Furry Sideblog for Quosterking! furry fics, art, worldbuilding, and more catered towards the sneeze-kink/fetish community. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR A VANILLA BLOG.
This is the furry side blog of @quosterking! You'll see furry content over here, while all humanoid content will be on my main.
Looking for Spicy Stuff? Check out my [FA!] This blog is mostly SFW, but any NSFW will be posted instead to my FA.
BEFORE INTERACTING, please check out my Before You Follow (BYF). If I have reason to believe you either havent read it or are ignoring it, you will swiftly be blocked!
This blog is primarily an ask blog: I will almost exclusively post in response to inbox submissions and anonymous questions. Feel free to ask about any of my OCs! Answers are not guaranteed and will depend on time and capacity.
Feral/Quadreped Characters: Quadrepedal characters, more commonly known as ‘feral characters,’ will be very rare on this blog. They will usually be dragons or other mythological creatures that don’t exist in the real world. Any featured quadruped characters are sapient, with full moral capacity to communicate and engage in the content they are featured in. If you support non-sapient creatures engaging in fetish content, block me.
What's on this blog?
Sneeze (Snz) Content (Most Common)
Nose ("Noseplay") Content (Most Common)
G/T (Macro/Micro) Content (Most Common)
Tickling (rare)
Other related kink/fetish content (VERY rare). Please only send asks about the content above!
=QOUSTEROO'S OC MASTERPOST=
My OC Post Archive {Temporary, will be replaced with the above link soon!}
Some requests for some folks on discord of their OCs! All of the larger characters belong to them, little Kilo is my menace LOL.
DO NOT REBLOG TO NON SNZ BLOGS!!
I've been thinking about 'a tiny with a fluffy tail is literally an inducing tool' and new I had to make one. Kilo Gramme!
I didn't have any insect characters so I wanted to try my hand at it. Yes, I am absolutely crossing the streams with my tickle and sneeze interests. They shed like CRAAAZY.
@snifflyhermit's character Giovanni's taken up such a significant portion of my brain, ESPECIALLY considering the size difference and personalities of these two!!
Content Warning: Substance use, intoxication, and the three do get decently smutty at the end. (aka #nsfquo tag!)
Word Count: 5,100
Note: Thank you @hitching-hyacinth for letting me write something inspired by your fantasy snuff sneeze prompt! Essentially, these three get their hands on magical powder that makes them higher the more they sneeze. This fic plays around a lot with the dynamic of these three fools, and it’s given me such a good excuse to practice sneeze descriptions!! Oh, and of course, they start getting pretty touchy as the afternoon goes on. Maybe I’ll make a part 2 to this, but only because I adore Gulliver’s sneezes and he needs more.
Forthwind muttered to himself as he sliced red onions. This was the unseen side of a culinary graduate: prepping in your own apartment for a function at the end of the week. He had to plan two days ahead just for the sake of a good meal. Well, a good meal that his reputation depended on, at least. He was humble and hospitable, but his desperate strides for the latter often stressed him out.
The aasimar was pulled from his task at a steady rumble emanating from the kitchen island. Someone was calling him at this hour? Sighing, Forthwind paused from his julienne slices. He was sniffling wetly and rubbing at one of his teary eyes with a wrist. Damn onions, he should’ve run them under water to avoid all the waterworks. After placing his knife down, Forthwind balanced his phone between his shoulder and pointed ear.
A yawn greeted him first. Then, “Forthwind…?”
“Hey! Ryfon?” Forthwind moved a grease-sodden pan into his sink to scrub it clean. He paused, smiling at a giggle from the phone. “…Hello Ryfon! I’m doing…doing quite fine. Just finished my preparations for tomorrow’s party.”
Ryfon, the eladrin on the other end of the line, was sprawled out on his couch upside down. He was holding an expensive looking tin between his fingers, reading the labeling on the back. “Oh, perfect timing then, huh?”
“It…it depends, Ryfon,” he opened his fridge, worriedly glancing at his unfinished tasks. “What’s up?”
“Well, remember when you said to get a hold of you if I ever found a fix you might like??”
The pan was neatly hung on a brick wall amongst Forthwind’s prized knife display. “Oh..? I’m listening.”
“Yeah, I think I found it. Well—Gully found it, actually. It’s really good. Super chill, super low maintenance, according to him, just like you we’re talking about.”
Forthwind was willingly subjected to a ten-minute ramble as he cleaned up the rest of his kitchen. According to Ryfon, Gulliver had been adamant on finding a substance most suitable for Forthwind. Being an aasimar, he had quite the sturdy tolerance against non-magical things; alcohol was mostly reserved as a compliment to a fancy dinner, and cannabis would get expensive when you needed a handful of edibles to feel something. Magical substances were the logical next step, but plenty of magical substances were more trouble than they were worth if taken incorrectly. That, and getting your hands on any sort of dispell magic scrolls was also a punch to the wallet.
“No wild magic with this one, yeah?” Forthwind was obliged to ask with the topic on his mind, “last time, I was a sheep in your bathtub for three hours.”
“Not at all. It literally feels like a super strong indica. All the arcane stuff is in the…like, the activation and preservation, or whatever. Gully, is that right?? …It, yeah- okay, yes!! Mainly the activation of the snuff.”
“Oh, it's snuff?” Interesting.
“Snff—! Yeah, you could call it a snuff.”
“…so, is this an invitation?”
“It’s a summoning!!” The pitchy, nasally voice was Gulliver, listening in on speaker. “If you wanna give it a go, get over here!”
“Sure sure, give me thirty-five.” It would be worth putting prep work on hold, he had a feeling.
———
Forthwind was never off with his timing. Punctuality was a huge part of being a chef, after all. Thirty-five minutes was enough time to change into comfortable clothes, collect a small array of essentials, and catch the bus to the next district. The setting sun was perfect company on his quiet ride.
“…snff..! Snf!” On his mostly quiet ride. He was one of four passengers, two of which had been eyeing him for a couple of minutes. He was well-acclimated to their smitten expressions; it wasn’t every day an angel sat across from you on metropolitan transit. The moment he looked down to his phone, he felt a spark of a tickle fester in his nose as the pair launched into hushed conversation. He knew he was the subject of their giddy whispers, not out of an unchecked ego, but how strongly his nose was acting up. Compliments were his most potent allergy, and even the implication of them made his breath tremble. The golden hour at least did something to hide the redness.
Forthwind’s nose creased at the bridge. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and a hand hovered expectantly in front of his face with parting lips. Good grief, whatever they were saying, it was making his nose act up so sharply— “h-hHh! hHEEishhiiw!!”
His nose buzzed like television static. A dull tickle that was growing dormant quickly. He sniffled with dissatisfaction and shook his head, but telling by how quickly he geared up for a second sneeze, that small action hit his onlookers in the chest.
“Gesundheit,” at least one was courageous enough to offer.
By the time Forthwind was walking up the street to the apartments west of campus, he had been blowing his nose into small travel tissues. Sneezing from compliments always made his nose so drippy! The used tissues kept a faintly-glowing residue, and his bright pink nostrils hinted at the culprit.
“Snf! Eugh, snrf!! Huhh…321, 323, 325…there we go.”
No one answered the first two sets of knocking dishes out to the bulky red door labeled 327. Right as Forthwind began to question if he had the wrong apartment, the locks clicked on the other side and the door swung inward. Behind it, a goblin as tall as his hip leaned out, dreadlocks spilling over his shoulder. He had an exaggerated, animated quality about him, as if pulled out of an old technicolor film and slapped into the real world. His eyes blinked individually behind his massive, rubbery pink nose.
“Good evening, Gulliver! How have you been?
“Heyyyy, not too bad! Get in here! Take your shoes off.”
“Thank you…honestly, I think I needed to take a load off. The preparations for the function have been killing me.”
“Yo, Forthwind!” Ryfon rolled over so that he could lean over the couch and face them. A few oak leaves were fluttering down from his autumnal hair, leaving only a few maples behind. “What Gully said, take it easy! I just ordered us some pizza on Airscamper, should be here in about…2 minutes?”
“Oh nice..!” Honestly, pizza sounded so appealing after studying with complex flavor profiles all afternoon. Forthwind yearned for something simple for once! “Well, while that’s on the way, about this snuff: could I get a look at it?”
The fancy aluminum tin was tossed his way, and he flipped it to the front. ‘Hitchington’s Snuff,’ apparently from the Emporium of Wonder collection. What kind of a name was Hitchington??
“Gulliver found it at an adult circus he went to the other day, apparently it’s wacky stuff…”
“Wacky fun, I feel I should add. It’s super chill and lowkey!”
“Mmm,” The aasimar squinted at his friends, and his eyes fell onto a paragraph on the bottom of the tin. “Let’s see here: ‘Tired of old fashioned sessions? Hitchington’s Snuff is a Tabacco-Free recreational snuff infused with enchantments.’ How curious.”
“Oh, wait, is that us?” Ryfon suddenly stood, pointing outside. When the other two followed his gaze, they could make out a winged creature approaching the balcony from afar. Ryfon rushed to the screen door and yanked it open, grabbing a purple air-traffic baton hanging beside it on the wall. He clicked it on, waved it crazily, and watched as they redirected their path.
A winged tiefling cautiously landed on the porch, a pizza bag slung securely over his shoulder. Pizza was exchanged for a water bottle and high-sugar snack, which, along with a generous tip, was a common courtesy amongst Airscamper delivery workers.
Ryfon brought the pizza boxes over Gulliver’s head. Forthwind couldn’t help a tiny chuckle at the sight of Gulliver’s huge nose. The way it teetered on his face as he snuffled, following the direction the boxes moved. The way it caused him to lean forward—Forthwind was concerned for a moment that his friend would float off the ground towards Ryfon. “Snff! Snf! A large bacon and pepperoni, with garlic glaze and stuffed crust…snfff! And a small pineapple and anchovy pizza too…”
Ryfon wasted no time cracking open a box. “You say that like you didn’t make the order with me ten minutes ago, Gully!”
“Shhh shhh, let me have my moment dude!”
“Hold on, hold on,” Forthwind scowled, putting his hands out, “I’m sorry, pineapple and anchovy? Nothing else??”
“Oh, here we go again, it’s an underrated combo!! Little bit sweet, little bit salty. It’s like chocolate-covered pretzels, but tropical!”
“Are you pregnant?”
“I’m innovating the pizza-topping industry.”
Tch, this living-cartoon of a man. Forthwind rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile. Whatever floats his boat!
While the pizza was still piping hot (having flown out of the oven not ten minutes ago), Forthwind, Ryfon, and Gulliver gathered round the coffee table in varying seating. Ryfon preferred the beanbag, simply because he could sweep the leftover leaves and petals easier over the hardwood floor. Gulliver took to the tiny round ottoman by the table. Forthwind, the couch.
“Let’s see what this actually looks like, woah,” Gulliver and Forthwind leaned in as Ryfon held the fancy snuff container. The tin opened to a fine, glittery gold powder. It was as if some gold leaf had been compacted to the texture of cinnamon.
“Oh, hold on, one more thing,” Gulliver suddenly stood, and dove into a paper bag. “There’s also this! It’s an antimagic sobering flush.”
What he revealed was a small, narrow bottle, the size of his thumb. A nasal spray applicator was connected to the top, and it was all painted in gold. Forthwind squinted at the fancy cursive words.
“Hitchington’s Diss-Choo, Dispelling Nasal Spray—Gulliver, where do you find this stuff, I feel like I’m about to snort an ACME product.” Oh, why bother? At least there was an easy out if things got too chaotic, and he couldn’t complain with that at all. That’s why magical recreation was the best kind out there!
“Hey, I don’t judge,” Ryfon shrugged, already navigating a pinch of it in an oak leaf he plucked from his hair. “Bottoms up, right?”
“Sure, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You could be a sheep again,”
“Don’t manifest that, Ryfon.”
Forthwind brought some of the powder to his gentle nostrils. He was the first to try it, as he feared he’d back out if he waited any longer. The powder prickled in a way that nearly blinded Forthwind. He scrunched his nose, recoiling his head away from his hand as if it would get him away from the severe tickle in his nose. It didn’t burn, but it had this tingling effect that felt like heavy static. Every time he bumped at his nose as he sniffled and snorted, he had to fight waves upon waves of intense fuzziness under his twitching nostrils.
And here Gulliver was, practically snorting a line of it off the table! There was something objectively funny about it all, exaggeration that could only be pulled off by this clown. “Oh fuck, I got it in my eye!” He hissed.
“You got it in your everything, Gully, how much was that??”
“I dunno, but they don’t call me the Greenout Goat for nothing. Okay, first to sneeze has to get tickled.”
Both Ryfon and Forthwind instinctively went to protect themselves at the mention. Forthwind never considered himself a ticklish person until he met Gulliver years back. That, and the itch in his nose was beginning to stir up into something more productive.
“Oh gods, h-hHHh!”
“Oh already??” Ryfon laughed, pointing his way.
“My nose’s r…hHhh! Real f-fussy on a normal d—! Normal…dhHh-! hEHhh!”
Both Gulliver and Ryfon watched on as Forthwind hitched, anticipation heavy in their gaze. Why was this so embarrassing?? The feathers on his cheeks and neck were quick to puff out at all the sudden attention.
“HhHuhh…uhm- snf!! I lost it…” he sighed, relieved.
There was a pregnant beat of silence between the three. Then, suddenly—
“HhHGHh- heeEH! hHAH!!” Eyes shifted to the smallest in the room, whose big pink nose was flaring. His cartoonish physics had extra squish and stretch to them, evident in the way one of his nostrils flared almost disproportionately. Even as he grasped his reddening nose in both hands, he couldn’t stop what he’d started: “hyihHH!! hHAAB’tsshhw!!”
“Bless you,” Forthwind spoke up instinctively.
Ryfon and Forthwind watched Gulliver dazedly recover, sharing a second of silence. Ryfon then gestured expectantly to Forthwind. “Don’t just leave him there!!”
Right! He had been so focused on abating his own sneeze, he had already lost sight of the game. He hurriedly grabbed at a large, loose feather from one of his wings, poking it playfully at his side. He squirmed away quickly with a ticklish yelp, only to tumble into Ryfon’s waiting arms. His fits of laughter and wails made Forthwind grin.
“Now, Gulliver, how long does this stuff take to settle in? It makes my nose itch so badly…” Ryfon wrinkled his freckled nose with a pout.
“It’s already settled in, y…you just gotta …whew- activate it.” Gulliver panted, rubbing the tender spot on his stomach that Ryfon’s fingers had worked into him.
“What, with the spray?”
“No no, all you have to do is s-”
“h-hhHhh…sorry,” Forthwind had interrupted them with another false start, rubbing shyly at his pinkening nose.
“That’s exactly it, you just gotta sneeze a few times.” Again with the fey-like oddity that was this snuff! Who was this Hitchington guy?
“Oh, you weren’t kidding, huh?? That’s great news,” Ryfon spoke thinly, pulling a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Gulliver still sat on his lap, looking up as the eladrin elf rolled one end into a point. Or at least, he attempted to, but could hardly get halfway through the task before his nostrils twitched in warning. “It’s…s’great news be…because I’m gUH- huh—! hnk’TSCHHHhh’yiw!” He snapped his head to the side, sneezing towards the hardwood floor with a slight spray.
“Bless you!” Spoken just as enthusiastically from Forthwind again.
Ryfon lifted a finger, shaking his head. “Hh…heh! hehhHUHTtsshh’yiw!! Huhh snfff! I haven’t even tried making mysEHhsschhh’yiw!! Woah…”
“Bless you, bless you again,”
“You might wanna save your breath, Forthwind, we’re all in for plenty of sneezes.”
“Oh! Gods forbid I’m polite about it! I don’t mind…”
“Oh bless you,” Gulliver rested his cheek against his steepled hands, batting his uncharacteristically-long lashes. Forthwind choked out a laugh at the animated halo hovering above Gulliver’s stupid face. Gods, this freak of a man was too funny sober! “Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. Speaking of, how are you feeling, Ryfon?”
“I can feel something, it’s like a pleasant buzz.”
“Need some help with your…?” He wordlessly balled his fist under his nose, ghosting the motion of tickling.
“Oh, yes please,” Ryfon offered the pointed tissue towards Gulliver’s paws, “you know how to do it in a way that makes me sneeze my head off…what did you call it??”
Gulliver, straddling Ryfon’s legs with his planted feet on the beanbag, put a hand on Ryfon’s forehead to tilt it back. The question broke his focus momentarily, and he tilted his head. “Call what? Inducing?”
“Inducing, I didn’t know we were using medical terms.”
“That’s hardly medical bro, like… ‘making you sneeze’ is too much of a mouthful.”
Gulliver was quick to start, dodging potential questions like his life depended on it. He sifted around with the tissue, poking for a sweet spot, before wiggling it in place when he found one.
“I just don’t g…get why you need to sh…shHehh…heh- oh-!” He coughed with surprise, thick eyelashes fluttering wetly. “Oh goHhds deHHSCHhh’yiw!! Hehh—heHHDTSSshhh’yiw!!”
“Bless y— bless you…” Forthwind chuckled. The tissue was pulled out of Ryfon’s nose only after the sneezes were over. Even then, he only did so to quickly dive into the other one. Tears immediately came crashing down his freckled face.
“Tickles a bit?” Gulliver sneered. Forthwind could only imagine what Ryfon was feeling right now, it had him overly-curious. Just watching the two made his nose scrunch sympathetically.
“Uhh…hHhUuh…!” Ryfon’s nostrils flared, and small buttercups unfurled along his locks. That was a rarer flower Forthwind had only seen whenever Ryfon got high, so it must have been working. At last, Ryfon waved Gulliver away from him, reaching for his pestered nose. His breath trembled needily. He leaned over in the bean bag, rubbing his nose in a circular motion using his fist. That seemed to be enough to coax the sneeze out. “HhRRSSHH’yiiw!! Hhuh—USSSHhh’yiiwh!!”
“Bless you, bless you.”
“Thank you Forthw—hhHI’m n-nHh!! Not donNUSHHhhuuh!!” Ryfon pitched forward, openly spraying his own lap and Gulliver’s. When he lifted his head, it was as if he overcorrected, sending his shoulders back into the beanbag with a soft thud.
“Ahah!! How high are you right now?” Gulliver spoke brightly, taking a tissue to clean up his face.
“Like…” was all Ryfon could manage without a loose string of giggles escaping him, “sNFf! It’s…it’s like, it…ahah! Hold on—snFFf!! It’s a great start.”
“Good! Forthwind, you haven’t sneezed once since we’ve started.”
“I’m about to,” he replied hopelessly, subconsciously mimicking the rubbing Ryfon did in hopes it’d spur on the same. There was a long pause, and he felt his cheeks sting. “I…hhHh! I don’t know why it’s so much harder to sneeze when everyone’s looking at me!”
“I was just trying to see if you could sneeze on command or something!” Gulliver laughed.
“No I…I uh…hHh! I’ve had this tickle in my nose since we’ve started, I’m trying to see if I can get it out…”
Gulliver watched Forthwind sniffle delicately and begin wiggling his nose about, hands-free. Coaxing a sneeze was stubborn work on its own, but who knew that being watched made it so much harder?
“You know, Forthwind, you’re kind of surrounded with enough to make you sneeze,” Gulliver gestured to the vestigial wings that were trying to hide his face in embarrassment.
“I know, I’ve never purposely made myself sneeze with them though, it just sorta happens by accident-!”
“Here,” Gulliver grabbed the large feather he was tickled with not five minutes ago. As Ryfon finally broke into the pizza, Forthwind sat upright on the couch as if preparing for a medical exam. Gulliver climbed up onto his lap, and sat himself down with a comedic plop. “Relax, Ryfon can take it, but I’m not gonna go crazy on you like that.”
“Fuck do you mean ‘I can take it’? You’re making me sneeze, not blowing my back out,” a very affronted Ryfon retorted
“With the way you were whining and gasping a few minutes ago, it was hard to tell!” Forthwind snickered his way. When the large feather was brought up to his nose, the side brushed slowly under his nostrils and made him shiver. He wiggled his nose carefully and resisted a momentary urge to sputter. He had naturally soft feathers, but it felt so different running under his nostrils. Every time he breathed in, he felt a few wispy barbs near the quill sneak into both nostrils. They flared quickly in response, but as quick as the irritant was there, it left.
“Y’know, I think this feather’s too big to do much. Do you mind if I…?”
Forthwind’s buzzing nose would beg to differ. “If you…oh! Sure.”
Gulliver pulled away, running a claw delicately along his wings. While he was up there, he took care of a few fresh pin feathers. By the time he returned to his field of view, a much smaller feather was pinched in his claws. A fluffy downy one, no wider than his pinkie. Forthwind snuffled at the sight of it—he’d lost count of how many times he had accidentally sniffed up one of these before, and the annoying fits that followed it.
The feather entered one of his twitching nostrils. Forthwind had to fight every fibre in his being begging to sniff at the intrusive tickle. He could feel the tiny barbs, clinging to the inner walls as it was twisted in Gulliver’s fingertips.
“Oh th-hHh..!” Forthwind stammered over the rest of his sentence, breath trembling. When he gasped, he was overcome with a chilly sensation that rushed across his face and chest, lingering in his tear ducts. His nose wiggled in the brief pause. His nostrils quivered with need, and quivered more when the feather was pulled away.
“HhHheeh- hhHEESSsshhw!!” Then, warmth. A rush of warmth that started at the base of his chest and ended at the tip of his nose. When he sniffled clumsily afterwards, the warmth spread from head to toe. His senses were heightened, but the high was only momentarily—no longer than ten seconds. “Huhh..snrf!! That worked, but only a little…”
“Bless! Takes more than one to really get a buzz out of it!”
“Thank you…snffk! You sure it’s not my tolerance??”
“Nahh, trust,” Ryfon waved his hand vacantly—or at least, attempted to. In reality, he lifted it, and halfheartedly bent his wrist. “It’ll feel kinda l…kinda like, a hot rag is on your face at first, or something.”
“Damn, Ryfon, that kicked in fast for you, buddy!” Forthwind snickered. “Alright, hit me again, Gulliver.”
“Hahah! With pleasure.”
Under Gulliver’s clawed digits, Forthwind’s smile faded with growing focus. The feather returned into his field of vision—the tiny thing was half slicked with glowing mucus. A few congested sniffles confirmed his nose had been running a little. He recoiled his head away from the feather bashfully.
“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to sneeze on you…”
“I don’t care, you didn’t sneeze in my face or anything. Hold still.”
The feather continued its torment, slipping into his other nostril instead.
“H-hhHih-! How are y….yeeSHHhhww-hEEIISSsshhiiih!!”
Two at once made his whole face tingle—he had the sense to muffle them in a politely-bent elbow. The glowing spot on his sleeve made him wince with embarrassment. There was the telltale stuffiness in his lungs, that floaty feeling of intoxication coursing through his veins. His head was starting to spin, and his motions were lagging behind. “How are you so gHHh!! Good at making me snee—heeh..!”
“I’m lowkey not that great, you’re just really sensitive.”
“Ooh! Color me surprised,” Ryfon suddenly flung both arms up, flashing a sarcastic grin, “Forthwind’s sensitive?!”
“RyfoHh!!” The playfully cutting words caught him off guard, and he coughed with a giggle. He felt his cheeks prickling from a sudden dopamine rush. “Leave me alo’de, …m-m’trying to get high,”
“I’m just saying, you look like a butch lesbian and a gay twink had a kid.”
That got a belly-laugh out of Forthwind, but Gulliver seized the opportunity to tickle his nose a bit more intensely. He squeezed his eyes shut with breathy, desperate hitches, before sneezing twice more. “HhHheehshhhiihw!! Huh…hhHh- Hipp’schhhiieew!”
“Bless you twice, oh! Three!!”
“Hiisschhuw!!! Huhh…” he had such quiet sneezes, no matter how intense. It was easy to see how badly his nose tickled, and the desperate sneezes that left him sounded like they were working overtime to rid him of the tickle.
“How are we feeling, buddy?” Gulliver pulled away from his pink nose, marveling at the glowing clear and gold mucus connecting the limp feather to his nostril.
“I’m getting there, snff!! Gods, I’m such a mess…”
“Oh shush, you’re a pretty mess, Forthwind.”
“Watch yourself, Gulliver,” Ryfon’s ear flicked a few times lazily, “allergies, dude!”
“Oh right, sorr-!” Gulliver turned back to Forthwind, watching with slight awe as he tilted his head back. Both his nostrils were already pink from irritation, but the wetness gathered at their rims made them glow a comforting salmon color. Anyone with a curious bone in their body knew the gorgeous way skin and flesh illuminated against a bright light. So to see his wet nose and misty eyes do the same was mesmerizing.
“HHh..! Hiihhss- hhHHhit’s okay, it hh—! Heh- hHeh- heEH- HESSHhhiewh!! Helps…gods, snffFF!! Huhhh… this feels odd…”
“What, you want me to keep going?” It was a lousy attempt at sarcasm, sounding more like a genuine question at best and a poorly-hidden plea at worst. Forthwind had sneezed all over Gulliver’s lap, and was clearly still recovering, sluggishly wiping slick from his upper lip.
“Let’s say, cap it at three.”
“Three compliments or three sneezes?”
“Three compliments. Snff!!”
Gulliver, placing the feather down, genuinely sat back with thought. When he did, his form suddenly went rigid as his tail pressed against the aasimar’s crotch. He lifted his hips again and looked down over his shoulder, curiosity becoming sudden flattery. “Oh, hello there…”
Forthwind’s cheeks stained bright red as he huffed. “Ssuh…sorry, I uhm…you’ve just been on my lap like that the whole time, it’s hard not to get excited! I can’t control it much…”
“Oh I’m not upset, quite the opposite, I just want you to feel good because you deserve it~!”
“FuUhck y—ihh! Hhhihh…Hisschiiew!!” The compliments were already getting to him, he could tell by the static buzz raiding both his nostrils. He was so flushed, and he couldn’t tell if it was the high or the humiliation. He melted into the couch with a vocal whine as Gulliver teasingly smothered their hips together a few times. This stupid goblin was grinding on him and it was working, how embarrassing!
“Aww, don’t be shy! I’m flattered that me making you sneeze of all things is getting you worked up. You don’t mind me doing this, right?”
He demonstrated again, watching Forthwind shake his head with a bashful huff. “This is so stupid…you’re so stupid…”
“I’ll take the compliment! Ryfon, I need you for something. Get his arms over his head.”
“Come here, pretty thiiing,” Ryfon teased as he sat beside him, bringing his wrists upward.
“Hey—hHhRRSshhw!!” Forthwind could hardly get a word out before another sneeze winded him. “Don’t th—!! Don’t think you’re slick, you only get three as well, and that was one.”
“You have to give us a cap and everything,” Ryfon nodded, rolling his eyes. “You mind if I get handsy?”
“I feel like I’m getting spoiled—yeah go right ahead, what the hell…”
“Bet I could make him finish before my third compliment,” Gulliver chittered.
“Finish??” Forthwind echoed, peeking through his vestigialwings only for the goblin rocking on his lap to shrug. He couldn’t lie, if that was Gulliver’s goal, he was closer to achieving it than Forthwind would care to admit. Something about this snuff made all of his senses incredibly fussy and hypersensitive, and that was especially true on the spot Gulliver was so eagerly dry-humping, it didn’t help that Ryfon was busy spinning his white locks around his finger and playing with his nipple.
When Forthwind would shift his hands in an attempt to rub his nose, the eladrin above him was quick to react, abandoning the tease temporarily to correct him. “Apapap! You keep these up here—hEY-!!”
Forthwind had scoffed, reaching up to tickle at Ryfon’s sides. He squirmed, too laggy to suppress a shriek of joy and a giggle. Only a momentary tease, Forthwind was, but the objective Ryfon demanded was understood and obliged.
Gulliver, quick as the wind, unzipped Forthwind’s fly for better access to his underwear. All of his work had already earned him a faintly-glowing wet spot. “I swear to the fey courts, when we’re done, I’ll be able to use your briefs to port a ship in the fog.”
Glowing sweat was beginning to bead his forehead like tiny twinkling stars.
“Real fallen—fallen angel over here,” Ryfon hummed dazedly, running his hands down his chest from above, “ff—feeling good down there?”
Forthwind tried to speak, but the warm dizziness of intoxication was making his words sluggish at best. He merely panted and nodded, leaning into Gulliver’s moving hips. Gods, what a great feeling. As he looked up, Ryfon watched him expectantly, prompting him to speak up. “Y—yeah…ffuck, I’m close…y’better have clothes I can borrow…”
“How could I not? I’ll let you…I’ll let you like, I’ll let you get in my pajamas bro, don’t even sweat it. Not like that, but like,”
“Ryfon read the room, I’m gonna bust from chucklefuck over here!!” Forthwind whimpered and lifted his knee, squirming under Gulliver again with a vocal whine. Ryfon stuck his tongue out teasingly. “So sensitive, noisy too. No wonder you got folks drooling over you all the damn time…”
A flash of betrayal ran across Forthwind’s face, quickly taken over by a few hitches. He tried his hardest to control his breath, which in itself was rendered impossible thanks to Gulliver bouncing on his stiff groin. How dare he, at his weakest moment! “Hh-hHHh! heEIISSHHhhiiw!!”
“Ohh, that was a big one for you,” Gulliver sang at the gentle sound that escaped him. It had no choice but to be completely open, sending glittery gold and glowing droplets across the front of his own shirt. “You’ve got such a delicate sneeze, it’s genuinely the best one I’ve ever heard.”
“H-hHhcahHh’t…!” He warned, but couldn’t articulate before succumbing to a trembling gasp, “hHHIISSHHhhiiwh!!” A visceral sound, at least by Forthwind’s standard. He was so faded that he couldn’t tell where he just sneezed.
The noise following it was certainly not a sneeze, but a sharp cry of pleasure that ran from his core to his extremities. Ryfon’s grip on his wrists returned as he arched his back slightly. Gulliver was lifted up almost a foot from the motion, looking down in delight as the glowing spot he was grinding on grew twice as bright. The blissful afterglow was something he’d remember for weeks.
There was so much he could say about it all. He couldn’t find the words, at least, not fast. “…where was the third compliment…?”
“Fishing for them, are we??” Gulliver laughed, “I’m saving it for a rainy day.”
“…gods, I need a slice of pizza,” Forthwind finally sighed into the air. His finger pushed Gulliver in the chest, nudging him off his lap where he then tumbled onto the couch. “After that, you’re done for, Gully…”
“Yeah, you’ve only sneezed once since we started, you’ve got a lot of catching-up to do.”
“Aheh!! I’m not opposed. I’m starving too though…”
“Fuuuck, the anchovies,” Forthwind groaned in agony, “you better take a breath mint before we get back to it, you freak.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Snickered Gulliver, “bless you, by the way.”
DUDE IM FUCKING FERAL OVER THIS FIC I’ve been waiting for it soso eagerly, I wound up writing my play-by-play reactions bc I just couldn’t help myself 💀💀 I hope it’s ok for me to share—!
Bear with me, there’s a lot—
- Describing Gully with a “pitchy, nasally voice” is PEAK,, highkey makes me wanna feature him in a fic of mine one of these days !!
- “The used tissues kept a faintly-glowing residue,” GLOWING MESS !!! “and his bright pink nostrils hinted at the culprit.” God that phrase is fire, holy shit???
- HAVING A FANTASY FOOD DELIVERY SERVICE NAMED AIRSCAMPER?!??!! THAT’S SO CUTE,, Quo your brain is fucking Huge
- AND GIVING THE DELIVERY PERSON A WATER BOTTLE & SNACK SO THAT THEY’RE HYDRATED & DON’T HAVE A BLOOD-SUGAR CRASH,,, (Oh how I wish that could be the norm irl,, I might start doing this if I ever start using food delivery services) That’s such a thoughtful & neat detail to include !!! I might have to start incorporating this into my own writing/world-building, man
- The description of the snuff itself is gorgeous— “…a fine, glittery gold powder. It was as if some gold leaf had been compacted to the texture of cinnamon.” Woahg
- The BANTER !!!! Don’t get me started on the banter between these three !!!! 🥹🥹 It feels so silly and lighthearted and natural, I adore it!! They’re all so good-natured and playful together, it’s so cozy!
- “Oh fuck, I got it in my eye!” “You got it in your everything, Gully…” I LOVE THEM BOTH YOUR HONOR Gulliver is such a goober it makes me Feral
- THE TICKLE THREAT & FIGHT OH MY GOD,,,, this could fix me I think
- Also a thought that occurred to me: technically, Ryfon or Gulliver could’ve cheated & muttered a compliment to Forthwind (or just thought appraisingly enough about him!) to make him lose—! Though that wouldn’t be fair, it would be silly!
- Lowkey imagining whoever this Hitchington guy is as a fictional (even within the fic!) caricature with a comically huge mustache, fantastically-designed glasses (octagonal lenses? Wild colors? Dangling charms? Idk!), prominent laugh lines, & greying hair; I’m not sure Why that’s the image that kept popping into my head whenever I read the name, but the mental image is so comical and whimsical to me, I just have to share it!
- Gulliver is The Character ever, I’m obsessed with him 💀💀
- Oh Gulliver totally has the kink (or at least knows about it) doesn’t he (it’s probably much more complicated & fluid than that, but still)
- OH HE ABSOLUTELY DOES— “…dodging potential questions like his life depended on it.” WILD
- Ryfon having specific flowers appear for specific emotions or sensations is already so peak (it’s one of the reasons I’m so fond of him to begin with), but having one as an indicator for when he’s HIGH?! Top-fucking-tier, oh my god— I love characters having distinct (and especially fantastical!) tells for what they’re feeling!!
- Oh my god imagine Gulliver & Ryfon helping Forthwind preen & care for his wings????? Gulliver already seems to have a knack for it!
- Holy shit, the description of the high??? The chill, then the sudden rush of warmth???? NEED
- “Under Gulliver’s clawed digits, Forthwind’s smile faded with growing focus.” Yet another fire line 😳😳
- EVEN MORE BANTER !!! WE FUCKING WIN !!!!!
- “I’m just saying, you look like a butch lesbian and a gay twink had a kid.” HOWLING AND CACKLING
- “It was a lousy attempt at sarcasm, sounding more like a genuine question at best and a poorly-hidden plea at worst.” Fucking PEAK phrasing
- Dude these guys make me feel Feral, why do I need to be in either Forthwind or Gulliver’s positions asap 💀💀
- ⚡️Oh my god I need to be in Ryfon’s position now too ahsvHSVSHSV
- “…when we’re done, I’ll be able to use your briefs to port a ship in the fog.” FUCKING WILDDDD 🫣
- “Ryfon read the room, I’m gonna bust from chucklefuck over here!!” SCREAMING AND CACKLING
- “…Gulliver sang at the gentle sound that escaped him. It had no choice but to be completely open, sending glittery gold and glowing droplets across the front of his own shirt.” Fucking gorgeous description & alliteration, high-key
- “After that, you’re done for, Gully…” “Yeah, you’ve only sneezed once since we started, you’ve got a lot of catching-up to do.” GET HIS ASS !!!!!! (I will be rotating this concept around inside my brain for weeks like a cheap microwave dinner /positive)
- GOD I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEIR BANTER I LOVE THESE FUCKING CHARACTERS
This fic was 1000% worth the wait, it’s fucking incredible !!! 🥹🥹 Top-tier work as always, Quo!!
I feel like I just got my food critiqued ratatouille style (/VERY POSITIVE) THANK YOU?!?? oh my god there’s so much I can affirm and clarify (which I will!), but I think it’s funnier to just show you Hitchington instead. He’s a fuckass middle aged jumping mouse. I was (and still am) in a ringleader phase.
Summary: Luise's job as the Royal Stoker has less to do with keeping a boiler lit and more to do with managing the melodrama of a sneezy dragon
Contents: Sick dragon, fire sneezes, nose scratches, stuck sneeze, one instance of inducing, probably an annoying amount of worldbuilding lol
Bad, because it meant they'd been waiting for her. A theory proven by a faint tremor rumbling up through her ice caked boots, only just enough to clock if one were already on the alert.
That the servants door opened on her second knock was both good and bad news for Luise: good, because it meant she was quickly able to escape the bitter morning freeze that bit at her face and fingers, ushered quickly into a kitchen large enough to feed several hundred, and already warmed from hearth fires preparing to do just that.
The kitchen boy who'd opened the door for her was a new one, his face twisted in worry as he helped her untangle the bundles of her scarf, shawl, and thick coat. Luise's skin puckered with gooseflesh with the loss of trapped heat, but it did nothing to quell the warm smile she sent his way. "He's been in a bad way today, eh?"
The boy nodded, dark hair flopping over his eyes. Her friendliness loosened his tongue a mite. "...mam says it'll knock the whole castle in, way it carries on."
Gossiping cooks. Luise blew a dismissive raspberry with her tongue, the boy's head lifting in surprise at such an unexpected sound. "Bunk. He may act the grump, but he's nothing but a big pussycat, never mind your mum." She hung her winter clothes over a broad, bare shoulder, offering the boy a conspiratorial wink. "But I'll have a word with him, yeah? The castle won't come down this day if I have any say in it."
Luise snagged a steaming roll off a nearby platter before weaving her way through a throng of frantic cooks fretting over the day's first meal as though the worry were part of the routine. She offered waves of greeting to those she was friendly with, noting with humour the naked relief in their eyes. A level of composure settled over the kitchen at her presence, something she found flattering and ridiculous in equal parts; cooks were a fussy, superstitious lot, and their proximity to her coworker made them antsy. She wasnt even certain the way they conspicuously avoided coming within arms reach of the iron door between the massive stone fireplaces was intentional, or just within their nature. People tended to avoid predators, after all.
Luise rolled her eyes fondly at them as she pushed through the iron door and descended the narrow stone staircase beyond.
The descent was long, lit only by the occasional sconce, and she took the stairs two at a time, eagerly seeking the wafts of warm air brushing her bare arms. The temperature rose, beating back the winter with every step until she'd gone from chilled, to cozy, to glistening with a thin layer of sweat.
The bottom of the staircase widened, then opened into a massive stone room big enough for the entire village to hold a fete if King Doran had any inclination to let them. The ceiling stretched to blackness before Luise could begin to make out details, sounds echoing eerily as they bounced off stone and the elaborate weave of giant metal pipes that burst from seemingly every surface, twisting and rolling in their organized tangle to converge near the back of the room.
Once, her predecessor had told her, this room had been a dungeon demanded by a wicked king forgotten by history, built large enough to hold his many foes. Later, another king with far fewer foes ordered a famous architect and inventor to fit the space with an enormous boiler and giant pipes to bring heat to every corner of the sprawling castle during the cold seasons. As much as Luise figured, the theory had been sound, but the project was abandoned after calculating how many resources it would require to stoke a boiler so large, the cost of fuel to burn and the manpower to burn it too excessive for a king who had already spent much of the royal treasury on piping. For a long time the project sat useless and abandoned, until King Doran's grandfather struck a bargain with their current boiler.
At the back of the room, the stonework had been dismantled to create an opening larger than a house, a series of natural caves visible beyond. The idea had been to install the boiler in the gap between the two, using the cave passage to recieve fuel deliveries and vent dangerous pressure in case of emergency. As such, all the pipes hung close to this area, waiting patiently to be attached to a machine that would never exist, and in the midst of these pipes lay a massive red dragon.
He was an elegant thing, beautiful in his awesome power, with sinuous muscles that rolled at the base of his wings as he shifted position, and beneath his long neck when he shook his head like a dog. Water arced off like crystals with the movement, more making languid trails down his spiral horns and scarlet scales to pool on the stone beneath him. Claws long as swords scored new marks along countless others in the floor, throwing up sparks in his restlessness. Thin tendrils of black smoke curled up from nostrils nearly as tall as Luise herself, jaw slightly parted to reveal enough teeth to rend a village into paste without so much as a blink of his yellow everflame eyes.
Those eyes locked on Luise in an instant, a low growling sound beginning in his deep chest and rising until it filled the room with his displeasure.
She grinned. "Bad today, huh Snuff?"
The growl gradually grew more vocal, and by the time Luise reached her workstation it had morphed into a long, tortured groan. "I fear, dear Luise, that I am not long for this world. What a cruel twist of fate that a creature so magnificent as I should bravely battle the elements, risking life and wing against blizzard and blaze alike, only to die here underground, as if he were a common lizard."
"Cold's no better, eh?"
"It feels as though I have inhaled a cotton field and am attempting to irrigate it with mucus."
Luise managed to add a sympathetic note to her laughter as she swapped her coat for her soot-blacked apron, giving the row of temperature dials leading from each pipe an initial check. "One of the kitchen boys was convinced you'd bring the walls down."
Snuff gave an irritated huff, jetting out more black smoke. "If this bloody ailment lasts much longer, I just may anyway out of pure rage."
"Of course," she soothed indulgently. Suneffessoat had been the castle's boiler for longer than she'd been alive, and regardless of his physical health he'd never make a move against the castle so long as the royal agreement remained intact: the exchange of heat for food and a salary (and a captive audience for his dramatics) was far too good a deal. "How's the snoot, you coot?"
She nearly felt the air shift with his powerful sniff, which he then released on a wavery sigh. "Primed and reh... r-ready, as always. Never let it be said that I am not a prepahh... prepared professional." He worked the muscles of said snoot, nostrils blowing wide enough in the process that Luise could've fit through without turning her shoulders.
She peered over her shoulder towards a slim tube tucked next to the temperature dials, the end feeding out into a shallow, empty tray. Having worked this job for so long, she could normally track the incoming delivery of a request slip even through Snuff's insistently vocal sneezes, but the tube remained silent of its telltale hiss. "Judging by how you were shaking the ground, I suppose you're not far off?"
Indeed, his neck was beginning to pull back into a swanlike curve, chuffing breaths losing their rhythm while his flaring nose picked up the beat. "Clohhhhhser e-ehh... every minuhhhhhHH--"
Now she heard the swish of an incoming request, and from the way Snuff bit back on the rising urge she knew he had too. "Ach, you can vent that one. The way you're winding up, the next one will be along before the fire's even out your mouth."
"I resehhhhh... I reseeEHHHHH... HH! HuuhhhHHHHH--" From the base of his throat grew a red-hot glow, and even in the throes of a sneeze he swung his head round to bury his explosive snout into a low-set pipe. "HRUUHHH-X'SHUUUHH!"
Luise retrieved the request from the tray, slipping a tightly rolled scrap of parchment out of the sleeve. She turned back in time to see Snuff give another shake of his head, narrowed eyes unfocused. The next sneeze worked his chest like a bellows and set the smoke from his nose rolling in great black clouds. He didn't have long.
She read neat, looping script written on the slip of parchment. "Next one goes to the guest apartments." The Countess Iris was visiting from the southern kingdoms, and if her frequent requests were any indication, she had some strong feelings about the weather. "Can probably give her the one after, too, she's a delicate sort."
Snuff, in no state to respond, hazily twisted towards the correct pipe just as his sneeze crossed from "urgent" to "immediate". "Hh-HRRUAHHHSHOOO!!" He then settled, sated for the moment, tension bleeding from the lines of his shoulders and the base of his wings.
Luise turned to pin the parchment to her order board, but she caught the deliberately innocent slide of Snuff's attention in her direction. Behind her, he snorted. And then again, louder, just in case she hadn't heard the first.
She rolled her eyes good naturedly. Working together for decades, and still, heaven forbid he ever ask for help directly.
When she didn't instantly turn to acknowledge his discomfort, a chorus of little self-pitying moans joined the sporadic snorts and snuffles. Luise would put a day's wages on the fact that he were flexing his nostrils theatrically all the while, and she'd win that bet. "Is something the matter?"
A heaved sigh, heavy enough to move the hair on the back of her neck. "Nothing to concern yourself with. After all, dragons have proudly and steadfastedly withstood far worse than a maddeningly itchy nose."
He couldn't quite look away fast enough as she turned to prop a hip against her station, angling his head up and away from her. 'No, I wasnt looking at you, of course not, how dare you imply such!' "Truly, a hardship," she played along benevolently. "Is there any way a powerless human such as myself could assist in this travesty?"
Snuff held to his haughty aloofness for an entire second before eagerly snaking his head in her direction, smooth scales nearly skimming the floor. "I don't suppose you could take time out of your busy day to give me the tiniest scratch?"
She laughed, thick wire brush already in hand. "Just don't sneeze on me."
"I would never!"
Despite his affronted claim, Luise knew well the map of his muzzle, taught to her in serious, cautionary detail by her mentor: do not cross the threshold where the sturdy pebbled scales of his face smoothed into the plush pink interior of his nostrils. Use extra force on the septum, lest his body decides to register a tickle instead of a scratch. And above all, never stand directly in front of his nose.
When she described her job to friends, many of them thought she was sick in the head (though most of them rescinded the thought once she hinted at her salary). Admittedly, it had its struggles. But as she leaned her weight into each long stroke of the brush, Snuff's eyes drifting closed and contented hum rumbling where her body pressed against him, she thought again what an honour it was to work with such a magnificent creature so intimately.
She scratched the spots she knew he liked; just behind the hood of his nostrils, along the length nearly to his cheek, standing on tiptoe to rub tight circles on the crest of his snout like she would groom a horse. These were not things taught to her, and sometimes she wondered if her mentor had viewed Snuff as more of a beast of burden and less of a companion, never bothering to learn his preferences and habits and quirks beyond what was needed to perform the job. Once they'd gotten comfortable around each other, Luise never needed to heed the warning about standing in front of his nose, because she could always tell when he was getting tickly by the way his inner nostril began to shiver and tic, the pink flesh growing steadily flushed until it nearly matched the shade of his scales.
Like now, for example.
He whined as she pulled away, chasing her until his snout bumped against her stomach again. No amount of shoving could move his giant head if he didn't want it to, so her cursory attempt ended in an affectionate pat. "Alright, you baby, nose in the air. You gotta sneeze."
"Do not," he grumbled, purposefully ignorant of how his nose twitched as though it had life of its own. A long tremor agitated the length of both nostrils from tip to depth like a wave.
Luise noted a crease like a snarl form in his scales. "It'll be a double, send them to the baths."
"S-smuhhhhhg bastard." For all his pouting, he followed instructions and unloaded two giant sneezes into the baths pipe. "HhhHHH'XHOOO-!! HAAH-SHOOO!!"
The day continued as such: orders delivered by way of parchment and tube, then executed through Luise's guidance and Snuff's unforgiving cold. His dramatics aside, it truly seemed like a bad one this time. Occasionally on high demand days, Luise would need to dump a wheelbarrow of coal or two into his open mouth to help stoke his inner flame. Today, her arms were already black with coal dust and soot from how many trips she'd made from the coal pile to Snuff, and still as the end of the day drew near, he was tiring.
Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. But she saw it in the hang of his head, the way his internal flame flickered at his throat, too low to properly reach his nose. The sneeze reflex and the flame were intrinsically linked, he'd told her once, and the lower the flame, the harder it would be to reach satisfaction.
"Hhh-! HUHHT-- rrrgh... hhaH-HAAH-- HADT-!!"
Judging by his stuttering half-sneezes and ticklish false starts, Snuff must've been feeling very low indeed.
At the next sneezes to fizzle away, Snuff let out a frustrated sound between a growl and a roar, thrashing in place. At this point his little tantrum was probably warranted. "Blast this nose, blast this cold, I must sneeze! HEAHHHH--" for a moment it seemed like he would finally get his wish, maw agape and nostrils blown nearly wider than his muzzle. "HEEAAHHHHHH--!!"
And then, tragically, nothing, the elusive sneeze teasing at his nose before darting mischievously away, heedless of its host's desperation.
Enough was enough.
Reaching down her shirt, Luise retrieved a key kept on a leather cord around her neck and knelt beneath her table to unlock a hidden cabinet. It was near empty of contents anyone could have considered valuable, but the two items held within were far more dangerous than the king's entire army.
On the right, a small selection of long, brown primary feathers pilfered from the rookery.
On the left, sealed tightly, a tiny jar of glowing golden powder.
Luise worked from the floor, blocked by the cabinet door. More than once Snuff's sensitive nose had been set off by the mere sight of these implements, and the general rule of thumb in dragonfire and pixie dust both was 'a little goes a long way'.
Careful not to get any on her hands, Luise opened the jar as though she were handling explosives. Using a sturdy feather, she gave the jar's rim a quick swipe. The few grains that caught the light as she twisted the feather in her fingertips would be more than sufficient. On went the lid, back went the jar, locked went the cabinet, hidden went the key. Safe again.
Snuff's wobbly hitches stuck high in his chest, eyes rolled to the ceiling. He didnt look round as she approached, weapon tucked behind the bib of her apron. "Head down please, Snuff."
Even in his all consuming battle with his stuck sneeze, he complied, resting his chin against the stone and snorting against the tickle in his nose. So violently did it twitch and flare and shudder that Luise didnt dare lay a hand on it. Other things, however, were free game.
She adjusted her grip on the feather shaft, coming to stand directly beside his right nostril. "Alright, big guy, give me a nice big sniff."
The feather flicked forward, drawing a long, slow line along the division between tough scale and tortured membrane a split second before Snuff obeyed. The feather and its payload vanished down the dark wind tunnel of his nose, trailing a vibrant red flush in its wake.
Luise took several very large steps backwards.
For a tense second, Snuff went completely still save for the rapid fluttering of his eyelids.
"Hhhhhhhhhhaauhhhhhh..." So great was the urge to sneeze that he couldn't even move his head for his first true, unsteady hitch: while his chin remained solidly on the stone, his volcanic nose tilted towards the ceiling as his jaws creaked open, scaly lips ticking up to flash gleaming teeth.
He sniffed HARD, long neck arcing into the air. His nose danced at the end of his muzzle like a leaf in the breeze, and Luise could almost see the feather's leisurely path down his sinuses based on what sections shivered with sensation. Only a slice of yellow remained visible beneath his hooded eyes. "HhaaaAAAahhhhhh..."
How much it must have tickled! Snuff, by his own proclamation, was rather sensitive to the effects of pixie dust (though experience suggested he far undersold how much it affected him). Such a tiny but potent irritant, on such a delicate and wispy vessel, gently brushing and caressing and stroking nasal passages stripped of any defenses by illness. Was it any wonder why his jaw went slack, wings rising slightly as if to brace against the oncoming storm.
Everything picked up speed as the feather continued its journey, spurred on by his rapid reflexive sniffles. "Hh! Huh... huuhh... HH-HUUHHH--" His voice plummeted as his fire rose, throat glowing with the promise of release. Huge, gasping breaths stoked his internal flame, his nostrils and mouth gaping so widely Luise could see soft embers flickering in their depths.
As he didnt seem to be of the mind to take instructions at the moment, she didnt offer a pipe suggestion to put this sneeze through. Honestly, she didnt even know if they'd be able to withstand it.
Finally the feather did its job. The fiery gradient of his neck surged upwards just as Snuff threw his head forward. "HRRRUUUUUAAHHHH-T'CZHOOOOOOOO!!"
Flame shot from his mouth and nostrils in a deadly torrent, spanning the entire length of the room and splitting into starbursting jets upon hitting the far wall. Louise shielded her eyes until his sneeze ran its course, light twisting eerily in every shadowed corner of the room, exposed skin buffeted by waves of intense, rebounding heat.
After the blaze flickered out, she gave a low whistle at the giant scorch mark he left behind, coating the far wall and a twenty foot streak on the floor with black soot. A strange smell filled the room, the subtle scent of burnt rock. "You want to aim for the vent pipe next time, mate?"
Snuff's head hung low, eyes hooded and mouth slightly open as he caught his breath. One final, searching sniff saw his nose to relieved satisfaction. "If you think I was not perfectly in control through that entire ordeal, you would be most sorely mistaken. I'd sooner bite my own leg off than kill you, you're hardly more than a morsel and it would be an inefficient waste of fire."
She heard the apology for what it was and waved it away with a hand. "Feeling any better now?"
His voiced sigh was the clearest it had been all day, repeated nose-clearing sneezes having burnt away the bemoaned morning congestion. "All this dreary awfulness today has served its purpose, I suppose." So, yes, despite the extra throaty growl on the edges of his words. Another huff, and he shifted his great body to curl around himself, pointedly resting his head near his haunches and away from her. Suneffessoat had officially clocked out.
Which meant it was time for her to follow suit. Luise smiled affectionately at the back of his head, trading dirty apron for dirty coat. "See you tomorrow for more dreary awfulness."
He didnt look round. "Your dying in the cold would inconvenience me severely, so do try to be considerate."
She skipped over the scorch mark bisecting the room, leaving boot tracks behind in the soot. Just before she started up the stairs, she sent a last cheeky, "I'll miss you too!" over her shoulder, ascending back to the dark and the cold as her bright, warm companion spluttered indignities behind her.
I thought it would be fun to make a piece in the micro's POV, where their tickling (whether accidental or intentional) sets him off. Given he's a gentle sneezer, it'd probably take him three or four sneezes to actually blow them out.
I had a ton of fun with the blur to shift the focus, like on the nose as the micro is getting sneezed out.
This is a sketch I did for @pupper-star during a snzfic writing fest I hosted this spring. I love working with new brush textures to make dust a bit...dustier, I guess?
Did I draw the majority of this while high out of my mind? Yes. But looking back on it today, it’s structurally sound enough to post. This is the furry versions of Ryfon and Mycah, which both can be found on my main blog ( @quosterking ). Ryfon’s the sugar glider, Mycah is the aardvark!
