Black, bi, bad and bougie. he/him, 30s, this is a sneezekink blog of the particularly odd/exotic variety, but don’t be mad if I post something political or reblog a butt. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. Stories under "snz story" tag. Send me asks and shit!
I am not anti-having this fetish but having this fetish has certainly helped my unrelated anxieties about my body into their project to minimize my irl in person sex life. Siiiiiiiigh.
(I am like officially Not On This Website at the moment—I will be back soon—but I have to say, while I don’t really picture Il/ya or certainly Sh/ane with particularly loud sneezes—maaaaaybe Il/ya—Sco/tt Hun/ter?? That’s a dad-yell-scream sneezer for sure. I can give you the psychological/character justification if you want but just meditate on it bc you will know it to be true in your heart).
sunflower: share a really good fic you’ve read recently
goldenrod: do you have any favorite flowers/plants? do you like them for snz reasons or other reasons or both?
dandelion: describe your favorite setting for a snzfic. are there any settings you’re not a fan of?
cornflower: what does your creative process look like? are you the type to slowly work through a project a little bit at a time, or do you typically finish things in one sitting and then post them in the middle of the night?
echinacea: what’s your favorite snz fic/art/etc that you’ve posted? you work hard on making stuff, so take a moment to wax poetic about your own work!
wild lupine: opinions on monster snz content? can range from human-adjacent monsters like vampires and werewolves to more out-there stuff like dragons and eldritch abominations
sneezeweed: describe in excruciating detail, if you want, your ideal sneeze or snzario
zinnia: what do you find comforting when you’re sick? do you have any specific comfort clothes and/or comfort foods/drinks you like?
iris: do you have any snz-related content/projects in the works right now? tell us about them!
bluebell: what’s your music taste like? what do you like to listen to while writing/drawing/etc?
lavender: gush about your favorite character/pairing and share a fic/art/etc you love that includes them
This is a sequel of my first fic on this platform.
While this is a continuation it can stand on its own. I didn't expect to write 7.5k words, but hey, Isadore yearning about a person he lives with can't be expected to be direct, right?
It was significantly different from the markets of his hometown of Fleurs de Nuit; here there was music, and laughter and dancing, merchants advertised their wares with great enthusiasm as their customers scrupulously haggled for the lowest possible prices.
——————
Isadore loved visiting the Tempestvale Markets.
It was an intimate, lively atmosphere that Isadore couldn’t help but fall in love with everytime he went.
The denizens of the village had become familiar with him over the past few months, due in part to his ‘relationship’ with Ariel.
Though he was an unquestioned champion back home in the kingdom of Bellefleuris, here in Tempestvale, Isadore could expect to be assailed by a maelstrom of questions regarding the status of his love life and prospective timeline of when he would confess. It was this situation he had found himself in as he haggled over the cost of a strange bark Ariel had needed as an ingredient for a potion.
“I’m just saying! Tough guy like you and you can’t even muster the courage to tell the Magister how you feel?” Cumula tutted with joking scorn, “Mr. Knight, does that sort of cowardice sound like the sort of thing I should reward by granting you this very rare wood for a discount? 15 silver!”
It had been Cumula’s sister, Strata, who had given him the aster bloom to try to charm Ariel with. He had agonized over how to bring up his feelings over the better part of the trek back to the cottage initially, stopping by the same pool he would later be blown into to workshop how he’d deliver his message. Isadore would end up talking himself out of confessing before he reached what used to be gnarled, twisting woods of pine and aspen that obscured Ariel’s cottage from view.
Cumula was not pleased to hear there was no news, and was determined to give Isadore a hard time about it.
“Come on Cumula, I’m not the one who needs it. I’m getting it on Ari’s behalf!” Isadore tried to defend himself, “Don’t punish them just because I haven’t said anything yet! 5 silver.”
Cumula’s eyes flew open with sadistic glee and Isadore knew then he had made a mistake. Giving a woman like her any form of personal information meant you’d be on the receiving end of merciless teasing till your dying days.
“Oh, Ari is it! Well, well Mr. Knight, colour me shocked! We’re on a pet name basis now, are we?”
He knew it.
She leaned over the counter to take a closer look at Isadore’s reddening face and grimacing expression.
“So you’re not as hopeless as you seem! However, when you haggle, you do so from a position of strength. A paltry sum of 5 silver means nothing to me.” Cumula lowered herself onto her elbows.
“But~! If you don’t have the necessary silver now… how about I give you the ironheart bark on credit, in exchange for your confession tonight!” She smiled like the cat that caught the mouse and extended her pinky. It glowed a radiant silver light as she continued.
“I’ll take the 5 silver as your deposit and if you confess, I won’t pursue the remaining 10. How’s that sound?”
Terrible.
Isadore warily eyed Cumula’s outstretched finger. He knew better than to make a binding promise of that sort with her.
“Confessing to them to get a discount for something you’ve tripled the price on hardly sounds like something they’d appreciate.” Isadore griped.
“Well then, I’ll just have to sell it to the Magister when they come down here for themself! Then we can have a nice, long chat.” Cumula smirked.
His eyes narrowed, a challenge.
“...You wouldn’t.”
She raised an eyebrow, defiant.
“It’s been 4 months, try me.”
There they stood; staring each other down in the middle of the marketplace for what felt like hours. The standoff between stall owner and customer was cut short by the clap of shutters against a wall.
Isadore and Cumula whipped their heads in the direction of the sound, only to find Strata peeking through the window.
“Are you two arguing again?” She asked.
“Your sister insists on tripling the prices of her wares!” Isadore tattled.
“Only because this fool can’t spit out how he feels!” Cumula exploded. “That aster bloom you so kindly gave him went to waste! And for what? Nothing!”
“That wasn’t my fault!”
“Did you even try to give it to them?!” Cumula demanded.
Strata awkwardly stared at the unfolding scene from her window.
“Yes. I did! They’re allergic!” Isadore hissed.
Cumula fell silent. Above them, Strata blanched and winced.
“Ah… I see.” was the closest Isadore would get to an apology from Cumula.
It was widespread knowledge that Ariel’s propensity for devastating sneezing fits were best avoided for the sake of anything that wished to remain standing.
Cumula wordlessly weighed a measure of the bark and bagged it. She tossed the bag to Isadore and grabbed the offered silver.
“Is the Magister allergic to all flowers, Izzy?” Strata asked curiously as her sister stalked off to deposit her newly acquired coin.
“Seems so.” He replied. “It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing to be done for it.”
“A shame really. Back in Bellefleuris, you reveal your feelings to your partner by giving them a flower with a symbolic meaning. The aster bloom would have been perfect too, since it represents new beginnings.” Isadore buried his face in his palms.
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be…” Isadore trailed off, despondent.
Cumula scoffed at his self pity, to which Isadore raised his head and shot her a withering glare in response.
“I might have something that can get around that, while letting you still observe your customs.” Strata offered.
“What? A spell?” Isadore tilted his head, confused.
“No, silly.” she chuckled, “Wait for me to come downstairs.”
Strata appeared outside in no time, carrying with her a stack of bound parchment.
As Isadore was about to ask how parchment would be able to get around not being able to give Ariel flowers, Strata took a sheet and seamlessly folded it into a flower.
Isadore stared in amazement as the unassuming sheet of parchment transformed into a lily in the blink of an eye.
“H-how did you do that?”
“Impressed? It’s an artform a merchant from the east taught me.” Strata smiled, pleased with her work.
“I know how to do birds, woodland creatures, and bugs, but flowers are my specialty.” she winked.
“I’ll teach you and give you the stack of parchment. All it’ll cost you is a mere… 5 silver.”
Isadore sighed and rolled his eyes. Though ultimately, he was curious about the process of creating the paper flowers and made the decision to hand over the money.
It was thus that Isadore dedicated the remainder of his afternoon learning how to make paper flowers from Strata.
She was a far better teacher than he would have expected, providing gentle instruction and critique. Under her guidance, Isadore went from making crumpled little balls of paper to passable blossoms as she patiently guided him into folding better and neater flowers. By the early evening, Isadore had successfully folded a bouquet of roses, lilies, and asters.
He quietly marveled at his creation.
“Do you think they’ll like it?”
“I think Magister Ariel would be thrilled you put in this much effort to tell them how you feel,” Strata put her hand on Isadore’s shoulder. “So don’t psych yourself out on your way to the cottage. Let it be the first thing you say to them.”
Isadore nodded noncommittally.
“If you come back down here without saying anything about your feelings, especially after spending so much time making flowers for them, I will never let you live it down Mr. Knight.” Cumula sniffed as she carried the evening’s merchandise to her stall. He childishly stuck his tongue out at her, before gathering his things to head home.
— — — — — —
The onset of the evening brought heavy rains and wind.
A coachman had been kind enough to carry Isadore halfway up the mountain, shortening the trek to take him home. As he dismounted from the cart, Isadore noticed the horse’s odd behaviour. Ears pinned back, snorting and pawing at the ground; clearly frightened by the dower weather.
“Careful on your trek up sonny,” The coachman warned, “Now it’s the flowerin’ season, that mage’ll be losing themself to fits o’ rose fever. Weather’s liable to take a dangerous turn if y’aren’t alert.”
He patted his horse’s neck to try to calm it as a weakened gust of wind blew past them, increasing the horse’s anxiety.
“Thanks for the warning, old timer, but I’m familiar enough with the circumstances. I’ll be sure to keep on my guard.” Isadore smiled.
He tried to offer the horse a bit of sugar to try to ease its nerves when another, stronger gust of wind rushed past them. Startled, the horse snapped at Isadore’s fingers and reared briefly on its hind legs.
He backed up to give the creature a bit of space as the coachman pressed himself against its neck to bring it back down to earth.
He realised, distantly, that Ariel must have been ‘losing themself’ to a sneezing fit at that very moment. The very thought sent an almost imperceptible shiver of pleasure up Isadore’s spine. He knew to expect another, likely stronger, gust before he’d be able to advance safely.
“It’s best you head back to town, for your horse’s sake more than anything,” Isadore said.
The coachman agreed, driving his cart and horse on the winding road back down the mountain. Almost as soon as the coachman left, came the anticipated gale. It was strong: powerful enough to give Isadore a degree of pushback even from miles away.
The sudden squall had brought to mind the memory of being blown to this very spot a few days ago.
Ariel had worked themself into a knot of anxiety in the hour it had taken him to make the trek back to what used to be their cottage. The electric feeling of their fingertips on Isadore’s skin as Ariel breathed constant apologies and gently checked him for injuries was an experience he’d never forget.
It was a fond memory of Isadore’s that kept him warm against the biting winds as he began the long walk back to the cottage. A path of destruction cluttered by felled trees and other bits of debris led him straight home.
He found himself musing about how useful magic could be as the —many times reformed— cottage finally came into view.
Isadore paused for a moment to catch his breath, when he suddenly felt the air shift strangely. Knowing what would soon follow, he laid himself down on the barren forest floor and waited.
His intuition was rewarded when moments later an irritated sounding—
“AEDDDTTTTTZZSSSSCCCHHHOOOOOOOO!!!”
— shook the mountain. The force of the eruption seemed to have been directed upward, as the roof of the little cottage leapt into the air and came crashing down with terrific noise moments later, bent and crooked at strange angles.
Isadore waited a few moments on the ground to see if the eruption would be accompanied by a companion
“HEEEEEDDDTTTTTSSCHHHHHHHIIIIIIEEEEEWWWWWWWW!!!”
Again, the blast had been directed upwards, the force of Ariel’s sneeze causing the roof to explode outwards, throwing the wooden rafters to the skies above.
‘One more,’ Isadore thought as the sky began to roil ominously; he could tell a big one was on the horizon. But after a few minutes had passed, nothing had happened.
He waited another few minutes to assure his safety, exiting his prone position when he watched the roof of the cottage slowly begin to put itself back together. Then he stood and began to make his way over to the front door.
Opening it gently, Isadore stepped through the threshold before quietly closing the door. As he entered the cottage he was greeted by an interesting sight.
Ariel lay motionless on the couch, their forearm draped over their eyes with their various books and tools scattered about them on the floor. They took slow, deliberate breaths, almost as though they were asleep. The low lit, gloamy atmosphere lent a picturesque feeling to the scene Isadore had only ever seen in galleries.
As Isadore took another step into the cottage, he heard Ariel speak. Their voice was hoarse and raspy, likely scrapped raw from constant fits.
“Is that you, Isadore?”
“...How could you tell?” Isadore asked, mildly stunned by Ariel’s guess.
“Snf! Mm. A multitude of reasons,” Ariel replied dryly, unmoving, “very few people in Tempestvale brave enough to ascend this mountain in spring; much less ehhH!– EHHHHhh——! sngf! enter this cottage,”
They had continued speaking but Isadore’s attention had shifted, immediately noting the way Ariel’s breath caught as they spoke. Though he was unable to see their eyes, he knew that third sneeze was still roiling within Ariel, demanding its release.
They were audibly stuffy. Isadore could imagine the walls of the little cottage would quail and shudder under the threat of Ariel’s nose blasting them to smithereens for the umpteenth time that week if they’d had a modicum of sentience.
“hhhHhHHEEHHH—!! snf! ‘Scuse me,” Ariel sniffed, “Additionally Isa, your gait is quite particular; I would know you from the sound of your footsteps alone.”
Their nose twitched again, the dull red of the underside of Ariel’s nares captivating his attention. Isadore wondered if they were holding back on his account.
“Ah…” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.
The pair sat in silence for a moment.
“Were you able to find ironheart bark on your journey today?” Ariel rasped, breaking the silence with gentle inquiry.
“Hm? Oh! I did actually!” Isadore lit up. He hurriedly opened his bag to present his hard fought prize, but his eyes landed on his faux-bouquet first. Isadore felt his heart stop in that moment, slowly raising his eyes to Ariel’s supine form on the couch. They hadn’t moved, so surely they couldn’t have seen it. Isadore ever so gently shifted the bouquet before he removed the wrapped bits of bark.
“Found it.” Isadore said, praying his nervousness didn’t creep into his voice.
“That’s great. Now–, there should be a mortar and pestle, and a round bottomed flask on the counter?”
If Ariel noticed his change in tone, they thankfully didn’t deign to comment on it. Isadore shifted his attention to the kitchen counter, which did indeed have those items, along with a mysterious empty bottle laid with a cheesecloth for a filter.
“I see them,” he confirmed.
“Excellent. If I might ask you for a favour, Isa; would you mind grinding the bark into a powder and pouring it into that flask?” Ariel asked tiredly.
Isadore found himself moving to perform the request before he even really knew what he was doing. He stood at the counter gently grinding the dried bark into dust, being particularly careful to not make any unnecessary noise to account for what must have been a terrible headache for Ariel.
“Oh, yes of course,” Isadore replied as he realized he had not actually responded to their question.
After achieving a consistency similar to coarse ground meal, he poured the resulting powder into the contents of the flask.
“Task complete.”
“Good-hhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!? snf! Ugh, sorry about that. Good job, Isa-aaaaAaAAAAHHH! HAAAHHHHHH?!! HHAAAHHHHH’HHHhhhhh—!” Ariel managed to get out through their hitching. Isadore could tell they were rapidly approaching the end of their rope. They wouldn’t be able to fight the urge forever.
“snrf! Hkhm! Truly, my deepest apologies.” They sat up, clasping and massaging the bridge of their nose with their hands, “Now, swirl the resulting mixture within the flask until it changes colour. Once it does, pour it out through the filter into the prepared bottle on the counter, please.”
Isadore followed the procedure laid out by his living partner, marveling as the liquid in the bottle transformed from a greenish-silver hue to a lovely golden glow. He stared at it for a little while and smiled privately to himself, the colour reminding him of Ariel’s eyes, before straining the liquid into the bottle.
“It’s done.” He said.
“Good, snf!” Ariel replied with a suspicious evenness to their voice. It seemed the sneeze that had been toying with them for so long was finally coming.
“Go ahead and take a sip, Isadore.”
Their tone indicated that there wasn’t really any room for argument, even if Isadore did have reservations about the mysterious liquid he concocted. He obliged, taking a slow draw of the golden liquid. It had been terribly bitter at first, before giving way to a gentle sweetness which then blossomed into gentle radiating warmth within his core.
He looked to Ariel to ask what the potion had been for, only to find them on the razor’s edge of a truly titanic sneeze. Isadore -wisely- corked the potion bottle, tucked it into his bag beside his gift, and held it closely as Ariel breathed in, in, in.
They erupted. The familiar cacophony of shattering glass, clattering wood and crumbling stone greeted Isadore’s ears like an old friend. He felt the warmth the potion brought him rose around his cheeks and ears as a veritable whirlwind whipped around the cottage. No matter how many times Isadore witnessed Ariel lose control of their magic, he would never quite get over the excitement of watching them unintentionally show off just how powerful they were.
Ariel’s eruption had again reduced a portion of their home to rubble.The damage had been relatively minimal, as there was no longer much of anything to damage; the howling winds only able to hurl pebbles into the distance as Ariel had already stripped their little slice of the mountain of most of its available plant life. Thunder boomed and lightning crashed with loud appeals almost simultaneously, rattling what was left of the cottage, leaving Isadore to wonder whether or not the stormy weather was truly natural and simply had preternaturally dramatic timing or if it had been the sky’s mirroring of their dear friend’s allergic malaise.
Curiously, Isadore had fared just fine during the sudden rough weather. He was dimly aware that the potion was the likely culprit for his maintenance of a sturdy posture in the face of such strong winds, but felt there were other factors keeping him safe at play. Over the past few days since the ‘incident’ Isadore noticed that each time Ariel absolutely had to sneeze they would face whatever direction was opposite of wherever he had been standing.
In this instance, it had been the entryway and front door which were simply unable to withstand the explosive pressure from the sudden blast.
However, before Isadore could start internally debating the various factors at play that had kept him from living his dreams of facing the full extent of Ariel’s nasal prowess again, he heard a deep, reedy gasp.
“ hhhHhHiiIIIHHHHHHHHHHH——!!!”
The pull of the hitch drew Ariel into perfect posture; taut, like a bow ready to fire.
“HIIHHHYYYIIIIIIIDJZSCHIIIUUUUUUUEEEEEEEE!!!”
Ariel erupted, the force of the blast causing what was left of the cottage to quake. But Isadore knew they weren’t through yet.
Ariel had raised their hands to try to fan away the oncoming finale; the sneeze that would satisfy the itch that had been plaguing them enough to release the grasp their nose had on them for the time being. Isadore never truly understood why they always fought it, but watching them struggle to contain themself was always a highlight to his day. The air had shifted in the way Isadore had become used to as Ariel mounted towards their most cataclysmic sneeze of the day.
He almost felt guilty peering at them behind their back as they drew in hitch after hitch, fighting a battle against their body they would always lose. Then Ariel finally hit their breaking point.
“AAAHHHHHYYYYHHHHHHHHHH——!!!
YYYHHHHHHHDTIIIIIISCHHHIIIEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUWWWW!!!"
They went off like a bomb, detonating so explosively that the backdraft of their release tore through the remnants of the cottage like a cannonball through wet paper, shaking its foundations so thoroughly Isadore wondered if the blast had triggered an earthquake. The sudden gale had torn away the roof and flung it to distances he could not fathom. Gone was the kitchen, the bath and all of upstairs.
Isadore stood firmly against the squall as wind roaring chaos swept around him; his immediate focus on protecting the bag, his mind otherwise polluted with thoughts of, ‘Gods, I wish that were me.’
When the winds died down and Ariel slumped forward in relief, Isadore rushed forward, high on bliss and excitement, utterly unaware yet more storms were on the horizon.
“Blessings, health, and good fortune Ariel!"
“Isa—”
Looking at Ariel’s face for the first time that evening made something twist near Isadore’s heart. They looked truly miserable; their golden eyes bloodshot, the skin around their eyes and nose tinged a dusky, faded red, the seemingly ever present twitch, twitch, twitching of their overwrought and frenetic nose.
“Poor thing, that must have taken quite a lot out of you.” He stood in front of Ariel and knelt to be closer to their eye level, handkerchief in hand, offering it with his typical flourish.
Ariel accepted the proffered handkerchief, dabbing moisture away from their eyes before holding the article under their nose.
“Thank you for the handkerchief, Isadore, really. But you should be more careful.” Ariel scolded gently.
“But you’re done, no? You’ve fulfilled your typical pattern?”
They let out a whispery chuckle, Isadore tilted his head in confusion at the sudden laughter.
“'Fulfilled my pattern,' eh?” Ariel laughed, “Oh Isa~, have you been keeping track?"
Isadore tried to fight the very obvious flush rising to his face from Ariel’s teasing.
They really hadn’t any clue about how he felt about them.
“Well, I mean…I—, I might— I might have taken some notice?” he mumbled his justification.
His response seemed to amuse Ariel further, they laughed openly as they reached out a hand to ruffle Isadore’s wind swept coppery curls into a semblance of their former style.
Isadore relished this, fully embracing the slightly static-y feel of Ariel’s touch on his scalp. They stopped after a minute, eyes squinting with held back tears as the wind and thunder began to pick up again.
“SNF! Ugh, forgive me. I can understand why.” Ariel retracted their hand from Isadore’s hair, slumping back into the couch.
“Every year the flowers come into bloom and turn me into an utter wreck,” Ariel muttered indignantly under their breath as they tended to their nose. Low rolling thunder rumbled through the clouds in seeming agreement.
Isadore watched with bated breath as they wrestled with the clear desire for another explosive release, but, bit by bit Ariel managed to tame their itchy nose into something that almost resembled compliance.
It was this shaky truce that seemed to give Ariel the confidence to restore their flattened home to its prior state.
Isadore gave a low hum of amazement as the cottage seemingly rebuilt itself from nothing; the wonderment of Ariel’s spell not lost on him even after witnessing its effects several times within the past few days.
Everything Ariel had blown away returned to its rightful place, either by popping back up where the object had originally been or walking its way over to its original spot. The walls patched themselves back together with shaky trepidation, perhaps knowing that it wouldn’t be the last time they would have to rebuild themselves from pieces.
Ariel let out a sigh of exhaustion as the last bit of stone slotted itself into place, wearily melting into the couch. The cozy warmth of the cottage now shielded them both from the threat of the tumultuous weather outside, and would continue to do so for as long as Ariel could keep themself in check.
Isadore stood unsure of what to do, his mind racing through solutions of how to ease Ariel’s symptoms and make them a bit more comfortable. When he finally landed on an idea of a remedy, his companion suddenly sat up, their hand delicately placed at their temple indicative of another surge in their headache.
“I think it’s about time I retire for the evening,” Ariel murmured tiredly, “sndf! Good night, Isa. I’ll see you in the morning?”
Isadore’s mind raced, panicked. He hated the idea of Ariel going to bed so miserable; he had so badly wanted to give them some comfort and still hadn’t given them his gift! A hundred and one responses and pleas for his dear friend to stay with him a while longer ran through his mind.
“Good night, Ariel,” was ultimately the reply Isadore landed on, “ I bid you a peaceful night, see you in the morning.”
— — — — — —
Isadore’s night had been anything but peaceful. His mind switched between taunting him about his missed opportunities to give Ariel their present and replaying the many renditions of cataclysmic fits he had witnessed in the past.
Springtime in Bellefleuris had always been a tad difficult for Isadore, as the sheer magnitude of flowers that grew in the kingdom could induce even the most stalwart of nares into loud, effusive paroxysms of sneezing, much to his guilt-ridden pleasure. He’d never thought that his seasonal delight could be so easily outclassed by the Storm Mage of the perpetually cold and damp Tempestvale.
Isadore lay in bed, overcome with feelings he wouldn’t dare put a name to. It was so unfair; how could the kindly Magister Ariel look as though they had been carved and painted by the most talented artisans of their time, also have a sneeze only heard of in legends?
To say that their rose cold had been at the forefront of Isadore’s mind since the poor mage had started showing symptoms would be an understatement. His mind was plagued by their itchy countenance as he tried to drift into slumber. Their twitchy nose and frantic hitching breaths stoked a fire in the pit of his belly, blooming into unspeakable warmth and stirring up emotions he knew he couldn't indulge.
The recent springtime weather had wreaked havoc on Ariel’s sinuses, inspiring devastating fits of sneezing that toppled trees and tore through the mountain like typhoons. Isadore couldn’t help but relish the aftermath of each and every destructive blast; he tossed and turned in bed, plagued by perpetual visions of various eruptions.
‘Maybe I should take another dip in Lotusberry Pool.’ he joked to himself.
He considered what might occur if he handed Ariel his bouquet. Their nose, likely already plagued by a fiendish itch, might start to twitch and flare with need for cataclysmic release. His dear mage might try to take hold of the paper floral arrangement, their hitches drawing them into disarray. The cottage walls would start to rattle as the beginnings of a violent storm picked up outside.
Would they try to hold back? Or perhaps let the urge wash over them and release a devastating—
Isadore startled awake, clutching his bed with all his might as it and the entire room around it shuddered dangerously. Two at once? What could have caused that?
He could hear Ariel quite clearly, the steadily increasing volume of their hitches spelling doom for whatever had caused the tickle their body was trying to excise.
Isadore’s eyes widened as he sat up slightly. Ariel was about to blow their top in spectacular fashion, and here he was sitting in bed, listening to the rapidly building onslaught of a sneeze. He stared at the door, transfixed, Ariel’s sneezy gasps rooting him in place for fear his knees would give out if he stood. Each hitch stoked a steady burning fire in his abdomen that made Isadore feel like he was set ablaze despite the frigid rain and howling winds outside.
The cottage trembled in the wake of the blast but didn’t buckle to the intense winds and pressure. Which meant Ariel had thankfully gotten to a window or door to unleash their nose’s fury.
A normal person would have found Ariel’s sneezing — and the certain destruction that followed— terrifying.
Isadore however, enthralled by such displays, was instead overcome by a shooting warmth throughout his body, coursing through his veins and seeping indolent, radiating heat throughout every fiber of his being as his room quaked around him from the force of the release. The subsequent clattering and trembling of seemingly every bit of clutter and wall within their shared abode only further cemented his adoration of the storm mage.
He took a moment to himself to bask in the aftermath of the eruption, shuddering with newly ignited pleasure as the wind and rain outside battered the little cottage.
Slowly letting the sensation fade, Isadore uncoiled himself from his blankets as he crept out of bed. A cold rinse from his wash basin and change of clothes set him to rights before he left his room. He was greeted by the warmth of the main room and the energetic crackling of the hearth.
Isadore found Ariel sitting at the dining table, tending to their nose with his handkerchief, sniffling intermittently. They raised their head once Isadore stepped into their line of sight, making eye contact.
“Oh…! Good morning, Isadore. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry,” Ariel winced, rubbing their hand on the back of their neck.
“No, no! Of course not. I’ve been awake for a while now,” Isadore lied through his teeth.“I just thought I might check up on you and see how you were faring.”
Despite being sincere about his true reason for seeking Ariel out, they regarded Isadore with a look that he could infer meant he was not fully believed.
“I mean— you definitely had a headache yesterday, and your voice sounds a bit stronger now, so I was wondering if you felt better today?” He clarified, approaching the table and claiming a seat.
“Well, when you put it that way,” Ariel considered, “ I suppose there’s been a mild improvement,”
They sighed before burying their nose into the handkerchief again, making a valiant effort to chase away a burgeoning tickle.
“Won’t be long before I sneeze myself hoarse again though.”
“I wonder what’s making you so itchy? Just so you know, I’ve not got any flowers in my hair this time around.” Isadore joked.
That comment earned Isadore a small fit of laughter.
“Thank you for your consideration, but don’t be fooled by the current lack of flowers on the mountain, Isa. The ones growing down in the valley are more than enough to get me going.” Ariel groused, a half truth of their own.
They sighed, perhaps frustrated that the meddlesome itch would not lessen, putting the handkerchief aside.
“It makes me appreciate you all the more, really. Since every flower-bearing plant is apparently blooming in full force this year, if I had to make a trip into town now I’d probably flatten it.”
Isadore sat gobsmacked by the matter-of-fact manner in which Ariel delivered their statement.
They got up from their seat as they spoke to take a whistling kettle off the fire and soon returned with a tray.
As Isadore pondered the implications of their statement, Ariel set a dish laden with bread, cheese, figs, and a cup of tea in front of Isadore before settling back into their seat with a cup of chicory.
“Thank you! Though I must ask Ariel, won’t you eat?”
They hummed noncommittally, nursing the mug in their hands.
“I’m not particularly hungry, Isa, maybe later.” they huffed.
With that, the young knight before them acquiesced and began to eat.
The mage drank a sip of their own bitter beverage before wincing and setting it down. A bit of steam to help clear the sinuses was typically welcomed, but in Ariel’s case a clear nose would only lead to additional trouble.
Ariel hoped that Isadore wouldn't find them to be unduly brusque, but the ever present itch that had been crawling across their sinuses these past few days was making them feel particularly waspish. Their head also throbbed something fierce, which certainly didn’t help matters.
Spring was a season Ariel detested. The blossoming of new flowers, trees and weeds made their skin crawl and turned them from an upstanding 'mage' into a danger to society.
To make things worse, their sour mood had influenced the weather to stir up the beginnings of a truly nasty storm, which meant Isadore would have to stay with them in the cottage for the day.
Typically this would be a lovely happenstance; Ariel had become quite fond of Isadore in the past year they had lived together. The issue lay in their current predicament: if Isadore had to spend the day at the cottage, Ariel would have to keep their nose in check, lest a repeat of their ‘little accident' occur. It'd be difficult given that Isadore himself was a not insignificant factor contributing to the severity of their reactions.
A sisyphean task if ever there was one.
But just the thought of wanting to hold themself back from sneezing seemed to inspire a spark of defiance within their nose.
The tickle surged within their nares and what little control Ariel did have over the situation was almost swept away with it. Their reaction to the newfound stabbing sensation in their nose was not subtle. Isadore paused his meal to look at them quizzically before the direness of the situation made itself apparent with the fluttering of the curtains.
Ariel’s eyes squeezed shut, overcome by the sudden, desperate need to sneeze. Isadore’s concerned face was the last thing they saw as they succumbed to the urge.
“T-take–! aaAAAAHHhh!! Ta-aeHhHHH!!! Take co-hhhHHhh!? Take cover-rhhHhHHHHH!! HHAAAHHHHH!!! AAAHHHHHHHH—!!! AAAHHHHHHH——??!”
Ariel felt the familiar pressure of a finger pressed beneath their nose. The tickle burned as the pressure beneath their nostrils increased, a dam against the vicious onslaught they were about to unleash.
“ HHHAAAaaHh—? hHEEeeEHhh! Hhh?! hh—aaahhhh…” their ragged breathing evened to a far less urgent baseline, leaving Ariel back at square one with the endless, crawling itch. They peeled their eyes open to find Isadore’s face a hair’s breadth from their own, the young knight apparently having leapt across the table to stop Ariel from blowing their home and him into next week. Their nose twitched menacingly.
“R-rhhh! Really Isadore, you must stop doing this.” Ariel chided, “I implore you to care a bit more about your safety.”
“And I implore you to not worry so much about it.” Isadore huffed, taking and setting aside their chicory before tucking a newer handkerchief into Ariel’s free hands.
“Besides, it’s pouring buckets outside right now. It’d be a shame to let you blow the walls out and then catch your death right after.”
They both sat like that for a while, waiting for the swirling need within Ariel to lessen. After what felt like ages, the demanding tickle abated and Isadore removed his staying hand, leaving Ariel feeling muzzy and unsatisfied. They sniffled gently, trying not to respark the itch Isadore had so dutifully subdued.
It lurked just beneath the surface, waiting to be reignited.
Eventually the situation settled into a sort of normalcy once more. A comfortable quiet settled over the residents of the cottage once more, occasionally punctuated by Ariel’s sniffling. It was a sound that Isadore adored, but he could see plain as day that Ariel’s symptoms were making them miserable.
After a while Isadore broke the silence.
“Ariel?"
“Yes, Isadore?”
“Have you ever taken anything to help manage your rose cold?” he broached the question gently.
“Hm? No, of course not. Unfortunately, rose fever isn’t an affliction that can be cured through spell work or potions. I've tried.” Ariel replied.
“Well yes, I get that… but back where I’m from rose colds are quite common around springtime, owing to the overabundance of blossoming flowers—,”
A sudden sharp hitch practically dragged Isadore out of his seat. Ariel’s hands flew up to cover their nose, the itch surging with vengeance at the mere mention of flowers.
“Right, right, sorry! To the point then: apothecaries would prescribe herbal remedies to soothe the symptoms and provide temporary relief.” Isadore revealed. “I do still remember one of the more popular recipes used, do you think I could try to brew it for you?”
Ariel, though busily tending to their nose, shot Isadore a look of gratitude.
“You are a darling, aren’t you? If you want to, I'd appreciate it.”
Isadore returned a smile. Now reasonably certain his living companion’s nose had been far too aggrieved in the recent past to not be made miserable by his gift, he hid in the storeroom under the guise of collecting ingredients. There he had a silent meltdown.
“Why did I think this was a good idea? Flowers, again?! After poor Ariel has been suffering because of them? That’s probably the last thing they'd want to see! What was I thinking!?” Isadore quietly scolded himself as he collected the various herbs used to concoct the allergy remedy.
Isadore had picked up the final ingredient when a bone-rattlingly loud trio of sneezes erupted from outside, almost dropping his items as he suppressed the urge to jump in surprise. As his heart rate came down he could have sworn the mountain itself shook with that final one.
Then of course there was the matter of Ariel’s sneezing. They had been right to avoid going into town, but Isadore couldn't help but consider that they had essentially been condemning themself to being stuck on the mountain all by their lonesome for at least 2 months every year.
Perhaps that was what they wanted; the peace of mind of knowing the only thing they could harm was their own home.
‘It’s probably a burden on them for me to be here,’ Isadore thought. He banished the thought a moment later as he walked to the kitchen. After all, hadn’t Ariel said earlier that they valued his company?
He set the ingredients on the counter and began to process them.
Isadore had been a bit rusty, and so put his entire focus into recalling the recipe to memory, not noticing when exactly Ariel had sidled up beside him until he heard a damp sniffle. Isadore did his level best to focus on what he was doing, but could feel the tips of his ears warm with the knowledge of just how close Ariel had gotten.
They placed a hand on Isadore’s shoulder, sniffling softly and providing gentle guidance on how to handle certain ingredients, as the young man continued to cut, grind and pound the ingredients.
After everything had been processed, Isadore threw them in a pot and set them to steep together under the coals.
Ariel steadily became more and more sniffly as time passed, which began to concern Isadore. They themself had confessed that there wasn’t an allergen actively present to set them off. At this point, there couldn’t be. The way they scrubbed at their nose through the handkerchief told him Ariel was fast approaching their limit and they’d be succumbing to a fit of biblical proportions if something wasn’t done soon.
Maybe something else was setting them off?
“Isa? Out of curiosity, how much longer must the remedy steep before it can be used?” Ariel asked.
“Another 15 minutes. Why?”
“Oh. Oh no, I-iiiIIHHHh! I don't t–thhhHhHHH–think I’ll be a-aaeEehhHh-ble! AAAAEEehHH-able to hold back for that long.” They gasped.
It was beginning.
Ariel switched gears and began fanning their face. Neither Ariel nor Isadore would even chance trying to physically subdue the itch this time, lest it make them explode right then and there.
Isadore stood rooted in place between the counter and the mage. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to, something as small as a touch to shift Ariel out of the way could trigger the sneeze they’d been trying so hard to suppress. Forget flying a few miles away, they’d blow him right off the mountain if something didn’t halt their build-up. He thought back to the mystery potion Ariel had given him, was he still under its effects? Even if he was, would it be strong enough to keep him standing against the ferocious winds his dear mage would unleash?
Stuck with nowhere to run, Isadore from watched mere inches away as Ariel’s chest heaved with all its might, eliciting a frisson of arousal within him. Ariel’s nose trembled with the intensity of the tickle, they looked like they would scour every trace of the mountain top out of existence once they finally unleashed the apocalyptic urge that had been plaguing them the past few days.
As Isadore mentally prepared himself to face the brunt of what was promising to be Ariel’s biggest sneeze yet, he made his peace with his anxieties.
“By the gods, I love you.”
It was like a switch flipped.
The curtains no longer fought to stay on their rods, the windows no longer banged and rattled in the breeze. Even the wind and rain outside seemed to have ceased for just that moment.
In the sudden quiet, Isadore realized his internal thoughts had been expressed. Out loud.
“WhHhHHHH-what?” came Ariel’s breathless response.
Isadore's face flushed so brightly it matched the colour of his hair. He looked up to meet their golden eyes and before he could take the chance to repeat himself, Ariel pulled him in close before they snapped to the side and drowned out his words.
Watching brick and stone sail through the air like paper on the wind was always an impressive sight. The mountain shook underfoot with the force of the explosion. The howling of the wind could not compare to the ferocity of the gale that Ariel unleashed. But they weren't done, nowhere close. Isadore knew that beyond his shut eyes were a pair of red tinged nares that craved the destruction of everything in their path. The mage’s ragged hitches worked their chest like a bellows.
Feeling the rhythmic heaving of Ariel’s chest reminded Isadore of the push and pull of waves in the ocean, an unstoppable force of nature that human hands were ultimately powerless to influence.
Miles away trees bowed and bent under the sustained blast of wind, lakes and pools formed sloshed and spilled out of their basins, rivers were stopped in their tracks temporarily before returning to normal.
But not even this could satisfy the depth of the itch that Ariel had been plagued with. Back at the cottage, Ariel built towards their final sneeze.
Isadore clung to Ariel for dear life as their erratic breathing slowed into something calmer and more deliberate. As they gasped towards the mountain’s certain doom Ariel took a final shuddering breath and erupted.
A relatively unknown fact about the village of Tempestvale is that — despite its relative lack of importance beyond being a safe place to rest for weary travelers— it enjoys the protection of a powerful spirit. Said spirit was kind enough to place a barrier around it so that their continued presence would not bring harm to the denizens of the village.
A good thing too.
Ariel’s final sneeze bodily ripped every tree in that direction from their roots and off the mountain, sending them careening into the barrier below. Their release dammed up streams, changed the flow of rivers and shook the mountain much to Ariel’s eventual horror and Isadore’s delight.
Villagers below would ultimately hear their thunderous releases, feel the ground quaking and shrug, before reconsidering their plans to venture up the mountain for a while.
——— ——— ———
Ariel took a breath and sighed. Their eyes widened in shock as they took another uncongested breath, and another before they realized they were finally free of the itch. With three little words, Isadore had freed them of their annual curse. Elated, they turned to Isadore and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Oh Isadore, I can’t thank you enough for freeing me from that blasted tickle. Are you alright? Nothing hurt you, right?” they asked, joy turning to mild worry.
The knight, stunned and deafened, had gone boneless in Ariel’s grip after they kissed him. The poor man had gotten as close to heaven as he could have ever imagined and it took everything Isadore had in him not to slump to the floor and turn into a puddle of goo.
The goofy smile that crept across Isadore’s face let Ariel know he was ultimately fine.
A quick restoration spell set him to rights, as with the rest of their shared home.
“Blessings, health and good fortune Ariel! You, uh, didn’t happen to hear what I said before…did you?” Isadore asked bashfully.
“Oh, you mean when you said that you love me, Isa~?” Ariel teased. A brief flash of panic shot across Isadore’s face.
“I heard you. Don’t worry, and I must admit– I’m quite fond of you as well.” They smiled.
Ariel pulled Isadore towards the couch and pushed him gently into the seat before settling beside him.
“I confess, I don’t believe myself to be worthy of a sweet little knight who cares for me so tenderly. But if you see fit, I’ll be your partner for as long as you’ll have me.”
idk scream sneezes don't get enough love in my opinion,,,, i need to cuddle a scream sneezer,, gently rub their back while they completely let loose and then finish out with the softest, shyest, little "'scuse me."
whaaaat? whaaaatt?? sorry my ears are still ringing and also you're so hot
Hey guys! I'm happy to say I am now offering more varied art commissions than the previous simple Headshot pieces, though I will also continue to offer those 🥰
Art for offer + Pricing
✨ Headshot £20 (+£20 per additional person) (+colour £15)
✨ Waist up £45 (+£45 per additional person) (+colour £20)
✨ Whole body £75 (+£75 per additional person) (+colour £35)
I've attached below several examples of the Headshot commissions, as well as some personal art that depicts an example of a Waist up commission
(Please note - I have not had much time to drum up specific example pieces for the Whole body option and am reluctant to share non-fetish examples of my art etc. I understand if based on this you would like to give my commissions a miss, but I'm hoping to build up a portfolio with further examples in the future as I work 😊🎨)
(^see the first panel as an example of 'Waist up')
Please see an example of the following personal art for an uncoloured vs coloured drawing:
✨All my previously uploaded art can be viewed under this tag✨
General Information
Please allow a period of up to 14 days from payment for the completed piece, provided via email
✨ OCs and fanart all good!
✨ NSFW absolutely fine - nudity, sexual acts etc
✨ Will draw all genders!
✨ Won’t draw real people BUT live action characters are fine!
✨ Happy to draw furries!
✨ Pre-sneeze, sneeze, post-sneeze expressions all fine
It should go without saying, but absolutely no minors - as commissioners or to be drawn. You MUST be 18+ to commission me!
Payments to be taken via Paypal invoices
If you have a very specific style of commission you would like - such as a certain comic layout, or a background you would like me to include - and you have visual references, I am open to discussing art outside of standard example layouts and the prices of such!
💕Please DM me for more details if you are interested 💕
This is not reeeaaaaallyyyyyyyyyy snz related but it is like fetish analysis…? Under the cut for minor discussion of trauma but not really as I explain.
today in poetry workshop I came to a mortifying but thrilling realization that like the confessional urge I’ve felt around the fetish (like if you’re a poet don’t you have to say everything honest about yourself?) is actually hiding the real urge to express the… I don’t want to say trauma bc trauma implies abuse for a lot of people and I do mean trauma but trauma arising from just experience outside the capacity of my (then-child-)body to process, not anybody’s intent to harm.
Anyway, I realized that like… I would have a sneeze fetish one way or the other anyway, but the reason I glommed on so hard to the giant!sneeze thing and just like big/loud/disruptive snz and also some of the embarrassing ancillary non-snz things I am into comes from like… as a very small child my parents were always taking me to work and I think I was just like… too loud and disruptive sometimes in like an Adult Work Environment and I think I got shut down pretty hard over that and it kinda fucked me up. Not like bad but it’s just like… a bit of a psychic knot or pain point or something if that makes sense. SO the sneeze fetish I would probably (probably?) have had anyway due to brain wire crossings glommed on to the fetish as a way of expressing that like squelched urge to be like… physically bodily disruptive? Or to be disruptive in the act of letting my body do what it wanted/needed/demanded to do?
And like what I am so grateful for is that like… in a way, it’s like this part of myself that I rejected or split off or repressed as a very small person maintained itself through this weird back door sexual thing, which in a way, by like following the thread backwards, allows me to find and engage and encounter and even soothe that alienated part of the self, three decades later.
And also so lovely to see that like… it isn’t something about a sexual fetish that wants expression outside of a sexual context necessarily (and ours is a fetish that I think is particularly like uncomfortable from a casual social perspective, not so much for us but for others; like outside of an intimate context I would NOT want to know I was turning on a specific person who I might feel deeply unsexual vibes towards with a random involuntary bodily function, you know?). It’s the psychic energy and wounds and knots that attach themselves to our kinks and fetishes and freakynesses, the emotional energies that sit underneath them, that want to be seen and acknowledge and held, possibly by others but principally by ourselves.
snzblr, or whoever else sees this, i really need your help. i haven't been able to eat much in weeks and its coming up on my cats needing their prescription food. my usual side hustle to get a bit of money has completely fallen through at the moment, and I'm very scared, and hungry, and above all i want to make sure my babies are able to get the specific food they need from chewy through the vet without any interruption. i am asking for $204.01. that's my goal and will cover everything i need so i can be comfortable for a little bit and get the cats their stuff. unfortunately it is not cheap.
please, if you cannot donate, boost this post and share with your friends, help me crowdfund, anything. thank you so much for reading and thank you for your support in the past and for those of you who have been following me all this time.
here's how you can help:
paypal- @someusernamelol /
Go to paypal.me/someusernamelol and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.
venmo- @cultritual /
Venmo is a digital wallet that lets you make and share payments with friends. You can easily split the bill, cab fare, or much more. Downloa
So everyone’s into Super/man now and y’all want to see him sneeze? Huh. So does this mean I am going to get some super-sized super-sneezes from Super/man? Cuz it just makes sense…
Okay, so here’s something unabashedly nakedly stupidly horny. Explicitly sexual, look away if that’s not your thing, etc.
Imagine a big huge bear of a guy. Like 6’4”, huge all over. He usually top in bed bc well look at him. He enjoys it, that’s what people want from him most of the time, fine. He likes bottoming too, but he rarely does it.
People assume that’s just you know the perils of a big strong vers daddy, never gets to bottom alas alas many such cases etc.
BUT!
What people don’t know, what he never tells people is… he suffers from terrible honeymoon rhinitis.
…but only when he bottoms.
That is, normally, he tops, some point early in the process, he gets a little sniffly maybe sneezes once or twice, manageable, he lets it out (his sneezes are MASSIVE) if he knows his partner(s) well and they know him, it’s a laugh about his Dad Sneezes(™); he painfully stifles if it’s someone new that he might put off with his huge roars. Either funny or just mildly uncomfortable, all good.
When he bottoms: he cannot contain himself. It’s not the whole time, but as he gets closer and closer to coming, he just… can’t hold anything back. Everything tingles. Somehow the tingles get up his nose. And he ROARS. He can’t help it. It’s something about that state of vulnerability and abandon, he can’t even try t stifle or hold back it’s just… a sneeze-apocalypse. Four, five, six enormous sneezes in a row, the better it feels, the louder and harder he blows. It’s wild. Neighbors have been alarmed. Once someone thought there was an explosion. All very embarrassing.
So, for obvious reasons, he mostly sticks to topping and the unremarkable rhinitis associated. But. Eventually he confesses to his friend (who has the kink?) and it’s been forever since he’s bottomed and well he just misses it and they concoct a plan to go to some remote cabin and just let this guy get fucked all he could ever want for a long weekend while he sneezes up a (literal?) storm…
I was such a slut for Mer/thur back in the day and I can’t stop thinking about a scenario in which the now-K/ing Ar/thur has just humongous sneezes that range from “just” loud enough to be heard all over the castle all the way up to like “capable of blowing out a castle wall, and they’re ALL loud and embarrassing but if he tries to hold back he just might ignite the sort of itch that won’t relent until he’s sneezed down a chunk of the castle wall and just. I dunno, something about super-sneezing royalty really gets to me. I also wish we’d gotten more Go/T fics perhaps with some degree of exaggerated sneezing. Maybe certain bloodlines, or maybe something where targar/yens sneeze particularly big and can sneeze fire if the sneeze gets to a certain intensity, etc. I just have big sneezes on the brain to the max lately. I also still want to actually write my Ch/eck Pl/ease (mostly Nu/rseydex) and T/ed La/sso (mostly R/oy Ke/nt) fics. So many ideas in my head, so little time to actually write them. Also I want to write my Cin/derella fic for the lady sneeze lovers, I haven’t written anything in too long but I REALLY haven’t written enough for the not-male-sneeze fans in forever.
Had the rare opportunity to really let loose some unrestrained sneezes again. Tried to announce them this time, but it's difficult when the tickle is as intense as it was 🥴
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