Hello! Welcome to a very niche corner of the internet. You can call me Ghost, or I will also happily answer to Ouro. I'm not picky about pronouns, but please note that she/her pronouns are reserved for close friends.
On this blog you will find primarily sneeze fetish (yes you read that correctly, I'm so sorry) and sickfic content, but also a fair amount of whump and a lot of hurt/comfort. I lean more towards colds/illness than allergies, but by no means exclusively. Panszual, particularly as a reader, but I tend to write almost exclusively M and NB snz content. (This is a fact I genuinely lament, but the horn wants what it wants and it wants to objectify men.)
DMs and askbox are always open, but:
- I am nearly 40 years old, please behave accordingly and make smart, safe choices if you are u18
- Ideally please be 25+ to DM me
- I am not interested in snexting with strangers of any age
A masterlist of my writing can be found here β Mostly OC, but a few fandom things more recently.
Tentatively also throwing out some fandom roleplaying/co-writing interests under the cut β will update as is relevant.
(I'm down to write any of these characters in either a snzing or caretaking role and for nearly any snz cause. Generally speaking the character I've listed as my primary interest is the character I'm most interested in/comfortable writing, but I'm certainly open to swapping that around. DM me if you want to maybe throw some words together!)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Primary character of interest: Rupert Giles
Pairings of interest:
- Jenny Calendar
- Ethan Rayne
- Olivia [surname not found?]
- I am coming around to Wesley Wyndam-Price, mostly as a platonic pairing, but feel free to petition for romance
- open to platonic dynamics with the Scoobies, but I will not pair him romantically with any of them
Cabin Pressure
Character of interest: Hercules the Bercules Shipwright
Pairings:
- Carolyn
- Douglas
- Platonically with anyone else
Tolkien legendarium
Character of interest: currently Maedhros, but honestly shoot your shot, literally everyone is a babe.
Pairing: Romantically Fingon (but feel free to petition for someone else), platonically pretty much anyone that makes sense.
The Invisibles (2008 BBC miniseries)
Character of interest: Maurice Riley
Romantically I'm really only down to pair him with Barbara, but I'm also extremely down for platonic shenanigans with Syd and/or Hedley, maybe even more interested in that actually.
If there's something else you think I might be interested in certainly feel free to ask!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I will always love, in snzfic or just media generally, the moment in dating where a character sees their partner sick for the first time. And there's that moment of 'oh, seeing you like this crystalizes something for me about the way I feel about you β I love you even wretched and pitiful like this. I love you MORE having now seen you wretched and pitiful like this'.
Sometimes I forget that Giles isn't explicitly canonically bisexual β I say not explicitly because, I mean... come on...
Also, for that matter:
I'm sorry but that is not heterosexual cuffing behavior with those sleeves.
β and I get confused when there's no reference to it in a fanfic where it would make sense to allude to it, and then I remember that The WB was run by cowards who didn't let Jane Espenson do the lovers to enemies to lovers arc she was clearly jonesing for.
Anyway, this is me any time I watch a scene with Giles and Ethan:
I'm probably the most boring person ever, but the simple, domestic fluff of having a person taking care of their SO who has a cold will always be so very dear to my heart. Just simple cuddles, and tea, and blankets, and bless yous while someone's doting on their partner π
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Thinking about a man who isn't used to being taken care of coming down with an awful cold. He can't stop sneezing and coughing, he's got a fever, he's absolutely miserable, but he's still got work that needs to be done and others needs to put before his own. Eventually, someone (maybe a work crush/lover π) gently cups his cheeks and coos sympathetically, telling him that he should be in bed. He insists that he's alright, but can't help but lean into their touch. Crush/lover decides to just let him keep working, not wanting to push him too far out of his comfort zone, but offers cups of tea, tissues, medicine, and a bit of physical affection throughout the day. They convince him to let them take him home, and give him the most gentle care he's ever had; a warm bath, a soothing massage, some soup and tea, and of course, plentiful cuddles. He falls asleep to the sound of their steady heartbeat and their fingers in his hair, relieved to finally have someone who will help him even when he's sure he doesn't truly need it
Lying partially across their beloved, still pretending to be more than half-asleep so they can keep listening to their partner trying so hard (but so innefectually) not to wake them with this morning's allergy attack.
Anyway you folks do you know what's hot? Hitches that catch. All sorts of marvellous hd-! and hhit...! and h'gh!! sounds. Like yes gasping and panting is choice already but just that extra extra audibly desperate edge telling you that someone is really really ready to explode.
When someone's sick enough that their voice takes on that delicious deep, hoarse, gravely quality... and it completely alters the way their sneezes sound too.......ough
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Hmm, hmmm, hmm, apparently feeling like I am a terrible person who is too unhealed to ever truly do right by anyone is a consistent aspect of the grieving process for me. How delightful to have self-hatred thrown into the mix of torment like that. What a charming quirk of my brain. Love that for me.
Someone sitting by the pool. Maybe relaxing after a swim.
Their nose tickles, a soft prickling sensation, and they rub at it a few times but there's no relief from the itchy feeling.
The first sneeze is rather soft, lightly jerking them forward into their hands.
They feel their nostrils flare strongly as they rub at the nose and they try not to bring attention towards themselves as their breath hitches.
The next couple of sneezes that follows are sharper, folding them over. They start to look for tissues, but can only find their towel and they lift that towards their face as another build up takes over their entire facial expression.
They snap forward again, and again. The rough sneezes are echoing over the pool area as they aggressively let out the next sneeze into the towel.
Found this in my notes app when I was looking for something else Dash related and figured I'd post it here for WIP Wednesday. No snz, but lots of miserable Dash getting attacked from all sides β by a heatwave, by a summer cold, by a concerned and annoyingly perceptive friend.
Minor cw for reference to blood as part of a crime scene.
. . .
"Drink, you look like hell."
Dash barely has time to turn his head, starting slightly out of what is maybe more of a dazed fugue state than intense concentration, if he's entirely honest with himself, before a bottle of neon yellow Gatorade is thrust into his hands. He almost drops it, partly because he isn't expecting it, partly because it's sweating even more than he is.
Lauren's hand is on his forehead before he's even got the cap off.
"You're burning up."
He tries to dodge out from under her touch, but he's sluggish and clumsy and it's probably too late anyway.
"It's hot," He tries pointing out instead. And God it fucking is, it's been creeping steadily into the ninties all week with humidity pushing one hundred percent more often than not.
He's beginning to forget what it's like to not be damply sticky. Standing now in the close, sweltering oven an alley, his shirt clinging to him like a second skin, he can feel the weight of the air pressing on him. Sweat is tracing ticklish paths down the back of his neck, stinging at the corners of his eyes, gritty and aching from the heat, from mounting congestion that he's trying to ignore.
Lauren levels an unimpressed stare at him.
"No, Dash, you're burning up. Like cliche levels of 'I could fry an egg on your face' burning up. Why are you here?"
Mutely Dash gestures behind him at the torn, blood-stained blazer and firework splatter of an exploded dye pack coloring the pavement and watches Lauren roll her eyes so hard it's a wonder she doesn't strain some kind of ocular ligament.
Found this in my notes app when I was looking for something else Dash related and figured I'd post it here for WIP Wednesday. No snz, but lots of miserable Dash getting attacked from all sides β by a heatwave, by a summer cold, by a concerned and annoyingly perceptive friend.
Minor cw for reference to blood as part of a crime scene.
. . .
"Drink, you look like hell."
Dash barely has time to turn his head, starting slightly out of what is maybe more of a dazed fugue state than intense concentration, if he's entirely honest with himself, before a bottle of neon yellow Gatorade is thrust into his hands. He almost drops it, partly because he isn't expecting it, partly because it's sweating even more than he is.
Lauren's hand is on his forehead before he's even got the cap off.
"You're burning up."
He tries to dodge out from under her touch, but he's sluggish and clumsy and it's probably too late anyway.
"It's hot," He tries pointing out instead. And God it fucking is, it's been creeping steadily into the ninties all week with humidity pushing one hundred percent more often than not.
He's beginning to forget what it's like to not be damply sticky. Standing now in the close, sweltering oven an alley, his shirt clinging to him like a second skin, he can feel the weight of the air pressing on him. Sweat is tracing ticklish paths down the back of his neck, stinging at the corners of his eyes, gritty and aching from the heat, from mounting congestion that he's trying to ignore.
Lauren levels an unimpressed stare at him.
"No, Dash, you're burning up. Like cliche levels of 'I could fry an egg on your face' burning up. Why are you here?"
Mutely Dash gestures behind him at the torn, blood-stained blazer and firework splatter of an exploded dye pack coloring the pavement and watches Lauren roll her eyes so hard it's a wonder she doesn't strain some kind of ocular ligament.
Found this in my notes app when I was looking for something else Dash related and figured I'd post it here for WIP Wednesday. No snz, but lots of miserable Dash getting attacked from all sides β by a heatwave, by a summer cold, by a concerned and annoyingly perceptive friend.
Minor cw for reference to blood as part of a crime scene.
. . .
"Drink, you look like hell."
Dash barely has time to turn his head, starting slightly out of what is maybe more of a dazed fugue state than intense concentration, if he's entirely honest with himself, before a bottle of neon yellow Gatorade is thrust into his hands. He almost drops it, partly because he isn't expecting it, partly because it's sweating even more than he is.
Lauren's hand is on his forehead before he's even got the cap off.
"You're burning up."
He tries to dodge out from under her touch, but he's sluggish and clumsy and it's probably too late anyway.
"It's hot," He tries pointing out instead. And God it fucking is, it's been creeping steadily into the ninties all week with humidity pushing one hundred percent more often than not.
He's beginning to forget what it's like to not be damply sticky. Standing now in the close, sweltering oven an alley, his shirt clinging to him like a second skin, he can feel the weight of the air pressing on him. Sweat is tracing ticklish paths down the back of his neck, stinging at the corners of his eyes, gritty and aching from the heat, from mounting congestion that he's trying to ignore.
Lauren levels an unimpressed stare at him.
"No, Dash, you're burning up. Like cliche levels of 'I could fry an egg on your face' burning up. Why are you here?"
Mutely Dash gestures behind him at the torn, blood-stained blazer and firework splatter of an exploded dye pack coloring the pavement and watches Lauren roll her eyes so hard it's a wonder she doesn't strain some kind of ocular ligament.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Thank you for the ask and for coming up with the questions! I answered π already here , but for the other two:
π - What is your favorite thing about this community?
How quickly I felt welcomed when I first joined, and how welcome and supported Iβve continued to feel. I was really nervous to join the snzkink community on tumblr because a lot of what had led me to leave the forum years ago was how exclusive and cliqueish and antagonistic it felt, how somehow simultaneously shark infested and yet also puritanical, and it was such a breath of fresh air to find the community here (or at least the part Iβve ended up in) to be so friendly and accepting and laid back.
ππΌ - What would you like to do with your blorbo's nose? (Break it? Tickle it with a feather? Wipe it with tissues? The possibilities are endless!)
There I something very appealing about a physical injury to a nose, and itβs something I havenβt utilized much (not at all in any published work). I would like to play with that at some point I think. Dashβs nose has canonically been broken once, and a narrative version of that does exist in his ever evolving timeline document, but I donβt think Iβve ever shared it here. Maybe I will someday.
