Jun 4
I decided to bite the bullet and try my hand at snz art. They're pretty low effort sketches, but I'll improve over time. For now though Florian gets to be my victim. Hope you enjoy.
Art under the cut
seen from Maldives
seen from Australia
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Algeria
seen from Australia
seen from Maldives
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Georgia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Georgia
seen from Germany
seen from Georgia
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
I decided to bite the bullet and try my hand at snz art. They're pretty low effort sketches, but I'll improve over time. For now though Florian gets to be my victim. Hope you enjoy.
Art under the cut
Trapped in a tight space with a giant sneezer who's about to blow their top, literally and figuratively. Imagine trying to make yourself smaller to accommodate their heaving chest as it intrudes more and more into what little space you have left, all while the buttons of their shirt hang on for dear life. Think about the last few hitches; breaths drawn so deep they finally pop the most stubborn of the buttons and send them ricocheting to their doom between your forehead and the wall. The sensation of space closing in around you as they take one final breath contrasted with the sudden freedom of the open air once they finally unleash the sneeze that's been bothering them for so long, decimating their erstwhile prison and sending anything in the way flying.
The Dragon and his Bride (1/?) (M/M)
I wrote this to momentarily escape from my thesis. Greedy dragon picks the wrong bride and realizes he's not nearly as scary as he thinks he is.
Warning: overuse of the word 'bride'. Dubiously consensual marriage (but not in the way you may think.)
Gigantic sneezes ensue.
2.2k words
In the ancient dragon’s keep, far, far away from any prying eyes, an amusing scene unfolds beyond its master’s ability to control.
A massive beast of a dragon sat wincing in preparatory anticipation; the blunt side of his cart-sized claw extended beneath the red, twitching nose of his new ‘bride’.
Argos the Terrible had been caught unaware by the first great explosion of sound, wind and power from his bride. To his great shock, that blast had been powerful enough to hurl him bodily out of his den and make the mountain tremble under foot. The second blast collapsed parts of the interior cave walls, sending the wonderful collection of polychromal stalactites he so loved crashing to the floor and snapping the stalagmites that lined the den in two. The third blast he waylayed as his bride huffed and puffed with need of another typhoon strength release.
Screams of terror were something the Drake King had long become accustomed to as he took new brides, but the scream sneezes of his newest bride gave him pause. He had stolen a truly lovely princess this time but for as lovely as she was, she seemed to have no fear of him. Even as he grabbed her from atop her father’s tower and sped away with her hundreds of feet in the air, wrapped in his talons, she had made no fuss at all; instead grumbling some bizarre gibberish to herself the entire flight. He supposed she must have tried to calm herself with the prayers of some foreign tongue he had been unaccustomed to.
Argos had laid her down in a prepared bed of gypsophila when he entered his abode, which he found to be quite popular with court ladies, which was when the trouble had truly begun. So here Argos stood, hoping against hope that his precious bride wouldn't sneeze down his den as he gently pressed a claw against her tender nose. They stood there in tense silence for the better part of ten minutes when a butterfly flew into the den. Argos tried to shoo the tiny creature away with his wings and rings of smoke, but the butterfly evaded him easily and perched on his bride’s nose.
The Drake King flinched as his bride drew in a sharp breath, removing the claw that had held the destructive urge in place in a momentary lapse of judgement.
Argos trembled for the first time in centuries as his bride heaved a near bottomless gasp of air. He watched as the sneeze seemingly grew in power every second it remained stuck in her nose; little butterfly remaining on its perch none the wiser as the bride swelled with air. He could feel the den quake around them as he and everything else within the den were being drawn towards the terribly itchy nose.
Suddenly the thought struck him to flee.
Argos unfurled his massive, tattered wings and tried his hardest to take to the skies but his bride’s endless gasp for air had created a vacuum powerful enough that it rendered his bid for escape near futile. Instead he found himself being sucked in closer,and closer. Now properly terrified, The Drake King instead clawed his way out to the surface, marvelling at his tiny bride’s incredible lung capacity. He heaved himself up and out of the den, flapped his wings and took to the skies.
Argos had flown a mile out from his home when everything stood stock still for but a moment.
Then he felt it.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAADDDZJTTTIIISSSSZZZCCCHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!!!”
His mountain was still in view, and Argos could only watch in horror as its crowning peak erupted into a plume of dust and debris. The blast had thrown Argos back with an expansive shockwave, blasting the clouds apart and sending flocks of birds rushing past him in a panic. The birds in his field of view suddenly became far larger and Argos fell unconscious.
— — — —
Argos woke up in his den. Not on his bed of gold and jewels, but on the floor; his head rested upon a bolt of silk. He tried to scramble to his feet but slipped and stumbled every which way, his legs refusing to cooperate. He tried to engage his wings to right himself, but found that they were not there. In his frustration, he widened his maw and tried to spit fire only to find that his lips would not open even a fraction of the width he was used to and rather than flames, his exhale poured out an endless cloud of smoke.
His sorrow and self pity then turned to rage as he heard the footsteps of his wretched bride approaching. She stood meters away from him with pitiless eyes and slowly took off her shimmering skin, revealing a young man of similar stature and appearance in her place.
Argos intrinsically knew something was wrong, and began to look about in panic to check his reflection, finding a silver dish on the floor. Crawling over to it he found a reflection that wasn't his. A human man with olive skin and lustrous red hair. The man had been wrapped in his silks and sneered the same sneer Argos felt overcome his face as he looked deeper into the polished metal. Smoke poured from his mouth once more and the man in the dish copied the gesture.
All at once Argos felt himself overcome with a wave of shame as he realized that they were one in the same.
Argos felt his anger wash over him like burning magma, but unable to act on his fury he slammed his open palm on the ground, his temper increasing with each pathetic smack that sounded through the cave.
“Wretched bride! Deceitful bride! How dare you face me after inflicting me with your dark magic!” Argos roared as he petulantly slapped the floor. Smoke poured from his mouth as he raged and moaned. The Drake King had expected his bride to tremble in fear, or rush to apologize for her actions.
Instead the young man before him raised the shimmering mantle to his face and covered his nose.
“You’ll make me sneeze if you carry on like that.” His bride blithely replied. Argos quickly covered his mouth with his hands to prevent more smoke from spilling out.
“Change me back this. INSTANT!!!” he demanded behind his palms.
“No.”
“Then give me a reason I shouldn’t devour you right now!” Argos slammed a soot covered palm onto the floor.
His bride scoffed and rolled his eyes behind his mantle, striding up to him with grace Argos was unaccustomed to seeing. The Drake King reared back on his haunches as his bride boldly crouched over him and whispered next to his ear, “My, my what a temperamental husband I’ve found! Do you think you can~?”
Over the course of an hour, his bride explained their situation.
Argos had taken the wrong person. The old king of the neighboring kingdom had been fed up with losing his wives and daughters to Argos. Knowing the Drake King would be circling for a new bride this year, the king devised a trick. He would take an imprisoned sorcerer who had similar looks to his daughter, dress him up in a transformative mantle and have Argos take him instead.
By the end of the explanation, Argos had felt properly foolish. His bride was no princess, but an imposter placed in her stead.
“That doesn’t explain why you turned me into a human though…” Argos grumbled.
“Because you’d burn me to a crisp if I didn’t, silly.”
“Well, if you change me back, I promise I won’t. I’ll even forgive you for destroying my den!” Argos brightened as he made his offer. He shrunk back on himself as his bride laughed it away.
“I can’t turn you back now. Not only because making a deal with Drake King ‘Argos the Terrible’ is a fool’s errand, but because I'll become impossibly sneezy if I do.”
Argos pouted, because surely his reputation wasn’t that bad, before he realized what his bride had said.
“W-what do you mean by that?”
“They sent me here because they hoped I’d blast you away and succumb to the elements before I could make it back to the kingdom. I’m actually under a curse to be hopelessly allergic to magic and magical beasts, dear husband,” his bride said precisely, smiling as he knew Argos hung on every word.
“If I turn you back now,” he pouted with faux-remorse, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from destroying this mountain and the rest of your territory… it makes m-my n-nose itch j-just th-ihhH? thiiiIhHHHH—? IHHHHHH! snf! just thinking about it.”
“Don’t think about it!!”
Argos tried to escape, but between his bride straddling him, and his now useless legs he was unable to go anywhere. He could only watch helplessly as his chest rose and rose with the copious air he drew in. His hair had been caught in his bride's gasps and he could only look on in horror as the long red strands danced around the sorcerer’s sensitive nose.The sorcerer heaved a final terrible gasp spurred on by the tickling hairs, before placing a palm on Argos’s chest and forcing him to lie flat, snapping to the side with an enormous trio of sneezes.
“T-too-! Too la-laAAAHH-late! aAaAAAhhH—! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—!!
HHHAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
The cave walls Argos had once meticulously burrowed through cratered and blasted apart under his bride’s constant sneezing, revealing the tops of forest trees outdoors.
“HHHRRRAAAAAAADDDDDDJSCHHIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPTTTTZZZIIISSSSHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! HHAAHHHH! AAHHHHHHHD??! EEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHDDDDDTTTTIISSSCCCHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
“Oh my! That smoke of yours really did a number on mm-meeee—!”
If Argos could have shrunk any further to escape his poor bride’s onslaught of sneezes he would have. Instead, he could only lie still as his heart thundered through his chest as his bride took another deep, deep vacuum-like breath.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH’HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH—!!!”
“What if I could cure you!” Argos blurted out. The unending hitch paused momentarily and his bride looked down at him curiously.
“Tell me, q-quickly—!”
“I know of a treasure that cures all ailments and undoes a-all curses! If I get it for you, you’ll be cured and you can change me back!” Argos revealed under the threat of the violently twitching nose.
His bride got off him at once and strode across to the new opening in the den. The Drake King sighed in relief before startling at the terrific noise as his bride erupted with his biggest sneeze yet.
“HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDTTTT’TTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIZZZZSSSSSSSCCCCCHHHHHHHH’IIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
His bride’s release threw Argos’ treasures about like sand on a storm wind, even though he had unleashed its true power through the hole he made with his previous fit. Argos himself might have been blasted away if not for the magic mantle his bride had left on him.
His bride panted over the hole’s threshold. Sniffling once, then twice, before letting out a shaky exhale on the third sniffle.
“Wonderful!” His bride turned to him with a bright smile, “what a wonderful, debonair husband you are Argos!”
Argos found himself smiling as his bride threw himself into his arms and peppered him with compliments. He had never experienced it before, but it was quite nice. His bride slipped a magic ring from his collection onto his finger and its match onto Argos’, before holding his hand tight.
“These rings symbolize our promise, beloved husband. I, Florian Amestris, hereby solemnly vow to disregard my liege’s orders to rid you from this kingdom in exchange for a treasure that will dispel my curse. In exchange, you, the Drake King, Argos the Terrible, will acquire this treasure and bestow it onto me, thereby gaining my eternal allegiance as your bride. Do you agree to these terms?” his clever bride asked, leaving any ambiguity out of the question.
Argos wanted to find a loophole or a way to squirm out of the arrangement, but he had no time to think of any. Especially not with his bride's twitchy, ticklish nose inches from his face.
“I, Drake King Argos the Terrible, agree to the set terms of our engagement. I will acquire the treasure for you at any cost.” He swallowed his pride and acquiesced. The rings reverberated with phenomenal power and sealed each promise on the requisite ring. Florian smiled and hugged Argos once more, speaking to Argos of gathering him new suits of clothes, teaching him to walk, the length of the journey so on and so forth. The words washed over him as he considered his situation.
Argos had found himself a crafty bride, but this bride had a radiant smile and would lavish him with attention and affection in exchange for nothing more than the promise of a treasure.
‘No’, he realized, ‘not the promise. I’ll actually have to get him that treasure.’
Argos considered breaking his vow, but Florian’s quiet sniffles and his new view of the eastern quadrant of his territory over his shoulder made it exceptionally clear that would not be possible. He would have to figure out if such a treasure even really existed; he had to, otherwise all of his territory would look like the east, a sand coloured cone with no clouds in sight, stripped of all green for miles and miles on end.
Argos instead resolved to remove the curse at any cost. His life would depend on it.
An imperious monarch who sneezes unabashedly and unrestrained, despite the fact that they could handily topple their palace with how big they get, to remind everyone within a five mile radius that they are the rightful ruler of realm.
They claim to be descended from divinity, and that their thunderous sneezes serve to banish evil and bless their kingdom. Such that after a while, their subjects begin to believe the tremors after the monarch's sneeze are a good omen.
Their courtiers on the other hand know better. The monarch's sneezes are just that, sneezes. Gigantic they may be, but they're otherwise unable to grant blessings of any kind. Worse, there is a very real fear developing among the courtiers that their monarch's sneezes are becoming more powerful than the kingdom can take.
Spells designed to contain them begin to fail, magic handkerchiefs no longer soothe and barriers around the palace start to fray at the edges. The monarch, ever unyielding, absolutely refuses to stifle or hold back; demanding the courtiers find a solution to stop their sneezes from growing any further. When their various solutions fail, the monarch creates one.
The solution they come up with?
If the courtiers are so concerned about their sneezes, they can make it their purpose to hold them back.
Consider a giant sneezer who is fairly popular in their community. People love them, but are always on the look out to prevent a tickle from taking hold of their nose for fear of the devastation that will surely follow.
Of course, no defense can be perfect. Whenever a tickle does take root, it's a race against time for their community to secure any loose objects they don't want to go flying and duck for cover before the sneezer erupts.
As eruptions become more common, and the sneezes more powerful, the sneezer finds more and more people paying attention to their nose above all else.
Easy Breezy
Hello hello! I haven't been active for a bit, but I do come bearing a new fic. The basic premise revolves around a model who's sneezes are becoming far too big for the containment infasturcture his city provides, much to his wealthy fiancé's glee.
Apologies if the formatting is weird, this was posted on mobile.
This fic is about 4.5k words, and contains giant/destructive sneezing.
Do Not Reblog to Non-Kink Blogs.
Ozias started his morning being shaken awake. The floor beneath him quaked and trembled, rattling the bed and shaking various picture frames and tchotchkes from their shelves. The vestiges of sleep still muddling his mind, Ozias rolled over to gently shake his partner awake but instead found a mess of empty sheets and blankets. Confused, he stared at the bed for a few moments before another tremor rocked the room. As their shared trinkets clattered to the floor his mind suddenly clicked into focus.
“Ah… Beau.”
Chuckling to himself in vague amusement, Ozias rolled out of bed and carefully traipsed downstairs. His mind was a constant stream of thoughts piecing together the puzzle of where in their home his partner might be. Ozias could definitely hear him; deep, ragged gasps followed by a raucous eruption that echoed throughout their penthouse and shook the building. He’d occasionally have to grab for the railing when the tremors threatened to make his cautious descent down the stairs significantly more swift and painful.
These were smaller releases though, nothing they couldn’t handle together.
He ran through potential causes for his fiance’s morning eruptions, drawing blanks at every possibility. The apartment was always impeccably clean thanks to their mechanical staff, Ozias had personally discarded any scents his partner’s sensitive nose could deem offensive and there were no flowers to speak of within their home.
By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs the tremors stopped and the apartment had fallen silent. An ominous sign, he figured checking the kitchen would be his best bet at finding his sneezy partner. Perhaps the chef-bit left some errant spice laying about and Beau had been unfortunate enough to come into contact with it? He discovered his intuition had been spot on as he entered the kitchen, unsurprised to find it in complete disarray upon his entry; a mess of toppled furniture, splattered fruit and broken robotic parts greeted him, all pointing in accusatory fashion to the culprits at the epicenter of the mayhem.
One lay innocently on the counter, a fallen pepper shaker, its cap off with the ticklish powder scattered across the counter. The other perpetrator seemed to be on the verge of blowing the kitchen and their home to kingdom come.
Ozias watched his fiance gear up for his biggest eruption yet. He stared with rapt attention as Beau's chest heaved appreciably as he drew in a great influx of air. Beau's nose, red with irritation, flexed and flared, threatening to blow anything in its line of fire away.
An urgent hitch snapped Ozias from his reverie, his brain gently reminded him that the fit Beau was mounting towards could spell the end for their home. He began to rapidly pat at the pockets of his dressing gown, hurriedly searching for the remote to his fiance’s containment device. However Ozias’s appreciation of his fiance’s breathless form had cost him time and he was too late to stop—
“HHHAAAHHHH—!
AAAAAHHHHTTTIIISSSSSCCHIIIEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!”
—Beau’s eruption. The mere volume had caused the windows to shudder in their casements and the floor to tremble. Their dining table, chairs and barstools were ripped from the floor and flung to the far side of the kitchen in the bluster. The furniture made an ungodly racket as it hit the wall, a few chairs breaking on impact.
“Gah! S-uhhH! Sorry! wuhhhH—! One mmore!” Beau gasped to no one in particular, eyes screwed shut and chest heaving.
Unsatisfied, he began gearing up for another sneeze. His hitches mounted with an urgency that only preceded truly devastating releases; utterly destructive blasts of wind and power that would leave little, if anything in its wake. As Beau continued to swell with air, Ozias hurriedly found and retrieved the remote from the pocket of his nightgown. He fumbled with it, eyes glued to his fiance on the verge of an imminent eruption, before finally slamming the activation button.
A transparent green field of energy began to emanate from a collar around Beau’s neck, forming a bubble around his head; just in time for Beau to launch forward with a wall shaking-
“EEEEEEEIIIIIHHHDJJZSSSCHHHIIIIIUUUUUUUEEEEEE!!!”
As expected the sneeze was massive, a deafening roar that rocked the building.
Ozias stumbled with the force of it, having to grab the lip of a nearby counter to steady himself. The eruption had taken his breath away leaving him an astonished, if appreciative, shell.
He buzzed with tremulous excitement as he contemplated how extensive the collateral damage would have been had he not deployed the collar in time. Riding the high, Ozias hurriedly swept up the irritant before it caused another, potentially bigger, sneeze.
Meanwhile, Beau , largely unaware of the chaos he had caused, raised a handkerchief to his nose to blow away the last vestiges of the tickle and spend what remained of the morning with his fiance. Instead, his hand collided with the static-y wall of the energy field surrounding his head.
Opening his eyes for the first time since his fit started, he blinked blearily as his vision came into focus, watching as Ozias wiped away the pepper on the counter.
His nose twinged with impatient desire for another massive sneeze, and Beau knew he’d be forced to give in to that need if he couldn’t expel the remaining irritants lodged in his nose. He knocked impishly at the containment bubble to summon Ozias’s attention as the urge grew.
Ozias had finished disposing of the spilled pepper when Beau's grab for attention began, smiling as he turned to face the source of the noise.
Beau waved at him, gesturing to drop the containment bubble. His fiance, wise to the potential danger, chuckled. Arms crossed in faux-seriousness and leaning against the now clean counter Ozias raised a mildly amused eyebrow,
“All done? No storms on the horizon, right~ ?”
Beau held his hands in a placating gesture and shook his head no, though his nose twitched ever so slightly.
Suspicious, but ultimately compliant, Ozias dispelled the containment bubble. Once retracted, Beau raised the handkerchief and blew his nose viciously.
“Sorry, sorry! snf!” Beau apologized, rubbing his nose through the folds of the handkerchief a final time.
“Ohhh Ozzy… did I wake you?”
“Well yeah,” Ozias laughed, “don’t worry though, pet, that was the best wake-up call I’ve received in a while.”
“Though I must ask sweetheart, what’s got you going so early today?”
Beau lowered the handkerchief and gave Ozias an embarrassed grin as he gave his recount.
“Well, since today’s our special day, I thought I’d make you breakfast with the chef-bit’s help!
“Everything was fine until the eggs!” Beau despaired, “I accidentally knocked over the pepper shaker and the cap flew off and I j-just c-couldn’t heeehH—help myself! HIIIEEEHHH—! sngk!!”
Ozias stuck a finger under Beau’s nose, rubbing gently but firmly to soothe the itch. If this itch were allowed to become fully realized, it would spell doom for their apartment, regardless of whether the containment bubble caught the brunt of it or not. He loved doing this; just the idea that he could waylay his darling fiance from leveling an area with just a finger under the nose drove him wild.
Beau’s nose continued to flex and flare with irritation but eventually relented to the pressure.
“Thanks.” Beau slumped forward, sighing with relief, “The poor little chef-bit didn’t stand a chance I fear. I swear Ozzy, I’d probably blow myself off the planet without you here,” Beau laughed.
“At the risk of jinxing our near future, I don’t think they're quite big enough for you to escape Earth’s gravitational pull just yet.” Ozias chuckled alongside his partner. He placed a hand on Beau’s waist before pulling him closer into a sort of half-hug. Ozias gently touched a kiss to the crown of Beau’s head, laughing as his fiance buzzed with delight.
“Thank you for trying to surprise me though,” said Ozias, nuzzling into his partner’s hair, “the thought was well appreciated, even if your nose got the better of you in the end.”
Beau tsk’d in frustration as he surveyed the disaster he had made of their kitchen.
“Ack—! and I’ve made such a mess!” He groaned as bits of spattered fruit slid down the wall. "This’ll take forever to clean!”
Beau slammed his face into his open and awaiting palms, huffing in exasperation.
“I reaally am sorry Ozzy! Some surprise this was…”
“You don’t need to apologize, baby. I know you can’t help it, and you know I love it,” Ozias soothed. He melted a bit internally when faced with Beau’s guilty, unconvinced expression.
“And don’t even worry! The cleaners’ll make this place sparkle again in no time!” Ozias said, adding an internal note to triple their rate for the trouble.
“I’ll have to make sure I leave them a good tip then." Beau shrugged.
Ozias swore he could see the faintest little twinge of twitching by the base Beau's of nose. He was about to bring it up when his fiance turned to him.
“ And…maybe we can test this… thing’s limits when we get off work? At a safe zone? I think I might have gotten another growth spurt…” Beau practically winced, gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose as he made his request.
Ozias could feel a smile creeping on to his face without his permission. 'Growth spurts', for people like Beau, referred to the phenomenon of their sneezes drastically increasing in size and damage potential. His darling storm cloud was already among the top 0.01 percent of people afflicted with macroptárnisma, and to think that those destructive blasts of air that had only been rivaled by nature itself could get bigger drove Ozias wild.
It took all Ozias had not to ravish his beloved fiance with his affection right then and there.
He could feel himself flush from head to toe. The temptation to test the limits of Beau’s nose —and his apartment’s structural integrity— sprung into full bloom in the recesses of Ozias’s mind, consequences be damned. Excited by the chance to see what his darling was capable of, Ozias couldn’t help but grin in the haze of his desire.
“Of course, pet! I’ll make sure to book the venue immediately, it’ll be the capstone of our evening.”
—-
The click-clack of keyboards and buzz of droning chatter bored Ozias. Though he should have been focusing on the trajectory of his meeting, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to Beau.
His gorgeous dark curls, his shining tear-laden eyes, the staccato hitch-hitch-hitch!-ing of his breath as he huffed and puffed towards a tempestuous finale. The model’s face would collapse into a vision of utter helplessness as he acquiesced to complete surrender to the demands of his nose.
It was a difficult thing to please, Beau’s nose; exceedingly sensitive and beyond insatiable, there was little hope of controlling it when it got going. Any attempt to quell the tickly urge would lead to far more devastating consequences in the immediate future.
Ozias fiddled with his pen as he drifted further and further into the embrace of nostalgia. It had been their anniversary then as well, and he had just managed to convince Beau that his destructive fits were a bonus and not a flaw in his eyes. To prove it, Ozias had bought a massive field of flowering tulips for them to frolic in. Beau had revealed them to be his favourites when they started dating — though he could never be around them within city confines— and was ecstatic when they had arrived.
The joy on his darling’s face had made the purchase all the more worth it. Eventually, joy would give way to the slightest tinge of an itch. Slowly, Beau’s nose would begin to twitch and tremble with irritation. Ozias cherished the memory of the first time he had been asked to help hold back the oncoming release. How could he not? Between gently massaging the aggrieved appendage to try to provide relief, and firmly placing a finger under Beau’s nose when that had proved futile, their combined efforts had only been enough to delay the fast approaching storm by mere minutes.
Beau had gently guided Ozias out of the blast range once he realised an eruption would be imminent. His hitches took on new depth as his chest heaved with copious amounts of air, his face the perfect picture of itchiness.
And in an instant, the entire acre of tulips had been flattened, reduced to a whirlwind of petals on the gale. Ozias had been impressed until his darling storm cloud had begun to pant with need for more. Beau’s nose would not be satisfied with just one sneeze.
Ozias watched Beau huff, puff, and blow the acreage of tulips to smithereens with a reverence he had heretofore never experienced. The field of flowers they once stood in had been reduced to barren earth within seconds as Beau desperately fanned at his furious nose. It trembled and twitched with a violence as Beau heaved towards a terrible finale—
Taptaptap!
“Mr. Riesling? Please pay attention. What are your thoughts on the forecast of projected company earnings for Q2 and 3?”
Ozias’s happy jaunt down memory lane was rudely interrupted by a member of the board. He cleared his throat, standing to continue the meeting and issue the response the board sought with a cheaply plastered smile.
He’d just have to be satisfied with the idea of his darling’s sneezy face until he could experience the real deal at home.
—-
Ozias slumped with relief as he got in the elevator. An elegantly wrapped box under one arm and a bag with celebratory goodies on the other, he quietly anticipated the sight of his fiance after a drawn out day of meetings and reports. After minutes of quiet excitement, the elevator chimed gently and opened its doors to his apartment.
Ozias strode into his home with renewed vigor, carrying his offerings .
“I’m home! Beau, my darling—!” He paused, surprised. Ozias found his beloved fiance sitting wearily on the couch in the foyer, handkerchief in hand, nose tinged red all the way up to the bridge.
“Ozzy! How was work?” Beau tilted his head slightly to better cast his languid gaze over at Ozias; a syrupy, indolent smile began to spread across his lips, his nares twitching ever so slightly.
“Fine… but is something wrong? Why are you sitting out on the foyer?” Ozias quickly took a seat beside his partner as he spoke, grasping Beau’s free hand.
Beau sniffled, vigorously rubbing his nose with a seeming lack of regard for the itchy appendage’s beet red hue.
“Since the accident with the pepper this morning, I’ve been suuuper itchy,” he stated idly, “so my director sent me home early,”
He sniffed, annoyed.
“Told me not to come back until I was ‘no longer a danger to the studio’, so I’ve been home for the better part of the day.”
“Poor baby…” Ozias cooed.
“It’s for the best, really. I’d hate to have a repeat of last year’s incident, and cost you even more money.”
‘Last Year’s Incident’, as Beau had dubbed it, had been a more public showing of his nose’s true capabilities after a growth spurt.
In Ozias’s opinion it had been purely the fault of the producer, who insisted on doing a floral shoot in the middle of spring. Hundreds of thousands of beautiful, pollen bearing flowers had been flown into the studio for ‘authenticity’. The models were run through the ringer without regard for break nor rest in order to capture the photos at the flower's peak freshness.
At least, until Beau huffed, puffed and blew them all away.
Aggrieved and overstimulated by the smell and microscopic invasion of pollen, Beau’s nose exploded with vicious reprisal, inundating the studio with a cataclysmic paroxysm of sneezes; blowing the flowers to shreds, toppling cameras, destroying equipment, and blowing the building to smithereens.
By the time someone had gotten a hold of Ozias the studio had been reduced to an empty lot .
“Sweetheart, you wound me! You know no cost is too great for me when it comes to you~”
“But that still doesn’t explain why you’ve been sat out here the whole day. You couldn’t have been waiting for me the entire time?” Ozias pressed.
“The cleaners just finished straightening the apartment out, Oz. I wouldn’t want this thing to go off and ruin all their hard work,” he gestured to his nose, “and besides, I figured you’d enjoy getting a good look before we went to the safe zone. And I know, I know you wanted to finish the day with our trip there, but I’ve been dealing with this itch for hours! If I don’t get some relief soon, the results won’t be pretty.”
Ozias knew if what Beau was saying was true, then the resulting release would be an absolute monster of a sneeze. That perfect nose of his was carrying all the might of a super-storm within and was more than ready to unleash its might on anyone who dared to irritate it further. The very thought inspired feelings of desperate recklessness in Ozias.
“Hours you said? My… that sounds terrible, pet,” he cooed, hand slowly but surely reaching up to thumb the side of Beau’s nares.
“Ozzy—, focus!” Beau scolded, “I’ll blow up the apartment if you’re n-not, c-care-careful! HiiIhHHHH—!”
It was a relatively weak hitch for Beau, but weak or not, Ozias could feel his hair sway towards him in tandem with each inhale. He felt his heart rate spike with excitement. Ozias’s thumb had not even made true contact with the outer rim of Beau’s nostril, but it flared with indignation at the audacity to even think about doing such a thing.
The preemptive rejection from Beau’s nose and his fiance’s admonishing warning only excited Ozias further. For as much as temptation dared him to give his fiance’s nose a gentle caress, to coax out the sneeze lurking in its depths, Ozias decided it would be for the best if he backed up to give his fiance the space he needed as Beau fanned his face in an attempt to get himself back under control.
“Thh– hhhaAAAah–! T-That waaass—HAAAAHHhy—!” Beau gasped.
Ozias felt the vacuum-esque pull of Beau’s gasps intensify. His hitches pulled a number of their potted succulents off balance and left them in crumpled heaps on the floor. His fiance’s face was the perfect expression of attempted restraint; of once perfect control slipping through his grasp, like sand through one’s fingers.
He watched with rapt attention as Beau systematically wrestled the urge back towards a state of calm. Corralling the itch like some wild thing, his breathing eventually evened itself back out as his nose bucked and flared with a vengeance.
“ThAAAAAh-! HAAAaahHhh?! AaAAAHHHHHH!!
HHhaAAAadHh?! HaAAahh–? th-Thaaaht-! Th-that was… reckless!” Beau croaked.
Breath unsteady and heady from a build-up denied, he glared at Ozias, though it held no real heat; his eyes glassy with unshed, itchy tears, made Ozias’s breath catch in his throat.
“Get me to a safe-zone in the next ten minutes, or you’re about to understand just how destructive my fits can be.”
It was more a command than a request and Ozias could only think of one answer.
“Yes, my darling.”
—
They had taken one of Ozias’s cars to the nearest safe zone they could find, a chauffeur-bit raced them across the city in record time to get the pair to Breezy Acres; one of several premiere facilities for the ‘nasally gifted’ dotted throughout the city. Ozias counted his blessings they had gotten there so quickly as he guided Beau into the building.
His prior estimate of being able to successfully hold back another ten minutes had been generous; by minute seven Ozias could tell his fiance was just about ready to blow.
Ozias pulled Beau into a designated sternutory chamber as his partner began to hitch quietly. Just outside the chamber sat a bored technician who acknowledged their entry with an unenthusiastic,
“Welcome to Breezy Acres, where your stormy days are our pleasure to manage. What strength category do you think you’ll be needing—”
“Maximum. Oh and, please, do hurry, I don’t think he’ll be able to hold back much longer!”
The technician rolled their eyes as they pushed the strength array of the chamber’s shielding to its maximum value. Beau hitched towards what would undoubtedly be a terrific sneeze within the confines of several energy fields, similar to the containment collar.
He no longer fought the approach of the sneeze, fully surrendering to it and the burning fury of the itch in his nose. His eyes fluttered shut as he breathed in, in, in.
His chest heaved with the air he was pulling in, hands fluttering uselessly in a vain attempt to feel some sort of control over a rapidly devolving situation. Beau, now thoroughly overcome with the incessant, needling itch he had been dealing with all day, felt his body switch to autopilot to prepare for imminent release.
It had been exactly ten minutes since Beau had demanded Ozias bring him to the safe zone.
Beau’s head tilted back slowly as he gasped his final hitch. A heavy moment of silence permeated the before he rocked forward with a deafening,
“AAAAHHHH-! HHHHAAAEEEESSSCHIIIUUUEEEEEE!!!”
The activation of the containment fields bathed the room in an eerie, green glow. A warning flashed across the technician’s monitor, eliciting a noise of genuine disbelief. Ozias, feeling nosy, decided to take a quick peek only to choke on shock himself.
The message on the screen read,
‘Warning: Containment Absorption Rate at Capacity’
The technician’s face drained of colour, horrified but mildly fascinated, as Beau panted towards another devastating release. They gingerly pressed the intercom button to say something, only to be drowned out by a room shaking,
“HHHEEEIIIIIIIDDDJJSSSSSCCCHHIIIEEEEWWW!!!”
It was a veritable twister of a sneeze, shattering a few of the containment fields and causing the floor to tremble in awe of its might. Ozias was temporarily overcome with ecstasy before he remembered the precarious situation they were in.
“Mr. Allison, please! Do your best to hold back any additional sneezes! The containment fields are beyond capacity, and any further releases will put you at serious risk of collateral damage!” They begged.
If Beau had heard them, he didn’t show it as he hitched dangerously towards another sneeze. Low and deep, they thrummed with power that would prove to be uncontainable if allowed to coalesce into a sneeze.
“HHAAAAHHHHH—! AAAAHHHHHHHH—!! HhaAhhhH–HAAAAAAAHHHHh!!!”
Just his hitching was powerful enough to tear panels from the containment fields out of alignment, further weakening the containment array.
Throwing ideas at the wall to see what would stick, the technician activated a number of sternutory suppression aids to try to halt the rapidly advancing tickle. Many a robotic hand stretched out of the chamber walls, each with their own ‘special method’ of stopping monstrous sneezes in their tracks. They rubbed, pinched, pressed and squeezed the model’s cherry red nose, unknowingly adding fuel to a blazing wildfire.
“HHHAAAEEEEEHHHHHHH!!! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“No, no, no, nonono—! C’mon, work with me here!” the technician panicked, frantically deactivating the suppression aids and rerouting power to the sternutory chamber as Beau continued to gasp towards destructive release.
Ozias watched on with delight as his darling fiancé’s chest inflated with all the air he took in, head tilting back in preparation, nose trembling with the catalyst to cataclysm.
He had not been pleased when the technician unceremoniously tackled him to the floor, but his complaints were summarily silenced as a booming—
“HHHAAAAAEEEDDDHTTTZSCHIIIIEEEEEWWWWWW!!!”
— rattled the facility.
It was like a bomb went off. Containment field panels and the robotic arms that bore them had been flung every which way in the chamber. The specially made reinforced glass that separated the technician’s booth from the sternutory chamber shattered from the force of the blast. Broken bits of the suppression aids stuck out at random across the wall of the chamber like shrapnel. At the center of the chaos was Beau. Still unsatisfied, still itchy, gasping towards yet another massive sneeze.
Ozias and the technician got up slowly, one reeling from his amorous feelings towards his itchy beloved, the other, still shaken from Beau’s eruption.
Said technician was horrified once they peered above their console to find Beau gearing up for yet another sneeze. They shot a pleading look at Ozias, perhaps hoping he’d give them the key to stopping Beau from blowing the place sky high. What they found was the face of a gentleman who was very much okay with the idea being blasted away along with the facility.
Sighing internally, the technician gingerly pressed the intercom.
“Mr. Allison, please try to hold that one in,” they begged, “the facility needs a bit of time to recuperate from the effects of your fit.”
“HHAAAAHHHhhH!!! aAaaAAAAHHHHDHH?! AAAEEEHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
They pleaded, “You won’t even need to wait long, we’ll have you transferred to another maximum strength chamber within 5 minutes. Just please, try to keep it together for a little while longer, this room can’t take much more!”
“C-HhHHH! c-haaeehhH!! I–! iihhHHHHhh! C-can’t! I can’t! GHHh-gonnaaahHHHH!!! G-ghk!
GottaaaaAAAAAHHH—!!! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
With that the technician sprinted for the exit, dragging the besotted Ozias Riesling behind him, slamming the ‘Emergency Containment’ button as they ran. Steel doors descended behind them, cordoning off the sternutory chamber and the corridor that led to it, trapping the ticking timebomb of a man within.
In their panic, the technician ran all the way to the check-in area. Doubling over, catching their breath, they felt a pang of annoyance as they caught a glimpse of Ozias out of the corner of their eye. He was just standing there with a hopeful expression. Waiting.
They weren’t sure why but that pissed them off.
They were about to lay into him for his general unhelpfulness in the situation when what felt like the entire complex shuddered with a massive,
“AAAAAAHHHDDDTTTIIIIISSSZJCCCHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
It seemed Beau’s nose had been determined to be as ungovernable as possible that evening; the steel doors that Breezy Acres had employed in containing particularly volatile guests exploded from their hinges and shot like arrows across the entryway. They buried themselves in the adjacent wall, half crumpling on impact from the force.
The technician turned towards the hallway they had just escaped from with a look of disbelief. Never before in the years they had worked there had they seen eruptions of that magnitude. Their mind flooded with questions; What could have caused such a calamitous fit? Was this normal for him? Was the equipment salvageable?
Their thoughts were on a runaway track without their say-so until they were interrupted by Ozias’s jolly laughter.
“My darling storm cloud really is something, huh?”
The technician nodded dumbly, unable to find adequate words for a response.
“Here, for your troubles.” It took their mind a moment to grasp what exactly was happening as Ozias shoved a wad of cash into their hands.
“Feel free to send me an invoice for the repairs!” He said with grandiose flair as he collected his fiancé. The couple left shortly thereafter, chatting ecstatically about their remaining evening plans.
The Dragon and His Bride (2/?)(M/M)
In which a greedy dragon takes the wrong lesson on being more considerate towards his bride. In unrelated news, dragons like things that are warm.
Warning: continued overuse of the word 'bride'.
Gigantic sneezes ensue.
3.9k words
The sound that heralded his crafty bride’s arrival within the bounds of his territory was a sneeze so explosive it could blast away the veil to the heavens. Each time Florian returned from his jaunts into town, Argos received an indirect reminder of the vow he made; his restoration to his true form, in exchange for a treasure that could cure all ills and dispel all curses. If he failed, his dastardly bride would huff, and puff, and blow him and his lands to the ends of the earth.
It was a deeply unfair trade: regaining his true form in exchange for a treasure he was no longer even sure still existed. Argos fumed as he spent yet another day alone in his den, marvelling at his bride’s temerity.
He ran his new hands over his face in frustration. Of all the things he could have promised that wretched bride, of course it had to be one of the few items in his collection that he had lost. The floor of the den trembled fiercely as another booming explosion echoed in the distance. Argos winced.
There was no way out of it. For once in his long, long life, Argos would have to honour a promise he made. He sulked, unable to vent his frustration with massive gouts of fire due to the limitations of his current form. For all his moping however, he didn’t dare to billow smoke for fear his bride would arrive and become even more itchy than he was already once he entered.
So instead he sat, waist wrapped in glittering silks as he awaited his bride’s return. Argos grew increasingly listless as he waited. Despite having found ways to bide his time in his new form, Argos refused to risk giving his bride the satisfaction of seeing him willingly amble about his den on spindly human legs.
Florian arrived at the den’s entrance half an hour later. Argos turned his head to acknowledge his bride’s arrival before returning to his sulking.
“Good evening to you too, dear husband.” Florian said sarcastically.
Argos turned to his bride fully, confused.
“I hadn’t said anything?”
“I know.” his bride scoffed as he walked further into the den and set his things down. “However, one does not meet rudeness with rudeness if they expect an arrangement to be fruitful.”
Argos’ ears reddened at his bride’s indirect reproach of his behaviour. However, rather than amending his approach, he pressed on and decided to pick a fight.
“Well, I’m quite upset with you!” He exclaimed as Florian began to unpack whatever he had gained on his venture into town. Seeing his bride pay him no further mind infuriated Argos.
“You keep leaving me here all by my lonesome all day with nothing to do!” He raged, “And on top of that, you’ve been continuing to purposefully destroy parts of my territory! Don’t think I haven’t noticed!!!”
Though Argos was careful not to spew smoke as he vented his frustrations, and especially careful not to slam his hands on the ground and he voiced them, but he still felt unsettled by the ice-cold stare of disapproval from his bride as Florian slowly finished what he was doing and turned to face Argos in silence.
“Do not raise your voice at me.” the sorcerer warned quietly, but with a firmness that shook the Drake King’s resolve.
Argos defiantly held Florian’s gaze for a few moments before looking away, bitter words melting back into his throat as though he had never thought them to begin with. His cruel bride raised an eyebrow after witnessing the shift in his demeanor. Florian sighed after a few seconds of heavy silence passed between them.
“Is it truly so dull without me here?”
“...yes.” Argos pouted.
“It can’t be avoided, I’m afraid.” Florian remarked. “I need to teach you a great many things about human society before we can go into towns together; and for that, I must gather specific materials.”
His bride picked up a brilliantly brocaded silk coat and held it aloft temptingly.
“Like this, for example.”
That caught his attention. Argos leaned forward with rapt curiosity, his interest thoroughly piqued.
“Is… is that for me?”
“Yes~.” his lovely bride responded, “One of many.”
Florian smiled at Argos’ clear joy and wonder. He wiggled the garment temptingly and beckoned the Drake King with honeyed words.
“Come here, Argos~. Come! Let me help you try it on.”
In days past, Florian taught Argos how to walk on two legs rather than four. Knowing the Drake King would be as difficult as he allowed him to be, Florian ensured that his new husband would be put through his paces every chance he got, and thus stood as far away from him as possible when he first entered in order to force his approach. The temptation of the silk brocade was too much for Argos to bear, so he stood up and walked over to his bride without any further argument.
His bride helped him dress while instructing him on how to approach dressing himself in the future. When they had finished with the finer details of the outfit, Florian picked up a mirror and handed it to Argos.
One thing that remained constant across his transformation was his vanity, and so Argos ooh’d and aah’d over his reflection and temporarily forgot about his bride’s slights against him. Florian had dressed him well in a lusciously dark green coat with gold embellishments that complemented his hair and brought out his eyes. The silk shirt he wore underneath felt blissfully smooth on his skin and the dark pants it was paired with felt incredible. Argos was incredibly pleased.
“Thank you for your help and these gifts, precious bride! Your kindness knows no bounds!”
“You’re quite welcome.” Florian replied.
Draconic pride however would not allow him to disregard his bride’s blasé destruction of his domain. Argos was too enraptured with his own looks to try to start another fight, and so disguised his barbs as a question instead.
“However… I noticed you didn’t address my concerns about the destruction of parts of my territory. Why is that?”
“It’s wholly unintentional, I assure you.” Florian brushed his concerns aside. Argos pressed further.
“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t continue to destroy my territory if we made the deal? We made a deal!”
Florian looked at Argos quizzically.
“I made no such promise. My exact words to you, dear husband, were : ‘I, Florian Amestris, hereby solemnly vow to disregard my liege’s orders to rid you from the kingdom in exchange for a treasure that will dispel my curse.’. There was no provision in our arrangement to prevent me from damaging the surrounding environment, though I do understand your concern.”
Argos stood gobsmacked. That couldn't be right.
“But- but my territory and my self exist as one entity! An attack on my domain is an attack on me!”
“I can see why you might think that, but in matters of contracts they aren't. The ring would penalise me itself if that were so.” Florian shrugged, “And I am not ‘attacking’ you or your territory. I’m sneezing. There is a world of difference between the two, let me assure you.”
His bride considered Argos’ despair and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder.
“Consider this another lesson on what it means to be human: contracts between individuals live and die by how well they’re constructed. If you aren't careful, your words may bind you to an unfavorable situation.” Florian said.
“Couldn’t you at least try not to destroy my territory?” Argos implored.
“This is me trying, Argos.” Florian declared exasperated, “You constantly emit magic, the treasures in this den constantly emit magic, I am constantly wearing this magic ring, and I myself constantly produce copious amounts of magic,”
His bride threw his hands into the air in frustration. Whether or not Florian was aware of it, his nose had begun to twitch. Argos shrank back, noticing the change immediately. His bride advanced on him as he retreated, punctuating his points by pressing his finger into Argos’ chest as he physically backpedalled.
“ You live in a magical forest that can only be traversed by magical beasts! With magical trees and plants that produce magical pollen!”
Another nose twitch, another chest prod, another back step from the Drake King as he made placating gestures towards his frustrated bride.
“A week ago, just standing here I would have had a fit so violent there would be nothing left of your precious territory!” Florian hissed.
“Instead I suppress the urge to get even a modicum of relief from this infernal itch, so I can stand by you and give you the best possible chance to figure out where the treasure is so I don’t erupt like a gods damned volcano and—!”
Florian paused his rant unexpectedly. He stood stock still, his nose the only part of him still in motion. Twitching. Flaring.
It was like a spell had been cast over the sorcerer, freezing him in time for but a moment.
Argos reached out a hand to gently tap his bride’s shoulder when the hitching began.
“uh-ahhhHnd–! an—aaAaAAH! aaAAAHHHH–! HHHHAAAAHHHHHH!!”
Argos panicked. Florian’s rant had awoken the itch he had been trying so hard to keep dormant. Argos hadn’t realized that his bride had been struggling with his allergy that much.
He certainly wished he hadn’t pushed Florian to his breaking point, especially seeing as he was now about to erupt like never before. Perhaps he may have been able to continue to forego the need for release if he hadn't.
Argos looked about the den to see where his bride might be able to sneeze without further jeopardizing the integrity of their home or the surrounding forest.
Then it clicked: the mountaintop. Florian had already blown the peak off the mountain when they had first met. The summit of the mountain reached well above the clouds, so — in theory — there would be nothing to damage. Argos might not have had the strength of a dragon anymore, but he was still far stronger than the average man. What's more, unbeknownst to his bride, he had amused himself in days past by scaling the walls of his den while Florian was out, so he was quite confident he’d be able to make the climb.
So he took his chances.
Argos cast aside his new coat and tackled his bride, bodily putting him over his shoulder and began to scale the rocky crags of the den.
However, not even the surprise of being grabbed and hauled up the interior of the mountain could shake the hold the tickle had over Florian by this point as he continued to hitch, and hitch, and hitch.
The urgency of his bride’s hitches spurred Argos into scaling the walls with greater efficiency. Argos sped up by leaps and bounds, carrying his ticking time bomb of a bride along with him.
“hiiiiIIIIIHHHHHHhh! HAAHHHH! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHDT—! HHHHHAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAAAADZ–?!
HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAA’HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH—!!!”
A third of the way, then half, then three-quarters, they had almost made it. Argos had just planted a hand on the ice-cold powdery snow at the summit when he felt that tell-tale bottomless inhale that heralded Florian's sneezes.
Argos threw himself and his bride onto the snow and braced himself behind Florian.
“HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAADDDTTTTZZ’YYYYIIIISSSSSCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! YYYYYYYYYYYDDDDZZSSSSCCCCCCCHAAAAAAAA!!!”
Florian erupted, blasting a flurry of snow and ice into the air.
The mountain beneath them quaked with the force of the expulsions, yet Argos sighed with relief. No walls had been blown out of his precious den, and his treasures had not been flung about on the gale. He preened with satisfaction. His precious bride’s sneezes were massive, but not so much so that they would put his den and broader territory in danger from so high up.
Then, as though Florian’s nose had wished to prove a point, it twitched and twinged around a bigger itch.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDTTTTTTZZZSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Argos winced as his bride detonated. The blast swept away heavily ladened snow clouds, clearing the sky around the summit of clouds and sending cracks rocketing through its cornices.
With the sky forcefully cleared and the crystal clear light of the moon shining down upon the pair, the spider webbing of the fractures within the compacted snow became concerningly apparent as they crept towards them. More concerning was that Florian still heaved towards yet another eruption. Argos gripped his bride tightly as he felt him take in gasp after gasp of mountain air. Chunks of snow-ice were beginning to slough away and slide down the mountain, and they’d be next if his bride's hitches were anything to go by. Argos imagined an imminent future in which Florian took a final deep breath before unleashing a sneeze so violent it would collapse the very mountain beneath them. What then would come of his precious gold and jewels? His treasures? What of all the new things his bride had brought him?
Argos made up his mind then and there; he would not allow his bride to sneeze. His human hands were far smaller than the massive talons of his previous form, but they had the benefit of being far more dexterous. Argos extended his forefinger and shoved it beneath Florian’s nose.
The appendage twitched mightily, dissatisfied with the finger’s presence.
“D-don’t— AAAAAAHHHHH! Th-hiiIIIHHHHHHH—! this w-won’t—! whh–! wo—hhhHHHHHHHHHHH!! EEEHHHHHHHHH?! HHHEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHH!! this w-won’t ehH-end well! Stop!!” Florian warned between panting breaths.
“You’re about to cause an avalanche! The mountain can’t handle much more!” Argos panicked.
He pressed his finger more firmly against the underside of his bride’s nose. The nares flared widely against Argos’ finger in a bid to pull in yet more air. While Argos had a much better handle on the situation than attempts made in the past, Florian’s nose fought him every step of the way.
“HIIIIIIEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH—! AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HHHHAAAAHHH’AAAAHHHHHHHHHDDT!!!”
“Please just work with me! You can not sneeze again, the mountain is doomed if you do!” Argos begged. Though he wasn't quite sure if he was reasoning with Florian or his nose at this point.
It was an interesting sensation, trying to fend off his bride's oncoming sneeze. One wholly new to Argos as he had never been this close to a human's face before.
His bride’s nose had flushed a shade of berry red from wing to tip,and the appendage's constant need to hungrily flare and twitch around the boundary of his finger had proved a bizarre but deeply intriguing sensation. Despite the blistering cold of the mountain summit Florian's nose radiated heat, squishing almost pleasantly beneath his finger. The contrast extended to the delightful warmth of each ticklishly panted breath that met Argos’ wrist as he stood firm to attempt to stem the tide.
Argos tried to will the deeply welling urge within the sorcerer away as he ground his finger beneath Florian’s nose, even as his bride panted and puffed, and heaved with need of relief. Argos kept up a consistent pressure, refusing to be cowed by his bride’s foreboding gasps. Slowly, but surely, the itch began to lessen and Florian’s breathing started to even.
“HHHHHHAAAAAHHH-! AAAAHHHHHHhh!? HHHHAAAAAAAADDDDHHHHH!!! HHHAAaaDT—? HHAAaaAHhhh—? HHHHHHH’HHHhhhhh! hahhhh-! Ahhh.”
Argos could have leapt for joy when he heard Florian's sigh of relief, removing his finger and taking a step back to take a better look at the sorcerer. His bride was disheveled from the climb and violent fits of sneezing. Florian’s sharp grey eyes had taken on a hazy, unfocused quality. They fluttered rapidly, perhaps to clear his watery eyes of the snowflakes that had found their way into his eyelashes. Argos reached out to brush bits of snow out of his poor bride’s hair, when Florian’s expression suddenly crumpled.
“HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDTTTT’TZZZJSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!!!”
Argos could not have been further surprised as he found himself witnessing a spectacular avalanche while careening through the air without wings. He soared in confusion, sailing aloft on a gale-wind so fierce it carried him for miles. Hadn’t he successfully stopped the sneeze in its tracks? What went wrong?
As he began to fall towards the treetops the answer struck him. Florian had an intolerance for magic despite his nature as a sorcerer. Argos, regardless of the diminished form of his transformation, still possessed and produced magic. He admittedly hadn’t been paying much attention during his bride’s frustrated rant on the topic, as he’d been too focused on preventing Florian from destroying their home to consider the salient points of what he’d been saying. It was his own fault really. Argos closed his eyes and sighed, mentally preparing himself for a rough landing amongst the trees on the outskirts of his domain.
It was only when the blast of a trumpeting nose blow reached his ears that he realized that he had stopped falling entirely and was sitting quite comfortably on the floor of his den once more.
He looked about the den shocked, eyes finally landing on Florian who stood by the hole he’d made in the cave wall a week ago, handkerchief in hand.
“You–! You blew me off the mountain!” Argos pointed at his bride, incredulous.
“I was trying to warn you that might happen, sndf! but you don’t tend to listen when I speak, husband dear.” Florian said with his back turned.
His bride dabbed at the underside of his nose before continuing.
“But since I'm sure I have your attention now, they tend to get bigger when you try to hold them back.”
“I was trying to prevent an avalanche!” Argos justified himself, “How was I supposed to know?!”
Florian shot Argos an unimpressed look over his shoulder. Argos persisted.
“And how are we back here?! You said you couldn’t use magi-!”
“If I couldn’t use magic, I’d never have been sent out here and you wouldn't look like this now. Lest you forget, the king wants you dead Argos, not changed.”
“I’ve never said that.” Florian interjected sharply, swiftly turning to face Argos, “And unless you wanted to try your luck landing safely after a fall like that, you should be grateful that I expended a spell to save you.”
His bride swiftly closed the distance between them, irritation pulling at his pretty features.
Argos considered Florian warily as he approached him. He became far more skeptical when his bride corralled him into a corner and kept him there. Here, his bride struck an intimidating figure, despite being a full head shorter than him.
This time Argos felt compelled to give Florian his full attention.
“It appears you and I aren't quite communicating on the same wavelength. I aim to fix that.” Florian stated simply.
His bride lowered his voice to a near whisper, perking Argos’ ears and forcing him to lean in.
“I should have considered you more in this arrangement, dear husband. After all, the first priority of a king as esteemed as yourself would always be your domain, and I’ve been damaging it without any regard for you. It’s shameful for a bride like me to cause you such worry!” Florian said sweetly. Argos immediately nodded in agreement.
“But, at the same time, I really can't help myself! The less said about it the better, but your domain really doesn't agree with me. So I've come up with a solution!” He pressed a finger to Argos’ chest, "You'll take the brunt of the force yourself!”
Argos felt a cool pit of dread, along with something else he couldn’t describe, pool in his stomach. His bride smiled up at him radiantly.
“Ah… B-but how, my sweet bride? You’ve sent me flying even as a dragon! S-surely that wouldn’t be feasible.” He tried to squirm his way out of the arrangement.
“Oh, but it is! My master taught me the spell a long time ago! It’s a nullification spell so it won't trigger my allergy, and most importantly; it won't hurt you.” Florian countered with a smile. Argos deflated slightly. As expected of his crafty bride, there would be no escape for him.
“This benefits us both, you see. I get to discharge the excess magical energy bothering my nose, and your territory remains safe and sound.” Florian reasoned, “It’ll only remain active until we find the treasure you mentioned.”
“You promise it won’t harm me?” he asked tentatively.
“Ah, but…!” Argos tried to find a reason not to implement the agreement, but couldn’t find a single one. He’d been the one to press the issue of his bride’s fits damaging his territory even as he cast aside Florian's remarks about the effect his domain had on him. There was no way he’d be able to drag his feet about giving an answer either. His bride looked up at him expectantly with the slightest twinge in his nose. If Florian sneezed again, there was no telling what would happen.
Argos grit his teeth, but acquiesced.
“I promise.” Florian said gently.
“If it makes you feel any better, she implemented the spell on my old colleague of mine as punishment for trapping me in a mirror once. Aside from his constant whinging about the indignity of it he was never any worse for wear.”
Argos chuckled nervously at the anecdote but intertwined his fingers with Florian’s expectant hand nonetheless. The gentle glow and hum of magic passed between them. Even amidst the wonderment of the warmth and light of the spell, the Drake King only found himself growing concerned as the ticklish glint in Florian’s eyes became more apparent.
The very second his bride had finished casting the spell, he grabbed Argos and held him close. Argos felt his heart fly into his throat for a moment as Florian buried his face in his chest.
“HRAAAAAAAADTCH’MMMMMMMMMPPPHHH!!!”
The pair rocked with the force of the sneeze. Heat tried to fight its way into colouring Argos’ face like smoke climbed a chimney. His bride had been right, there was no blast of magical force or wind tearing through the den. There was no destruction for Argos to fret over, just the resonant thrum of the nullification spell radiating through his body. Argos’ entire body felt limp and boneless as the warmth washed through him. He very likely would have slumped to the cave floor if not for Florian holding him up. Florian who was, again, taking an impossibly deep breath and burying his face into Argos’ chest.
“HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSHHHHMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHHH!!!”
Another resplendent wave of energy washed over Argos. It was an indolent, seeping warmth he would have likened to sunning on a warm rock. Coupled with his bride’s firm grasp around his waist, Argos might have been content to stay just where he was for a long, long time. He was almost sad to see Florian withdraw.
“You look quite pleased for someone who’s just been used as a handkerchief,” His bride remarked.
“Ah… yes, I…” Argos muttered as searched for a reason under Florian's curious eye.
“I’m just glad the spell worked. Hard not to be pleased my home’s still standing after a performance like that.” Argos sniped, unwilling to admit he enjoyed what occurred.
His answer seemed to satisfy the sorcerer’s curiosity for the time being.
“Well, you’ll apply yourself more to learning to be a gentleman, won't you? Otherwise you’ll have to endure my fits more often.” Florian taunted.
Argos watched as his bride fussed about getting him up to speed on the proper bearing and etiquette of a human before allowing Argos to accompany him to town. Despite prior frustrations, he could not seem to turn his mind away from the unexpected, delightful warmth of being used so brazenly by his bride. He decided then to be more outwardly cooperative, if only to provoke a similar response for being difficult in the future.
A person forced into an apprenticeship with the local wizard to tame their titanic sneezing fits into something more manageable. Little does anyone know, they have a mild allergy to latent magic within the wizard's tower that makes their nose so sensitive that they're always a hair-trigger away from sneezing.
Worse, no matter the spell or potion used to try to minimise the force behind their sneezes, all of them end up exacerbating it instead.
Over the course of a year their sneezes balloon from 'sending papers flying' big to 'toppling buildings' big, with no sign of stopping.