Twenty-Sixteen Drabbles

[Anonymouse]

Experimenting with low key messiness in this next one. My OC Ophelia is the victim of a cold. Implied contagion due to the proximity of everybody to everybody. I'm also pleased to introduce my OC Ruby Rumore.

11.

The repurposed sardine can careened loosely along the tracks, jostling its human contents. The passengers had no choice but to share their space with strangers and their shopping bags brimming with gadgets and gift cards. Most of the travelers were tired and irritated from their holiday shopping, but Ophelia had no say in the matter; she needed to ride the subway for work. The sheer number of people around her was making her skin crawl.

She sat with her shoulders against the shoulders of her seatmates while her co-worker Ruby criticized the commercialization of the season. Ru lived three stops away from Ophelia, and being two small women whose shifts overlapped more often than not, they made a pact to ride together whenever they could.  Having a train buddy usually made Ophelia feel safer, but it wasn't working today. No amount of buddies could make her feel comfortable with the current overcrowding situation. It didn't help that Ruby was rambling, oblivious to the fact that her partner in conversation - a woman wearing a babushka and holding a baby that had to be her great-grandchild at the very least - was completely disinterested and perhaps even asleep with her eyes open.

Ophelia rifled through her purse and pulled a tissue from her stash, hoping to catch the congestion she felt shifting and loosening every time the train jolted or someone bumped her. Just when she thought she was finally recovering this cold decided to come back for an encore performance. She pressed a folded tissue against her nose to keep the overflow from spilling out into the open; everyone was sitting and standing way too close for that sort of thing to be acceptable. As the congestion trickled towards its only means of egress, Ophelia felt the inflamed and still-sensitive membranes in her nose reacting to its slow migration. Fortunately she already had the tissue in place; all she had to do was pinch it around her nose and brace herself to stop the sneeze in her throat. Her face scrunched up and then relaxed with the rest of her, her shoulders loose with temporary relief. Her nostrils made a soft, wet sound as she lightened her grip on the tissue.

"You okay?" asked Ru, her query so loud and unexpected that Ophelia thought it came from her own head.

She took a moment to select her words carefully, not wanting to mispronounce anything around the block of loosening congestion in her face. "A-okay," she said sarcastically, with a sniffle that sounded more like a slurp.

Ru took the hand that wasn't occupied with the tissue to give it a supportive squeeze. "I have to get off soon," she said. "You gonna stay a-okay?"

Squeezing her hand even tighter, Ophelia lowered the tissue but then brought it back up when she felt her nostrils flickering. "Mm... mm-hmmb," she managed, rubbing her nose strategically through the tissue.

It was red and sore from the constant abuse, but also incredibly sensitive. Her breath sawed in and out through slightly parted lips, her careful touch irritating rather than soothing the reactive nerves. Ophelia wrestled back just enough control to hold her breath while she gave her nose a firm squeeze. The sensation cut out abruptly like a lost radio signal, but rushed back just as quickly with her next breath. She indulged in a moment of self-pity, letting out a soft moan as she finally gave in. Her lips parted again as her head tilted back, tissue at the ready.

"Bless you," Ru teased, almost causing her to lose the sneeze completely.

"Dohh... hh... hih! hh'kncshh!" Ophelia cinched the sneeze neatly in her tissue which she then folded again, wiping her glistening nostrils with the soft square. Even the gentlest tissues were agony on her nose after days of nonstop sneezing. "Don't do that," she said breathlessly, before remembering her manners. "Please. It doesn't hel-... hehhl..." She took a moment to compose herself, lips pressed tightly shut and nostrils slightly flared she held her next breath. "... help." She sighed, fishing another tissue out of her purse and stuffing the old one into the pocket of her coat, which was close to overflowing, like her.

"How can I help?" Ru asked, eager to make up for her previous transgression.

Ophelia opened her mouth but then turned away abruptly, trying to develop a game plan while locked in a sneezy daze. Everywhere she looked there were people or bags of expensive stuff, and she was not sure a tissue could contain what was coming. She could try to stifle but she wasn't sure if her body was even capable of that anymore; she was just so exhausted and so sick of sneezing without any relief.

"hahh'ESH!-ISHhhhoo!" The new tissue was soaked through after two sneezes. Ophelia gathered more up desperately, getting them to her nose just in time for another pair. "hh'KSHHHHhh-uh... ihHIhh--... hh-IHSHhhhoo!"

Another tissue made useless by her most ruthless cold symptom. Her supply was dwindling fast, and she feared she might run out completely before her stop. But she couldn't say she regretted letting those sneezes out; the sweet, tingly relief that filled her head like sparkling cider was worth it.

"Can I say bless you now?"

"If you bust."

Ophelia busied herself with mopping up the liquidy discharge, trying to ignore the stares and whispers of her trainmates. She understood where they were coming from, but it still make her paranoid and uncomfortable. She noticed with some relief that man who had been eyeing her lecherously since he got on the train was suddenly disinterested. To ensure his continued disinterest she gave a wet, gurgling blow into what remained of the tissues, just as Ru dropped two unopened travel packs onto her lap.

"Oh, bless you," Ophelia said, tearing the first pack open like a Christmas present.

"Hey, that's my job."

Ophelia gathered up the fresh tissues and gave several draining blows, until her nose was as clear as it was going to get without a decongestant. Ru wrapped her arm around her friend and coworker, inviting her to rest her head on her shoulder, which she did. Once she was settled Ru began tracing circles against the supple but scarred skin of her wrist. Ophelia’s grip loosened as she relaxed and the clump of tissues fell to the floor, joining the debris that littered the train.

When she woke up the train had reached her stop, and Ru was still there with her.

[Winged]

Aw, Ru seems so kind. I'm glad Ophelia has someone in her corner besides her brother...and Delilah  this was a delicious drabble, and I'm not usually one for mess -- I especially loved this line:

"the sweet, tingly relief that filled her head like sparkling cider was worth it."

(on mobile so can't figure out the quoting).  It's so tactile and beautifully descriptive. 

[Anonymouse]

I'm glad you liked it! I'm trying to find ways of writing mess so that it's more appealing to me and I'm glad you liked it in spite of that.

Annnnd guess what I saw last night. (Hint: Who ya gonna call)

12.

"Ah, shit."

Erin glanced up as something hit the ground with a metallic clang. Holtzmann was holding one hand in the air and shaking it as if she'd burnt it on something, her other arm elbow-deep in a narrow metallic chamber. She caught Erin looking her way and tilted her head towards the floor. "Be a doll?"

Saving her Word document three times just to be safe, Erin got up and made her way into the Danger Zone - that was how Patty referred to the new lab - to retrieve the dropped tool. It was some sort of wrench, its handle orange with heat.

"Bap bap bap," Holtzmann blurted, causing Erin to freeze mid-bend. "Grab it by the top part."

Erin picked it up by the head as Holtzmann slipped her free hand into a glove. With her range of motion still limited by the machine engulfing her left arm, she beckoned for Erin to approach with the wrench. "Thanks," she said, taking it with her gloved hand and getting back to work.

Erin only just sat back down when another clank! shattered the peace. Holtzmann was shaking her head. "Butterfingers," she said, making it sound like a curse. "Erin, I hate to ask, but..."

"I'll get it," she said, getting up again to retrieve the fallen item.

She had just passed it off to its dangerously careless owner and was walking back to her desk when she heard a soft gasp behind her. Expecting to see the wrench tumbling to the ground for a third time, she was pleasantly surprised to find Holtzmann seconds away from sneezing. It seemed to be stuck, but she apparently did not intend to stop it from coming; in fact she nudged it along, tilting her head back and squinting at the overhead lights. "Ahh'tschh!" The wrench did fall this time as she brought her arm up, catching her nose in the crook of her arm. "Aah'tSSHHhhshit!"

Trying not to laugh, Erin made her way back over for the wrench, but Holtzmann was gesturing for her to turn around. "Tissues," she said, sniffing against her arm.

Erin backtracked to relocate the closest tissue box to the counter where Holtzmann was working. "Please don't catch them on fire this time," she said.

"Got it."

[Bruyere]

On 7/24/2016 at 3:44 PM, AnonyMeows said:

"Please don't catch them on fire this time," she said.

I love Holtzmann looking up at the light to coax it out.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

HOLTZMANN!!!!

[queenie]

Holtzmann, always my weirdo girl. 

[Anonymouse]

Eeee thanks everyone! And thank you to the fantabulous @Winged for her shout out! I'm giving her a shout out as well for her awesome Holtzmann drabble, though I believe you've all read it already. It deserves a billion more reads and tbh I'm probably gonna go read it again after I post this.

Now for something a teeny bit different. I wrote a little prelude to my Cult of the Bumblebee RP. Ophelia is my OC in the RP, but this also features her brother Thomas and her twin nieces. Hope you like it!

---

13.

Thomas wondered what his sister was thinking as she looked out the window. They were just turning onto the gravel drive that led to their grandfather's old property after a long and quiet car ride. The gnarled trees always felt so sinister to Thomas, but Ophelia loved this place. He never imagined their grandfather would leave her his home and livelihood, regardless of how close they were before he passed. Ophelia just wasn't the farming or business type, or even much of a people person, so it didn't make much sense to him.

A box shifted and fell heavily in the back row. Ophelia didn't even flinch. Thomas instinctively checked the mirror and saw that the girls were beginning to wake up from the motions of the car bouncing over gravel and rock.

"We here, Daddy?" asked Lily, blinking into the low sunlight.

"Almost."

Piper whined for "Auntie Lili." Ophelia reached a hand back almost automatically, taking her niece's small hand without looking at her. "I'm here, baby," she said, her voice weak.

There was a lot of crying these last few weeks, but Ophelia seemed to be out of tears at this point. Thomas was more affected by the rawness of her sorrow than the loss that caused it. Of course he loved his grandfather, but his sister was one of the most precious people in his world. He wanted her to wait until things settled a bit, but Ophelia insisted on coming up to the farm this weekend. Thomas relented when Sara suggested that the pilgrimage might be an essential part of her mourning process.

They brought a few things up this round, not intending to move in just yet, but rather check out the situation and decide what needed to be done, if anything. The house itself was the very definition of rickety; Thomas hoped the exterior did not reflect the inside. He parked the car and got out to unbuckle the girls from their seats. As he set them down he noticed Ophelia a few feet ahead, staring quietly at the house.

Thomas went to touch her shoulder but she turned from him, backtracking to the car. He did not comment on her tears as they moved boxes into the house without speaking, Thomas simultaneously corralling the girls and shushing them gently whenever they asked why their auntie was crying.

On the second trip to the car Ophelia stopped so suddenly that Thomas almost tripped over her. She pulled the front of her dress over her nose and mouth, the fabric billowing out with a sneeze that must have surprised her as much as it did him, if the baffled look she gave him afterwards was any indication. Before either of them could comment she repeated the performance, eliciting a giggle from Lily, who was holding onto her free hand.

"Bess you!" she exclaimed, making Ophelia laugh in turn.

It might have been unintentional, but Thomas was so grateful to his daughter for making his sister laugh for the first time in weeks.

"Thank you, baby," she said, but even as she spoke it was clear she was not yet finished. Letting go of Lily's hand, she turned away to squeeze her nose shut, sparing her dress this time as she stifled another pair of sneezes.

"Goodness," she declared breathlessly. "What's gotten into me?"

"Hay fever," said Thomas. "Or you're just not used to all this fresh air."

"I think it's this spot," she said, looking as if she was starting to recall a long-forgotten dream. "It would always make me sneeze... do you remember?"

"I remember you sneezing a lot when we visited," Thomas said, handing her the fast food napkins he retrieved from the car. "Never here in particular."

"I didn't sneeze a lot," she protested, even as she prepared to catch a fifth one in the napkins.

She managed another stifle, the squeaky release much softer than the sigh that followed. Fortunately that seemed to be it for the moment.

They placed the rest of the boxes on the porch and took a much needed break to chase the girls through the tall grass, their shadows stretching across the fields, growing taller and more distorted as the sun kissed the horizon. Every now and then, at the very edge of his vision, Thomas could have sworn he saw a fifth shadow playing among them.

[Anonymouse]

And now for something totally different! ... just kidding, it's Ophelia again. :x I decided to continue drabble #11 and I'll probably do a few more after this. Gotta get that drabble count up, ya'll. And on the subject of counting, don't count the words in this drabble or you may find it's not a drabble at all.

14.

Ru insisted on coming over for "just a few minutes" before her next shift to help Ophelia get situated. The latter was too delirious with fever to argue or consider the potential implications of her co-worker learning the details of her living situation. This cold was coming back to kick her hard while she was down, and it was bringing along every symptom it could rally to the cause. She trudged along listlessly, supported almost exclusively by Ru, who held her around the waist and with one arm slung over her shoulders.

"Thatta girl," Ru encouraged her as they moved together like a pair of snails. "You're just up here, right?"

Ophelia barely had the energy to nod. Every step was torture, and she was seriously considering just dropping to the ground and letting Ru call an ambulance. The thought of her own bed provided just enough motivation to keep her going.

"Sure you don't need a break?" Ru asked, attempting to slow the pace even further, but Ophelia resisted.

"If I stop I might not start again."

"Fair enough."

When they finally reached the double doors Ophelia directed Ru to retrieve her wallet and locate her swipe card. "Fancy," Ru said as she ran the card through the reader, oblivious to the nature of the building.

The lobby looked like a doctor's office, with a small waiting area where residents and visitors could peruse pamphlets about self-care, city transit, and the dangers of drugs. Ironic, considering most of the residents here were taking multiple medications. There were also some LGBT+ pamphlets that mysteriously appeared shortly after Ophelia moved into the building; she was sure that was not a coincidence. They made their way past Trudy at the window, Ophelia keeping her head ducked against Ru's arm to avoid detection.

"Can I help you?"

Ru glanced at Trudy, who seemed to just now notice the pale girl hanging off her arm. "Oh, sweetie, I didn't see you there," she said. "Is this a friend of yours?"

Ophelia nodded, eager to keep moving, but she could not escape Trudy’s concern that easily.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

"I think we've got it under control," Ru said, sensing Ophelia's discomfort.

They made it to the elevator which brought them to her third floor unit. Ophelia felt her face grow warmer with more than fever as Ru commented on the strange atmosphere of the building. They called it a supported living community, but it had that institutional look and feel to it that made it hard for Ophelia to feel completely at home. If she didn't need Ru to keep her from collapsing she would have never invited her in here.

Another card swipe was required to get into the actual unit, which was trashed, because Ophelia never had or expected company. Her various pill bottles sat on full display on the island counter, along with a half-eaten orange. Desperate to direct Ru’s attention elsewhere, she tugged her towards the couch in the living room area. "Here is fine," she insisted, letting go to get settled on the couch. "I can't thank you enough for your help."

Ru stayed where she was and folded her arms, looking at Ophelia like the nurse she would someday be. "You're really, really warm," she said. "Do you have a thermometer?"

She did, but she wasn't sure where it was. "Cabinet in the bathroom, maybe?" she said, pointing weakly in its general direction.

Her body felt uncomfortably warm now that she was sitting still. She curled up on the couch with her knees to her chest, pulling the blanket she never finished knitting over her shoulders. When Ru returned with not just a thermometer, but one of her nightgowns, Ophelia was too relieved to feel mortified. All she wanted since she woke up this morning was to change back into her pajamas and go to sleep.

"Thank you," she said, cupping her hand over her nose as she sniffled wetly. Her nose was starting to run from the heavy warmth of her apartment and this relentless cold. With her other hand she took the nightgown.

"No worries, doll," said Ru. "Where are the tissues?"

As she poked around the mess her embarrassed and fevered friend sat clutching the nightgown to her chest, trying to gather the energy to stand. "Just get changed there," said Ru, sensing her hesitation. "I won't look. Better yet, I'll go in the hallway."

"Don't be silly," she said, but Ru turned away anyway under the pretense of looking for tissues on the other side of the apartment.

Ophelia pulled off her sweater and slid the nightgown on over her head, shivering as the cool fabric settled against her hot skin. Her senses felt elevated, her nerves hypersensitive to even the slightest touch. As she was removing her jeans she became distracted by a strange feeling, like a gentle electric current running through her sinuses. Making sure she was covered by either her nightgown or the three-quarters of a blanket, she ducked her head and sneezed openly towards the end of the couch, her knees jumping up to meet her chest. "ahHIHSHhhh!-oo..."

"Bless you," Ru sang out.

"IHSHHhhh'ue!" She groaned as she slowly unfurled, blocking her nostrils with the back of her hand. "Gooddess, I ab so sorry."

"If you weren't sick and possibly still nekkid, I'd smack you for apologizing," said Ru.

"Sor-" Ophelia began, before catching herself and stopping abruptly. "I mean... shut up."

Ru laughed, the musical sound taking on victorious overtones as she located an unopened box of tissues. "Found you!" She started to turn around but then stopped herself, comically shielding her eyes. "Whoops, shit. You dressed yet?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Ru."

She gestured for Ru to hurry with the tissues, her other hand still damming back a flood of congestion. When she felt the faint buzz of irritation spike she waved her hand more frantically, Ru’s footsteps falling suit. A few tissues were forced into her reaching hand and brought to her face just in time for another pair of sneezes.

"iih’TSHShhh!" There was a brief pause, during which her breath hitched thrice with increasing desperation. "ih'hiihh... eh'KTSZShhoo!"

"Buh'less you!" Ru said again, imitating the cadence of the last sneeze. “Are you done?"

Ophelia nodded, though it was more of a wish than a statement of fact. She was too tired to handle much more of this. Rubbing her flushed nostrils, she slumped against the couch and gave a vigorous blow into the tissues.

"I think I deed to sleep," she said, her head buzzing with an uncomfortable mixture of pain and relief.

"Not so fast," she said. "Let's make sure you're at a safe temperature before I go waltzing off to stare at some other sick person."

She pressed the end of the thermometer to her lips and they parted slowly, as if Ophelia was too exhausted to function. Her mind felt like it was bobbing away from her body, untethered. When the instrument was resting under her tongue Ru stepped back into the kitchen, presumably to fetch her a glass of water. She placed it within reach on the coffee table and gathered Ophelia's discarded outfit, tossing it onto a preexisting pile of dirty laundry. Ophelia was so beyond feeling embarrassment at this point. She closed her eyes, beginning to doze off, and stirring only when Ru pulled the beeping thermometer from her mouth.

"102 on the dot," she said. "Can you take Tylenol?"

Ophelia could tell from the way she phrased the question she had seen the pills in the kitchen but didn't look closely enough to see the names on the bottles. Ru was like Rain Man when it came to drug interactions. "Yeah," said Ophelia. "Cabinet."

Ru gave her the water to drink while she went to fetch the medicine. Ophelia had to stop herself from downing the entire glass in one go. It hurt to swallow, but her throat was so dry. She could feel the cold water traveling down through her body to fill the emptiness in her stomach. It felt good, like she was putting out some of the fires under her skin.

"Here." Ru handed her the pill. "It's 500 milligrams."

Ophelia took slow sips of water to wash it down, wincing slightly. She handed the empty glass to Ru, who went to refill it. "Do you have anyone who can stay with you?" she asked, setting the glass down on a coaster despite the half dozen coasterless cups already littering the table.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, curling into a ball under her blankette. "I'll sleep it off."

"Can I come back after my shift to check on you?"

"Sure," Ophelia said, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. Her eyes started to close, her mind drifting to a quieter place.

The last thing she heard before she got there was the door clicking shut behind her.

[Winged]

I am becoming very fond of Ruby! Ophelia needs people in her corner, so it makes me very happy when someone like Ru comes along and takes her under her wing. I've said this to you before but you write Ophelia with such delicacy -- you handle things like her living in a community home with just the right amount of detail but without making them overdramatic or unnecessary things for shock value. Does that make sense? She's just a normal human being who just happens to have a mental illness, and I continue to be impressed with how you write that.

Also her sneezes are lovely too

[Anonymouse]

Your comments always mean so much, Winged.  I'm glad I'm doing a decent job in your eyes. I have nothing but the utmost respect for people struggling with mental illness and I hope to continue writing her in a way that shows that.

And I do mean continue writing her! Here's another with her and Ru, continued from the last drabble. Expect another one or two after this!

15.

"Ophelia!"

The sound of her name being called and knocking on the door roused her from an already tenuous sleep. At first she wasn't sure if she could even move to answer it; her muscles and joints were unbearably sore, her legs asleep from being in a strange position for too long. For some reason she had fallen asleep on her couch, rather than in bed. Before she could speculate on how she ended up here, there was another knock on the door.

"Honey, are you okay in there?"

It was Trudy. "I'm okay," she croaked weakly, not wanting the other woman to come in. Some of the staff had cards to the rooms in case of emergency.

"You have someone here who would like to check in on you."

The comment jogged her memory. Ophelia turned to look at the clock, wincing as she did so; her neck felt swollen and achey. It was almost half past eleven. Ru would be out of work by now.

"You can let her in," Ophelia said, shielding her eyes in anticipation of the hallway light.

Trudy opened the door and Ru entered, holding a reusable grocery bag that was sagging with the weight of its contents. "Glad to see you're still alive," she chirped, impossibly cheerful after an eight hour shift changing catheters and listening to sick people curse her out.

"Barely."

Ophelia was relieved when Trudy closed the door to give them privacy. After finding space on the counter to drop her bags, Ru made her way across the room, forgoing the thermometer to rest her hand on Ophelia's forehead. The latter gasped softly at the unexpected contact, the quick intake of breath triggering a flurry of coughs.

"Girl, you are hotter than the devil’s hemorrhoids."

Ophelia crinkled her nose. "That's... gross. And weird."

"But true," said Ru, before taking bottom lip between her teeth. "You could probably do with some more medicine."

She took her temperature again just to be sure, but it hadn't budged one way or the other. As Ru was preparing the next round of pills, Ophelia realized she slept through the evening doses of her other medications. After some internal debate, she decided to enlist her friend for help. "Ru, I hate to ask, but could you..."

Ru was looking at her expectantly as she began to trail off, blinking rapidly and shaking her head gently from side to side. The other woman began a preemptive blessing but then stopped, apparently remembering her friend's earlier request. Instead she kept a respectable distance and remained quiet as Ophelia's breath hitched in an uneven rhthym. 

"Aahh... hh'hihh... ih-HIH!" She waited until the last possible second to bring the corner of her blanket to her face, smothering three full, satisfying sneezes into the cotton. “ihtSSzhhu! eh'HIHSHhhu! hh!... heh’TZSHhhh!-oohh..."

In lieu of a blessing Ru stepped forward to ruffle her friend’s hair, also pulling two tissues from the box on the cluttered coffee table. Ophelia leaned into the affectionate gesture, her eyes closed and the blanket covering the lower half of her face. She took the tissues from Ru and let the blanket fall, blowing into what may as well have been sandpaper given the state of her nose. It did feel good to clear it out, though, and she no longer had to resort to mouth breathing to keep herself alive. Her dry throat and chapped lips could only benefit from the reprieve, however brief it was.

"You're like one of those sad animals in the commercials," Ru said, taking in her sorry state. "I just want to take you home and feed you."

Ophelia snorted, feeling fuzzy and lightheaded after those sneezes and the subsequent noseblowing session. Ru was always saying weird stuff like that but she loved hearing it. The other woman brought her a glass of water and some Tylenol, which she downed in one quick shot as if ripping off a Band-aid.

"Speaking of food," Ru began, making her way back to the counter where her bag was on the verge of toppling over. "I hope you like chicken noodle."

Ophelia was half expecting her to pull out a dozen cans of Progresso, so she was shocked when Ru began laying out the ingredients for homemade chicken noodle soup. "Oh, for goodness sake, you don't have to-" she began, but Ru wagged her finger and overruled her protests with a "bup bup."

"I want to. End of discussion."

Sniffling, with her shoulders slumped in defeat, Ophelia pulled the blanket more tightly around herself and sank back into the couch. She could not find the words to express her immense gratitude, so she merely sat and watched as Ru began chopping meat and vegetables, cleaning up clutter along the way. Letting her tissues fall, Ophelia closed her eyes and gradually drifted off to the sounds of cutlery and simmering broth.

[Anonymouse]

I need to seriously start pumping out some drabbles if I'm going to reach my goal before the end of the year. If anyone has prompts, send them my way! #16 is Natasha and #17 is my OC Catherine.

16.

Natasha woke up shivering, which was unusual, since they always kept the heat at a steady seventy degrees. The only heat in the room now was coming from hers and Clint's bodies. She could see a faint white cloud every time she breathed. Sitting up, she looked down at her snoring partner as he continued sleeping, oblivious to their dilemma.

"Clint," she said, pushing him gently with both arms.

Though her actions were gentle, her voice was firm and impatient. “Barton.” She shook a little harder. "Wake up."

He snorted and turned over abruptly, squinting up at her in confusion. Natasha could see him trying to wake up fully and assess the situation. The light of the city outside framed her almost naked body as she sat there, arms folded and shivering from the cold. "What's up?" he asked sleepily, reaching up to run his hand along her arm.

Her skin bristled with goosebumps. He could sense it was not a reaction to his touch. Not when she felt so cold.

"You're freezing..."

"This room is freezing," she said. "I don't hear the heat. Did you pay the bill?"

He closed his eyes and withdrew his arm, pressing a hand against his face. "Ah, it was due... on the... 15th..."

"And?"

He winced, keeping his gaze averted. "I, uh... forgot to pay it?"

Natasha closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Clint began wondering if he should make one last confession in case he should die in the very near future. He sat up to await his fate with dignity, but Natasha seemed preoccupied with a sudden thought. Perhaps she decided to spare him. Instead of strangling him, or even just snapping at him, she turned away slowly with a single, sweeping breath. "hehhhh… ehk'tSHH!"

She sneezed towards the floor, her hand too late getting up to catch it. Clint had never been so grateful for a sneeze; her ire shifted now to the sudden interruption, his role in their plight a mere afterthought.

"This is intolerable," she said. "I can't sleep like this. Let's go to Stark's."

"You're getting sick," Clint said matter-of-factly.

Natasha laughed derisively. "It was just one sneeze. Besides, it's literally freezing in here."

She said this as if it meant something, as if those two random times she happened to sneeze in a really cold room meant her nose was reliably sensitive to lower temperatures. He had gone on enough missions with her to know this was not the case, but this woman could talk almost anyone into believing anything. Clint took pride in his ability to recognize her lies for what they were, though it was more of a product of having known her for so long than any special skills on his part.

"It was a cold sneeze," he said. "Even I could hear that."

He realized that by pointing this out he was playing with fire again, and so soon after almost getting burned the first time. And once again, a sneeze saved his ass. Her expression softened as her body prepared itself for the imminent explosion.

"eh'KSHhu!"

Clint resisted the impulse to mention how that was another cold sneeze. The congestion, the desperation, the ensuing exhaustion, the persistence of them. Instead he fetched a tissue box, hoping to win her favor by being helpful, but she waved the box away.

"Let's just go where it's warmb," she said, with just a hint of congestion blunting her consonants.

"Roger that."

---

17.

Her grandfather went into town for a while and left her in charge of the farm. Not that her oversight was necessary; the place ran like a machine, everyone doing their part to keep production flowing smoothly. Ophelia took advantage of the break to wander among the trees in the orchard, remembering how much bigger they seemed when she was a kid.

She was still too short to reach the fruit, even on tiptoe, so she looked around to make sure nobody was watching before grabbing onto a low branch and pulling herself up. Her grandfather told her that she used to spend hours reading in one of these trees, but she couldn't remember which one, or even which fruit it produced. She nestled into the crook of the branch, but it didn't feel familiar, so she climbed up to the next branch. It creaked and she let out a whimper, hugging the trunk and lowering herself back down to the sturdier branch.

Ophelia grabbed a peach before dropping down to the grass below. The fruit was ripe, the juice exploding from the skin as she took a bite. She laughed to herself as it dribbled down her chin and wiped it away before taking another bite. As she ate she continued her stroll, taking in the gorgeous sights and smells of the well-maintained orchard.

A sudden sneeze rang out like a shotgun, causing the birds in the branches above to take to the sky in a flurry of feathers. Ophelia swallowed and froze in place, looking around for any sign of the sneezer. She heard her before she saw her, another unrestrained “Ahshhhhew!” that shook the remaining birds out of hiding.

Moments later a woman emerged from behind a cluster of apple trees, rubbing her nose with her fisted hand. When she saw Ophelia standing there she stopped in her tracks, quickly lowering her hand and sniffling harshly. Ophelia, feeling flustered as the stranger looked, wiped the stickiness from her face with her wrist before folding her arms.

"Can I help you?" she stammered.

"I'm sorry, you scared me," said the other woman. "Is Deidrich around? I hahv... hahh..."

She paused, her features tightening with pre-sneeze tension before relaxing once more. "Sorry..." he sighed, both relieved and irritated. "I have his mail. She put it in the wrong box again... lady needs to retire."

She waved a stack of envelopes she held in her left hand, the right one fumbling at the handkerchief tucked in her jeans pocket. Ophelia stepped forward to take the mail gently as the woman sneezed a harsh but muffled double into the plaid cloth. There were four envelopes, each addressed to Deidrich van Houten. The woman sneezed once more mid-noseblow, prompting Ophelia to bless her. "Allergies?"

"Doe, a cold." She kept the handkerchief against her nose as a protective measure. "I'll be out of your way dow, I'd hate to pass this alogg."

"I hope you feel better," said Ophelia. "I'll make sure these get to him."

"Thag you, biss…?"

"Van Houten."

She held out her hand. The woman looked at it warily but Ophelia shrugged. "I don't mind," she said. "I need to wash my hands anyway."

It didn't occur to her that this stranger might mind the peach juice and tree bark bits on her own fingers, but she clasped her hand regardless. "Catherid Bayfield."

Ophelia smiled. "Nice to meet you, Catherine."

[Anonymouse]

More OC drivel. A high and a low from Ophelia's life, both featuring her brother Thomas. I imagine Ophelia is the type of person who would get inexplicably sneezy when she drinks a lot, but she takes a bunch of medications that don't allow her to drink so I never got to explore this before. Her nose is pretty sensitive in general so even stuff like carbonation can trigger some fun stuff.

-

18.

Autumn 2012

(Inspired by Florence + The Machine's "Dog Days Are Over")

 

When they opened the door she was greeted with a banner that read "Welcome home Ophelia!" There were several tiny red and blue handprints on the paper that presumably belonged to her nieces. Sara was holding one in each arm, and she urged them to join her in shouting "Surprise!" Only Piper gave any effort; Lily was temporarily distracted by a bird at the window.

"Oh my goodness," Ophelia exclaimed, holding one hand over her heart. It was a needlessly melodramatic gesture, perhaps, but she was genuinely surprised to see them there. "What a pleasant surprise..." she added, stepping forward to embrace her sister-in-law and the babies. "I thought it was just me and boring, old daddy today."

"Watch it..." Thomas warned, although he was beaming as he watched her take in the apartment. "What do you think?"

"It looks so much better," she said, taking Lily from Sara as she passed Piper off to Thomas. "You guys did such a great job. And look, is that a carpet...?"

She saw the unit twice before, and both times it was still trashed from its previous occupant. Thomas and Sara insisted on helping clear it out along with the director of the residence herself.  They thought it was a good opportunity to see more of the apartment and to get to know the person in charge. Ophelia knew her brother would not have supported her living here if he was not completely comfortable with the setting or the people around her.

Sara went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of sparkling cider. "Shall we toast to the new place?" she asked, twisting off the cap and pouring a small amount of juice in each of the three glasses.

Ophelia bounced the baby further up her hip as she joined Sara at the counter. "We’ll need some pictures of them for the fridge," she said as she examined the blank-faced appliance. "You and Thomas, too, if you don’t mind."

"Of course I don't mind," she said, passing a glass to Ophelia. "I'm just flattered you want our ugly mugs on display in your beautiful home."

This made Ophelia snort, but Thomas was less amused. "So now I’m boring and ugly?"

"So sensitive," Sara said, clinking glasses with her sister-in-law and then her begrudging husband. "To sweet beginnings."

"To sweet beginnings," Ophelia repeated, draining her glass before placing it down on the counter. "Thank you both... all..." She paused to smile at Lily and Piper. "... so much. For everything."

She could feel her voice starting to quiver and stopped talking, focusing on pouring another glass of cider instead. Thomas reached out to rub her shoulder gently, a master in her specific brand of nonverbal communication.

"We're much closer now, so if you ever need us…" Sara began.

"I know." Ophelia smiled, whisking a tear away before it could fall. "Thank you."

She wanted to say more but her voice just would not cooperate. She cleared her throat and took another sip of cider, avoiding her family’s eyes and instead glancing towards the window. It provided a beautiful view of the city, including the well-maintained park nearby where she could go for walks. She still found it hard to believe that there was a subway station right around the corner. As she pondered her new situation the fizzing cider tickled the roof of her mouth.  It left a lingering irritation in her sinuses that would not subside, even after she swallowed. In a perfect sequence of events, she felt a tendril of sunlight caress her face through the window, stoking the tickly sensation into a relentless, burnung itchiness. "Take the baby," she said softly, turning more fully towards the sun once Thomas took Lily from her arms. "I have to snee... hehh..."

The light touched something deep inside of her, making the urge to sneeze too tempting - no, demanding - to ignore. It was a necessity, beyond the point of compromise, so she simply gave in and let it overcome her bit by bit, her eyes closing, upper lip curling slowly, parting from the lower one as her mouth opened to draw in air, filling her lungs to capacity before it all rushed out again in a single, satisfying explosion.

"hiiihh-...! AHSHHhhhh'eewww!"

Somebody blessed her but she couldn't hear them over the hard, reflexive sniffle that made the sudden gush of congestion in her nose gurgle. She murmured a bashful "Thank you," keeping her watering gaze focused on the roll of paper towels next to the stove. She ripped off a couple of squares and brought them to her nose, glad for the opportunity to hide her reddening face.

"The carbonation..." She felt compelled to explain; although Thomas knew, Sara looked mildly perplexed. "Does that sometimes... I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," Sara assured her. "We try to cover in front of the girls, but we're both guilty of forgetting or letting a couple slip past every now and then... right, hun?"

She gave Thomas a look that suggested he might be the guiltier offender of the two. Ophelia smiled and felt herself relaxing in response to Sara’s easygoing attitude. She was glad she finally decided to give her sister-in-law a chance; she liked the person she was getting to know more than she imagined she could. It was fun to have someone else to share in teasing her brother, someone to help her with more serious things like this. Someone who made Thomas happy, and who gave her two amazing nieces to love. They spent some time in the kitchen just enjoying each others' presence before investigating the park down the street. Ophelia was glad to get some sunlight and family time; it always helped her feel better in the colder, darker months.

That night, she fell asleep in her very own space for the first time ever, surrounded only by strangers in separate units.  But she didn’t feel alone or afraid - the love of her family lingered in the spaces of her new home, the perfect way to christen a new beginning.

-

19.

Autumn 2015

(Inspired by Bastille’s “Good Grief”)

 

They agreed that if she didn't respond to her calls, texts, or open her door after three loud knocks, Thomas could use his key to get inside. He hated invading her privacy, even with her permission, so he remained just inside the doorway for a few seconds before calling her name.

"Ophelia?"

She didn't respond. These days she was a very light sleeper, if she slept at all, so he was sure she must be awake. If she was even still...

Thomas reached out and flipped the lightswitch. There was no change; nothing but darkness. Apparently the bulb needed replacing. His eyes searched the dimly illuminated space but it was the soft moaning that drew his attention to the living room area. He made his way over towards the couch, turning on a lamp along the way. His sister was lying on the floor wearing a large flannel coat he immediately recognized as having belonged to their grandfather. At first he was filled with relief to find her alive, until another groan reminded him that something was still wrong.

As he knelt beside her he felt his knee crush against something hollow. There were a handful of empty vodka shooter bottles gathered near his knee and her limp fingers. Ophelia was lying still with her eyes closed, but she continued to breathe somewhat normally, whining every now and then as if in pain. Thomas wasn't sure how he didn't smell the alcohol sooner - she reeked of it.  It was a scent he never smelled on her before, and one that scared him due to its implications. His mind automatically combed through his memories, searching for any signs he missed that would have indicated any intent to hurt or kill herself.  She was understandably depressed about losing their grandfather, but Thomas didn't think it had reached the point of self-harm.

"What did you do?" he demanded, angry and terrified.

"Relax," she said, sighing more than speaking. It was strange to hear such a calm directive coming from someone just barely conscious on the ground. "I'll live."

Thomas was already reaching into his pocket for his phone, but his sister had enough strength to reach out and intercept his wrist. "I'll live," she repeated firmly, beginning to sit up now. "And if I don't, at least I won't die surrounded by fucking people."

She kept her hand against Thomas for support as she shifted and settled with her back against the couch. Now that her eyes were open he could see how red and glassy they were. He had seen his sister cry enough to know that this was how she looked when she'd been doing a lot of it.  Thomas was far from surprised, given their recent family tragedy.  He wished he had checked on her more.  It was hard balancing his duty to protect her with his obligation to give her some degree of independence.

"How many of these did you have?"

"I don't know, six? Eight? I..." Ophelia trailed off, turning her head to the side and squinting as if listening to someone whisper a secret. Her nose crinkled and she drew in a single, deep breath, weakly lifting an arm to shield Thomas. "ihhd'TsCHhhh-ue!"

"Bless you," he said, somewhat amused in spite of their situation. His sister rarely sneezed so openly without at least trying to be modest about it, even with him. "Ophelia, you cannot drink on that medicine. You know that."

"I'm not on it."

He hoped he'd misheard her. "Not on what?"

"My medicine," she said flatly. "I... hiih’dtSZCHhhu!--stopped taking it a week ago."

Thomas felt a mixture of strong emotion and tried to squash the anger out completely. These last weeks had been rougher for her than anyone. She needed that medicine now more than ever, but she also needed his patience and compassion. It was difficult, but he managed to keep his tone even as he asked "Why?"

"Because now I can hear him, Thomas." Her expression became very distant and serene. "It was too soft before, but now I hear it so clearly. Grandpa whistling those old songs... doing his bird calls. Playing the piano. They were making it too hard to hear him."

It killed Thomas, but he knew he had to have this conversation with her. They agreed it was how it needed to be done, to keep her from getting lost in herself.

"Ophelia." He spoke her name as though he were trying to catch a butterfly without hurting it. "They're auditory hallucinations. I know you want it to be real, but it isn't. I'm sorry."

She shook her head adamantly throughout his explanation, saying "No, no, no..." softly to herself.  "He's here, Thomas. He talked to me last night... I heard him. He was... fuck it, you're right, aren't you?" Her shoulders slumped as reality took back the reigns. "You're always fucking right. He wasn't here. It's just me... alone."

Her fingers gripped at the collar of his jacket and she appeared to gaze at the photographs on the side table.  Thomas could never truly know what the world looked like through her eyes.  He could hear her sniffling softly, fighting not to cry, and reached for the tissue box on the coffee table.  "I'm here," he said, handing her a few tissues, which she accepted without looking at him. "And you're here... and you're going to feel really sick in the morning, so I’ll be here then, too."

"I feel sick dow," she said, holding the tissues against her nose. "My hehh… h-head is killihh... hii'ngxCHh! hh'ehIHSHHhhu!"

Her foot bumped against the empty mini-bottles, causing them to rattle gently across the floor with each sneeze. She groaned and gave a blow into the tissues, clearing out just enough of the congestion to breathe more comfortably. Thomas began standing and wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her up onto the couch behind her where he knew she preferred to sleep. She seemed calmer now, as if she could not remember how distressed she was before the sneezes interrupted. Perhaps it was for the better.

"Stay there," Thomas said as he made his way across the apartment to the small kitchen, where he filled a glass to the brim with water. "And drink this. You’re gonna need it."

"I know how to fight a hangover," she said lazily, her eyes closed and her head limp against her shoulder. "I've been drunk before."

"That’s a discussion for another time, I suppose," he said with a sigh, rousing her with a soft touch on the arm. "But for now, drink. As much as you can handle."

She sat up but kept her eyes closed, taking a few long sips. "Are you really staying here?" she asked when she was done.

"That’s the plan."

"Good," she said hoarsely, leaning against him and letting the tears come.

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Oh gosh Anony this was wonderful! I love the sneezing played into the back and we more got to see into Ophelia's mind espc through someone else. Love it.

 

[The Kneezle]

These are great! I'm especially a fan of the Natasha one!!! Love the way you spelled her sneezes, and her denial and Clint being foolish but concerned in diagnosing her is marvelous. Continuation? Or Natasha with an allergy she never knew she had?

(I just love Nat, ok)

[Anonymouse]

1 hour ago, The Kneezle said:

These are great! I'm especially a fan of the Natasha one!!! Love the way you spelled her sneezes, and her denial and Clint being foolish but concerned in diagnosing her is marvelous. Continuation? Or Natasha with an allergy she never knew she had?

(I just love Nat, ok)

I've got a few more Nat drabbles in the works, so it just may be your lucky day (or week, or month, depending on when I actually get around to posting them). Thanks for the comment, and thank you @Kaze wo Hiku for always being so awesome.

[SleepingPhlox]

Okay, I have to confess to this being the first dribble thread I've ever properly read.  There is so much material in this subforum that I don't know where to start!  But I caught a glimpse of a mention of a Natasha fic and just needed to read it because I'm a little obsessed with her right now.

 Holy crap.  I loved that little snippet.  I'm amazed when people have the skill to create such a tangible scene in a short piece of writing!  It's so good!  I also found the Clint ones and enjoyed them too.  Definitely going to come back and read all the others when I'm not about to go to sleep but, like, if more Natasha stuff were to pop up I wouldn't be complaining.

[Anonymouse]

Look, real drabbles. All female from Bobbi, Nat, and my OC Eleanor.

20 + 2 (out of 16)

 

20. Bless You (Bobbi, AoS)

Bobbi was exhausted. She barely had the energy to hold the tablet as they spoke, but it was the only thing keeping them connected. Hunter was busy recounting some story, rife with embellishments, in a well-meaning but misguided attempt to cheer her up. Bobbi had a hard time keeping track of his tale, having spent the last two minutes stoically fighting off a sneeze that was slowly coming to fruition. His rambling went from amusing to irritating very quickly as the tickle grew unchecked.

Pressing the tablet screen against her legs for some privacy, Bobbi twisted and pressed the curled fingers of her free hand into the right side of her nose. By some miracle she managed to stifle silently, knowing full well she would pay for it later. All Hunter would have heard was a soft exhale and maybe the brush of her pajama pants against the tablet mic from when she tensed up. He didn't seem to be aware of what had just happened, unsurprisingly.

“Rude,” she heard him remark at her sudden absence. “A little warning would have been nice before you fuck off on me. Am I that boring?”

No, but you are annoying, Bobbi thought, rolling her eyes as he whined. When he finally stopped talking she could feel the tickle increase tenfold. She stifled it into a tight squeak, rolling her eyes once more before picking the tablet up again. His expression shifted to one of annoyance to smug understanding when he saw her eyes watering.

“Ah, bless you,” he said. “Twice, I presume.”

She hated that he could tell.

-

21. Salud (Natasha, Marvel)

They were spending a rare night off at a bar in Marbella. At first it was awkward, like they forgot how to relax and have fun, but after some shots on the house from the fan running the bar they were swapping old SHIELD stories and laughing too loudly. Natasha could tell that despite the smile that reached his eyes Clint was still on edge, always serious under the surface, but at least he left some space for fun tonight.

She reached out to grab his hand, smiling but then turning away from him as her other arm rose, her hand hovering inches away from her parted lips and fluttering eyelashes. She heard him laugh softly and had just enough dignity left to glare in his direction.

“You okay?” he asked as she hovered there, her hand cupped over her flaring nostrils.

She gasped, then released a shuddering sigh as the urge left her feeling unfulfilled. Clint was drunk and fearless enough to lean forward and give her nose a gentle flick before sitting back and sipping pensively at his beer. The contact caused the sensation in her nose to spike. She could see him smirking behind the glass and hoped that he would choke, just a little, from laughing at her plight while he drank. Turning on the bar stool, she grabbed a napkin and cupped it over her nose with both hands, bending forward slightly with each sneeze. “ehh’CHH! heh’CSHHhh! heh’TCHHh-uh!”

“Salud!” she heard Clint say behind her, and when she turned, grabbing her drink along the way, he was ready with his to clink against her glass.

“Ass,” she said before drinking her vodka tonic.

-

22. Gesundheit (Eleanor, OC)

There were so many butterflies outside the window. They gathered in swarms now, ever since Dr. Richards had the daylilies planted in the courtyard. The insects were gorgeous, as were the flowers, but their aesthetic charm was not worth the ruthless allergies that plagued Dr. Eleanor Weber.

Dr. Richards seemed to disagree. Her constant sneezing fits were apparently less of an inconvenience than just ripping up the damn things and planting something else. It didn't help that he left the window open during their team meetings, “for the fresh spring air.”

It was fresh and spring, alright. It smelled beautiful, but it was terribly potent, reducing her to a sneezy mess in a matter of minutes. She frequently excused herself to the hallway to sneeze some more and was embarrassed to find that they started waiting for her to return after the third time.

“Any med adjustments for Miss Jacobs?” Dr. Richards asked impatiently.

“I didn't see a point, as she's currently refusing all meds,” said Dr. Weber.

“She's a minor and psychotic, she shouldn't have a choice,” he said.

Dr. Weber was shocked, even after years and countless examples of shitty behavior. “But she does. And she's refusing. I have her on one to one, and as for… Mbiss… hehh’IHH!...”

Her nose crinkled as her eyes rolled back beneath fluttering lashes, her upper lip curling to reveal a glimpse of her teeth. “heh’KESHHahh!” She snapped into her waiting hand, spraying her palm. “hih’KSSHHah!”

She sniffled wetly as Greg laughed from across the table. “Gesundheit,” he said, mimicking the slight accent she couldn't lose, even after twenty-six years in the states.

She didn't respond. Instead she grabbed the tissue box off the table and excused herself to the hallway.

[Chanel_no5]

Eeep! Hello there, Eleanor... ^^

6 hours ago, AnonyMouse said:

Her nose crinkled as her eyes rolled back beneath fluttering lashes, her upper lip curling to reveal a glimpse of her teeth. “heh’KESHHahh!” She snapped into her waiting hand, spraying her palm. “hih’KSSHHah!”

*purrs*

[The Kneezle]

Oh my god BOBBI! I did not realize how much I needed to read about Bobbi Morse sneezing until I did. It was great and perfect and she would stifle like that and Hunter would know and she WOULD be so annoyed that he could tell. I love it.

And Nat is great as always, oh man Clint is a brave soul. I love how you spell Nat's sneezes. 

And the description of Eleanor was great! Awesome. Love these.