lemons-and-acid - Tumblr blog

[lemons-and-acid]

What you cad't win

Spring has finally sprung in our countryside, so it's time for some messy allergic reflection!

Character A has an incredibly severe allergic cold every spring and B always has to mentally prepare for this blooming season. Because A is not the kind of person who would politely and quietly sniffle into a tissue, or perhaps be ashamed of their snotty nose.

Hay fever has no regard for me, so why should I have any regard for others? A says in a hoarse voice as the bees begin to fly under their balcony, and wanders around the apartment with teary eyes and a sniffling. The tip of their nose is constantly dripping clear mucus, and since A considers the search for a handkerchief to be pointless, always uses whatever is at hand.

Then, as B walks through the rooms with a basket of laundry, B notices a stain on the pillow, dried mucus on a towel, and crumpled napkins lying around the kitchen counter. The clothes that B starts sorting into the washing machine on the floor are even worse. B has just lifted a T-shirt into the air, its hem bearing evidence of meeting A's running nose, when the T-shirt's owner appears in the doorway.

A stoops down into the pile of laundry, picks out one of the sweaters and lifts it to the face, stifling a trio of shivery sneezes in the rough fabric. With a huff, A blows their nose into the sleeve and hands the sweater back to B.

"Are you kidding me?"

B throws the sweater into a pile with two fingers and the feigned disgust and looks up at A's quivering nostrils, which open and close like floodgates. The blush of skin has climbed almost to A's thick eyebrows and the skin above the upper lip is beginning to peel.

"If you don't start using a tissue, your nose will fall off."

B says seriously, but A just waves their hand, whereas their expression changes according to which place in their cavities itches the most.

"If I could take it off, that would be great. Ifhhhih-"

A moans and lets out a stray sneeze into their arm, followed by B's blessing.

"Ughh...just let me suffer."

But B won't be so easily put off. B stands up, grabs A by the wet hem of their sweatshirt and drags them over to the cupboard, where B pulls out the cream. Across from them, A wrinkles their nose and growls with their swollen eyes wide open.

"I'm not godda rub any crap on by nose."

"No, not you. I'll do it myself, since you're acting like a little kid. But first, for God's sake, blow your nose."

A puffs out their cheeks defiantly, but their expression gradually blurs into a furrowed brow and flaring nostrils. At the last moment, A pulls the backing B closer, leans over and stifles a sneeze in B's shirt. Then, without any hesistation, clear their nose into B's shoulder, so they can feel a viscous damp seeping through the fabric. B stares at them, mouth agape.

"What are you staridg at, you wadted be to blow my ndose, did't you?"

"Jesus Christ, I'm not saying anything. Try not to let your nose leak."

"If I could codtrol it, I wouldn't look like this, hodey!"

A objects bitingly and A's eyes narrow when B starts to stroke nostrils with the index finger with cream.

"Is that good?"

"It's just cold."

B can feel the underside swollen and wet, so softens their grip a little and spreads the rest of the cream over A's wrinkled, trembling nose. A inhales shakily, but B manages to finish the job without further ... collapse, fortunately. B looks at the messy stain on their shirt and then wipes their stuck fingers on A's jumper as a little payback. B rubs their hands contentedly and looks at A.

"See, and you survived! Now try not to sneeze for a whi-"

"Hiiht! Sorry beihhnnn..."

"Please try-"

"ITch'hsSSCHRRGH! Hih-hisSCHXT! hitsS'CHHHRG! Eww, bless be."

Between them, droplets of saliva glisten in the sunlight and B watches mucus strands that run to A's lips in mockery of their efforts. They sigh in despair. Why is he even still trying? Why couldn't A hold it? Just - for - a - while! With a chuckle, A reaches out and pats B on the head.

"Thagk you for your care, but you have to leard that ngghht... you just cad't win against sobe... thidgs."

[lemons-and-acid]

[lemons-and-acid]

[lemons-and-acid]

After shift

A snippet of my imaginations in 500 words, messy, of course.

I don't think baristas act as nice and empathetic as portrayed in books ( because most of them are annoyed teenagers - like me) but imagine a good-hearted guy behind the bar.

With five minutes to go before closing time, Elijah unhurriedly switches off the lamps at the tables, while behind the glass wall of the café you can see a curtain of rain, the city drowning in water and gloom. The floor is slippery from the dozens of soaked shoes that have passed through during the afternoon. His oxfords squeak on the linoleum as he heads for the furthest table, where the last customer sits, sunk deep in his chair. Elijah stands over him, inspecting his scrunched red nose and tired eyes watering a little from both the cold and the concentrated staring at the display. He reaches into a pile of crumpled used tissues next to the computer, pressing a few hard against his face and scrubbing his sore, mucus-covered nostrils before stifling a pair of sneezes in the paper substance. Only two? They usually came in threes. He blows his nose, inhales hoarsely as if he has a sandbag in his lungs, and only then registers Elijah, who's looking at him silently with a tray under his arm. He takes his headphones out of his ears and his face turns a little red. "I'b sorry, I didn't n-notice you were closidg. Nghhh. Give me a minute, I'll wrap up and get-" Before he can finish the sentence, he feels the wave of tickling that runs through his body and hits the inside of his sinuses. He almost bites his tongue off trying not to spit around, so it all shoots out of his nostrils and splatters across the computer screen. A thick string of snot runs down to the keyboard. Ew...disgusting. He'd like to beat his head full of cold and shame against the wall. Elijah pushes the napkins from the next table towards him and he quickly starts wiping the mess with them. "I'm really, really sorry. I'll get out right away." "It's okay, it's raining outside anyway and I'm not in a hurry today. Feel free to finish what you need to do." Elijah suggests with a smile as he collects the empty cups. "No, I've already chased away half your customers with my sniffing and sneezing, I can't bother you here after closing time." "Well, those don't matter anymore. And I'm fine with that." Elijah waves his hand. The customer wriggles nervously. "I couldn't finish it anyway, I'm writing a book, you know?" He pauses and scratches the side of his nose. "But the chapter... I could finish a chapter here, couldn't I? Maybe it'll stop raining in the meantime." He looks up uncertainly at Elijah, whose corners of his mouth are twitching. "Maybe it will. Another Earl Gray?" The customer just nods exhaustedly and tries to smile, but in the end, he hunches back over the computer - his right hand gripping the handkerchief tightly like a lifeline, while his left deftly taps letters into the keyboard. Elijah returns to the counter, prepares two teas (one for himself), and then pulls out a new mystery novel. One reads and the other writes, to the sound of rain, the clinking of spoons in cups and wet sniffs - a strange evening, but magical in its own way.

[lemons-and-acid]

Gross softball

WARNING: A pretty messy and microscopic talent for writing :D

So, a few weeks ago, I was playing softball with my classmates and friends (we are called Team of Torture because we are capable of breaking our noses while batting) and it was already quite cold outside, about five degrees Celsius above zero. Everyone was dressed in a billion layers of clothing, only one of my friends came out into the freezing morning in shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt. Nothing more. Nothing less. We only played for a while before he started to sniffle loudly and eventually the game had to be suspended because his nose kept running so badly and he couldn't concentrate... and we needed a focused pitcher. At the time, I was standing on the base and inside my head, to the screams of my horniness, I was dying. It only got worse when he started going around asking everyone, including me if we had tissues - no one had them, not even the girls who usually bring a ton of them. Then the gym teacher yelled at us to move, that he saw us, that he would yell at us like that for two hours, that he doesn't have a problem with it, so we preferred to get back to the game.

Later, I managed to run to the base where he was waiting, and the other girl couldn't hit the ball at all, so I stood there impatiently while he breathed shakily and wetly snuffled over my head (not that I'm short, he's just too tall). Then we started making some innocent jokes at the girl's expense, so I could turn to face him and see a clear noodle oozing out of his red nose and sticking to his chapped upper lip. He noticed the strange look I was giving him, so he quickly wiped the snot with his gloveless hand, but it was no use. A second later, you couldn't even tell that he had made such a gesture. From that moment on, he let his fingers hover just inches from his face, his index finger constantly jamming under the quivering nostrils. (Of course, his ego didn't allow him to apologize and show that he was aware of the slimy watery rivulet on his skin. Yeah... it was honestly cute.) I wished I could have stayed there for the rest of the match, but eventually the ball flew over the field and I was so stiff he had to shove me to keep running. And somehow his hand went down my arm so that he touched my wrist with his sticky fingers... and as soon as I got to the next base, he sneezed. The sound was quiet for such a tall boy, but we could still hear the pathetic gurgling sound coming from his sinuses and it must have been very messy because he immediately lifted the hem of his t-shirt to his nose. And as proof, a dark wet spot remained there until the end.

In the dressing room, I stared dumbly at my hand long after the other girls started changing clothes... and my thoughts sounded like: "I don't wanna think about it! I shouldn't think about it! But I just have to! And I enjoy it! Fuck fuck fuck..."

(Sorry this is so long, but I'm not a person who could live on Twitter)

[lemons-and-acid]

I'm waving enthusiastically at you! I've been living quietly here on my hermit blog for a few months now, but I'm currently working on renovating my cave into a chateau of weirdness.

Reblog this if you’re a sneeze blog

Given the recommendations I’ve seen on tumblr, I feel like the kink community has expanded over the past few years and I’m curious how many of us there are now. So, if you’d like to help satisfy my curiosity, or if you just want more visibility so sneeze ppl can find your blog, please reblog this. If you’re cool with it, also put in the tags what year you started your blog.

[lemons-and-acid]

Okay, I used to think that a group with my classmates on Viber was perfectly safe for my mental health... but today I found this innocent question there: How are you feeling?

* my resigned sigh*

And the answer was this: I've a terrible cold, it's awful, I can't even breathe properly, my nose is constantly running and I ran out of tissues half an hour ago. The apocalypse is coming.

I also have a few questions: C-C-CAN'T YOU FUCKING WRITE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON THAT YOU'RE SICK? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? POST ON SNZBLR? I want to forcibly pull my thoughts away from that message, but it's too late... my dear imagination, take me and tear me to pieces.

[lemons-and-acid]

For @goodlucksnez

Ummm... hi? Good midnight?

I apologize in advance because I'm minor and I don't speak English well, so this message shouldn't even exist, but... when I saw all that was going on in your account, I wanted to show my support, at least verbally. I can't imagine myself in such a difficult (and scary) situation, in fact I shouldn't say much here, because I can't even understand it properly... but I want to assure you that those asshole anons are WRITING BULLSHITS.

And they're NOT right.

I know you've heard this before, but I want to add my voice to the outraged crowd of people who love your work here on snzblr! The last few weeks must have been horrible and it's probably not over yet, but I really wish you to get out of it all as soon as possible.

From what I can tell from your blog, you come across as a very likeable person who has to wade through more shits than others, but don't give up! Good luck!