose had found a number of things deeply offensive over the course of their still-brief partnership. Cats, for one thing, but also feather boas, gift bouquets, and an ambassadress’ perfume. It was becoming quite the joke for Gaby and Illya, though Solo was less than amused.

He swiped a wrist beneath his nose and sniffed.

“You can tell your boyfriend that he may force me to hide in barns from time to time, but if he buries me in straw again, I will shoot him somewhere damned inconvenient, you understahh- hih-”

He fought this one, the struggle evident in the taut lines of his forehead as much as his heaving chest. But, as ever, his struggle was a fruitless one.

“h’esschew! esSCHieww!”

Gaby smiled at how high-pitched the second sneeze took him, and made a mental note to learn how to imitate it later. For now, she simply said;

“Gesundheit. I’ll let him know. I’m certain he’ll be obliging.”

Solo picked up on her sarcasm and growled under his breath, but by the time he could think of a good come-back, Gaby was long gone.

[Leafeon78]

These are really good love your writing a lot.

[Bruyere]

Can I quote this whole damn thing? Petulant Solo trying and failing to hide his reaction from Gaby?

On 14/08/2017 at 10:10 PM, RiversD said:

He fought this one, the struggle evident in the taut lines of his forehead as much as his heaving chest. But, as ever, his struggle was a fruitless one.

“h’esschew! esSCHieww!”

Gaby smiled at how high-pitched the second sneeze took him, and made a mental note to learn how to imitate it later.

Oh,  a second higher pitched sneeze?! Yes! And Gaby thinking about imitating it is just..... flusteringly hot and yet so awkward for Solo because you knwo she'll nail it!

Loved this!