Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
Stranger Things
Today's Document
if i look back, i am lost
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor
No title available
No title available
Product Placement
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.
Janaina Medeiros
Keni
No title available
AnasAbdin
d e v o n
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Denmark
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Indonesia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
@bentoischuu
Introduction👋
Hey there! I'm Bento and this is my blog. We are both new to the snz community. I am an amateur writer and will post scenarios (and maybe fics) every now and again.
Please do not interact with this blog if you fall under any of the below categories:
Minors
Non-kink blogs
Ai 'artists'
Hope you enjoy.
I decided to bite the bullet and try my hand at snz art. They're pretty low effort sketches, but I'll improve over time. For now though Florian gets to be my victim. Hope you enjoy.
Art under the cut
The Dragon and his Bride (3/?) (M/M)
In which a greedy dragon takes note of his bride's incredible magical abilities and begins to foster affection for him.
Previous Chapters:
The Dragon and his Bride (1/?) (M/M)
The Dragon and his Bride (2/?) (M/M)
Warning: continued overuse of the word 'bride'. Magical sneezing and unwilling transformation
Gigantic sneezes ensue
——————————
Magic thrummed through the air as a portal opened in the pastures just outside the small town of Patchborough.
A young man with fiery red hair rushed through, planting well made boots onto the grassy knoll for the first time… ever.
It had been a month of rigorous social etiquette drills, but Argos had finally sufficiently met his bride’s expectations required to leave the den and begin their search. His initial excitement was swiftly tempered once he stepped through the rift, abandoning the warmth of his home and meeting the cold, damp air of the evening. Though his bride had taken special care to dress him appropriately for the evening chill, nothing could have prepared Argos for the plunge of cold air that met his newly softened skin.
It was darker than he had ever remembered it being. Far more desolate too. Argos had expected the golden glow of fires peaking through windows and the ambient sounds of the late night tavern crowd drinking and conversing with one another. He had expected houses and buildings, yet he found himself standing in a wide open stretch of pasture by a dirt road that appeared to be seldom traveled. Had his bride transported them so far out of town by some error?
Florian exited the portal shortly after carrying a small bag in tow. The Drake King turned to his bride to request (demand, really) an explanation when he noticed his bride’s vacant expression. Argos, who had by then become well accustomed to that face, stepped aside, giving the sorcerer a wide berth. His bride's nose twitched, once, twice…
“HHHHAAAAAADDDH—! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHDDDDJZTSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCHHHHHIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Florian erupted suddenly.
Wind and magical force tore through the quiet countryside, flattening wild growing flowers and grasses and errant bits of fencing.
The answer came to Argos at once. His bride had placed them there intentionally. He hovered by Florian’s side, waiting and watching, until it became clear there would be no further sneezes for the time being. Florian grabbed his hand and began to drag Argos through the darkness of the night, doggedly walking in one direction. They had walked hand in hand in silence for the better part of 20 minutes with only Florian's intuition to guide them before Argos struck up converation.
“Sweet bride, lovely bride, why the long walk?” he asked, despite knowing well enough why. Bored of silence, he decided that pestering his bride would be his best option for entertainment.
“Would you have rathered I sneezed in town?” Florian scoffed.
Argos smiled at his bride’s mildly annoyed cadence. He only recently began to take pleasure in hearing the different intricacies of his bride’s voice and expressions; though they couldn’t see each other well, it delighted him that he could practically hear Florian’s eyes roll.
“That aside, the walk will lend more credence to our little story; ‘A wealthy young lord and his spouse travelling together, interested in procuring interesting magical items for his collection’,” his bride continued.
“I remember you saying that the wealthy travel in coaches drawn by horses? Wouldn’t appearing in town on foot count against us?” Argos inquired.
“Then, what a pity it is that their coach was destroyed just outside of town by some mysterious creature.” Florian offered, “That should keep some of the townguard out of the way while we endear ourselves to the relevant parties.”
Argos nodded in agreement. After he took a moment to think over his bride’s words his brow furrowed in confusion.
“But there isn't a coach?”
“Oh, they’ll find one nonetheless,” Florian waved away his concerns, “you needn’t worry.”
Soon enough the pair entered the town of Patchborough. The moment they crossed the town’s threshold Florian tucked himself into Argos’ side, draping the Drake King's arm across his shoulders. The flush that crept up his face went unnoticed by his bride as they quietly plodded through the sleepy town’s streets.
Florian breezed through the dark streets of Patchborough as though he had walked its streets many times before. Argos marvelled at his bride's efficiency as Florian pulled him into an inn, secured them a room, and dragged him into it in record breaking time.
To Argos, the room was quite small, especially compared to his own grandiose den.
The walls barren of any decoration. There was only one bed, and no piles of silver or gold to speak of. It’s only saving grace was the fireplace, which housed a cheerful blaze that fought against the cold of the night air. As Florian busied himself with neatly putting away the bits and bobs they’d brought along, Argos drew close to the hearth and held his hands up to the warmth of the fire. His fingers, which had grown cold and stiff during their walk to the small town, yielded to the gentle heat of the flame. This was a treasured feeling; the familiarity of the fire’s warmth bringing the transformed Drake King comfort. He pushed his hands further and further into the hearth, until they were practically wrapped in flame alongside the coals. Argos relished the pleasing sensation.
The crackling coal in the fireplace amused Argos, and so he plucked a red-hot coal from amidst the fire to cradle in his palms. It was only once he started playing with this still burning piece of coal that Argos felt his bride’s hand grasp his shoulder.
“What on earth are you doing?” Florian asked, exasperated.
“Warming myself by the fire? It's a perfectly normal human activity, isn’t it?” Argos answered.
His bride pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging the sensitive flesh, bone and cartilage that resided there.
“Warming yourself is perfectly normal, dear husband, yes. Playing with flaming coal on the other hand…” Florian sighed, gesturing to the ball of fire cupped in Argos’ hands, “ ... is not.”
Argos paused rolling the coal about his hands long enough for the fire to sputter out, leaving the glowing ember behind. His bride winced and prodded the coal back into the hearth with a poker.
“Doesn’t that hurt at all?” Florian asked curiously as he took Argos’ hands into his own and began to inspect them by the firelight. The warm glow of the fire bathed Florian in a wondrous golden light, making Argos truly appreciate his bride’s looks for the first time. His bride’s skin and eyes reflected the gold of the firelight.
His hair, once a cascading sheet of dark silk, had now been done in a long, loose braid. It was well kept, and glimmered in the firelight like a crow’s iridescent feathers. Amazement at his own foolishness clouded his mind as Argos realized he had kept his bitterness over his lack of a princess bride for so long he had never stopped to consider the beauty of the bride who willingly attached himself to him.
“Argos?”
Ah, right. His bride had asked him a question.
“No; no it doesn’t hurt,” Argos said quietly, “ it was actually quite nice.”
“That's a relief.”
Florian’s sigh of relief did something strange to Argos’ heart. He chose to ignore that feeling as his bride beckoned for him to wash away the soot that now coated his hands.
After washing up, Argos was met with the sight of his bride sitting in bed. Their eyes met for a brief, awkward moment before Florian patted the unoccupied side of the bed next to him.
“Are you just going to stand there?” his bride asked, raising an eyebrow. “Come, rest.”
Argos tentatively accepted his bride’s invitation, crossing the room and perching on the edge of the bed opposite Florian.
“We… share the bed?”
“Most married couples do, yes.” Florian supplied, “That and I didn’t think it wise to leave you by your lonesome in another room.”
His bride had been uncharacteristically charitable enough to not blatantly point out the issues that could have arisen from Argos playing with fire. Argos huffed indignantly, but chose not to defend himself.
Florian settled beneath the blankets,
“We’ll have a lot to get done tomorrow, so please, try to get some sleep.”
-----------
Argos woke to the sight of watery, squinty, ice-gray eyes fluttering a few inches from his own golden ones. Over the course of the night, Argos had practically wrapped himself around his bride, restricting Florian’s ability to move away.
It was a perfectly normal habit for dragons to sleep atop their hoard, but it seemed his unconscious self had been unable to tell the difference between his treasures and his bride.
He was about to extricate himself from the tangled mess of limbs and sheets to give Florian room to breathe when he suddenly felt gentle hands bracing against his back. Argos froze as Florian pulled him close. His sorcerer bride’s chest pushed against his body, heaving with impossible amounts of air, as his hands fought to keep him as close as possible in a battle for some sort of strange equilibrium.
Worry momentarily crossed the Drake King’s mind as his bride’s rapidly building sneeze promised to be especially massive. Their current shelter was quite flimsy compared to his den and mountain, and if his sneezy bride could blast through layers upon layers of mountain stone, Argos could only fear for the continued integrity of the inn.
He never got to voice his concerns however, as his bride buried his face in his chest and erupted.
“HHHHHRRRRMMMMMMPPPPTTTTSSSCCCHHHHHHH!!
MMMMMPPPPPFTTSSCCCHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
HHHHAAAHHD’MMMMMMMPPPPPFSSCHHHHH!!!”
Argos felt his core turn to jelly as his bride loosed three massive, muffled sneezes into his chest. A surge of warmth overtook him as the room around them seemingly trembled from the force. His bride took in another gasping, strangled breath before unleashing another.
“HHHIIIIIIIIJDHHH—?! HHHHRAAAAAHD’MMPPPFFSSCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!”
A wordless sigh of bliss escaped from Argos’ throat, made otherwise inaudible by the muffled expulsion that yet again caused the room to shake. The warmth of the nullification magic blossomed and coiled deliciously within his body as his sneezy bride continued to hold him tight.
They lay together for a tense moment; Argos holding his breath for hope of another sneeze while Florian tried desperately to corral his own. It was the first time Argos had ever seen his bride fight so desperately to not sneeze.
“hihhhH! hHhiiIIIHHHHHHH?! HHIIIDZJ’iiIHHHHHHH–! HHHHHHIIIIIIIJJJDDDHHHIII’IIIIHHHH—!!
HHHHHAAAAAA’AAAAAAADHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Pressure mounted between the two as Florian hitched and hitched and hitched towards an imminent expulsion despite his best efforts. Argos contemplated giving his bride some aid by using his own hands to try to rub the itch away. Then upon remembering the events of the avalanche that ended with him becoming his bride’s glorified handkerchief, he summarily discarded the idea.
“HHHHHHAAAAAAAAADHHH’MMMMMMPPPFFFSSSSCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
The pair, the bed, the windows, and the room all around them shook with the release more violently than before. Florian released his death grip on Argos, who imagined if not for his presence their room, and perhaps even the inn itself, would have been blasted apart from his dear bride’s explosive fit. As they collected themselves and pulled away from each other, Argos savored the fading warmth of the spell.
Florian blew his nose heartily, now sitting up at the edge of the bed, his back turned to Argos. The Drake King pouted at his bride’s lack of attention, until he realized that he too could needle his bride about a lack of propriety.
“Good morning to you too, my lovely bride.” Argos purred, a smug grin plastered across his face.
Florian tensed before gingerly looking over his shoulder back at him, much to Argos’ immense satisfaction
“SNDF! Good morning.” Florian sniffled as he brought his handkerchief right back up to his face to tend to his nose.
“Deepest apologies Argos, you didn’t deserve to wake up to that.” He mumbled through the handkerchief as he massaged his nose.
Argos lay stunned at his bride’s apology. He simply hadn't expected it and was left dumbfounded by the sudden lack of material for taunting his poor bride.
“It’s… um, it’s no trouble, really.”
A polite knock sounded at their door, breaking a brief but palpable silence.
Florian rose to answer it, allowing a young maid to scurry in with a covered tray behind a set of drawn curtains.
“Terribly sorry we’re a bit late bringing up the tray, m’lord. The tremors knocked us over, and we had to send for a new pot to brew your tea. It won’t happen again, I’m sure.” The maid apologized as she set up the previously obscured breakfast table.
“You’re fine. You couldn’t have foreseen that happening. There’s no need to apologize.” Florian stated plainly.
Argos sat and watched with interest as the young lady hurriedly set up the dishes before backing away from the table and sinking into a slight curtsey.
“Will you and your husband require the full service m’lord?”
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for asking.” Florian replied, sliding the maid a gold piece as she scuttled out of the room and back downstairs. Argos shot a confused look at the door and then at his bride.
“M’lord???” He mimicked.
“Oh, don’t start.” Florian grumbled, “Remember our 'story'? This is how people with ‘Lordships’ are treated around here.”
His bride settled into a chair and beckoned for Argos to come over to the table.
“They, thankfully, don’t have the resources to verify, but given what was spent securing this room the innkeeper will turn a blind eye to our business as long as we don’t cause her trouble.”
“Trouble?” Argos chuckled, as he took a seat, “You mean like sneezing so violently the earth shakes?”
“That’s not something they can trace back to me.” Florian muttered as he split open a hot roll and buttered its insides. “Also, I'd advise you to keep your comments to yourself unless you’d like to experience a reprisal of that fit very soon.”
As tempted as Argos was to continue pressing his bride’s buttons, he couldn’t have Florian catch on that he had actually started to enjoy his fits. Instead, he chose to steer the conversation another way.
“What do you mean they can't trace it to you? Have you done something crafty?” He pivoted.
“I cast a privacy spell when we first entered this room last night. You can never be sure who’s listening or why.” Florian explained. “The spell ensures that no sound exits this room; not even the smallest peep or the loudest roar can be heard from beyond t-this door.”
His bride’s breath caught as he spoke, causing Argos’ heartrate to skyrocket. Then came the nose twitch that heralded a violent storm on the horizon. His bride knuckled the underside of his nose to chase away the mounting urge, sighing.
“SNdF! SNDFf!! My apologies. I’d give you a demonstration, but I don’t believe the building would survive it.”
Florian put his bread aside and buried his nose in his handkerchief once more.
Argos considered his bride with a wary eye. Shouldn’t the itch have died down by now?
“Treasured bride, I know you’ve already warned me about my comments regarding your… situation, but shouldn’t it have resolved by now?” Argos inquired.
“Until I get to clear my nose, that won't be possible.” Florian continued massaging his nose through his handkerchief, “and that won't be possible while we’re in town. Unless, of course, you’d have me flatten a few buildings in the process?”
Argos had no real stake or interest in the continued structural integrity of Patchborough, but elected to keep that comment to himself.
The pair ate in relative silence as Florian tried to keep his sniffling to a minimum.
As they ate, Argos watched his bride’s struggle with rapt attention. Each inhale pulled at Argos’ hair and the vase of ornamental grasses on the table. His bride’s nose twitched and flared with an increasingly pressing need to unleash the tickle it had been brewing. Soon, Argos began to worry about the storm on the horizon growing within his bride.
-----------
The itch continued to plague Florian for the remainder of the morning, and as time progressed Argos’s wariness developed into dread. There would be no clues to find the treasure they sought if his sneezy bride blew the town away, which seemed an increasingly certain possibility. He tried to convince his stubborn bride to 'clear his nose' in the fields they had passed through on their way to Patcheborough. Despite Argos' pleas, however, for better or worse, his bride’s boldness would be the deciding factor in whether to continue about the planned events for the day regardless of the building storm within him. Florian forded on, despite the steadily growing itch, dragging Argos to the guardhouse to make their official report about their ‘monster encounter’ the previous night, against his better wishes.
There they met the captain of the guard, a stern looking man with eyebrows so thick they almost covered his eyes entirely. Yet despite his outward appearance, he spoke to them with a kindness Argos hadn’t expected and mobilized practically the entire guard force in search of their ‘missing retinue and coach’.
This was how Argos found himself seated next to his ticking time bomb of a bride in an enclosed carriage across from the captain of the townguard, riding towards a ruined coach he knew didn’t exist. Just like that, he had been condemned to sit on pins and needles all throughout the carriage ride as they and 20 other guardsmen approached a stretch of road wholly unfamiliar to Argos.
“Ah, Lord Argente! There’s no need to look so tense; the guard regiment of Patchborough may be small, but we’re quite capable.” The captain said as they approached their destination, “I promise you, your retinue and travelling provisions are as good as found with us!”
“My apologies, I’m just afraid something might have happened to them. My bride and I have been worried sick since we made it to your town.” Argos lied, “ We barely managed to escape ourselves…”
His bride had coached him on what to say before, but speaking to a stranger who could catch him in the lie at any moment made Argos uneasy.
Worse, he couldn’t count on Florian for aid, as his attention had been entirely occupied fending off the monstrous sneeze building within him. The captain looked between them strangely, leading Argos to worry he had already err’d.
“Bride?” The captain asked curiously.
“Yes. He married into my family, and thus this little dove here is my bride.” Argos smiled tersely, “It's a… cultural thing where I’m from. I don't expect you to understand.”
The captain nodded sagely.
“No, no, perish the thought! I only sought to know what you meant.”
The carriage lurched to a stop in the middle of a decently maintained road. The captain exited first and began directing his men to secure the area. Argos and Florian remained in the carriage for a few moments longer. Now free from the captain’s scrutiny Argos directed a deeply worried glance at his bride. There was no real point in asking the questions on his mind such as ‘Are you going to be ok?’ or ‘How are we going to get through this without looking suspicious?’, as his bride had long since passed the point of no return with the itch, compromising his ability to speak. He imagined that if his bride could truly see his expression, he’d have been met with an eye roll or an admonishing glare. This time there was nothing.
Florian’s face was the perfect picture of tightly held control. The serenity of his appearance was but an illusion that belied a fiercely waged war for control over the tumult of magic induced sneezes swirling inside him.
The captain of the guard gently knocked on the side of the carriage, startling Argos from his reverie.
“The area is now secure, m’lord. If you and your bride could give us some pointers as to where your coach may have last been seen, it would be greatly appreciated.”
“Yes, of course.” Argos gingerly stepped out of the carriage, pulling on Florian’s sleeve to get him to follow. His bride held his forearm for support as Argos gently guided him out of the carriage. The air itself seemed to tense as Florian’s boots touched the ground.
His bride’s mirror-like eyes squinted open the tiniest sliver as he subtly nodded his head in the direction he wanted Argos to send the guardsmen.
Argos picked up his meaning immediately, waving to the guards to get their attention.
“I remember now, I think it was this way!” He called as he began to lead the guards into the dense brush. The captain rallied his men, leaving two of them at the roadside to safeguard their entrance as the other guards drew their shortswords and began to cut through the brush. It took a good while of cutting and carving through plants for them to discover what they’d been looking for.
Though Argos had been shocked to actually find a coach in the middle of the forested undergrowth, he made sure not to show it. The coach was staged perfectly, turned over on its side with terrifyingly long and deep scratch marks running along its side. Argos cast a glance at his bride, finding him still preoccupied with the itch, but understanding that their find had been Florian’s doing. He cast a silent prayer of appreciation to the gods that everything had turned out so smoothly.
The guardsmen converged on the coach immediately to investigate, sparing Argos from trying to explain what might have happened. As they poked about the wreckage, the captain of the guards clapped Argos and Florian on the back convivially.
“If everything turns up this easy, we may find your retinue before dinner! Sit tight, and let us investigate a bit more.” He said, before striding over to his subordinates to aid in their efforts.
The sudden physical contact stirred something within Florian, whose expression collapsed near instantly into a sneezy grimace. Argos, who noticed the sudden change immediately, began to take slow, deliberate steps away from the site and positioned himself behind his bride, unwilling to be caught up in the danger-zone. For a brief moment, the surrounding plants and trees bowed in unison towards the couple, which went largely unnoticed by the guards.
Unfortunately for them, it was the only warning they would get.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHDDDDDDDDDDDDDTT’TTTTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIJZZZZZZSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUHUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Initially, Argos could only think to assure his own safety, grabbing onto his bride amidst the violent tremors Florian had caused in a bid to not fall over. The fluttering tickle that tormented him for so long devastated the woods and its adjacent road; the blast dispelled the illusion, tearing through the trees and underbrush, snapping or uprooting the more resilient trees and tumbling them over one another, creating an impassable blockade. When the dust settled, all that was left of the copse they had wandered into was bare earth dotted with pits where the trees once were, along with a number of doves.
Argos’ eyes widened as they zipped back to the out of place birds. There must have been twenty of them all told of various sizes and plumages; some plain, others with lovely crests, and one that looked particularly gallant with a crown of rough feathers that almost obscured its eyes.
“...You’ve turned them into doves.” Argos stated, slight horror tinging the edges of his words.
“Hm?” Florian hummed, not truly paying attention as he blew away the last vestiges of the itch.
Argos grabbed his bride just below the shoulders to command Florian’s attention and turned his body to face him, pulling his bride closer to try to convey the direness of the situation.
“You. turned. them. into. doves.” He repeated pressingly. “ We are in the middle of nowhere, and you’ve turned the guard regiment of this small human village into doves.”
Florian blinked slowly, and sighed as he brushed away Argos’ grip.
“Mhm, yes. Now we can proceed unimpeded.” Florian replied calmly. “Help me gather them up, would you? They’ll make a good present for our first callee.”
“A present?! Are you mad?!” Argos panicked. “What if they change back?!!”
“As I’m sure you’ve realized, my magic is quite long lasting. If I don’t turn them back they’ll be stuck like this.” His bride rebutted as he plucked what was once the captain of the guard from the ground and placed him in a basket.
“It's not like we can go and visit the lord who presides here without a gift.”
“We were the people last seen with the guards! Wouldn’t be incredibly suspicious if we returned without them and they never came back!?” Argos demanded. This was a serious situation, and his bride’s nonchalant attitude left much to be desired.
“It would indeed, dear husband. But ‘we’ have been seen all over town today, and the guard went out on routine patrol to find a monster. No one went with them.” Florian shrugged.
“...What?” Argos stood dumbfounded by the outright falsehood.
He watched as his bride pulled out a small hand mirror from the basket he’d been carrying before giving the glass a tap. The image in the mirror shimmered like disturbed water before resolving into a crystal clear image of the pair of them walking about the markets near the inn. Their copies chatted with the townspeople enthusiastically and engaged in commerce, haggling for better prices. It was so realistic that if Argos hadn’t personally experienced long-lasting dread and anticipation of his bride’s eruption, he might have called his own memory into question.
“How are you doing that?” He asked in awe.
“It’s easy, just a simple series of spells I cast before we slept last night.” his bride explained.
That, in hindsight, explained the violent fit he had woken up to.
“Do you see now? There’s nothing to worry about; now help me gather these birds.”
Argos readily complied.
Soon enough they had collected the entire flock. As Argos gently placed the last bird in the basket, Florian laid a prepared cloth over their heads to keep them calm.
They sat in silence for a moment, though Argos soon broke it after he began to find it unbearable.
“At risk of you turning me into one of these things,” he began, gesturing to the basket of birds, “ how are you able to do all of this? I mean, casting these spells without anyone noticing? It must be a celebrated talent, no?”
“A fair amount of practice and skill. Anyone could if they put their heart into it.” His bride answered non-commitally. Florian's response, curt and to the point, left Argos confused. Why not take the opportunity to laud one's own accomplishments?
“Are you ready to leave?” His bride picked up the basket and walked over to a tree fortunate enough to have survived the initial blast.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Argos replied quietly.
Florian inscribed a sigil on the tree trunk, opening a small portal to their room at the inn. He handed the basket to Argos, ushering him through the rift. Once his feet were comfortably situated on the solid wood floor, Argos turned back to the rift and extended his hand for his bride to take, only to be a bit disappointed when Florian refused.
“I’ll be staying out a while longer.” His bride didn't meet his eyes as he said it. Argos wondered if he had somehow offended his bride as Florian backed away from the rift and went out of sight. Try as he might to press against the membranous portal and rejoin him, Argos could not follow.
He received partial reassurance as Florian erupted suddenly beyond his view, decimating more trees and causing the faintest tremor to rattle the town.
Guests of the inn and residents of Patchborough would groan, confused as to the sudden onset of continuous small earthquakes they’d received that day. They had no idea that they would soon come to wish those tremors had continued.
Raise The Roof (N)
This is a silly fic that possessed me for the couple of hours it took to write it. Tldr; a theme park regularly hosts a 'contest' for giant sneezers to test their containment facilities and regularly broadcasts the live audience footage as a sort of gameshow. Little did the broadcasters know, such competitions can quickly get out of hand when one person is determined to win above all else.
1.9k words, gigantic sneezes and destructive sneezes are all below the cut.
“Ladies, Gentlemen and Friends! It’s your favourite host, Gal Gallentine and we’re here at Wacky Wally’s Wonderland. It’s time for everyone’s favourite segment: RAISE! THE! ROOF!!!” Gal hyped the crowd. Deafening cheers shook the arena as Gal made a show of cupping her ear towards the crowd, inciting the audience to somehow scream louder. After a few minutes of raucous cheering and screaming, the audience subsided and Gal continued.
“Wacky Wally’s has thrown the gauntlet: anyone who can blast the indestructible Rubberhose Funhouse’s roof at least 20ft above its rafters will receive the fabulous prize of $15000.00, and an all inclusive vacation package of a 3 nights stay for two at Wacky Wally’s Wonderworld Resorts*(terms and conditions apply) .”
Gal gestured to a screen with the competition’s instructions as the crowd ooh’d and aah’d over the prize.
“Now, put your hands together for our contestants! Tessa Tempesti, Archie Açiu, and Chelsea Flores!!!”
The audience roared with excitement as the three contestants stepped on stage.
“Now, here’s the rub,” Gal wrapped her arms around the contestants conspiratorially, “each of you will step into a fun house with a catalyst of your choice. All you gotta do to win is give us your best big bad wolf impression and huff, and puff, and blow so hard you Raise The Roof™.”
The contestants looked amongst each other and nodded. The rules were simple enough: may the best man win.
The stage opened in sections behind them, whirring to life as the droning of machinery brought the audience’s attention to the slowly rising Rubberhose Funhouses, each painted an idyllic picket fence white with a bright red scalloped roof. Gal led each contestant to their requisite doors, allowing them to type their ‘catalyst’ into her tablet. A drum roll sounded throughout the arena signalling the contestants to head inside their funhouse.
“Let’s give our lovely competitors a rousing round of applause as they try to Raise the Roof!”
“First up: Tessaaa Tempesti~! And her catalyst is…” Gal paused for dramatic effect, “...Feathers!”
The arena jumbo-tron lit up, showing Tessa looking about the funhouse’s interior. The Rubberhose Funhouse suddenly lit up, the front door shifted and clunk’d revealing a massive party cannon inches from Tessa’s shocked face. The audience outside howled with laughter as the funhouse’s camera shook with a gentle pomf! as the cannon filled the funhouse’s interior wall to wall with pristine, downy feathers.
“HH? HHH’HHHHHH-?! HHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!” Tessa hitched, suctioning the house’s exits inwards.
They quieted down once the funhouse began to tremble.
“Looks like Tessa’s about to show us a real storm!” Gal exclaimed, “But can she Raise The Roof ?!”
“HHHHHHHHH’TTTTTTTSSSSSCCCCHHHHIIEEEWW!!! HHHHHHHHHHHTTTTIIISSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCHHHHIIIEWWW!!!” Tessa erupted.
The Rubberhose Funhouse inflated around its center for a brief moment before readily snapping back into shape. Its windows, now rattled out of alignment, opened readily and poured out a truly incredible amount of feathers, but the structure was overall no worse for wear.
The funhouse sank back beneath the stage as Gal reclaimed her mic.
“It seems our forecast was wrong… but then again, the Rubberhose Funhouse is specially designed to weather any storm that comes its way.” Gal winked towards the cameras.
“Now, moving on to our next contestant: Archieee Açiu~! Let's see if he lives up to his name!”
The jumbo-tron feed cut to Archie who nervously looked about the funhouse; his eyes particularly trained on the front door.
“And the Catalyst? Dust!” Gal announced as she took her leave from the stage.
The Rubberhose Funhouse’s rafters slid open, revealing a massive shaker filled to the brim with dust. An animatronic hand came down from the ceiling and attempted to grab the shaker but only succeeding in tipping it over, spilling dust all over Archie.
“HHHHHHAAAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Archie erupted practically immediately, shaking the stage and causing the funhouse to balloon into an absurd shape. Yet, the roof stayed firmly atop the Rubberhose Funhouse as the dust continued to circulate in opaque grey clouds. Archie devolved into a terrible fit as the funhouse sank beneath the stage, continually making it and the platform tremble until he had been placed out of sight and out of mind..
“Looks like Mr. Açiu’s ‘achoos’ couldn’t quite get him to Raise the Roof. But we’re in luck my friends, as we have one. final. contestant…” Gal declared emphatically.
The jumbo-tron cut to the final contestant standing.
“Chelseaaaa Flores~!”
The crowd cheered as Chelsea waved at them through the funhouse’s camera.
“Now this is fun! Chelsea Flores’ chosen catalyst is… Flowers! ” Gal hyped the crowd as she began to tiptoe off stage, “Let's see if Mx. Flores can Raise the Roof!”
An animatronic hand shot up from the funhouse floor bearing an incredibly grand bouquet of flowers. Sticking it practically beneath Chelsea’s nose. They gracefully claimed the arrangement ladened with ragweed, sunflowers, daisies, lilies and amaranth, stepping backwards with the flowers in tow, placing themself against the back wall of the funhouse as they took in a long, deep breath.
Then they drew another great inhale, and another; with every sniff, the bouquet grew more and more disordered and Chelsea grew sneezier and sneezier.
“hhhHh! hhaaaAAHHhh–?! HHHHAAAHHHHH!!! HHHHHAAAAAAAAADDT’HHHHHHHHHH!!! HHHHHHHHIIIIIDDDJJJH’HHHHHHHHHHIIIIHHH?!!!”
Each hitch drew the walls of the Rubberhose Funhouse closer and closer to Chelsea. Their sneezy gasps vacuuming the rubber walls inwards, towards them. The windows imploded, squeezed out of their casements as the door began to warp towards its doom. Their mounting hitches were so forceful, audience members seated closest to the stage would later swear up and down that they had felt a force pulling them out of their seats towards the stage.
“HHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIDDDDJJJJHHH’HHHHHHHAAAAHHH—!!! HHHAAAAAAAAAAH’HHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIII’IIDDDDDZZZHIIIIIIHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!! HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!”
Gal uncharacteristically had nothing to say as she silently slid towards the funhouse in terror. Each time she slid across the stage was in perfect tandem with Chelsea’s gasps.
Then, suddenly, everything stopped. All eyes snapped to the jumbo-tron, revealing an intense close-up of Chelsea’s face. Beneath their nose was the animatronic hand that had brought the flowers. It was stuck in such a way that the pressure had held back the rapidly advancing sneeze for a few precious moments.
Gal and the audience collectively breathed a sigh of relief as the vortex-like inhales stalled. Casual observation of the Rubberhose Funhouse revealed the structure had all but collapsed in on itself. Even if Chelsea didn’t erupt, the funhouse would be of no use in the future.
“That was a close one, wasn’t i—”
“HHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHDDDDDDDTTTTTTTT’-”
The Rubberhose Funhouse ballooned suddenly as its sole occupant launched forwards with the beginnings of a titanic blast. Gal flew forward, catapulted into a giant animatronic hand that had popped up to catch her. The door to the funhouse (and the camera on it) was blasted off its hinges, flying off to god knows where as the first few rows of the audience winced from the blowback.
“-TTTTTTZZZZZJSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
The roof exploded off of the Rubberhose Funhouse as Chelsea detonated. The entire arena shook with the force of their sneeze. Gal, ever professional, immediately zeroed in on to the roof soaring through the air.
“Folks, I never thought I’d see the day when somebody finally managed to Raise The Roof. Let's switch over to camera 4 to see just how high she flies.”
20ft, 50ft, 100ft, the funhouse’s roof flew past every drone camera the production had placed, maxing out at a height of over 130ft before it began its slow, sad descent back onto its base. The red scalloped roof of the Rubberhose Funhouse settled crookedly on to a foundation that no longer fit. The walls now sagged and drooped towards the stage floor, wholly stretched out of shape.
Wacky Wally’s indestructible Rubberhose Funhouse had suffered its only defeat since the inception of Raise The Roof and its loss had been thorough.
“Ladies, Gents and Friends, the uncontested winner of today’s Raise The Roof segment is Chelsea Flores!” Gal announced. Polite, but subdued, applause rippled through the audience as they recovered from the shock. Gal was about to try to work her magic to revitalize the crowd when they heard it.
The hitching had begun again.
Murmurs of confusion rippled through the arena as the closest audience members to the stage began to feel the pull of Chelsea’s inhales. The funhouse began to contract around Chelsea like an overwound spring.
“Do we think they’re already trying to break their record?” Gal tried to ease the tension with a quick quip.
“HHHHHHHHRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDJJJJHHH’TTTTTTZZZZZZZZSSSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Chelsea erupted once more, utterly destroying the funhouse around them. Only the roof was spared, launched into the sky like the world's least explosive firework. Everything in the arena felt the force of the blast as typhoon force winds buffeted the audience. Toupes, wigs, bags, and scarves went flying on the gust, a minor sacrifice for the audience members who owned them to remain seated as the ground beneath them quaked.
Once the storm of a sneeze had finally passed, all eyes locked on to Chelsea Flores who stood with an almost pleased look on their face. The ‘Raise The Roof’ contestant proudly pointed up at the scalloped rubber roof, which now clung to the dome of the arena.
“W-well folks, Mx. Flores Raised the Roof a whopping 155ft in total. That was certainly a… showstopper?” Gal tried to wrap up the segment when she saw something that made her face fall with quiet dread. Chelsea was still on stage, hands on their hips with a smile pulling at the corners of their lips. Their nose flexed and flared as they began to hitch towards a truly massive sneeze.
“HHHHHIIIIIIIIIDDDZZHHHH’HHHIIIHHHHH-?!!
HHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDZZJJJJHHHHHHHHHH’HHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!
HHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH’AAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDJJHHHHHHH!!!!”
“Anywaysthat'sourshowseeyanexttime! Runrunrun-RUN!!” Gal hurriedly signed off as she leapt off the animatronic hand that had kept her safe and booked it towards the exit. The arena’s crowd followed after her in helter-skelter fashion, unwilling to be caught up in the blast-zone of what would be Chelsea’s uncontained expulsion.
As the arena rapidly emptied of people, Chelsea Flores hitched, and hitched, and hitched towards new heights. Their ragged inhales dragged the first few rows of chairs out of alignment, ripping up wrought iron seating and drawing it towards them inch by stuttering inch. Chelsea had become an itchy, hitchy, twitchy singularity from which nothing could escape as they heaved towards their final sneeze.
Interviews after the debacle would see members from the crowd that day claim they witnessed the arena shrink in on itself in time with each titanic gasp as they tried to escape, much to the disbelief of those who would read the papers later.
What everyone would agree on, was that Wacky Wally’s Wonderland had unintentionally created a powder-keg of epic proportions in Chelsea Flores, and carelessly allowed their fuse to light. In the panic and rush to escape rides stopped, food carts shuttered and park goers flooded out the exits.
Within the arena, Chelsea heaved one final massive breath before erupting with fabled force.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIZZZZZSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo!!!”
For the first time in ‘Raise The Roof’ history, a contestant not only raised the roof on a Rubberhose Funhouse, but on the entire arena itself. Onlookers watched in shock as the crystal clear dome of the arena was launched skyward, clearing several hundred feet in a matter of seconds. Chelsea’s blast was so incredibly massive that not even the park had been spared. The shockwaves rushed through the arena’s exits, toppling rides and collapsing stalls under the pressure.
In moments, Wacky Wally’s Wonderland had gained a definitive champion of ‘Raise the Roof' but had lost their park to that champion’s sheer explosiveness. The park could no longer be referred to as such in even the most generous terms, their grounds flattened to almost nothing.
At the epicenter of the destruction stood a satisfied Chelsea Flores. It had never really been about the prize, only the desire to see just how powerful their sneezes could be.
A 'celebrity' who became famous for their gigantic sneezes and their long-suffering handler who must keep them from indulging the whim to blast away any minor inconvenience at the drop of a hat.
Thankfully, their staying hand is the only one that can prevent their boss from causing any real damage.
wax play with a scented candle, i’ll let you fill in the rest
Random thought but I can't stop thinking about how there isn't enough Toon related sneezes. Like sneezes that cause different effects to objects, building, environment, or people around them.
Like imagine sneezing so hard inside a house or something it only causes it to get bloated/inflated like a bloat then deflates afterwards leaving the interior a mess and the exterior just slightly slugged downward.
I promote this message
A character being used as a handkerchief to stop truly gigantic sneezes is one of the greatest things i've seen. Getting to experience them up close and still survive is the best of both worlds.
I kneel.
Thank you for enjoying! The visions had been plaguing me for a while, so I had to write it into something. It'll get a lot more use, so stay tuned!
A prominent member of a community who garners a well earned reputation for being the local tornado siren. Not for any ability to predict the weather, but because of their massive sneezing fits. The public need only see their nose twinge once before gathering their belongings and running for shelter.
They don't mind at all though. In fact, they relish their nose for giving them the ability to have peace on demand anywhere they want, anytime they want.
It helps that they love the feeling of setting themself off and get an incredible rush from watching people scramble for safety. Their community fellows think they're constantly locked in a struggle with keeping their nose in check, when really they just enjoy their city shaking sneezes and the 'power' it gives them. They tend to egg themself on until their sneezes grow large enough to lay waste entire swathes of land without much effort. A day may come when their fits grow too large for even them to handle, but until that day comes they'll be blissfully huffing and puffing their way towards reshaping some ruins.
The Dragon and His Bride (2/?)(M/M)
In which a greedy dragon takes the wrong lesson on being more considerate towards his bride. In unrelated news, dragons like things that are warm.
Warning: continued overuse of the word 'bride'.
Gigantic sneezes ensue.
3.9k words
The sound that heralded his crafty bride’s arrival within the bounds of his territory was a sneeze so explosive it could blast away the veil to the heavens. Each time Florian returned from his jaunts into town, Argos received an indirect reminder of the vow he made; his restoration to his true form, in exchange for a treasure that could cure all ills and dispel all curses. If he failed, his dastardly bride would huff, and puff, and blow him and his lands to the ends of the earth.
It was a deeply unfair trade: regaining his true form in exchange for a treasure he was no longer even sure still existed. Argos fumed as he spent yet another day alone in his den, marvelling at his bride’s temerity.
He ran his new hands over his face in frustration. Of all the things he could have promised that wretched bride, of course it had to be one of the few items in his collection that he had lost. The floor of the den trembled fiercely as another booming explosion echoed in the distance. Argos winced.
There was no way out of it. For once in his long, long life, Argos would have to honour a promise he made. He sulked, unable to vent his frustration with massive gouts of fire due to the limitations of his current form. For all his moping however, he didn’t dare to billow smoke for fear his bride would arrive and become even more itchy than he was already once he entered.
So instead he sat, waist wrapped in glittering silks as he awaited his bride’s return. Argos grew increasingly listless as he waited. Despite having found ways to bide his time in his new form, Argos refused to risk giving his bride the satisfaction of seeing him willingly amble about his den on spindly human legs.
Florian arrived at the den’s entrance half an hour later. Argos turned his head to acknowledge his bride’s arrival before returning to his sulking.
“Good evening to you too, dear husband.” Florian said sarcastically.
Argos turned to his bride fully, confused.
“I hadn’t said anything?”
“I know.” his bride scoffed as he walked further into the den and set his things down. “However, one does not meet rudeness with rudeness if they expect an arrangement to be fruitful.”
Argos’ ears reddened at his bride’s indirect reproach of his behaviour. However, rather than amending his approach, he pressed on and decided to pick a fight.
“Well, I’m quite upset with you!” He exclaimed as Florian began to unpack whatever he had gained on his venture into town. Seeing his bride pay him no further mind infuriated Argos.
“You keep leaving me here all by my lonesome all day with nothing to do!” He raged, “And on top of that, you’ve been continuing to purposefully destroy parts of my territory! Don’t think I haven’t noticed!!!”
Though Argos was careful not to spew smoke as he vented his frustrations, and especially careful not to slam his hands on the ground and he voiced them, but he still felt unsettled by the ice-cold stare of disapproval from his bride as Florian slowly finished what he was doing and turned to face Argos in silence.
“Do not raise your voice at me.” the sorcerer warned quietly, but with a firmness that shook the Drake King’s resolve.
Argos defiantly held Florian’s gaze for a few moments before looking away, bitter words melting back into his throat as though he had never thought them to begin with. His cruel bride raised an eyebrow after witnessing the shift in his demeanor. Florian sighed after a few seconds of heavy silence passed between them.
“Is it truly so dull without me here?”
“...yes.” Argos pouted.
“It can’t be avoided, I’m afraid.” Florian remarked. “I need to teach you a great many things about human society before we can go into towns together; and for that, I must gather specific materials.”
His bride picked up a brilliantly brocaded silk coat and held it aloft temptingly.
“Like this, for example.”
That caught his attention. Argos leaned forward with rapt curiosity, his interest thoroughly piqued.
“Is… is that for me?”
“Yes~.” his lovely bride responded, “One of many.”
Florian smiled at Argos’ clear joy and wonder. He wiggled the garment temptingly and beckoned the Drake King with honeyed words.
“Come here, Argos~. Come! Let me help you try it on.”
In days past, Florian taught Argos how to walk on two legs rather than four. Knowing the Drake King would be as difficult as he allowed him to be, Florian ensured that his new husband would be put through his paces every chance he got, and thus stood as far away from him as possible when he first entered in order to force his approach. The temptation of the silk brocade was too much for Argos to bear, so he stood up and walked over to his bride without any further argument.
His bride helped him dress while instructing him on how to approach dressing himself in the future. When they had finished with the finer details of the outfit, Florian picked up a mirror and handed it to Argos.
One thing that remained constant across his transformation was his vanity, and so Argos ooh’d and aah’d over his reflection and temporarily forgot about his bride’s slights against him. Florian had dressed him well in a lusciously dark green coat with gold embellishments that complemented his hair and brought out his eyes. The silk shirt he wore underneath felt blissfully smooth on his skin and the dark pants it was paired with felt incredible. Argos was incredibly pleased.
“Thank you for your help and these gifts, precious bride! Your kindness knows no bounds!”
“You’re quite welcome.” Florian replied.
Draconic pride however would not allow him to disregard his bride’s blasé destruction of his domain. Argos was too enraptured with his own looks to try to start another fight, and so disguised his barbs as a question instead.
“However… I noticed you didn’t address my concerns about the destruction of parts of my territory. Why is that?”
“It’s wholly unintentional, I assure you.” Florian brushed his concerns aside. Argos pressed further.
“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t continue to destroy my territory if we made the deal? We made a deal!”
Florian looked at Argos quizzically.
“I made no such promise. My exact words to you, dear husband, were : ‘I, Florian Amestris, hereby solemnly vow to disregard my liege’s orders to rid you from the kingdom in exchange for a treasure that will dispel my curse.’. There was no provision in our arrangement to prevent me from damaging the surrounding environment, though I do understand your concern.”
Argos stood gobsmacked. That couldn't be right.
“But- but my territory and my self exist as one entity! An attack on my domain is an attack on me!”
“I can see why you might think that, but in matters of contracts they aren't. The ring would penalise me itself if that were so.” Florian shrugged, “And I am not ‘attacking’ you or your territory. I’m sneezing. There is a world of difference between the two, let me assure you.”
His bride considered Argos’ despair and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.
“Consider this another lesson on what it means to be human: contracts between individuals live and die by how well they’re constructed. If you aren't careful, your words may bind you to an unfavorable situation.” Florian said.
“Couldn’t you at least try not to destroy my territory?” Argos implored.
“This is me trying, Argos.” Florian declared exasperated, “You constantly emit magic, the treasures in this den constantly emit magic, I am constantly wearing this magic ring, and I myself constantly produce copious amounts of magic,”
His bride threw his hands into the air in frustration. Whether or not Florian was aware of it, his nose had begun to twitch. Argos shrank back, noticing the change immediately. His bride advanced on him as he retreated, punctuating his points by pressing his finger into Argos’ chest as he physically backpedalled.
“ You live in a magical forest that can only be traversed by magical beasts! With magical trees and plants that produce magical pollen!”
Another nose twitch, another chest prod, another back step from the Drake King as he made placating gestures towards his frustrated bride.
“A week ago, just standing here I would have had a fit so violent there would be nothing left of your precious territory!” Florian hissed.
“Instead I suppress the urge to get even a modicum of relief from this infernal itch, so I can stand by you and give you the best possible chance to figure out where the treasure is so I don’t erupt like a gods damned volcano and—!”
Florian paused his rant unexpectedly. He stood stock still, his nose the only part of him still in motion. Twitching. Flaring.
It was like a spell had been cast over the sorcerer, freezing him in time for but a moment.
Argos reached out a hand to gently tap his bride’s shoulder when the hitching began.
“uh-ahhhHnd–! an—aaAaAAH! aaAAAHHHH–! HHHHAAAAHHHHHH!!”
Argos panicked. Florian’s rant had awoken the itch he had been trying so hard to keep dormant. Argos hadn’t realized that his bride had been struggling with his allergy that much.
He certainly wished he hadn’t pushed Florian to his breaking point, especially seeing as he was now about to erupt like never before. Perhaps he may have been able to continue to forego the need for release if he hadn't.
Argos looked about the den to see where his bride might be able to sneeze without further jeopardizing the integrity of their home or the surrounding forest.
Then it clicked: the mountaintop. Florian had already blown the peak off the mountain when they had first met. The summit of the mountain reached well above the clouds, so — in theory — there would be nothing to damage. Argos might not have had the strength of a dragon anymore, but he was still far stronger than the average man. What's more, unbeknownst to his bride, he had amused himself in days past by scaling the walls of his den while Florian was out, so he was quite confident he’d be able to make the climb.
So he took his chances.
Argos cast aside his new coat and tackled his bride, bodily putting him over his shoulder and began to scale the rocky crags of the den.
However, not even the surprise of being grabbed and hauled up the interior of the mountain could shake the hold the tickle had over Florian by this point as he continued to hitch, and hitch, and hitch.
The urgency of his bride’s hitches spurred Argos into scaling the walls with greater efficiency. Argos sped up by leaps and bounds, carrying his ticking time bomb of a bride along with him.
“hiiiiIIIIIHHHHHHhh! HAAHHHH! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHDT—! HHHHHAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAAAADZ–?!
HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAA’HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—!!!”
A third of the way, then half, then three-quarters, they had almost made it. Argos had just planted a hand on the ice-cold powdery snow at the summit when he felt that tell-tale bottomless inhale that heralded Florian's sneezes.
Argos threw himself and his bride onto the snow and braced himself behind Florian.
“HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAADDDTTTTZZ’YYYYIIIISSSSSCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! YYYYYYYYYYYDDDDZZSSSSCCCCCCCHAAAAAAAA!!!”
Florian erupted, blasting a flurry of snow and ice into the air.
The mountain beneath them quaked with the force of the expulsions, yet Argos sighed with relief. No walls had been blown out of his precious den, and his treasures had not been flung about on the gale. He preened with satisfaction. His precious bride’s sneezes were massive, but not so much so that they would put his den and broader territory in danger from so high up.
Then, as though Florian’s nose had wished to prove a point, it twitched and twinged around a bigger itch.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDTTTTTTZZZSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Argos winced as his bride detonated. The blast swept away heavily ladened snow clouds, clearing the sky around the summit of clouds and sending cracks rocketing through its cornices.
With the sky forcefully cleared and the crystal clear light of the moon shining down upon the pair, the spider webbing of the fractures within the compacted snow became concerningly apparent as they crept towards them. More concerning was that Florian still heaved towards yet another eruption. Argos gripped his bride tightly as he felt him take in gasp after gasp of mountain air. Chunks of snow-ice were beginning to slough away and slide down the mountain, and they’d be next if his bride's hitches were anything to go by. Argos imagined an imminent future in which Florian took a final deep breath before unleashing a sneeze so violent it would collapse the very mountain beneath them. What then would come of his precious gold and jewels? His treasures? What of all the new things his bride had brought him?
Argos made up his mind then and there; he would not allow his bride to sneeze. His human hands were far smaller than the massive talons of his previous form, but they had the benefit of being far more dexterous. Argos extended his forefinger and shoved it beneath Florian’s nose.
The appendage twitched mightily, dissatisfied with the finger’s presence.
“D-don’t— AAAAAAHHHHH! Th-hiiIIIHHHHHHH—! this w-won’t—! whh–! wo—hhhHHHHHHHHHHH!! EEEHHHHHHHHH?! HHHEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHH!! this w-won’t ehH-end well! Stop!!” Florian warned between panting breaths.
“You’re about to cause an avalanche! The mountain can’t handle much more!” Argos panicked.
He pressed his finger more firmly against the underside of his bride’s nose. The nares flared widely against Argos’ finger in a bid to pull in yet more air. While Argos had a much better handle on the situation than attempts made in the past, Florian’s nose fought him every step of the way.
“HIIIIIIEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH—! AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HHHHAAAAHHH’AAAAHHHHHHHHHDDT!!!”
“Please just work with me! You can not sneeze again, the mountain is doomed if you do!” Argos begged. Though he wasn't quite sure if he was reasoning with Florian or his nose at this point.
It was an interesting sensation, trying to fend off his bride's oncoming sneeze. One wholly new to Argos as he had never been this close to a human's face before.
His bride’s nose had flushed a shade of berry red from wing to tip,and the appendage's constant need to hungrily flare and twitch around the boundary of his finger had proved a bizarre but deeply intriguing sensation. Despite the blistering cold of the mountain summit Florian's nose radiated heat, squishing almost pleasantly beneath his finger. The contrast extended to the delightful warmth of each ticklishly panted breath that met Argos’ wrist as he stood firm to attempt to stem the tide.
Argos tried to will the deeply welling urge within the sorcerer away as he ground his finger beneath Florian’s nose, even as his bride panted and puffed, and heaved with need of relief. Argos kept up a consistent pressure, refusing to be cowed by his bride’s foreboding gasps. Slowly, but surely, the itch began to lessen and Florian’s breathing started to even.
“HHHHHHAAAAAHHH-! AAAAHHHHHHhh!? HHHHAAAAAAAADDDDHHHHH!!! HHHAAaaDT—? HHAAaaAHhhh—? HHHHHHH’HHHhhhhh! hahhhh-! Ahhh.”
Argos could have leapt for joy when he heard Florian's sigh of relief, removing his finger and taking a step back to take a better look at the sorcerer. His bride was disheveled from the climb and violent fits of sneezing. Florian’s sharp grey eyes had taken on a hazy, unfocused quality. They fluttered rapidly, perhaps to clear his watery eyes of the snowflakes that had found their way into his eyelashes. Argos reached out to brush bits of snow out of his poor bride’s hair, when Florian’s expression suddenly crumpled.
“HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDTTTT’TZZZJSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!!!”
Argos could not have been further surprised as he found himself witnessing a spectacular avalanche while careening through the air without wings. He soared in confusion, sailing aloft on a gale-wind so fierce it carried him for miles. Hadn’t he successfully stopped the sneeze in its tracks? What went wrong?
As he began to fall towards the treetops the answer struck him. Florian had an intolerance for magic despite his nature as a sorcerer. Argos, regardless of the diminished form of his transformation, still possessed and produced magic. He admittedly hadn’t been paying much attention during his bride’s frustrated rant on the topic, as he’d been too focused on preventing Florian from destroying their home to consider the salient points of what he’d been saying. It was his own fault really. Argos closed his eyes and sighed, mentally preparing himself for a rough landing amongst the trees on the outskirts of his domain.
It was only when the blast of a trumpeting nose blow reached his ears that he realized that he had stopped falling entirely and was sitting quite comfortably on the floor of his den once more.
He looked about the den shocked, eyes finally landing on Florian who stood by the hole he’d made in the cave wall a week ago, handkerchief in hand.
“You–! You blew me off the mountain!” Argos pointed at his bride, incredulous.
“I was trying to warn you that might happen, sndf! but you don’t tend to listen when I speak, husband dear.” Florian said with his back turned.
His bride dabbed at the underside of his nose before continuing.
“But since I'm sure I have your attention now, they tend to get bigger when you try to hold them back.”
“I was trying to prevent an avalanche!” Argos justified himself, “How was I supposed to know?!”
Florian shot Argos an unimpressed look over his shoulder. Argos persisted.
“And how are we back here?! You said you couldn’t use magi-!”
“If I couldn’t use magic, I’d never have been sent out here and you wouldn't look like this now. Lest you forget, the king wants you dead Argos, not changed.”
“I’ve never said that.” Florian interjected sharply, swiftly turning to face Argos, “And unless you wanted to try your luck landing safely after a fall like that, you should be grateful that I expended a spell to save you.”
His bride swiftly closed the distance between them, irritation pulling at his pretty features.
Argos considered Florian warily as he approached him. He became far more skeptical when his bride corralled him into a corner and kept him there. Here, his bride struck an intimidating figure, despite being a full head shorter than him.
This time Argos felt compelled to give Florian his full attention.
“It appears you and I aren't quite communicating on the same wavelength. I aim to fix that.” Florian stated simply.
His bride lowered his voice to a near whisper, perking Argos’ ears and forcing him to lean in.
“I should have considered you more in this arrangement, dear husband. After all, the first priority of a king as esteemed as yourself would always be your domain, and I’ve been damaging it without any regard for you. It’s shameful for a bride like me to cause you such worry!” Florian said sweetly. Argos immediately nodded in agreement.
“But, at the same time, I really can't help myself! The less said about it the better, but your domain really doesn't agree with me. So I've come up with a solution!” He pressed a finger to Argos’ chest, "You'll take the brunt of the force yourself!”
Argos felt a cool pit of dread, along with something else he couldn’t describe, pool in his stomach. His bride smiled up at him radiantly.
“Ah… B-but how, my sweet bride? You’ve sent me flying even as a dragon! S-surely that wouldn’t be feasible.” He tried to squirm his way out of the arrangement.
“Oh, but it is! My master taught me the spell a long time ago! It’s a nullification spell so it won't trigger my allergy, and most importantly; it won't hurt you.” Florian countered with a smile. Argos deflated slightly. As expected of his crafty bride, there would be no escape for him.
“This benefits us both, you see. I get to discharge the excess magical energy bothering my nose, and your territory remains safe and sound.” Florian reasoned, “It’ll only remain active until we find the treasure you mentioned.”
“You promise it won’t harm me?” he asked tentatively.
“Ah, but…!” Argos tried to find a reason not to implement the agreement, but couldn’t find a single one. He’d been the one to press the issue of his bride’s fits damaging his territory even as he cast aside Florian's remarks about the effect his domain had on him. There was no way he’d be able to drag his feet about giving an answer either. His bride looked up at him expectantly with the slightest twinge in his nose. If Florian sneezed again, there was no telling what would happen.
Argos grit his teeth, but acquiesced.
“I promise.” Florian said gently.
“If it makes you feel any better, she implemented the spell on my old colleague of mine as punishment for trapping me in a mirror once. Aside from his constant whinging about the indignity of it he was never any worse for wear.”
Argos chuckled nervously at the anecdote but intertwined his fingers with Florian’s expectant hand nonetheless. The gentle glow and hum of magic passed between them. Even amidst the wonderment of the warmth and light of the spell, the Drake King only found himself growing concerned as the ticklish glint in Florian’s eyes became more apparent.
The very second his bride had finished casting the spell, he grabbed Argos and held him close. Argos felt his heart fly into his throat for a moment as Florian buried his face in his chest.
“HRAAAAAAAADTCH’MMMMMMMMMPPPHHH!!!”
The pair rocked with the force of the sneeze. Heat tried to fight its way into colouring Argos’ face like smoke climbed a chimney. His bride had been right, there was no blast of magical force or wind tearing through the den. There was no destruction for Argos to fret over, just the resonant thrum of the nullification spell radiating through his body. Argos’ entire body felt limp and boneless as the warmth washed through him. He very likely would have slumped to the cave floor if not for Florian holding him up. Florian who was, again, taking an impossibly deep breath and burying his face into Argos’ chest.
“HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSHHHHMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHHH!!!”
Another resplendent wave of energy washed over Argos. It was an indolent, seeping warmth he would have likened to sunning on a warm rock. Coupled with his bride’s firm grasp around his waist, Argos might have been content to stay just where he was for a long, long time. He was almost sad to see Florian withdraw.
“You look quite pleased for someone who’s just been used as a handkerchief,” His bride remarked.
“Ah… yes, I…” Argos muttered as searched for a reason under Florian's curious eye.
“I’m just glad the spell worked. Hard not to be pleased my home’s still standing after a performance like that.” Argos sniped, unwilling to admit he enjoyed what occurred.
His answer seemed to satisfy the sorcerer’s curiosity for the time being.
“Well, you’ll apply yourself more to learning to be a gentleman, won't you? Otherwise you’ll have to endure my fits more often.” Florian taunted.
Argos watched as his bride fussed about getting him up to speed on the proper bearing and etiquette of a human before allowing Argos to accompany him to town. Despite prior frustrations, he could not seem to turn his mind away from the unexpected, delightful warmth of being used so brazenly by his bride. He decided then to be more outwardly cooperative, if only to provoke a similar response for being difficult in the future.
destructive sneezing with hayfever is soo good because its like. uh oh better get outside so you dont wreck the house but then like..... ur outside.
sneeze so cartoonishly huge it pops their buttons/blows off their top/splits a seam/etc yes good very nice but have you considered: sneeze so cartoonishly huge it ruins someone elses clothes? perchance?
The Dragon and his Bride (1/?) (M/M)
I wrote this to momentarily escape from my thesis. Greedy dragon picks the wrong bride and realizes he's not nearly as scary as he thinks he is.
Warning: overuse of the word 'bride'. Dubiously consensual marriage (but not in the way you may think.)
Gigantic sneezes ensue.
2.2k words
In the ancient dragon’s keep, far, far away from any prying eyes, an amusing scene unfolds beyond its master’s ability to control.
A massive beast of a dragon sat wincing in preparatory anticipation; the blunt side of his cart-sized claw extended beneath the red, twitching nose of his new ‘bride’.
Argos the Terrible had been caught unaware by the first great explosion of sound, wind and power from his bride. To his great shock, that blast had been powerful enough to hurl him bodily out of his den and make the mountain tremble under foot. The second blast collapsed parts of the interior cave walls, sending the wonderful collection of polychromal stalactites he so loved crashing to the floor and snapping the stalagmites that lined the den in two. The third blast he waylayed as his bride huffed and puffed with need of another typhoon strength release.
Screams of terror were something the Drake King had long become accustomed to as he took new brides, but the scream sneezes of his newest bride gave him pause. He had stolen a truly lovely princess this time but for as lovely as she was, she seemed to have no fear of him. Even as he grabbed her from atop her father’s tower and sped away with her hundreds of feet in the air, wrapped in his talons, she had made no fuss at all; instead grumbling some bizarre gibberish to herself the entire flight. He supposed she must have tried to calm herself with the prayers of some foreign tongue he had been unaccustomed to.
Argos had laid her down in a prepared bed of gypsophila when he entered his abode, which he found to be quite popular with court ladies, which was when the trouble had truly begun. So here Argos stood, hoping against hope that his precious bride wouldn't sneeze down his den as he gently pressed a claw against her tender nose. They stood there in tense silence for the better part of ten minutes when a butterfly flew into the den. Argos tried to shoo the tiny creature away with his wings and rings of smoke, but the butterfly evaded him easily and perched on his bride’s nose.
The Drake King flinched as his bride drew in a sharp breath, removing the claw that had held the destructive urge in place in a momentary lapse of judgement.
Argos trembled for the first time in centuries as his bride heaved a near bottomless gasp of air. He watched as the sneeze seemingly grew in power every second it remained stuck in her nose; little butterfly remaining on its perch none the wiser as the bride swelled with air. He could feel the den quake around them as he and everything else within the den were being drawn towards the terribly itchy nose.
Suddenly the thought struck him to flee.
Argos unfurled his massive, tattered wings and tried his hardest to take to the skies but his bride’s endless gasp for air had created a vacuum powerful enough that it rendered his bid for escape near futile. Instead he found himself being sucked in closer,and closer. Now properly terrified, The Drake King instead clawed his way out to the surface, marvelling at his tiny bride’s incredible lung capacity. He heaved himself up and out of the den, flapped his wings and took to the skies.
Argos had flown a mile out from his home when everything stood stock still for but a moment.
Then he felt it.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAADDDZJTTTIIISSSSZZZCCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!!!”
His mountain was still in view, and Argos could only watch in horror as its crowning peak erupted into a plume of dust and debris. The blast had thrown Argos back with an expansive shockwave, blasting the clouds apart and sending flocks of birds rushing past him in a panic. The birds in his field of view suddenly became far larger and Argos fell unconscious.
— — — —
Argos woke up in his den. Not on his bed of gold and jewels, but on the floor; his head rested upon a bolt of silk. He tried to scramble to his feet but slipped and stumbled every which way, his legs refusing to cooperate. He tried to engage his wings to right himself, but found that they were not there. In his frustration, he widened his maw and tried to spit fire only to find that his lips would not open even a fraction of the width he was used to and rather than flames, his exhale poured out an endless cloud of smoke.
His sorrow and self pity then turned to rage as he heard the footsteps of his wretched bride approaching. She stood meters away from him with pitiless eyes and slowly took off her shimmering skin, revealing a young man of similar stature and appearance in her place.
Argos intrinsically knew something was wrong, and began to look about in panic to check his reflection, finding a silver dish on the floor. Crawling over to it he found a reflection that wasn't his. A human man with olive skin and lustrous red hair. The man had been wrapped in his silks and sneered the same sneer Argos felt overcome his face as he looked deeper into the polished metal. Smoke poured from his mouth once more and the man in the dish copied the gesture.
All at once Argos felt himself overcome with a wave of shame as he realized that they were one in the same.
Argos felt his anger wash over him like burning magma, but unable to act on his fury he slammed his open palm on the ground, his temper increasing with each pathetic smack that sounded through the cave.
“Wretched bride! Deceitful bride! How dare you face me after inflicting me with your dark magic!” Argos roared as he petulantly slapped the floor. Smoke poured from his mouth as he raged and moaned. The Drake King had expected his bride to tremble in fear, or rush to apologize for her actions.
Instead the young man before him raised the shimmering mantle to his face and covered his nose.
“You’ll make me sneeze if you carry on like that.” His bride blithely replied. Argos quickly covered his mouth with his hands to prevent more smoke from spilling out.
“Change me back this. INSTANT!!!” he demanded behind his palms.
“No.”
“Then give me a reason I shouldn’t devour you right now!” Argos slammed a soot covered palm onto the floor.
His bride scoffed and rolled his eyes behind his mantle, striding up to him with grace Argos was unaccustomed to seeing. The Drake King reared back on his haunches as his bride boldly crouched over him and whispered next to his ear, “My, my what a temperamental husband I’ve found! Do you think you can~?”
Over the course of an hour, his bride explained their situation.
Argos had taken the wrong person. The old king of the neighboring kingdom had been fed up with losing his wives and daughters to Argos. Knowing the Drake King would be circling for a new bride this year, the king devised a trick. He would take an imprisoned sorcerer who had similar looks to his daughter, dress him up in a transformative mantle and have Argos take him instead.
By the end of the explanation, Argos had felt properly foolish. His bride was no princess, but an imposter placed in her stead.
“That doesn’t explain why you turned me into a human though…” Argos grumbled.
“Because you’d burn me to a crisp if I didn’t, silly.”
“Well, if you change me back, I promise I won’t. I’ll even forgive you for destroying my den!” Argos brightened as he made his offer. He shrunk back on himself as his bride laughed it away.
“I can’t turn you back now. Not only because making a deal with Drake King ‘Argos the Terrible’ is a fool’s errand, but because I'll become impossibly sneezy if I do.”
Argos pouted, because surely his reputation wasn’t that bad, before he realized what his bride had said.
“W-what do you mean by that?”
“They sent me here because they hoped I’d blast you away and succumb to the elements before I could make it back to the kingdom. I’m actually under a curse to be hopelessly allergic to magic and magical beasts, dear husband,” his bride said precisely, smiling as he knew Argos hung on every word.
“If I turn you back now,” he pouted with faux-remorse, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from destroying this mountain and the rest of your territory… it makes m-my n-nose itch j-just th-ihhH? thiiiIhHHHH—? IHHHHHH! snf! just thinking about it.”
“Don’t think about it!!”
Argos tried to escape, but between his bride straddling him, and his now useless legs he was unable to go anywhere. He could only watch helplessly as his chest rose and rose with the copious air he drew in. His hair had been caught in his bride's gasps and he could only look on in horror as the long red strands danced around the sorcerer’s sensitive nose.The sorcerer heaved a final terrible gasp spurred on by the tickling hairs, before placing a palm on Argos’s chest and forcing him to lie flat, snapping to the side with an enormous trio of sneezes.
“T-too-! Too la-laAAAHH-late! aAaAAAhhH—! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—!!
HHHAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
The cave walls Argos had once meticulously burrowed through cratered and blasted apart under his bride’s constant sneezing, revealing the tops of forest trees outdoors.
“HHHRRRAAAAAAADDDDDDJSCHHIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPTTTTZZZIIISSSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! HHAAHHHH! AAHHHHHHHD??! EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHDDDDDTTTTIISSSCCCHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
“Oh my! That smoke of yours really did a number on mm-meeee—!”
If Argos could have shrunk any further to escape his poor bride’s onslaught of sneezes he would have. Instead, he could only lie still as his heart thundered through his chest as his bride took another deep, deep vacuum-like breath.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH’HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH—!!!”
“What if I could cure you!” Argos blurted out. The unending hitch paused momentarily and his bride looked down at him curiously.
“Tell me, q-quickly—!”
“I know of a treasure that cures all ailments and undoes a-all curses! If I get it for you, you’ll be cured and you can change me back!” Argos revealed under the threat of the violently twitching nose.
His bride got off him at once and strode across to the new opening in the den. The Drake King sighed in relief before startling at the terrific noise as his bride erupted with his biggest sneeze yet.
“HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDTTTT’TTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIZZZZSSSSSSSCCCCCHHHHHHHH’IIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
His bride’s release threw Argos’ treasures about like sand on a storm wind, even though he had unleashed its true power through the hole he made with his previous fit. Argos himself might have been blasted away if not for the magic mantle his bride had left on him.
His bride panted over the hole’s threshold. Sniffling once, then twice, before letting out a shaky exhale on the third sniffle.
“Wonderful!” His bride turned to him with a bright smile, “what a wonderful, debonair husband you are Argos!”
Argos found himself smiling as his bride threw himself into his arms and peppered him with compliments. He had never experienced it before, but it was quite nice. His bride slipped a magic ring from his collection onto his finger and its match onto Argos’, before holding his hand tight.
“These rings symbolize our promise, beloved husband. I, Florian Amestris, hereby solemnly vow to disregard my liege’s orders to rid you from this kingdom in exchange for a treasure that will dispel my curse. In exchange, you, the Drake King, Argos the Terrible, will acquire this treasure and bestow it onto me, thereby gaining my eternal allegiance as your bride. Do you agree to these terms?” his clever bride asked, leaving any ambiguity out of the question.
Argos wanted to find a loophole or a way to squirm out of the arrangement, but he had no time to think of any. Especially not with his bride's twitchy, ticklish nose inches from his face.
“I, Drake King Argos the Terrible, agree to the set terms of our engagement. I will acquire the treasure for you at any cost.” He swallowed his pride and acquiesced. The rings reverberated with phenomenal power and sealed each promise on the requisite ring. Florian smiled and hugged Argos once more, speaking to Argos of gathering him new suits of clothes, teaching him to walk, the length of the journey so on and so forth. The words washed over him as he considered his situation.
Argos had found himself a crafty bride, but this bride had a radiant smile and would lavish him with attention and affection in exchange for nothing more than the promise of a treasure.
‘No’, he realized, ‘not the promise. I’ll actually have to get him that treasure.’
Argos considered breaking his vow, but Florian’s quiet sniffles and his new view of the eastern quadrant of his territory over his shoulder made it exceptionally clear that would not be possible. He would have to figure out if such a treasure even really existed; he had to, otherwise all of his territory would look like the east, a sand coloured cone with no clouds in sight, stripped of all green for miles and miles on end.
Argos instead resolved to remove the curse at any cost. His life would depend on it.
Has anyone here ever considered....... chimney sweep snz.......? 👀
why do i feel crushing guilt over being horny on main, it’s snzblr everyone is horny here
*on the freaky side of tumblr*
Oh no, they’re going to find out that I’m a freak
“Are those—?”
“Tulips? Why yes! You did say they were your favourite.”
“Oh! Thank you! But you shouldn’t have.”
“It was nothing, anything for… you. Sweetheart?”
“N-no, I mean you rhhHHh-really s-shhhH! shouldn’t h—hhhHHhaaAave!!!”
OpenAI is shutting down Sora and dropping video features from ChatGPT. Disney was previously said to be investing $1B, licensing 200+ chara
