This is @pastel-pollen 's alt account! I made it when I needed a break from content creation, and even though I'm back writing and stuff I didnt want to delete this account because it's got posts I like!!
I'll be active on here fairly often, mostly just rbing things
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.
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!
Picturing a scenario in a sci-fi setting where a human ambassador goes on a diplomatic mission to help establish relations with a newly discovered species...unbeknownst to them, or the aliens, several members of the species have a human allergy. The diplomat barely manages to stay on the planet for a few hours before they are begged by the alien officials--between sniffles and sneezes--to go back to earth. They can establish relations after they've developed an allergy medication.
okay I know this is not what anyone wants to see while they’re on their horny account but we seriously need to have a conversation about how to recognize underage blogs because I’m getting real concerned about the number of people I’ve been seeing the past couple days seemingly unknowingly interacting with blogs that are full of coded messages about how the user running them is a minor advertising CSAM
if they have “18” in quotation marks, they’re a minor. If they talk about a favorite number, a 2-digit number that ends in 1 with a 🔁 emoji (like 61🔁 meaning 16), or a number of plushies they have on their bed, they’re a minor and that number is their real age. If they’re posting in tags with censored versions of “map”, “pred”, “underage”, “jailbait”, etc., they’re a minor. please be careful about who you’re interacting with.
Someone who likes really smart people because it is so satisfying seeing them become a sneezy mess and lose the “smart guy” persona they have going on
Someone who is into people who are aloof because watching them sneeze with no restraint because of how dazed their sneezes leave them (not mention messy as well)
Someone who is into smart people who are also kinda aloof…
Imagine an intelligent alien species with the trunk of an elephant, but the goods go all the way down that thang. They've got a shell, which is good for sneezing while hiding scenarios, but sometimes they can get stuck in their shell, which is perfect for mercilessly tickling any exposed nostrils and putting them through sneezy torture.
These creatures are so intelligent that they can travel to other planets and study them, but their suits are connected to their bodies and their main method of gathering information is by inhaling everything they see, so imagine one touching down on a planet where they're allergic to almost EVERYTHING, but they have to do their job anyways, resulting in them quickly becoming a sneezy, drippy mess.
I'd like to to elaborate on the scenario I'm brewing, but I want to ask first; yay or nay?
A character who shows up to the function sick, but since they don’t say anything about it, no one else brings it up either (even though they all can tell). But as the evening wears on, they start to feel much, much worse, unsteady on their feet and fuzzy-headed while they try to hide what would be their more obvious symptoms.
Until finally they return to the group and say, wearily, “I…don’t feel well.” Most of the group is like, “Yeah, we know” in a casual, lightly teasing way.
But the character’s close friend is visibly concerned like, “No, you don’t understand, if they’re saying that, they’re about to hit the floor.”
The people voted for a lee!Tenna drabble, thus it shall be delivered. No title because I can't think of one, unfortunately.
Ler!Reader, Lee!Tenna (strictly platonic)
As a staff member of the TV studio and assistant to Tenna, you've come to notice a lot of things about your boss. One of those discoveries is absolutely silly, and of course, you can't help but take advantage.
It was an accidental discovery, really. For both of you.
Preparing to go on the air was always an event. Tenna was someone who wanted to look his best at every possible moment, between his clothes, his screen being clean and polished, right down to his physical mannerisms. He carried himself in a meticulous way, always wanting the best for the audience.
But sometimes, like today...
"No... no, it's still off! How is it still off!?" He was currently looking in a mirror, seeming to have a fit over his signature red suit.
...It was more difficult.
Your boss could be temperamental at times, but hey, who in show business wasn't? The poor costuming Shadowguys frowned and saxophone-ed dejectedly as the TV star continued looking himself over.
"That wrinkle... did nobody iron this-!? You're both FIRED!"
The Shadowguys made a saxophone sound of shock, before frowning and deflating even further. You did not react, because you already knew what came next.
"W-Wait... no, sorry..." Tenna flipped on a dime, starting a silly dance of some kind. "You're hired!"
The Shadowguys perked up, now smiling and making a pleased saxophone note.
You paused. Wait for it...
"Now, go get this ironed! We're on in five! Hurry!" He tossed his suit jacket at one of them, the cloth draping over the silhouetted form as they both ran off. The door shut, and you both remained.
Alone. Silent.
Until, he sighed heavily, shoulders drooping and antenna lowering. His blank screen turned towards you from over one shoulder. "...Oh, it's... a little difficult, you know? Trying to make everything run smooth, trying to keep everyone happy... ah, you never seem too upset, though."
"I understand your patterns, sir." You set your clipboard aside, "I understand how tight your schedule is. I think... it's possible that you've stretched yourself too thin."
"...Maybe. But the show must go on. Even... just reruns, it must continue."
You approached, standing next to him. It was... odd, seeing him without his red jacket. The white button-up beneath it almost made him look... incomplete. The two of you stood, side-by-side, simply staring into the mirror in silence for a long time. Eventually, his head hung low again, antenna drooping even lower.
You moved, standing in front of him. "Hey. They still love you out there, in the audience. They think you're fun. Chin up." You smiled kindly at him, reaching over and physically moving his head back upwards.
"...Hmm..." He hummed, "You have a point. It... it feels different without the family among them."
You've heard him mention this 'family' a few times, but... he never really elaborated on that. He's made references to them, but no one's ever seen them. You supposed there was a reason, but never pushed. If he wanted to, he would have done so himself, right?
"...Maybe you should try and straighten yourself up a bit. You might feel better." You reached out to straighten up his shirt at the shoulders. When he doesn't stop you, you straighten out some of the wrinkles in the fabric, hands running along the shirt to smooth it out.
"See?" You smiled at him, fixing his tie, "Isn't that- what's wrong?"
You didn't notice just how stiff he was while you were helping straighten his clothes out. His mouth looked wobbly, a small blush on his face as his arms sat like stone to the side. Did... you go a step too far, here...?"
"S-Sir-? Are you-"
"YES! Quite alright, I assure you!" Tenna's still got that wobbly smile on his face, voice a little... uneven. "Just- uh, didn't really expect that-"
"Sorry, I was just trying to-"
"Hah! No apologies necessary! Just a bit of surprise and suspense to keep your audience on the edge of his seat!"
You laughed a bit at that. Of course, he just had to ham it up a bit here, huh? You moved your hands back down, going to fix his shirt again. "Well, alright, but I'm not the host anyone is here for. That's you!"
Whatever he was gonna say next died on his tongue suddenly with a loud squeak and violent flinch as you pinched the fabric at his sides.
Neither of you moved for several seconds; you staring wide-eyed in surprise, and him sporting a wobbly smile and that blush again.
You couldn't help but double over with a small laugh, one arm wrapping around your stomach. Oh, that was an adorable reaction that you weren't expecting.
"H-Huh-!? What was that? Hope nobody was rolling the cameras on that-" Tenna rubbed at his sides in visible confusion.
You covered your mouth with a hand as you giggled at his indignant confusion. "S-Sorry, I didn't realize you were ticklish. I would've been more careful if I knew."
"E-Eh-?" His further confusion only earned another giggle, "What on earth did you do!? That was weird!"
You almost started laughing harder, before realizing that he was serious. He... had no idea. Such a big reaction, and he has absolutely no idea. Almost... kind of tragic.
"...Uh, well, it looks like I tickled you on accident, Tenna. My bad... you, uh, didn't seem like you knew?"
"W-Well... ah, first time for everything, it seems!" You've never seen him so flustered, "Can't say it's ever happened before! Seems fun. So, uh, let's-"
He paused as he realized your hands returned to his sides. Why did this make him feel nervous? "...Hey."
His sides were suddenly squeezed, the sensation making his screen static out with a loud laugh, his hands wrapping around your wrists as he flinched back. A second squeeze to his sides made him crumple inwards, thankfully landing on a nearby chair (or did you move it when he wasn't looking?)
He could only look up in anticipation as you boxed him in. Oh now, usually he was the one large and in charge like this, and how quickly the tables had just turned. Mike, don't record this-
"H-Hey-! Hey-!" His voice was choked by laughter as you moved a hand over to poke his stomach experimentally, "Cuhuhuhut it out-! This ihihihis gonna- EEK-! Go agahahainst your contr-ACT-!"
His voice cut off, falling back into laughter with a short squeal when pinched at his ribs next, his arms trying to fold inwards protectively. Even when one hand wormed its way under his arm, he still struggled to protect against the strange feeling of your fingers hooking in. You had no idea he was this sensitive, or that he had a more natural-sounding laugh than the one he used onstage.
"Aww, I think it's cute." You skittered your fingers against his neck, watching him somehow fold further into himself with a small squeak, "I didn't know you had this in you, big guy."
You were happy just to study his reactions. As he laughed, squirming away from any prodding and squeezing, his screen kept flickering back to static or showing different stations, and despite his own hands grabbing your wrists, he wasn't really... trying to stop you? It was hard to tell how he was feeling about this.
"...You okay, boss? I'm not going too far, am I?"
You slowed down, giving him some room when he didn't respond immediately. His screen slowly recovered from the static, the buzzing mixing with the dying-off giggling as he slowly calmed down, antenna askew. You reached up and pushed one back into place, only to watch him jolt again.
"A-Alright, I think th-that's enough, let's roll the credits..." He pushed your hand away, surprisingly gently.
He sat there silently, and you couldn't help but apologize quietly. Maybe this was too far-? If... if this really was something unfamiliar for him, maybe you did just overwhelm him on accident?
"...Are you-?"
"Oh, that? Don't worry about that! A little odd, but... kind of fun! The family used to do that, and I never did understand it... I think I do, now! Bringing a smile and a laugh to someone else!"
Well, at least he didn't seem mad?
Upon hearing a saxophone trill, you turned and made eye contact with one of the Shadowguys. The one not holding his freshly-ironed suit gave a thumbs-up. You thanked them both quietly as you took it, offering it to Tenna.
He looked more... like himself when wearing it. As he looked in the mirror, he looked less stressed and more confident, too. "That's more like it! There's the host they know and love!"
"You're on in two, according to Mike." You picked back up your clipboard, "Oh, I think they missed a spot?"
"Huh-? Where-"
"Here," You poked his ribs, watching him jolt, "And over here, too."
He chuckled, pushing your hand away from his side. "A-All right, all right, come on, now! Don't leave me too flustered for the audience-!"
"Sorry, had to get one last one in. Go get 'em, big guy."
"Fun new trick for the whole family, huh? You realize this challenge can have two players, right?" He gives you a sly grin, which you return.
Hey, if it helped lower his stress to have a new game to play between sets, then so be it. It least it was more fun than the quizzes that you sometimes stumbled into.
Initially i saw Tenna as only a ler… but seeing so many adorable drawings of him getting wrecked changed my mind a little! (Though he’s still ler-leaning imo)
Anyhows, here’s the tv man!! Upset with low ratings, a couple of his employees took it upon themselves to cheer him up <333
We interrupt your regular programming with this breaking news bulletin! Local game show host and Tv Time Tv star Mr. Ant Tenna was seen being tickled by a fluffy flying bird worm! More at 11
A small collab with @coy-lee while we freak out together over this FRIGGIN CUTIE
