#snz audiobook | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zensations35 · 5 months

Text

King of Madness

Soooo, I knocked this thing out in like 48 hours. Because when inspiration strikes, nothing makes sense. This is an Orestes fic based on Greek mythology retellings. It's a different style than I normally write, but I did it this way to keep it loyal to the source material. I also wrote it specifically to be read as an audio fic, so, enjoy that! A little background: The furies are causing Orestes to hallucinate and Menelaus is trying to catch him acting mad so he can take over Orestes’ kingdom. It’s all very political and petty. Ok! Enjoy!

Pylades sweeps into the room, cloak whirling around his feet as he dips so quickly he cracks his knee on the smooth floor of the bedchamber.

“My King,” his voice is firm, respectful. Only slightly pitched with worry.

Orestes reclines--slumps really--against the headboard of the carved wooden cradle of the bed. He looks much worse than Pylades last saw him. Dark curls damp his brow, his visible flesh shiny and scented with the gleam of oils and sweat from his mental decline.

“Did…” Orestes chokes on the word, his lips dry, breaths hot like baked earth. “Did you bring it?”

Pylades pulls out a wooden box, gold filigree carved in the sides and woven in floral patterns.

“Yes, My King, but I know not why.”

Orestes shifts to sit upright and winces. His head spins and he swears he catches the sight of a sinister shadow just out of his field of vision.

“Open the box,” he says. “Dab the oil on your wrist.”

Pylades is dying to ask more, but he obeys. Even he concedes to Mycenae’s ruler.

The bottle of oil in the box is a voluptuous glass with amber liquid inside. He does what he is told and spreads a dollop around his wrist.

The odor is pungent, the sweet earthy scent of flowers permeating the air.

Orestes drinks in a liquid sniff. “Yes--that is the one.”

Pylades’s brow furrows. “Is this…the scent you react to?”

“It is.”

“My King, my Lord…why?”

Another sniff, this one punctured by a swift intake of breath. Orestes nose tips skyward and his lower lip quivers. Then his chest deflates with a sigh. He brings up a hand to whisk under his twitching nose.

“Menelaus comes for me. We must convince him my fevers are illness, not madness.”

“And you wish me to…”

Orestes presses the circle of his fingers into Pylades’ wrist. “You must aggravate my symptoms from the oil. But do not let my Uncle know what causes it. We must be--”

Orestes shivers, his breaths slick with panic. His eyes catch the sight of something above him, but he dares not look. “I-I'm not…” he cinches his lids, curling into himself and shuddering. He can hear them--the furies--cackling in the rafters, screeching.

Orestes smothers his face in his palms, muffling his mania. “I c-can't! I…I see them! I see--!” His voice pitches into hysteria and Pylades moves closer.

“My Lord, Orestes,” he breathes, steadying his voice, guiding his King back to the realm of reality. “You are here. You are safe. You are in Ithaca. You are safe!”

Orestes blinks shadows from his eyes and seals his lips. A beat of his heart, and then he sighs. “I…yes. I am…”

A bull of a knock makes both men flick eyes to the door.

“Nephew?”

Heart thudding in his neck, Orestes’ grip tightens on Pylades’ arm and he wrenches his wrist close, dipping his nose into the heartbeat of his skin. He inhales.

“Nephew? I--”

Orestes doesn’t hear the rest. His lungs crackle with force as he guzzles a breath. “HfSH-Mnn-!”

That silenced Menelaus. But his footsteps do not retreat. Orestes knew he wouldn’t. But now he knows this plan should work--as long as Pylades reads the cues as well as he does in battle.

Pylades helps Orestes stand and hobble to the door. His normally bouncy curls stick flat and limp against his slick brow.

The door creaks open and Orestes stands in the hollow arch. Menelaus is there, bold and ready to enter.

“Nephew, kin of my kin,” his shoulders bob--barely a bow but no one, no one, would insult the great Menelaus by questioning his prowess at bowing.

“I have come to escort you to the feast.”

“Uncle,” Orestes offers a respectful nod. He ambles forward, detaching himself from Pylades.

Menelaus watches them, a spark in his eyes that is close to malice. And then, gone. Replaced by a Kingly smile. “We have not started without you. I told them, I said, ‘We must wait. We mustn’t start without the King! Not without the Lord of Mycenae.’”

Menelaus is so close now, Orestes can smell the sour wine upon his breath and Menelaus can see Orestes’ sweat bathed forehead. The King of Sparta licks his teeth, eyes narrow and clever.

Orestes turns away to sniffle politely and cough.

“Your illness seems not to have improved.” Menelaus scans the room. “Where might Elektra be?”

“She helps the women prepare the feast, of course.”

A raised brow in mock surprise. “Who cares for you, then, nephew? Your noble hand,” he gestures to Pylades. “I thought him capable in battle, no? Such a good man. A good soldier.”

“Pylades does just as well with other tasks.”

“Sickness is inherent in your family, is it not?”

A muscle feathers in Orestes’ cheek. “Are you implying, Uncle, that Agamemnon--your brother, greatest of Greeks--has a tainted bloodline?”

Menelaus chuffs, “Of course not. Obviously I meant in the matters of caring for ailments and illnesses, Elektra has experience with these. Wiping brows and blowing noses is women’s work.”

Orestes stiffens. “I find it distasteful to assume men cannot perform such simple tasks.” He twitches his head to the side to hide a silky curve of his lips. “But perhaps it is more Kingly to see women as superior in some aspects.”

Menelaus’ eyes flash, a peevishness hooding his eyes. He blinks it away. “How silly of me, very silly. I know not enough about your condition to say.” He tilts his head to the side, shifting his bulk from one foot to the other. “What exactly ails you, my nephew?”

Orestes opens his mouth to speak but instead of words escaping, air flows in.

Pylades, taking the subtle cue, places his oiled hand on Orestes’ shoulder.

Orestes turns his head as if to look at Pylades, nose pinking from the cloying scent a mere hairsbreadth away.

“My King…”

Orestes dips in a small sigh, brushing his nose against Pylades’ perfumed skin. “Hih-ieh!” his chin juts upward, nostrils jumping to life, “Hnk-ZZHeu!” His body warps and coils, avoiding Pylades’ skin with the spray.

A thick sniffle follows and he knuckles the itch still lingering behind.

Pylades notices the dizzying intensity of the sneeze. Notices every muscle Orestes must use to keep himself standing and stoic. He notices the slight tremor in Orestes’ legs, though the robe shades it from Menelaus’ notice.

“My sickness is from Thebes, come about when merchants came into the city for trade. It is quite Hie-TZHhhh-! Hn…” a thick swallow. “It is quite contagious. This is why Pylades cares for me. He has already been through the ailment.”

Menelaus rocks back on his heels, feeling the weight of his body rolling up and down his joints, his muscles. “Contagion is a myth.”

Orestes plasters on a smile. “I am glad to hear you say that, Uncle. I would hate to miss tonight’s festivities beca--” his eyes widen. The furies are there. Just above, in his field of vision. They giggle and cackle and caw.

One of them reaches down with a long, blackened finger, and curls it upward in an arcing motion.

“Hhh-ih!” Orestes feels the pull of his sinuses, as if his breaths were on a puppet string attached to the finger of the furies. The others giggle, glee replacing anger. Torment amuses them.

The finger lifts higher and his nose follows the motion.”Hhh-hh…”

Menelaus stares at him. Pylades stares at him. For the other men, it seems a normal, if highly exaggerated sneeze.

But it is not. It is well controlled by the furies. A monument of torturous prickles, like hanging partially off a cliff. “--ieh-HHh-Hhhihh!” Orestes’ nose stands poised, nostrils glistening, eyes wet, blurring their shadowy forms.

His chest swells, hitches coming like a songbird in his throat. And then, with a skip of his heart, “Hieh-TSZHSHH-! EGK’TNNKSHEU!”

The sounds ripping from his throat casts Orestes forward, stumbling so hard that Pylades wraps warm hands around his King’s shoulders to steady him.

Menelaus, eyes wide, teeters back. Takes a small step in retreat, before catching himself, anger hardening his features. Menelaus, King of Sparta, recognizes when to withdraw.

“Perhaps, nephew, you should pray to the gods for recovery first,” he says, sweeping back through the door. “I shall send my best priest to your chamber.” He peeks over his shoulder, lips curling. “After all, we want the best care for the King of Kings, do we not?”

The door bangs shut. Footsteps retreat. And then, unable to hold himself up any longer, Orestes falters, collapsing to the marbled floor.

Pylades dives for him, heartbeat threading through his throat. “My Lord, my Lord--” he holds Orestes in his arms. The King of Mycenae, son of Agamemnon, weak like liquid in his embrace.

“Pylades,” Orestes pants, hand fumbling, searching. “I…I…” he speaks with the ashes of fatigue, his energy burned away from the mere act of standing too long.

Pylades touches the back of his hand to his King’s brow. The closeness of his wrist lights a fire in his nose.

“Hih-EXTSHue! HihTSHHoo!” His neck bends, moisture painting Pylades’ hands. He can’t suppress his shudders, lips trembling as he speaks. “Apologies. Apologies--I--”

“My Lord, all is well. Menelaus has gone. You are safe, you are safe…I will care for you.”

Orestes slumps further into Pylades and sighs. “It is rotten work.”

Pylades’ finger drifts over his thumb, “Not to me.” He uses the folded cloth of his robe to dab at Orestes’ cheek. “Not if it’s you.”

69 notes · View notes

selene-and-the-cold · 8 months

Text

My phone was on loud because I had been listening to an audiobook while cleaning. Now I casually opened tumblr while sitting at the table for afternoon coffee and the first thing that came up on my tumblr feed was a wav WHICH STARTED PLAYING IMMEDIATELY! The first few seconds of a fucking sneeze wav just blasted from my phone and of course it was one of those wavs where the first sneeze comes 0.1 seconds after the beginning of the wav.

I am dead. Please honor my memory... ☠️☠️☠️

Edit: forgot to mention that there were family members present at the table 😱💀

#personal ramblings #the shame #downsides of being a snz fucker #my soul left my body for a moment #Why am I fucking 30+ years old and still don't remember to turn the audiobook volume down in case sth like this happens?!

38 notes · View notes

accidentalmistress · 2 months

Text

Are you seriously telling me "nares" is pronounced like "nair-eez" and not "nairs"??? Nares rhymes with sneeze??!

#how did it take me this long to find out #i heard it in an audiobook I'm proofing #and I was immediately like WAIT WHAT #the more you know I guess #snzblr #snz

19 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 5 months

Text

Nail Care (F)

I know I haven't cranked out the LSSR Wedding Fic, but I'm working on it. It's LONG, yall. But, until that's done, enjoy a sneezy nail salon drabble I threw together in a couple hours. I don't do a lot of F snz fics but, here ya go! The audiobook is on Soundcloud. Here's the link to listen along: https://soundcloud.com/summer-nix-100665606/nail-care?si=a32b8161593b445bac9043cfc8de0a25&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

The salon is empty today. That’s unusual. I never come in without having to wait at least 20 minutes to get my french manicure. Even when I book the appointment in advance. It must be my lucky day.

Ava, the adorably sweet woman who normally does my nails, looks up at me, eyes lighting up under her straight chopped bangs.

“Miss Blake,” she smiles warmly, “you made it in today! With all of this rain?”

I smile meekly, slightly embarrassed that the rain lashing against the window didn’t deter me. “I have a meeting tomorrow.”

“I kid, I kid!” she trills, slashing a notepad with ink before winding around her register to take my hands. “Let’s get you done.”

She leads me to her usual station, the one with small pictures of her kids and a bigger picture of her dog. Once I asked her about this and she laughed. “My kids don’t visit. My dog is there every day.”

I slip into the curved seat and place my hands spread upon the table. Ava begins to arrange the liquids and powders to clean my nails first. Once we begin, she takes my hand, hers delicate but diligent.

She’s halfway through the first coat of polish when she suddenly jerks the brush away. Her grip on my hand tightens, ever so slightly, and I hear a wisp of air from her.

My entire body flushes. My gaze instinctively flies to her face, but I immediately demur, certain my cheeks are already pink.

“Hih-EiiSH!” H-EESH! EEiiiSHHH-ieu!” I see her head wobble in my peripheral and she pants twice, following up with a “Whoa, I’m so sorry!” I flick my eyes up to see her nose wiggle with a sniffle. “My allergies have been acting up something fierce today.” She gives me an abashed look, “I swear I’m not sick.”

“O-oh,” I titter, unsure how to respond. What would a vanilla say? “Y-you’re fine! I mean, you might not be fine. I just mean…I’m not upset that you’re sneezing. Or--” Oh my gods, I need to stop talking.

I swallow, my throat constricting. Ava doesn’t seem put off by my awkwardness. She just resumes applying the polish with the occasional sniffle.

I start to relax again, letting the smell of polish and lemon lull me. I rarely get the opportunity to just chill out, and it’s usually here, with Ava massaging my knuckles.

“H-h!”

My heart leaps to attention, adrenaline thrusting my muscles taut. My head bolts up and I see her lip spasm just as she jerks her head to the side. She forgets to release my hand and the sudden, rough tug wrenches me forward, closer to her.

“Ah-SHEW! SHHHEW!! Shhhiiieeeuuuu!!” The last one scrambles from her clenched teeth and I can feel her entire body vibrate with it through her grip on my hand. Her shoulders shiver and she turns, her bangs sweeping over one bleary eye.

She sees my pale hand cinched in hers and gasps, releasing me to touch her lips through a squeak. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I just had to sneeze so fast--I didn’t get you, did I?” she closes her fingers around my hand and inspects it for any sign I might not be okay.

She wipes away allergic tears with her free hand just as I feel her thumb brush my pulse. I try to swallow but my throat is a desert. “Um,” I hear my voice but I didn’t realize I made a noise.

She lets me go again and starts blinking, her chest inflating and deflating as if she were trying to stop a panic attack. “I’m sorry,” she says breathily. “I’m going to have another one, and I want…hhhighh… I want…” She brings one slender finger to her lips, as if she’s shushing a group of businessmen, and she waggles it in front of her, eyes closed as she gulps air.

“Hnnn…iiihhh…just a--” I hear the last word ‘sec’ as only air before her finger turns into a cupped hand and she jackknifes down, slamming the sneezes into her flawless palm.

“AESH! AESH! AESH!” The first three sound exactly the same. Then her free hand flies up, right next to my face. I clamp my mouth shut in case she can feel how fast I’m breathing as she gyrates her wrist blindly.

“C-could you…hand me tissues?” she muffles into her cupped hand.

I hand her the tissues.

“I’m so sorry.”

I nod and say “It’s okay.”

I feel like a car on autopilot. My body acts methodically but my mind is ablaze. I can’t imagine I look like a normal human as I watch her dissolve the tissues with wet, ripping sneezes.

“Hash! Hag’TSHU! HAGSH!” Her nose arcs up, and I feel myself lean forward, so minutely I don’t even displace air. Her hands shake under the bouquet of tissues. Her lips keep forming and revoking the O of her mouth. “HHh-hhh!”

My heart sets up camp in my throat, my own hands squeeze the leather armrests as I feel heat flush my entire body. With one last quiver, her chin snaps down into the cloud of tissues. “HAEXXSHHIEW! HEIshh! Iiii-SHEWW!!”

She finally comes up, gasping as if it were her first breath of air after a dive through water. “Ohhhh goodness…” she heaves, using the spent cloths to wipe all of her tear-streaked makeup. A thick sniffle grinds her throat, “I’m so sorry. I think I need a benadryl, ughh…”

I nod again, still unable to do more than that.

“If you’ll give me a minute,” she stands swiftly, tissues still feathering her nose, and she hurries to the bathroom, leaving me staring from a puddle of awe.

#snz #snz audio #snz audiobook #snz wav #snz fic #allergies #snzblr #snz fet #snz kink #snz drabble #snzfic #yeah sorry about the background noise in the audio #you'll have to forgive me #i recorded this early when all the cars are on the way to work #i did my best uuu #if it bothers you #just read it i guess

58 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 5 months

Text

Familiar Rapport (Natasha)

HERE IT IS FINALLY raaah! I wrote it on Monday but damn if recording the audio didn't take me FOREVER. But please enjoy Nat being sick and Tony being a sarcastic asshole. (Because I am weak for Stark Sass). Audio under the cut.

It’s past 9 and Steve is still here.

He’s asking for more information on Natasha’s new project and she is rushing through her explanation. Which only causes more confusion.

She’s listing off tasks for a third time when she notices her voice starts to tinge with congestion. She pauses mid-word, gaze flicking to Steve.

He looks at her, pale brows knit, “What? Something wrong?”

She gives her best vacuous chuckle hoping it will disguise a shiver of her lips. “I was just thinking it might be easier to show you.”

She pivots, socks shushing across the plush rug stretching across the central room of Stark Tower. She bends to the table centered between the chairs and picks up a tech pad.

Steve chuffs, “I think you have too much confidence in me being able to understand this baloney.”

Natasha squints at him, her lips curving in a wry smile, “Baloney?”

“P…people don’t say that anymore?”

The grin stretches in amusement. “If Captain America says it, it might make a comeback.”

She powers the pad on and swipes through the screens, showcasing visual details to Steve. He leans close and she instinctively holds her breath for a moment before realizing it’s pointless. Steve can’t catch it anyway. As his eyes skim the pad, she lifts a curved knuckle to her nose, tapping it just hard enough to chase away a lingering itch. Steve doesn’t notice. Fuck, she wants to sniffle so bad.

Steve is pointing at the pad, brows raised expectantly. What did he just say? Rghh, it’s so hard to focus on anything but the creeping sensation crawling through her sinuses. The itch just won’t stop, and it’s going to be completely obvious if her nose runs. She has to sniffle. Just one…maybe he won’t notice…

She risks it, sipping air with the barest…tiniest…

*snf*

Her nostrils flare wide but also up. In an extremely pronounced way. As if her face was a map of lines pointing straight to her nose’s announcement of her hitching breath. Fuck. Steve’s eyes flick to her and her lips tighten. He can’t know--he can’t know. If Steve realizes she’s sick, he’ll put a halt on this project. Natasha may have final say in most things, but Steve will absolutely round up the entire team to get her to lay the fuck down.

Nope. Not happening.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps. Steve’s lips crimp but he doesn’t frown. He’s too graceful for that. He just nods and says “Alright.” He doesn’t mention the congestion in her voice and Natasha hopes maybe she sounds less stuffy than she feels.

She mimes a startle and pulls out her phone, “One minute.” She sticks it against her ear which allows her to turn away from him and wander a few steps. Thank fuck. She starts speaking Russian, pretending to have a conversation about a crisis while she saunters farther away, toward the frosty bay windows.

She can feel the chill from the winter wind against the glass, snowflakes kissing the window only to drop down and pool below solidifying into icy daggers.

The sudden chill has Natasha wrapping her bare arms around herself, shuddering. Her words begin to spill, she’s speaking with the un mistakable thickness of a person about t-to…

“H’kX!” She squeezes her shoulders, her neck, clenches her jaw, slams every wall down around herself before releasing a barely audible, “Hrt’KngT!” A small puff of breath escapes after and that does not go unnoticed.

Steve whips his head toward her. “Did you…”

She blinks at him, giving him her best, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. She knows it works. It al ways works. Steven looks abashed and refocuses on the pad, “Nothing.”

Damn right nothing.

She eases back toward Steve and pockets the phone, screwing her face up in concern-- hopefully convincing despite the cloying of her nose, the pink of her cheeks…

“Oh, Steve, I think Bruce needed your help with something.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” she hands him the tech pad. “Why don’t you take this and show him the plans--he can help you and you can help him. Win win, hm?”

Steve tilts his head, apprehension painted all over his features.

Natasha points at the pad, “Go.” She thrusts the finger at the door.

Steve mutters something, but with another shoo from Nat, he does amble away.

Oh thank fuck because as soon as hhh she hears hhhh-im l-leave…”hih-AH!” He’s gone, fina--IEXSTTchh!!” She groans as she finally surrenders to the-- “HieTNKgshh…”

“Bless you.”

Natasha spins, eyes widening when she sees Tony standing askew next to the table. Her teeth chafe her lip in frustration. No one sneaks up on Natasha--damn this cold messing with her in unfathomable ways.

“How are you handing it?” Tony asks offhandedly.

“Handling what?”

“The cold.”

Her voice quakes. “What cold?” Damn, she can lie better than this. This is pathetic. Her cold symptoms are making her look disingenuous. She is fine, she just…needs to sneeze a lot and it won’t…fucking…stop. That doesn’t mean she isn’t fine.

He snorts, swaying toward the table in a sashay that rivals her own. “I heard it keeping you up last night.”

She latches a glare on him. “Why were you up last night?”

Tony plucks a square tissue box from the shelf next to him, “Oh, the usual. Binge drinking. Learning quantum physics. Being generally brilliant.” He holds out the box to her, taking a step forward.

Natasha holds up her hand, “Don’t.” Tony hesitates at the look on her face, lowering the box. “Don’t even come near me. I don’t want to give this to you.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason? Because you talk as if I didn’t already catch this.”

Her eyes spread, “You were sick?”

He tosses it to her and she deftly catches it. At least her reflexes aren't in the trash.

“Still am.”

Natasha runs forked fingers through her hair, parting her copper waves, “Wow you are way better at hiding it than me.”

“No I’m not. I just know what hiding it looks like.”

Her lips crimp and she droops, letting her entire body melt into the chair. She tips her forehead onto her fist and sighs. “I’m so fucking tired. I just want to lay down and moan.”

Tony leans against the wall, folding his arms in his very Tony Stark way. “Then do it.”

Natasha chuffs, “I can’t. If anyone sees me taking time off. Slacking? They’ll know…”

“That you’re not perfect?”

Natasha’s head jerks up to glare at him. Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re not perfect, Nat. None of us are. You may be able to kid Cap. Bruce. The whole team--but you can’t hold them in forever.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can try.”

“But you shouldn’t.”

Another glare, and if looks could jump kick you in the face, Tony would be on the floor. She can’t hold the glare for long though. Her eyes are already glassing over, face flushing with a pink tinge. “H’kNG!” Hhhh-dammit--Hah!” Her shoulders curve, her fist sliding across her cheek to pin her nose, “H’ISXht!”

Tony sighs, his shoulders sagging with the breath, “I’m gonna put on soup. For both of us,” he iterates. “You go lay down. Watch one of those nature documentaries you like.”

“I don’t like nature documentaries.”

“I was being nice. I know you watched Marley and Me when you thought we were all asleep.”

She stiffens, “I only watched that because Owen Wilson looks familiar!”

“You know Owen Wilson?”

“No, but I’ve seen…” Lines crease her eyes and her vision warbles. She sips a breath, shoulders rearing as she snarls into a quickly cupped palm, “Hat’TSHieh! Hk’TZSH!!”

“I can text Mr. Wilson and ask him, but I think he’d agree with me that you need to rest.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks. You had your chance.”

Natasha throws herself to her feet and groans, not unlike a teenage outburst. She inwardly scolds herself for it. Being sick? It sucks. It makes it even harder to keep a cool head. Especially when Tony’s being a little shit.

“Fine,” she wipes the air with her hand and strides toward the hall, “I’m going to rest.”

“Thank. You.” Tony glides toward the kitchenette and Natasha doesn’t even fight the fact that he technically won this battle. But she’s so exhausted, she really doesn’t care.

28 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 3 months

Note

how do you think specific marvel characters (specifically tony stark) would sneeze? like manner of sneezing and pre and post sneeze, etc etc -

or like how would they handle a cold or allergies?

any snzcanons really :)

GODS I LOVE MARVEL ASKS (*/ω＼*)

Ok, so, I showed this off a big in my fic Viral Paradox but I'll hash it out here too!

Tony:

EH FUCK IT. Unrestrained. "Idgaf who sees me sneeze" mindset (except maybe under certain circumstances?)

He might hold back when he's hiding illness, but honestly he probably doesn't do that much, as we see him going back and forth on screen hiding and being openly fucked up on screen. He's got issues and I think it's very situational how he'd handle sneeze or illness.

Definitely a wet sneezer tho 🤭And he'd 100% indulge our kink.

Bruce:

Kittenish. Ironic. And it makes everyone snort with restrained laughter. He gets embarrassed but has a (witty?) remark for anyone who has a snipe about it (usually Tony).

"You don't want to see me when I hulk sneeze."

Tony: "That's super gross, dude."

Bruce: *glare*

Natasha:

*sneezes*

Everyone stares in shock.

Nat: *glowers*

Suddenly everyone's phones all become so interesting.

Nat absolutely stifles. I'll talk about other stiflers, but there are two Main Stiflers on the list, and it's Natasha and Loki (I'll cover him later). These two are the ones who have that 'get it on lockdown dammit!' mindset where they can't bee seen as weak (very similar trauma and backgrounds of people who make them feel weak unless certain criteria are met). Viewing illness or sneezing in general weakness is TRACK for Nat.

Also she basically RUNS the Avenger household and while Tony thinks he could do it fine, Nat knows (and Bruce knows it to lol) that things would hit shit very quickly if Nat left it in his hands, so she just Needs to take a bunch of Dayquil and muscle through ok? It'll be fiiiiine.

(Bonus, she does have a backup plan just in case and it involves putting Pepper briefly in charge of Big Brain stuff --with everyone except Tony making superhero decisions 🤣)

Side Note: Y'all, I give Tony a lot of shit, but just know he's a top tier character for me. I know he's smart and capable. His character development is fucking PEAK. I absolutely would die for him. I just love picking on early Tony.

Cap:

Used to be very sickly; asthma, allergies, the works. He's constantly expecting things to set him off. Probably still has an inhaler (just in case!) But super serum means not much makes with the sniffles. The Avenger fam, however, doesn't know anything other than "Cap is super resilient haha!"

So, when he actually does sneeze, they all freak out OMG OMG IT'S A SUPERBUG™ !! All except Bucky, who i just...reading the paper all chill.

"Relax, yall. Steve's just..." and then he shares a look with Cap and a silent convo... 'are you alright?'

Bruce does bloodwork anyway.

Cap Part 2:

I also like this hc where Cap has been under the ice for so long Steve is photic?? Even though it's not canon I Desire it. Maybe to keep it 'consistent' (i mean, do I really NEED a reason but hufhufhu~) it could be early days only.

Lots of teary eyed squinting and hitching in bright lights, especially while he's being evaluated during the early days of ice recovery. Doctors were annoyed, having to pause their work for random sneezing.

As for snz sound, I image there's a P in there somewhere. Y'all know I like my Z's, but for Cap I think more of a "psh!" or something in that vein.

Thor:

Uhhh God of Thunder. Need I say more? SURE? A pic is worth a thousand words. And this commission says it all, really.

Loud. Booming really. A THUNDER GOD SNZ ECHOS and he's...proud of it. Ahahaha...oh he'll apologize. But yeah. He's fucking proud.

-> This guy can not do the sneeze while hiding scenario. Not...um...unless it ends with getting caught. And...zapped. Which, well, I am prone to writing. Sooooo~

Here's where I'm open to interpretation with Thor. I lean more torward him being a WHINLY LIL SHIT when he's sick, because (I read a few of the Loki/Thor Marvel canon novels because I'm a huge gd nerd) and as younguns it just REFLECTS the whole 'golden child' treatment and 'Thor ate that spaghetti so welll! Good job Thor!!' So I want to say...(and we do see this in the movies, especially early on) he expects special treatment. So, getting sick? *nods sagely*

Thor laying bonelessly across the bed: "You have to take care of me. Bring me <insert special food and drink specifically from Asgard>."

Random Avenger: "....you know I can't actually go there, right?"

Loki:

Magic ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Magic ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･fuckinggg Magic chaos sneezes bitches!! Break shit! Stop time! Shit flying around space! Opportunities are endless, really.

And Mr. 'Pardon Me' and 'My Deepest Apologies' definitely has a handkerchief thanks and it's not gross because he can clean it with said ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･MAGIC⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ so.

Our Dapper Asshole stifles because sneezing is weak and how !dare! a sneeze think about making him look weak--and if he has to he will discard it as quickly as possible.

So, as with Nat above, there's the trauma of being seen as weak from younger years in Asgard. I really wish we'd had a Loki prequel or something in the Marvel movies (there's still time Marvel!! *cough!!*) But in the official Loki novels, you can see it.

I would go into detail about this but when I tried to explain it I LITERALLY TYPED FIVE PARAGRAPHS MORE OF SHIT yall 🫣If you ever think I'm making up backstory for Thor or Loki, nahhh I farm my info organically, grass fed. Just trust me. He has major Misfit Syndrome (and as a fellow Misfit Child with a Golden sibling, I think I get their dialogue down better than most of my other writing tbh)

Ok, ahem, back to snz (sorry...) And of course when Loki gets sick his sneezes become less restrained and UnForTunaTelY he just can't stifle woe is him poor baby 👿

Maria:

Soft but firm snz.

I had a paintball partner once whose nose got itchy when he got stressed. I hc that for Maria. She's in a situation where she needs her gun out, and it never fails--her nose flares up.

Scrunching it, she dips into a grated, sometimes growled, half-stifle. Something quick. Eyes closed for the least amount of time possible. Efficiency is important.

Clint:

I know him the least unfortunately. He's not a fave (don't judge me 😭) I'm still wrecked that he was chosen over Nat, my darling momma who WAS RUNNING EVERYTHING AND NO WONDER EVERYTHING IS ABSOLUTE CHAOS RIGHT NOW WHAT DID I JUST SAY EARLIER (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

*straightens bowtie* Aaaanyway. I think Clint would get sick and hole up. Avoid people like a recluse. He'd have a messy sneeze and a tissue pile and just STOP cleaning up after himself.

"I'll get to that later. Fuck it." And when he feels better, finally, there are just takeout boxes, microwave dinners, and tissues piled up in a raccoon trash nest around the couch and he's like "...I deserve this."

6 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 4 months

Text

Intro Post

Hi! I'm Zensations/Zenarios from YouTube and this is my kink blog! Where you can get insight to my chaotic mind as well as more content than YT allows.

You can message me and chat but please be civil and respectful. I love making friends, but strangers opening chat, starting off with questions about my allergies/etc sets the wrong tone for friendship.

I love making content for others, but personally listening to wavs is a very private thing for me so I would ask yall to not send me those unprompted. Thanks!

About me:

I'm in a relationship with my spouse currently. We are poly so, I will occasionally talk about other SOs. I am panromantic and demisexual. I am part of the whump community as well as snz, and my fics reflect that sometimes. I am disabled and have a lot of mental illnesses and some of my posts will reference those but I will tag them with tw or cw.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Things I do: writing, audio, scenarios, snz audiobooks, clips of my perfect chaos boy (my cat), maybe more one day.

Main Fandoms: Marvel, Hazbin Hotel, Arcane, Detroit Become Human, Death Note, Legend of Zelda (18+)

Things I do not do and do not plan to do: video with my face. Phone calls/kik/snapchat/etc. Basically any other social media platform is off limits.

I do take commissions! See my updates for when they're open :)

Masterlists:

Audio: Masterlist In Progress (or see "zen audio" tag)

OC Writing:

LSSR Masterlist (or see LSSR tag) - a foursome polycule does shenanigans and 2 characters are fet because I have no self control. Warning: these fics have some triggers. See tags.

Beckett Masterlist: A Groundskeeper with a ghost allergy has very sneezy shenanigans. (or see oc beckett tag).

Richard and Kuga Masterlist: Werewolf/Vampire fluff based on a mixture of White Wolf RPG and Anita Blake because I made these ocs when I was a dumb teenager.

Fanfiction Writing:

Marvel Masterlist

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

Detroit Become Human Fic

LoZ BoTW fic and SS fic (and that one time I wrote a sarcastic scientist...), some greek mythology stuff. (or see zenfic/zenfanfic tags)

Other random things: see zen fanfic tag. I can't find them all 😅

And ofc, if you want to see my void son, look for the tag "Zens cat"

#about me

33 notes · View notes