#gen/shin im/pact
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How many Bai/z/hu enjoyers are here? Please let me know! I haven't played Gen/shin in a good while, but today I hopped on and did his character story quest, and oh my goodness I love him even more, and the snz hc's are arriving again!!! If people are interested, I'll share the ones I shared in Snzhnaya here tomorrow (it's past 2 am now so I should go to bed). Note that they'll include spoilers for his character story quest, although I'll block those off with a cut so anyone who hasn't done the story quest won't get spoiled
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Swirl
after. MONTHS. i have finally completed this Wanderer fic everybody clap
word count: 5k
Of all the people that Aether had been expecting to see as a participant at the Interdarshan Championship, the Wanderer was not one of them.
The Hat Guy name was completely unexpected as well, and it had honestly taken everything in Aether’s power to not burst out laughing the instant that the other was introduced on stage by that name. The fact nobody else seemed to think of it as strange made Aether outright think he was hallucinating for a moment, but a simple glance at Paimon’s equally as confuzzled expression dismissed that idea.
After briefly talking to the other contestants, Aether tracked down the Wanderer to the side of the stage-
Turning the corner, he caught sight of the Wanderer ducking his head into his hand, once- twice- three times, his hat giving off a faint jingling sound with each movement. Aether raised an eyebrow, but was cut off by Paimon before he could even begin to form a sentence. He remained in silence, watching as Paimon and the Wanderer snarked at each other, taking his time to analyze the Wanderer’s appearance.
Nothing seemed… obviously wrong, but Aether just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just ever so slightly… off. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He… somehow looked slightly paler, maybe? Or maybe not, he was a puppet after all- could his skin even get paler?
Aether probably shouldn’t ask him that.
Learning that Nahida was the reason the Wanderer was in the Akademia, and was going by Hat Guy no less, wasn’t much of a surprise. Still, Aether took the small lull in conversation that followed to ask his more pressing question.
“Are… you doing alright?” He asked, slowly, rolling his eyes when, as expected, the Wanderer glared at him.
“Tsk, I’m doing fine. There’s no need to concern yourself over me- hey- hey! What are you doing!?!” The Wanderer hissed as he attempted to back up as Aether strode forwards, only for his back to end up hitting the boxes behind him, practically trapping him as Aether tilted his hat back slightly, and leaned down to lightly press their foreheads together. Aether hummed as the Wanderer went completely still- staring at the Traveler with something in between confusion and anger. Even Paimon was floating off to the side, silent in shock at Aether’s seemingly spontaneous movement.
“Checking you for a fever.” Aether quietly explained, as it was, Aether didn’t feel any heat- in fact, if he had to guess, he’d say that the Wanderer was running slightly colder than most people. “Something just felt… off. Figured you might be sick.”
“I don’t get sick.” The Wanderer huffed, “I’m not some kind of weak mortal, remember? Now get off me.”
The Wanderer forcibly shoved Aether back, Aether stumbling slightly with the motion, bumping his head against the Wanderer’s hat, knocking it further askew. With Aether out of the way, and his hat no longer shading his face, the Wanderer ended up getting hit in the eyes with a stray ray of sunshine. He let out a high pitched gasp- and Aether watched with slight concern as he turned to the side, stifling four sneezes into complete silence.
“Bless you.”
“Snf, unnecessary…” The Wanderer muttered under his breath, readjusting his hat so that the sunshine could no longer hit his face as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand- which had Paimon grimacing in disgust. Aether tilted his head to the side.
“Unnecessary since you were nearly a god, and are as close to blessed as can be, or…?” He trailed off, smirking a bit as the Wanderer re-centered his glare on him. “Either way, you might want to take things easy-”
“Enough idle chit-chat- you’re better off wasting your time with the other contestants.” The Wanderer interrupted, crossing his arms. He maintained his glare for a minute, before his expression shifted to a small, slightly evil looking smirk. “Someone’s about to get very unlucky, can you guess who?”
“Ugh, how is anyone meant to relax with you around?!” Paimon groaned, floating along beside Aether as he turned and walked away. “We’re going to need to keep an eye on this one…”
Aether couldn’t help but to agree, albeit, it was for a slightly different reason than Paimon thought. He still couldn’t help but feel like something was up with the Wanderer, and given that little… display he had given, Aether wasn’t going to drop this subject so soon- he hated to say it, but he genuinely was concerned for the other. There was a point to the fact that the Wanderer couldn’t get sick, he was a puppet afterall, he likely wasn’t susceptible to the same things that people were. But still, there was something off, and if it wasn’t a normal illness, then, well, what was it?
Past-enemy that he was, Aether still didn’t want the guy to end up passing out in the middle of a competition because of some mystery condition.
There was going to be a lot to keep an eye on during this competition, but it shouldn’t be too hard to pay a little bit extra attention to the Wanderer’s actions, would it?
-
Aether was just about ready to strangle the Wanderer.
He was astoundingly hard to keep track of. It had only been 20 minutes since the first round of the competition had started, and he had already lost track of the Wanderer’s position no less than 3 times. His only saving grace had been the trackers given to each participant to trace their movements during the game- and even then, it had taken him five minutes to find the Wanderer’s exact location again.
Mainly because he hadn’t expected the Wanderer to be sitting at a table in the corner of a cafe’s terrace.
Aether walked over to him with as much false-calm as he could muster. He’d left Paimon behind to keep an eye on the other contestants- someone needed to record the rest of the competition while Aether investigated the one participant who was not participating.
“What. Are you doing.” Aether deadpanned, coming to a stop in front of the table as the Wanderer lifted his head to acknowledge his presence.
“What does it look like?” He said, lifting his cup of tea to his lips to take a small sip. “You were the one who said something about me ‘taking it easy’, right? I’m just taking your advice. Not that it’s necessary, but it sure beats running around like a clown in a circus. I’m no clown.”
Aether let out a tired sigh, pulling out a chair to sit down across from him.
“Says the one going by the name ‘Hat Guy’. Why are you drinking tea anyways? It’s like, a million degrees outside right now- wouldn’t you be better off drinking something cold? They do make cold teas, you know.” Aether watched as the Wanderer stiffened almost imperceptibly at his question, something he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for anything to give an indication of what was up with the Wanderer. “Is your throat-”
“I’m fine.” The Wanderer hissed, setting his cup down on the table with an audible clack- Aether was concerned for a moment that the cup would actually crack from the force of it, but it thankfully seemed to be undamaged. The Wanderer leaned forwards, resting his elbow on the table, holding up his face with one hand. “Really, I don’t understand what in the world has you so concerned anyways-”
Aether reached across the table, and snapped his fingers in front of the Wanderer’s face, summoning a small flash of light with the motion. It wasn’t an ability he used often, his few remaining powers from before landing in Teyvat reduced to nothing more than small, harmless sparkles and flashes, but in this case it served it’s needed purpose.
The Wanderer’s face twisted in a way that Aether was starting to rather easily recognize, as he leaned back and away from the table.
“Oh- fu-hH... fuck y-hIHH-” The Wanderer’s head snapped forwards into three completely silent stifled sneezes, followed by another short, hitching gasp, the final stifle escaping his forced silence into something more vocal. “Hh’nNxti!”
“That, is why I’m concerned.” Aether said, “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you sneeze before.”
“What, so I’m not allowed to sneeze now?” The Wanderer leaned forwards again, gripping the edge of his hat with his hand- possibly to be ready to shade his eyes from any future flashes of light. “I didn’t take you to be so controlling, Traveler.”
“No, no, it’s not that.” Aether rolled his eyes. “Of course you can sneeze, you’re clearly photic after all-”
“I am not-” The Wanderer paused- practically biting his own tongue as Aether held his hand out again, fingers poised to snap. He tugged the edge of his hat further down. “...So what?”
“I’m just saying, being photic doesn’t explain why you were sneezing even before me and Paimon started talking to you-”
“Paimon and I.”
“You have no right to try and ‘proper-grammar’ me right now. I expect that kind of stuff from Nahida, not you.”
The Wanderer’s only response to that was a cocky smirk as he picked his tea up again. Aether sighed.
“Don’t think you can distract me that easily. I know there is something up with you today.” He said, maintaining pointed eye-contact with the Wanderer.
“And I think that you’ve finally gone paranoid. Tell me, do I really frighten you that much?” The Wanderer said, laughing a little- cutting himself off with a barely restrained series of coughs that had Aether’s face switching from irritated back to concerned in an instant.
“I knew it. You’re sick.”
“I am not- Like I said earlier, I can’t get sick. …The tea just went down the wrong way.” The Wanderer avoided eye-contact, staring off to the side. They were both well aware that that excuse was complete bullshit- despite having picked his cup back up, the Wanderer had yet to sip any of his tea again, there had been no tea in his mouth to have gone the wrong way. Aether was about to call him out on it-
His communicator went off.
“Aether, you need to come see this!” Paimon’s voice rang out, and Aether let out a sigh.
“I’ll be right there.” He said, waiting for the click indicating that Paimon had hung up, pulling out the device to check the other contestant’s locations as he stood up before glancing back at the Wanderer. “Don’t think I’m going to drop this. We will be talking about this later. I’m not afraid to drag Nahida into this if I must.”
The Wanderer scoffed.
“Be my guest.”
-
It was only after the first round of the competition had wrapped up, that Aether realized that, with all the contestants' trackers turned off for the day, he no longer had any way of finding the Wanderer. He searched around the main stage- not surprised to find absolutely nothing, not even the slightest trace of the other.
The only other place he could think of to check was the Sanctuary, which meant, of course, getting Nahida involved. To be completely honest, Aether hadn’t truly planned to bring Nahida into this so early, he was kinda hoping that the Wanderer would cave in first, but there was no chance of that happening if he couldn’t even find him.
“...Nahida?” Aether called out, letting the doors of the Sanctuary softly close behind him. He stepped in, glancing around. There was nobody in the main room, which meant that Nahida- and the Wanderer, if he was here, were off in one of the side rooms. Sighing, Aether decided that he would check the library first- outside of the small garden that had been installed, the mini-library was the most common place where Nahida could be found.
He gently knocked on the door before entering, letting out a small sigh of relief upon hearing Nahida’s voice call out “Come in!”. Aether stepped into the room, taking a moment to take in the room before focusing on where Nahida was seated on top of a chair covered in pillows, multiple books open on the table in front of her.
“Oh- Traveler! I hadn’t been expecting you!” Nahida hopped down out of her chair, walking over to greet him. “I’d been kinda hoping that you were the Wanderer- he hasn’t come home yet.”
“He hasn’t?” Well, that got rid of the possibility of finding him here. “Do you… have any idea of where he could be?”
“Hmm…Nope! I can tell he’s in Sumeru, but his exact location is beyond me. …Why? Did something happen?”
“Well… There’s something just, a little off about him?” Aether tilted his head to the side, wondering how best to explain the vague feeling he had, before deciding to just settle on presenting his main theory to her. “I think he might have come down with something- like a cold.”
“That…shouldn’t be possible.” Nahida’s brows furrowed as she thought. “Being a puppet, he shouldn’t be able to get sick.”
“That’s what he said too…”
“But-” Nahida glanced up, like some kind of realization had just struck her. “I did think there was something a little off about him too, the last time I saw him. I just thought that I was imagining things.”
“Considering that I’m also sensing something off? Unless two people can have the same hallucination, something is definitely up.” Aether said, “When was the last time you saw him, by the way?”
“...About 2 days ago, actually.” Nahida hummed, glancing off to the side. “I didn’t think much of it- he’s spent a week in the forest without coming back before, but now that you also think there’s something up… Hm. Maybe I should try and find some way to check in on him…”
“I mean, he’ll… probably show up for tomorrow’s round of the competition, right?” Aether asked, “You could always come to see-”
“Ah- no. Unfortunately, I can’t go, there are some… other things I must take care of.” Nahida let out a forlorn sigh. “But… you’ll be there, won’t you, since you’re a commentator and all? You’ll continue to keep a close eye on him, right?”
“...Well, he can be rather hard to find sometimes, but… I’ll do my best, Nahida.”
-
Aether couldn’t help but feel worried when he couldn’t immediately spot the Wanderer at the competition’s main venue in the desert. What if something had happened to him- what if he’d passed out in the woods somewhere?
He had informed Paimon of his suspicions about the Wanderer’s condition last night, so he wasn’t all that surprised when she shot up into the air to get a better vantage point to look around, only to sink back down to float beside him with a small shake of her head. No luck on that front then.
There was a small beep from their devices as the second round of the competition began, and Aether quickly flipped to the section displaying the trackers on the participants.
The Wanderer’s title of “Hat Guy” flickered on the screen.
Huh. So he was in the desert- within the competition grounds even, just like everyone else.
Why hadn’t he been at the venue, then?
Highly suspicious (and also worried), Aether decided to check in on him, first.
…Only to be severely side-tracked by stumbling upon a half-passed out Tighnari.
He’d been just about to run back to the main venue, for both water and possibly a medic team- when he very nearly ran into the guy he had been initially searching for. The Wanderer looked no different than he had the day prior, but something was setting off even more alarm bells in the Traveler’s mind then there’d been yesterday.
“Here- give him this.” The Wanderer held out a completely full water bottle- but that was not the first thing that Aether took note of.
“Your voice is… a lot rougher today.” He noted, “Is your throat okay?”
“I’m fine.” Somehow, this sentence sounded weaker than it had the day before. “My voice is the same as always, the stress of the competition is just making your poor little mortal body hear things. That’s not important though- just give him this.”
The water bottle was practically shoved into Aether’s hands. Paimon clicked her tongue.
“Are you sure it’s okay to give Tighnari this? What if you’re contagious?” She asked. Aether had to admit, it was a good point. Whatever was up with the Wanderer, he didn’t want to be giving it to Tighnari. The Wanderer tsked.
“I’m not contagious, I don’t even get si-....sick…” He trailed off, a dazed expression on his face- and Aether knew instantly what was about to happen. There was a brief silence- the Wanderer’s face twisting as he seemed to be trying to resist the inevitable, before his eyes fluttered shut with a hitching breath. “Hihh…hIH- hEH’xNtiu! Hh- hH’nxt! HN’xTii! Heh- hiH’IsHKiu!”
It seemed he wasn’t capable of stifling into silence anymore- not to mention the one that had completely gotten away from him at the end, complete with a small gust of anemo that surged forth- shockingly cold, for a desert wind. Aether barely suppressed a shiver.
The Wanderer, for his part, recovered fast, straightening himself back up and readjusting his hat as he sniffled.
“Not sick, huh?” Paimon said, prompting a glare.
“...I just got some sand up my nose, that’s all.” Okay, his voice definitely sounded a bit hoarser than before, there was no way the Traveler was imagining that. “...I didn’t even drink out of the bottle though, if you’re going to be that paranoid about it. Barely even touched it outside of handing it to you just now.”
Aether… supposed he could believe that- not the sand part, there was no way that was true, but the water bottle being fine was probably true- and speaking of which, how on Teyvat had he completely forgotten about the half-passed out person behind him-
He only took his gaze off of the Wanderer for a mere second, but by the time Cyno arrived, and the Traveler finally felt like he had a moment to turn around… He was gone. Again.
As Cyno helped Tighnari to his feet, Aether flicked open his device- thankfully, it seemed like the Wanderer hadn’t left the area, as his name was still flickering on the screen. Still though- possibly sick-and-in-denial puppet or not, Tighnari currently took priority- Aether could only hope that the Wanderer didn’t vanish into nowhere again while he was helping Tighnari back to the venue.
…Except he did.
Sure enough, after making sure Tighnari was safe and sound, Aether opened his device again- only to find that ‘Hat Guy’ had seemingly vanished. A brief round of asking around revealed that he had also withdrawn from today’s competition- but that didn’t ease Aether’s worries in the slightest.
The Wanderer could’ve gone anywhere. He could be fighting in the forest, or walking through the desert- and he could collapse out there, and no-one would be any the wiser.
-
Hearing that the Wanderer had fought some guys, before vanishing again, was at the same time both relieving and concerning. At the very least, whatever was going on with him, he didn’t end up passing out mid-battle.
Kaveh took up most of Aether’s attention shortly after, however- he did make note that the Wanderer seemed a lot more quiet than usual.
This was doubly affirmed when Nahida showed up- the Wanderer in tow… and every single response the Wanderer gave was in nothing but a whisper.
It seemed like, for some reason, he expected that none of them would notice.
One shared look with Nahida and Paimon confirmed that all three of them did, in fact, notice.
“Alright, Mister.” Nahida put her hands on her hips, looking up at the Wanderer with a serious expression on her face. “Now that all the other stuff is out of the way- what’s up with you? And don’t think you’re going to get out of this by just vanishing like you did last night.”
Nahida had found the Wanderer last night? Huh. Looks like there’d been some interactions Aether had missed out on.
“Heh, and what do you plan on doing about it?” Wanderer whispered- leaning down slightly with a smirk on his face- how he could act so confident when something was clearly wrong, Aether had no idea. “You can’t keep me here.”
Nahida’s eyes flashed with green light.
Without any other pre-warning, vines sprung out of the ground, wrapping tightly around the Wanderer’s ankles. The Wanderer let out a curse- his voice breaking halfway through in a way that sounded outright painful, as he immediately tried to fly up out of the vine’s grip.
Only to be pulled right back down to the ground- with enough force to make his hat fall off. Aether reached out and caught it before it could hit the ground, but-
“HN’xTii!” There was no pre-warning as the Wanderer snapped forwards with a sneeze, only just barely stifling it into his hand. Aether had only a second to realize that it must’ve been in response to the sun, before the Wanderer was sneezing again, thrown into a small fit. “HH-hH’nXtiu! hEH’xNtiu!! HihH-hH’NXt!!”
“You know stifling isn’t good for you, right?” Nahida commented, even as a stray gust of cold wind made her shiver. Aether had to agree- those stifles had sounded desperate and almost painful. The Wanderer didn’t respond, one hand hovering over his nose, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to sneeze again, while his other hand went up to shield his eyes from the sun by covering them entirely.
“...Give me my hat back.” He eventually sniffled, and he sounded so terrible that Aether genuinely considered giving in for a second.
But only for a second.
“No. Not until you tell us what’s going on.” Aether said, crossing his arms, the hat in his grip jingling as he did so. “Nahida confirmed that you shouldn’t be able to get sick, so don’t even try that argument again, we’ve already been over it. But, there’s clearly something wrong, and we’re not going to let you leave until you tell us what it is.”
The Wanderer, still gave no response, instead standing there silently, vines wrapped around his ankles and hand over his eyes.
After another minute of a silent stand off, Nahida gave a tired sigh.
“Well… we did give you ample time…” She muttered, “Paimon, could you come here for a moment? I need your help with something.”
Wanderer’s whisper of “what do you think you’re planning?” was outright ignored by all three of them, as Nahida brought her hands together, summoning a small flower- considering Aether couldn’t immediately recognize it, it was likely one native to Sumeru. Nahida carefully crushed it up, until it was nothing more than petals and pollen in her hands.
With nothing more than a short and simple telepathic message, she dumped the pile into Paimon’s waiting hands, and Paimon was off on her little mission. Slowly, being careful not to make any sound, she floated up, until she was above the Wanderer’s head-
And then she dropped the pile of petals directly on top of him.
“Wha-” The Wanderer’s breathy exclamation of confusion was cut off as his breath instantly caught on a hitch. “Hehh-hiIH- hiH’IsHKiu!!! Hh’shKiu! Hih-heH’inKshiu!!”
The sudden gust of ice cold wind blew the petals and pollen away, and both Paimon and Nahida found themselves fleeing to hide behind Aether’s back to escape the biting cold that came with it. Aether noted, faintly, that the lines on the Wanderer’s body were glowing an icy blue, instead of their usual anemo teal- and that, when the Wanderer’s eyes cracked open with small tears, they were glowing the same colour.
“B-Bu’er, wh-hh…why would y-you…Hh…” The sunlight landed directly in the Wanderer’s eyes, and he ducked his head, clearly fighting against another fit, if the tense way he was holding his shoulders was any indication. Was he holding his breath? Aether was pretty sure he was.
Finally taking slight pity on him, Aether walked forwards and gently placed the Wanderer’s hat back onto his head. The Wanderer’s hands immediately went up to pull the brim of the hat down, shielding his face from any more beams of light.
“Uh, where did the ice come from?” Paimon questioned, and Aether turned to look at her in confusion, before following her eyes down and- yep, sure enough, that was ice on the ground. In the desert. In the middle of the day. Yeah. Okay.
“Wanderer?” Nahida slowly moved forwards, still shivering a little, clearly unused to being exposed to any kind of colder temperature. “This is extremely abnormal. You have to tell us what’s going on.”
The Wanderer shook his head, still looking down, shoulders tense. Aether leaned down to Nahida and whispered to her conspiratorially;
“I think he’s holding his breath so that he doesn’t sneeze again.” Considering for a moment, he then added on, “Probably embarrassed by the fact he sounds like a kitten-”
“I do no-hH-hIH’ksh!! H’nXti!! Hh’NxTiu!!! N’xTt!! Heh-hHiKshiu!!!” The Wanderer’s protest was cut off by yet another kittenish fit- as well as another gust of ice cold air, his hat getting knocked slightly askew. Aether watched in slight fascination as the patch of ice on the desert floor grew slightly wider. Fit finished, the Wanderer gasped slightly for breath. Nahida, despite shivering, walked forwards, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him down slightly so that she could fix him fully with her expression of concern.
“Wanderer. Please.” She said, “Tell us what’s wrong.”
Silence.
And then the Wanderer tsked, pulling his hands out of Nahida’s grip, readjusting his hat again.
“You’re all worried over nothing.” He hissed, “I just… got hit by a Fatui member's attack. Ice shot, y’know.”
“That’s not nothing!” Nahida gasped, “Are you hurt?!”
“Of course not!” The Wanderer’s voice broke again, and he coughed, before continuing. “I’m fine. It’s just… a little elemental residue. It’ll go away in a bit.”
“It doesn’t seem to be going away.” Aether noted, ignoring the glare the Wanderer shot at him. “In fact, you’ve seemed to be getting worse.”
Nahida snapped her fingers, before pointing at the Wanderer accusingly.
“I told you stifling was bad for you!” She said, “You’re just keeping the remaining elemental energy inside of you!”
The Wanderer tsked again- not confirming but also very obviously not denying her observation. Nahida put her hands on her hips, staring up at the Wanderer with an unimpressed expression.
“So, then… how do we fix this?” Paimon asked. Nahida’s expression did a complete 180 as she turned to smile at Paimon.
“It’s simple, really, he just needs to kitten-sneeze it out!”
“Not a kitten sneeze.” Wanderer muttered, but was steadfastly ignored, even as he continued. “I can’t just turn Sumeru into a winter wonderland. Besides, it’s not like I can just sneeze on command-”
The vines that had been gripping his ankles let go, only to move shoot upwards to wrap around his wrists instead.
“What are you-”
“So that you don’t stifle!” Nahida explained, simply; “And besides, we can always get rid of the ice afterwards. Now, Traveler?”
Both Nahida and Paimon moved to hide behind Aether once more, and the Wanderer didn’t even have a second to protest this development before Aether was snapping his fingers in front of his face, summoning a bright flash of light.
The Wanderer’s breath hitched immediately, unable to get out a single complaint before he was pitching forwards into another fit of kittenish sneezes, his hat falling off from the force of them.
“HhiH’IsHKiu!! Heh’Shkii!!! HahH…heH’ishiu!!! ‘Kshi!! H’inKshiiu!!” The swirling burst of anemo and cyro was almost enough to make Aether stumble back as he summoned a geo shield to protect both him, Nahida, and Paimon. The ice spread across the ground, steadily increasing and covering an eight foot radius. A few snowflakes appeared, and the Wanderer’s next hitching breath was visible in the cold air. “HiihH- Ishhiu!! HihH’inkshii!! H’eshii!! ‘Kshiu! Hh’iKShiu!!!”
The Wanderer gasped for breath, and it was only after a minute passed with no further sneezes and accompanying burst of freezing anemo that Aether slowly lowered the geo shield. Carefully, to avoid slipping on the sudden layer of ice surrounding them, Aether strode forwards, picking the Wanderer’s hat up off the ground and placing it back on the others head for him, yet again.
“Are you okay?” He asked, slightly adjusting the hat as the Wanderer’s hands were still tied. The Wanderer’s eyes blinked open, hazy with tears, and Aether noted that the fading glow was back to it’s usual teal.
“Was th-” The Wanderer’s voice, which quite frankly sounded painful, gave out on him. Aether figured that, with how vocal his little fit had been, that only made sense.
“Here, here, let Paimon say it for you!!” Paimon floated up beside him, slipping into her ‘best’ impression of him. “‘Was that really necessary?’ That’s what you were gonna say, right?”
Based on the Wanderer’s pissed off scowl, yes, that was exactly what he had been going to say.
“It was very necessary, in fact.” Nahida shivered, and Aether reached down and picked her up so that her bare feet weren’t touching the cool ice. “It would’ve taken a week at the rate you were going, and you would’ve only gotten worse over that time.”
She snapped her fingers, the vines disappearing, and the Wanderer instantly crossed his arms, looking away from them.
Nahida let out a sigh. Aether, after a brief moment, sighed as well.
“C’mon.” He said, adjusting Nahida slightly and turning around. “Lets head back to the Sanctuary and get the both of you warmed up- I’ll even make that bitter tea that you like so much. At the very least, drinking something hot will help your throat.”
A small, cool breeze hit the back of Aether’s neck, and he just barely kept himself from yelping, turning slightly to see the evil smirk on the Wanderer’s face.
Aether’s only response was to roll his eyes.
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A gift for Saint!!! (sorry fam I don't know your @ ToT)
DONT REBLOG TO NON-SNZ BLOGS THANK U
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T/artaglia is the type of guy to say "he never catches colds" or "he never gets sick" or "he has an immune system of steel" and then he is the one to catch one of the worst colds ever, you can't change my mind.
#t/arta/glia#tart//aglia#t/artaglia#g/enshin#g/enshin i/mpact#gen/shin im/pact#gen/shin#snzblr#snz#snz hc#snezblr#snz kink#snz fet#c/hilde
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Lol Alhaitham and Kaveh cause well *___* they’re the best and they live in my mind went free xD also yay another genshin hyperfixater I’ve been hyper fixated on genshin since version 1.0… it’s only gotten worse lol send help! I hope you get some fun asks :3
Hmm...
K/aveh first cuz he's a senior
-Definitely has stuck sneezes
-Incredibly hitchy
-He's a bit sensitive to dust but it's not immediate, more of a slow tickling sensation that increases the longer he's exposed to it
-I dunno if he has an alchohol sensitivity but if he did... imagine him being all angsty and having to sneeze into his sleeve because he never remembers to carry a handkerchief
-K/aveh completely carries a handkerchief because he's dramatic asf but it's probably the fancy kind and not the practical kind
-His immune system is rubbish because he's bad at taking care of himself
- and he is incredibly dramatic when he's sick. He's written a will once when he had a particularly bad cold.
And Alhaitham... our lovable control freak
-His sneezes tend to be harsh. Not too loud... just forceful.
- is amazing at holdbacks
- Holds back until he physically can't anymore
-Except when sick because that would be a waste of energy
-Body temperature runs cold (hence the cape)
- Does care for others but it's more wanting them to be at peak productivity than sympathy
-Follows the medical book's instructions for all health related things
-Will work through a cold as long as he can actually work. Otherwise, he has no problem taking off.
-Al/haitham's headphones tend to fall off when he does sneeze unstifled
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ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2022
@monthofsick
ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ʟɪsᴛ | AO3 ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ
ᴅᴀʏ 20: Panic attack/anxiety
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,8k~
3 [out of it], 13 [shaky and shivery] and 20 for Diluc
ᴀ/ɴ there you go anon! i wrote this one in a daze honestly, but I'd be lying if said i didn't enjoy making diluc this miserable 👹✌️
TW EMETO
Diluc took a cautious sip of his drink, paying close attention to every subtle note of its flavor. The sweet and only slightly sour taste of grape juice bathed his tongue but soon came the bitter aftertaste, and he couldn't help but want to gag when his mouth went dry.
Backed against a wall and begrudgingly sipping a tall glass, he must've looked inviting to all of his hosts, but it was on purpose. There was something off about the zest his drink left behind, how it plagued his palate for a moment too long, a taste almost too fresh for a bottled beverage.
Diluc tried to push these thoughts away, uncomfortably licking his dry lips, a subtle scowl tugging at them. It was useless, he couldn't tell the bitterness of poison apart from the subtle one the beverage left but he could consider himself a lucky man for that.
Even more useless was trying to find it in the first place. The affluent owner of the Dawn Winery had hunted down one of his servants and made them open a fresh bottle he had personally picked from the stock, to take only a glass of it. There couldn't be poison in it, not a chance, but how could he be so sure? Someone could've sneaked something into his drink when he wasn't looking, anyone who worked in the Winery could've…
No. Some master he would be if he couldn't even trust his own servants. Then again, what type of vigilante would he be if he couldn't keep watch of a simple room? Let alone an entire city.
Diluc closed his eyes for a moment, thoughts racing through his head like the many voices filling the ballroom. He gulped audibly, bringing the rim of his glass to his lips, but gave up on taking a sip when he realized just how much his hands were shaking. The dark liquid rippled inside, and for a moment he couldn't stop looking at it. The tips of his fingers were numb holding the stem, he could almost feel his heart palpitating on each of them, his blood rushing to every pore of his skin.
With his gaze locked on the swirling juice, watching as it seemed to thicken and coagulate before his eyes, he missed when the clacking of sturdy heels came his way. It was hard to tell anything from the chatter of the party, and the growing blood buzz in his ears.
“Enjoying yourself from this far?”, a smooth voice asked from the side. Diluc whipped his head to find Kaeya standing there, the stem of an empty glass between his slender fingers, and a conceited smile hanging from wine-stained lips. “Sorry for the wait. There's a great selection of wine waiting for you over there, have you tried any?”
Diluc blinked, but not in surprise, darkness lingered at the corners of his vision, and all he could focus on was Kaeya right in front of him. The smell of alcohol subtly wafted off him, telling. It was enough to turn his stomach, just the sight of him, what he knew, and what he did.
“What is it? Some host you are, hiding from your guests” Kaeya spoke again, his playful tone getting lost when his voice sounded like coming from underwater. “You won't say hello?”
Diluc opened his mouth to say it, almost mechanically, as he'd always do in events like this, sing his praises in the most petulant tone he could muster on a straight face, but his voice refused to come out. He could feel his heart on the back of his throat, tightening with each thump. He took small passed breaths, warm air pulling back as soon it left his nostrils. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, staining the fine fabric of his collar, dampening his back, like his clothes were alive and trying to smother him.
It was like time had slowed down. Kaeya stepped forward, one hand reaching out. Diluc flinched, then gasped when the man's fingers clutched at his shoulder, firmly planting him back on the ground, holding him in place.
“Whoa, are you… sure you didn't drink anything?” Kaeya risked the last jab before the playfulness of his voice was gone. Diluc shakingly raised his eyes, only slightly surprised when his glass reappeared on Kaeya's hand. He took a careful whiff of it, his eyebrows raising before he asked: “Is this grape juice?”
“D-Don't drink it”, Diluc mustered through labored breaths. He clutched his chest, feeling it tighten, his heart lunging against it like it was trying to break free. “I-I think I’ve been poisoned.”
Kaeya was silent for a moment, as he measured the odds in his head, looking from his empty glass, to the one half-empty, then to his brother, who looked seconds away from falling over.
“You know that’s impossible”, he said, giving both of the glasses a quick swirl for emphasis, but Diluc only seemed to grow paler, his breathing came in short hiccups. If this kept up, soon he would need both of his hands. “Diluc, you're not poisoned. You know that.”
“H-How can you be sure…?” he whispered, nearly slurred as he struggled to swallow, his tongue tying itself into a know. “I was so careful, but… but, still… I could be –”
“Diluc, you have to calm down. I only left your side for a moment”, Kaeya responded sincerely, his grip on his shoulder tightening when he saw his gaze drop to the ground. He was trembling. “Diluc, look at me.”
He did as he was told and raised his eyes. Kaeya felt his heart break in two when he noticed the glisten of tears pooling under them. Diluc's lips were the same tone as his skin, quivering like he was trying to hold something back.
“I… I need to vomit”, he pleaded shakingly and pressed his lips into a thin line, his cheeks quivering as he neared his limit. The urge to cry was so clear in his voice, Kaeya didn't waste any time.
He nodded, whispering tender words of comfort as he carefully slid a hand to his back for support, ready to catch him at any moment.
“It's alright, I'm right here with you. We're going outside now, okay?”, he reassured, gently guiding Diluc forward, one step at a time.
Thankfully, the ballroom wasn't as full as Diluc's racing mind made it out to be. Kaeya was able to lead him out discreetly, keeping close to the walls for safety until they reached the exit. He took the opportunity to leave both glasses on a table as they passed by it.
The cold air would've done well for Diluc if he was able to take a full breath of it, but the brief walk seemed to have forced his lungs to the max. He was nearly wheezing as the two stumbled outside like a drunken couple. Kaeya had an arm around his waist and the other on his back, softly patting when a hiccup threatened to break the man.
Before Kaeya could even be sure they were out of view, he lowered Diluc on the gravel path and knelt beside him, his hands never leaving him, even as the man heaved breathlessly under his touch.
“Shh… you're okay now. There's nobody around, it's just the two of us”, he encouraged, slowly rubbing circles on his back while pulling his ponytail away from his shoulder. “Just try to get it up.”
Shakingly, Diluc parted his lips and held his tongue out, airy hiccups quickly morphed into unheard sobs as only a line of drool dripped off his mouth. His voice was a pitiful whine as he called out for Kaeya, who gave up on patting his back and just pulled him closer, humming tender words.
“I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere”, he promised, throwing all caution to Barbatos when he hugged Diluc, and the man broke into a dry heave that spilled his tears. ”Don't worry, just let it out.”
“...ugh— eurGh… uRrRRgh— bleEeuUurrGggHHh!”
Diluc took his advice to heart as he lurched forward and retched continuously, barely contained by Kaeya hugging his side when he let out a gurgling surge of watery puke onto the gravel. The purplish mixture splashed sharply, so violently that small pebbles lifted with the dust, leaving an abstract pattern on the ground that was quickly ruined by another splash of runny vomit.
“That's it… there you go”, Kaeya reassured, slowly pulling back to his previous position, holding Diluc's low ponytail away from the line of fire as his head whipped forward.
With another pained retch, he brought more of that acidic juice concoction in a sizable wave, gasping for air as it tapered off into a trickle. No doubt he was feeling so anxious, his stomach must've been empty aside from all of that liquid. Kaeya knew well how he got during events like these, around so many people, it wasn't anything new, but it had never been this bad.
“There you go…”, he repeated, patting his heaving back as Diluc hacked painfully, trying to clear his throat of that awful burn. “Think you're done now?”
Diluc shook his head and a second later his shoulders came down, another mouthful of stomach contents hitting the ground, closely followed by another heavy gush that left him breathless, nearly choking on how much his stomach was spewing out. His vision must've blacked out, because when he realized the ground was inches from his nose, and Kaeya's arm wrapped around his chest was the only thing holding him from falling.
“Don't pass out on me now”, Kaeya reprimanded, but his strained voice gave away just how worried he was. “Diluc?”
“I'm not… going to”, he slurred through tears, the strain clear in his voice, but at least he seemed calmer now. Still sniffling as he breathed in and out, but finally able to fill his lungs fully. “I don't know what came over me, I was–”
“Not poisoned”, Kaeya completed, to which Diluc just gave a weak nod, frowning as he looked down. “I know, and I'm sure of it. I was with you the whole night. Are you feeling any better now?”
“Y-Yeah…”, he admitted, swallowing the few sobs still left in him. “Gods… did anyone see me?”
Kaeya simply shrugged, daring to look at the puddle of vomit on the ground. Most of the purplish-red liquid had been soaked by the gravel already, but a few small lumps of barely digested food stayed behind. He tried not to pay much attention to those, recognizing every bit of food he had also ingested when it still looked the part.
“I did, but you're used to that already”, he said finally, looking back to Diluc. “You're okay now, right? Think you can go back?”
“I-I suppose…”, he responded, not an ounce of confidence in his voice.
“No, we'll wait it out here”, Kaeya didn't suggest, he simply said as it was. “You don't have to go back there.”
#Novemetober 2022#nov(emeto)ber 2022#vomiting#tw vomit#tw emeto#alcohol mention#tw alcohol#poisoning#read as familial only#read as platonic only#gen/shin imp/act di/luc#gen/shin im/pact#kae/ya gen/shin imp/act#genshin emeto#sickfic prompts#dana//emeto fic#my writing
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GEN/SHIN I CANNOT HANDLE HIM HE’S TOO ADORABLE HIDING HIS SECRET *THROWS HANDS IN AIR*
#I pulled him too but havent had a chance to level him#he is so pretty#gen/shin im/pact#kaze thoughts
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Hell at Dawn
I haven't written anything at all in a while, and this is my first time posting a sneeze fic to Tumblr. Hope it's to y'all's liking. Please enjoy Diluc having a not great time at a party.
Word count: 1,966
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Another dull social function. This sort of frivolous foppery was one of Diluc's least favorite parts of running a winery, right up there with clearing the vineyards of pyro slimes and doing his taxes. If there was anything more annoying than fighting a creature that's immune to everything you have except a good, old-fashioned beating, it was making small talk with people you barely knew at a party.
Add having a miserable cold on top of everything, and you had the perfect recipe for Diluc's own personal Hell. Maybe he could name a new drink after it.
"I'll make a wine with Jueyun chilis and call it Hell at Dawn. We can put flames on the label and everything… hehh- hehGSHht!"
At least no one was currently around to hear his sneezes and feverish ramblings. He had snuck into a side office and draped himself unceremoniously over the desk chair to get a reprieve from the party. There were enough guests and freely flowing alcohol that, as long as he put in an appearance at regular enough intervals, no one would notice he was gone.
"Ahem. Sir."
Diluc bolted upright in the seat and shuffled some papers on the desktop as though he'd just been reading them. A familiar face framed in white hair hovered in the cracked open doorway. Though the man's expression was a neutral mask, Diluc got the distinct impression that he was amused.
"Elzer. -snf- Yes, what is it?"
"There is a guest who is requesting your presence. A rather… gregarious woman who claims to be from Fontaine."
"Fontaine? You've got to be kidding me. That invitation was a formality, you're saying they actually sent someone?"
"So it would seem. Shall I give her your regrets and attend to her request myself?"
"No, no. I'll see her." He staved off a cough by roughly clearing his throat. "We have a reputation to uh- huh-hhGGSSHT! … uphold."
Elzer frowned. "Are you certain?"
"Yes." Diluc replied, standing. "As head of the Ragnvindr family, it is my duty. I am a businessman, after all."
"I think one may wonder at that a bit."
"'One', eh?" Diluc straightened his jacket. "Not any person in particular?"
A smirk tugged Elzer's lips. "Of course not, sir."
The woman Elzer indicated across the hall certainly seemed the Fontaine sort. Those who hailed from that country prided themselves on appearances, and the woman's sumptuous blue gown was certainly striking.
The deep sapphire silk clung to her every curve, while a daring slit revealed one shapely leg nearly to the hip. One arm was bare while the other was concealed by a drape so long it brushed the floor. Folds of fabric cascaded down the back of the skirt, pooling into a short train that called to mind the image of a crashing wave. Shimmering beadwork gave the appearance of glistening water droplets under the lights. Her glossy brown hair was done up in elaborate braids and was topped by a hat that defied both sense and gravity.
"Oh boy." Diluc grumbled under his breath. Hopefully her personality wasn't as ostentatious as her attire.
"Ah, Master Ragnvindr!" Her boisterous voice cut clear across the hall before he'd even crossed half of it, dashing his hopes as surely as a ship against the rocks. "What a delightful little soiree you've put together, it's so very… quaint."
Diluc plastered a smile on his face and snagged a glass from a passing tray.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss. You know my name but I do not have the honor of knowing yours."
"I am Alizée Marie, of Chateau Lambert."
"Well then, Miss Marie: welcome to Dawn Winery."
Instead of offering her his hand in greeting, he lifted the glass as though toasting his guest. Thankfully she did not seem to think it strange and returned the gesture with a smile. Diluc lifted the glass to his lips in a pantomime of drinking, then discarded it on a nearby table without a second thought.
Chateau Lambert: a big shot vineyard in Fontaine. If he was remembering the reports correctly, they accounted for nearly a third of all wine sales in Fontaine's extremely competitive market, a market that Dawn Winery had a bare foothold in. And that foothold was thanks, in part, to Chateau Lambert agreeing to help distribute Dawn Winery's offerings.
"So, what does the distinguished Chateau Lambert want of our humble establishment?"
"Oh, Master Ragnvindr-"
"Diluc is fine."
"Master Diluc, then. You are too modest. Everyone knows Dawn Winery has cornered the Mondstat market."
She drew a few steps closer to him, and a heavy, cloying scent assaulted his nostrils. Perfume. Celestia above, had she bathed in it? He tried not to let his discomfort show on his face.
"A-are you here to discuss our distribution agreement?"
She raised an eyebrow. "All business, I see."
"I assure you I mean n- ngh- no offense. I am a busy man, and time is a precious commodity."
That and he needed to conclude this conversation before the prickling in his sinuses caused him to make a spectacle of himself.
"I am not here to discuss that agreement as such. Chateau Lambert has been considering a more… direct partnership with Dawn Winery. A collaboration, if you will."
"-snf- Collaboration?"
"Yes. A joint vinification. It is said your vineyards are favored by Lord Barbatos. Our lands are similarly blessed by our own Archon, and we have had exceptionally favorable rains this year…"
Focusing on Ms Marie's words was growing increasingly difficult. As her heady perfume teased Diluc's irritated nose, the prickle in his sinuses became a persistent itch that was spreading with alarming speed. At this rate, he couldn't possibly stave off sneezing long enough to finish the conversation.
"... and so we believe that such a blend of wines between our two enterprises would be quite popular in both Fontaine and Mondstat, and thus a very profitable endeavor."
He didn't trust himself to speak. He'd only be a hitchy mess. Instead he nodded deeply and made a noncommittal noise in his throat, as though he were thinking it over.
Surely he could get away with a single sneeze, right? One sneeze to stop this dreadful itching, and then he could conclude his business with Ms Marie as quickly as possible and escape to the office again.
Without warning she stepped very close and ran a hand suggestively across his chest with a coy smile. Her eyes were the same deep blue as her dress.
"You know, Master Diluc, I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to ensure that this deal goes smoothly…"
It was too much. This close there was no escaping her awful perfume. He took a step back, desperate for any distance between them.
"Th-that won't be ne- hehh- HEHHGSSHktch! HEHSSHIU!"
The second sneeze came too quickly on the heels of the first for him to stop it, but at least he managed to catch them in his elbow. That would certainly be one way to sour relations with Chateau Lambert.
"Oh my. Gesundheit. Are you all right, Master Diluc?"
"Yes. -snf- Excuse me. I was saying, that won't be n-necessary. I'm certain we- w-we can ah- work something out."
Not good. Any relief the sneezes brought was short-lived before the relentless onslaught of Ms Marie's perfume. His eyes began to water. The more he tried to hold the sneezing back, the worse the tickling became. Things would be so much simpler if he could disappear the way he did as the "Darknight Hero."
"Excuse me, sir."
A welcome voice at his elbow.
"E-Elzer. What is it?"
"Please accept my apologies for the interruption, but there is an urgent matter which requires your attention right away."
"I see. If you'll heh- e-excuse me, Miss Marie."
She smirked. "Of course."
Diluc's eyes were streaming by the time they left the main hall, and Elzer practically shoved him into a storage room.
"hhH-HIIHssshew!"
The sneeze was so forceful he bent nearly double at the waist. He was fully at the mercy of the burning tickle in his sinuses now, and he grabbed onto the rim of a nearby wine barrel for support.
"hEH-TCHU! Hh- H'DGGHHD'sshuh! … hiiih-hiShiew! H'ghkxt! huh… hUH… HUUHEKSSHHOO! … Ugh."
By now Diluc was panting. Elzer stood by the door watching the spectacle with his arms crossed.
"You all right, sir?"
"Fine. Never better. Now what's this 'urgent matter'?"
Elzer rolled his eyes and gestured to Diluc up and down.
"You. Clearly. You're in no shape to host this party. Why didn't you cancel it if you were this sick?"
"Do you know h- heH'HGCHKT! how much money and time and effort has gone into preparing for this event?-"
"Yes, I took care of most of it."
"-We have business partners, investors, sponsors, and- and- hiisshiu! c-customers out there who have been looking forward to this for weeks! I- I'm-
"Hh'hiihSSHGHuh! hhH'HAAtchuu! huuh-CH'TSSHH!"
All the sneezing was starting to make him lightheaded. Or maybe it was the fever. He let his back hit the nearby wall and slid to the floor with a miserable moan.
"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I can't disappoint anyone."
He heard Elzer sigh. That was no surprise. How much more pathetic could he be? Soft footfalls crossed the room, and then Elzer crouched down next to him. His face bore a gentle expression, and in his hand was a white handkerchief. Diluc took the proffered cloth with a wet sniffle.
"Thangs."
Elzer chuckled. "Of course. You're a snotty mess right now, like a little kid."
"I'be dot a kid."
Great. Now the congestion was setting in. He blew his nose into the handkerchief and tried his best to clean himself up.
"You need to rest."
"Bud-"
"No. Buts. No one is going to begrudge you rest when you're sick. And if for some reason they would, then they don't deserve your consideration in the first place. Now please. Go to bed. I will handle the charming Miss Marie and the rest of the party."
"I can-"
Elzer placed a firm hand on Diluc's shoulder.
"Diluc. Let me do this for you."
His emerald eyes brooked no argument. Diluc knew that look. There was no way Elzer would back down. Diluc sighed.
"Fide. I'll go. Bud I'm goin' through the servand's staircaze. I won' go near that garish woman agaid. Her perfume albost killed be."
Elzer cracked a smirk. "Very well, Sir."
He stood and offered Diluc a hand up, which the latter accepted gratefully. They ducked back out into the hallway, the music and chatter and clinking of glasses from the party in the main hall returning to full vigor.
"I'll send someone up with something hot for you to drink, and then I'll come by later to check on you. And of course you can send for me if there's anything else you need."
"Thang you, Elzer."
"Of course, sir."
"No, really. I mean it."
Strangely Elzer didn't seem to know what to say. Before the silence became too brittle Diluc cleared his throat.
"Hey, whad'you thing aboud a wine made with -snf- Jeuyun chillies from Liyue?"
"Hm. Personally, I think I'd pass."
"Yeah, tha's whad I thoughd. Well, good nighd, Elzer."
"Good night, sir."
Elzer gave Diluc a perfunctory bow and headed back to the party, while Diluc made for the rear of the manor. Bed. A hot drink. Rest. The mere thought of it made his knees weak.
Hell at Dawn. An apt name for this evening's debacle, he reflected. There had to be something he could do with the name. Well, over the next day or so he'd have plenty of time to think about it in bed.
Then again, perhaps a wine label decorated in flames was a bit… on the nose.
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Hello! I haven't created much content here to share (though I hope to change that in the future w some art n writing), soooo I wished to share some plans n bots that I've made/plan on making on Chai
So far I have these two bots:
I plan on making a few more bots too. Such as:
Sick Scara/mou/che [Stomach bug]
Sick Tigh/nari
Tigh/nari [Angst, etc]
Ven/ti [Angst, etc]
Xi/ao [Karmic Debt RC, etc]
Kaz/uha [Nightmare RC, etc]
And possibly a few others if I get some ideas!
Chai's new update limits the amount of detail I can put on each bot :/ but I'm still trying to make it work! Hopefully they make it longer than what it is in the future. But yeah, if y'all wanna interact w my bots pls do! Helps me w fixing bugs and building them lol
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Here it comes. The long-awaited part two to my Ka/veh/th/am fic from a while ago. Featuring a fun little scenario inspired by Gen/shin snzcord last night. Enjoyyy! I'm still having so much fun with this, so I hope you all do as well
Part 1
About Time (Pt. 2/?)
(Gen/shin Im/pact, Al/hai/th/am & Ka/veh)
CW: Light mess
When Alhaitham awoke the next morning, he felt anything but better. His sinuses were filled with congestion, his throat was scratchy, and there was already the persistent tickle of a threatening sneeze in the back of his nose. His eyes still shut, he gave a groggy groan as the tickle feathered through his strong nose. He lazily raised one hand to his nose as he hitched, "Heh'hh, h'hhuh!—"
Teetering on a sneeze, he startled as he felt a soft cloth practically forced into his hand. His breath caught in his throat out of surprise, and he forced his eyes open. In front of him was a familiar blonde figure, sitting directly next to his bed with his long hair neatly tied behind him. His red eyes seemed to show...concern? Sympathy? Alhaitham was too tired to tell.
"K-Kaveh?" Alhaitham asked in shock. His voice was gravelly yet filled with congestion, and speaking was a bit of a chore itself. It took all his might to avoid coughing right then and there. Kaveh had just handed him a handkerchief? Surely, he was dreaming and hadn't actually awoken yet...
"Morning, sunshine," Kaveh teased. "Well don't you look dreamy?" As Alhaitham prepared to snap back at this incessant remark, the buzzing tickle in his reddened nose returned with full force. He clutched the handkerchief to his nose.
"Hh'h...hn'gXt, h'KngXt–chuh...hnKT'chuhh!" Sneeze after sneeze escaped Alhaitham's nose, sending him pitching forward so he was forced to sit up in the bed. The more he stifled them, the more the tickle seemed to build. But Archons forbid he were to embarrass himself even more than he already had this morning with Kaveh directly next to him. He felt a gentle hand on his back. Kaveh was...comforting him? Or maybe he was just supporting his weight. Alhaitham shivered. Although gentle, the hand felt cold after a night of sleeping under the warm covers.
Alhaitham took a quick quivering breath and tightly pinched his nose with the handkerchief once more, "H'hh, h'hheh...hn'Xt, hn'GkT!—chuhh...H'gSxt-uhh, hKgt–uhh!" The stifles were growing progressively more desperate and powerful and continued to give him no relief. Alhaitham's eyes were beginning to tear up, and his nose was slowly beginning to rebel against his stubborn refusal to sneeze freely.
"Haitham..." Kaveh stated calmly, a hint of gentleness and concern in his tone, "Please, let yourself sneeze. You'll feel better."
"I c-can't—" Alhaitham began quickly, "I can't let y-heh-you..." His teary eyes narrowed, and before he could pinch his nose again, Kaveh grasped ahold of the man's wrists. Alhaitham couldn't even process it very well, he was so focused on fighting the sensation to sneeze. But oh Archons, he needed to sneeze, and he needed to sneeze now.
Unable to pinch his nose with Kaveh tightly holding his wrists, Alhaitham clenched his teeth. "Hn'GSs-chhn!" A gentle spray misted the covers. While it wasn't as satisfying as a full sneeze, it was better than the stifles from previously. As a result of this slight release, his nose did not seem ready to stop. "Hn'GnKt—chnn, hn'GsS—chihn! Hh'huuhh!" A desperate gasp escaped Alhaitham's lips, the following sneezes avoiding restraint.
"Heh'GSSchuu, h'YISs–chyuu!" Alhaitham's body convulsed forward with the powerful double. He shivered and took another sharp breath. His nose was far from done. "Hih'hh...heh'AS'shyuu, hah'TIS'schhih! YISs'Shhuhh! Ung...snrfk..." The final sneeze in the small fit was punctuated with a soft groan and a congested sniffle. Kaveh let go of his wrists, and Alhaitham brought the handkerchief up, blowing his nose wetly.
"Bless you," Kaveh said simply and continued to gently rub the scholar's back. As much as he longed to tease the man, that would be saved for another time. As for now, Kaveh was sure to keep Alhaitham company throughout his illness. Alhaitham began to move as if to get out of bed. His movements were clearly groggy and much slower than normal. Kaveh pushed him back down into the bed. "Oh, no you don't."
"I need to work..." Alhaitham stated through congestion and sniffled again. "I have so much to do."
Kaveh sighed and pinched the bridge of his own nose in annoyance. Even while sick, Alhaitham was so focused on his work. He swore even Alhaitham's breaks consisted of working. "Fucking pissant shithead," he grumbled under his breath.
"What did you call me?" Alhaitham had been blowing his nose once more and had his eyes shut tightly, but he opened them and glared at his roommate behind his handkerchief.
Right. Despite his soundproof earpieces, it seemed Alhaitham could always recognize when Kaveh mumbled an insult, even if he was across the room. He'd known Kaveh for long enough to be able to tell without even seeing his face. But well, this slightly snarky remark assured Kaveh Alhaitham was at least somewhat fine despite his continual sneezing and congestion.
Kaveh turned toward Alhaitham with a scowl, returning to his normal demeanor. "Fine, you fucking pisshead, I'll bring you your damn things," he snapped, sighed, and wheeled around.
"That's what I thought," Alhaitham stated, leaned back, and finished blowing his nose as Kaveh left the room. If the doors in their home didn't open and close on their own, Alhaitham bets Kaveh would have slammed it behind him. That is partially why he had them installed to begin with. Anyway...
Alhaitham's sneezes from earlier had surely helped loosen the congestion in his sinuses, but the tickle in his nose nonetheless continued to persist. Plus, he'd likely need a box of tissues, as this handkerchief was proceeding to grow useless. Though knowing Kaveh, despite his expressed annoyance, he'd likely caught on with this before Alhaitham even noticed, so he didn't bother to say anything else. Instead, he closed his eyes and inhaled softly, hoping to get these other sneezes out before Kaveh returned.
"Huhh'hh..." The first sharp hitch followed quickly, and Alhaitham threw the handkerchief to the bedside, pulling up the blanket just in time to catch the first of many sneezes, "Huh'h, heh'hh—heh'ISS'schmp! Heh'TSS'schm!" A quick lull to take a shaky breath. "Hiiihh'hh...O-oh—Ahuh!—Archons...heh, h'hh! Hg'GSSchuu, h'KSS'chyuu, HA'Sschuu! Snnf! Ugh..." Alhaitham was in shock at just how unsatisfying all this sneezing felt. His nose just...still wasn't done.
"Hah'ISSchuu! Heh...h'KSSs—shyuu! H'huh...aht'GSSchuhh! Snf! A-Archons, what th-huh?—Hn'GSSchh-yuu! Fuuuck..." Alhaitham shook his head and rubbed his nose vigorously. It seemed to temporarily help the tickle, but holy shit this was more than he expected. Maybe his nose was pissed of being unable to sneeze overnight that it was making up for it in the morning. Now of all times would actually be a good time for Kaveh to walk back in. He could really use a tissue...or three. He desperately wanted to blow his nose to avoid sneezing even more.
"Bless you!" Kaveh called from the other room. Within seconds, the blonde man showed up at the door with Alhaitham's quills, ink, some parchment, and—as Alhaitham had guessed—a large box of tissues. "I thought you'd need some of these as well, with that sneezy nose of yours," he said teasingly and placed the tissues on Alhaitham's desk with the rest of his supplies.
"Wow. You shouldn't have," Alhaitham stated sarcastically. He sniffled, snatched a tissue, and blew his nose strongly. With a slight groan and a sniffle, he made his way out of bed and stood. "Now if you don't mind, I have much to do. Snrrf! I can't afford y-your..." His eyes narrowed, he paused, and his face contorted with the tickle, yet he still attempted to continue his sentence, "hih'h...dist–hh!–distra-hah-act—" He snapped to the side once more, clutching the tissue over his nose, "haht'TSSchnt, hn'TSSchnn! Hiih, ht'TSSchyuu!" He attempted to muffle them, but these sneezes were too powerful, instead coming out harsh and only half-restrained, as well as pitching him forward at his waist.
"Bless you," Kaveh stated simply as Alhaitham finished sneezing. "As you wish. Just don't spill your ink. I'd rather not have to clean that up for you." Alhaitham straightened up and glared at him behind the handkerchief. Kaveh smirked before leaving the room once again.
Alhaitham sat down at his desk with a sigh. He picked up his quill, dipped it in the ink, and started scratching away at the parchment. He was so lost in his work that he did not notice when another tickle brewed in the back of his sinuses.
"Huh?" was the only warning he got. He couldn't even move his hands before the sneezes overcame his body, "Huh'YSSchhih! Ht'TSSchuu!" Between his sneezes, he heard a snapping sound, but he was so focused on not sneezing on the page that he couldn't discern what it was. When he opened his eyes after the sudden double, he found his quill had snapped from the force of his sneezing. He gave a frustrated sniffle, scrubbed his nose, tossed the broken quill into the trash, and grabbed a new one before pausing. He'd completely forgotten what he was writing, and the broken quill had splattered ink on the page to where he couldn't even try to get himself some context. Plus he shivered, as he just now noticed how cold it was in his room. Speaking of...
Damned cold, he thought. He couldn't do anything without it breaking his train of thought. He leaned back in his seat and sighed. Maybe work would have to wait. At least until the sneezing died down a little. Despite having only been out of bed for a few minutes, being back under those warm covers was looking more and more tempting by the second.
"Heh'ISSs—shyuu!" Another sneeze brought the scribe back to his senses. So finally, he gave in, set down his quill, threw away the trashed piece of parchment (and any others the broken quill's ink bled onto), and hoisted himself back into bed. He was hungry, but another nap was in order. Only after that could he maybe prop open a nice book and settle down with his quill in hand.
"H'hh...hn'TSSchuu!" And hopefully when he awoke once more he'd feel a little better. He sniffled again, laid his head down, and dozed off.
#snz#snez#snz fic#al/hai/th/am#gen/shin#gen/shin im/pact#snez fic#snz kink#snzfucker#snzfic#snzblr#al/an writes#al/an works#ka/veh
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genuinely Furina is the MOST attracted i've been to a female character in AGES beyond the usual "oh she's really pretty" reaction. im so invested in her.
i can fully and 100% believe that she would have a very overdramatic sneeze, but i can't decide if she'd let it happen while in public because it fits her drama vibes, or if she'd try to keep it quiet or something because she doesn't want the public to view her as "weak". for some reason, while i can see her shocking the whole room into silence with a sneeze, i can also picture her literally running out of a room to avoid sneezing in front of people.
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stuffed neuvi….
#tummy#tummy kink#gen//shin#hunger#hunger kink#stomach growling#stomach kink#gen//shin im//pact#genshin hunger#gutshin impact#neu//villette#neu//vi//llette
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I blame your face for my photic reflexes
Scara/mouche snz fic?????
Hey guys, this is my first time posting a fic 👉👈🏃♀️ b-be nice
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"W-what are you doing?!!" Wanderer protested as Traveler gently yet switfly lifted off his hat. Though he'd been out in the sun all day with the Traveler, he was still surprised by the sudden brightness in his eyes. He grimaced. Suddenly he could feel the warm sun on his face, and the glare from the light stung his eyes. He felt something suddenly take over him, and all at once, the reflex pulled him. He felt the muscles on his face involuntarily twitch.
The expression of displeasure that he had from the Traveler stealing his hat, was starting to waver into something else. He gritted his teeth, and even though it looked like it was out of anger, it really was just a weak attempt to delay the inevitable.
He tried to stop it, but the reflex took him over anyway, "hah- uhh- IPTCHuu! IhkCHUuh! ahh- aPTCH!" He bobbed his head downwards for each sneeze as he tried his best to shield his eyes from the sun.
The Wanderer tried to grab his hat back from the Traveler, but the Traveler was way too agile, especially since he was the one with the disadvantage here. "Aptchhh!! Give it back! How dare you steal my hat! You- ! You thiefhCHHH- uhhh!" Everytime he tried to grab it he was always just out of reach. As he was struggling, Traveler was laughing his head off. "Hah... you think this is funny? This isn't as amusing as you think it is!" Wanderer managed between sneezes. Though the complaining did nothing to slow down the Traveler.
Traveler- even through laughter- did not waver. He dodged every attempt that the Wanderer made to get his hat back. There was a point during one of the openings, where the Wanderer saw his clear chance for victory. However, before being able to even have the slightest taste of winning, the sun suddenly glared in his eyes, causing his face to contrort. The Wanderer didn't want to do something as gross as spewing all over the Traveler, so he halted, and buried his face into his elbow- "hhg- !! uhKTSHH!! itSHHiew!! huhhh... itSHiehh! ... hadtch! aptchh!!"
Finally, after feeling enough pity, the Traveler stopped dodging and gave the hat back. The Wanderer aggressively grabbed it back. Huffing out breaths. He fixed his hair after it got slightly messy from the whole ordeal. "*snf* Some hero you are... stealing other people's stuff," he grumbled.
"Hahaha! Who knew that the great and powerful balladeer always wore his hat because a little sunshine makes him sneeze..." Wanderer blushed at this.
"Ghh.. obviously I don't wear my hat just because of a stupid reason like this! The attire that I choose fits according to my situation and goals. The hat has always represented my itinerant lifestyle. Don't act like you know everything about me," he retorted.
"Sure... however, the sun doesn't lie, and neither does your face," the Traveler tips the Wanderer's hat up but the Wanderer quickly pulls it back down again. The Traveler laughs again. "You know, had I known that you have this little quirk of yours, I think me and Paimon would've found you a lot less intimidating." The Traveler smiled.
"Hmph, as if something simple like this could've lifted your animosity towards me during our earlier encounters."
"Haha, you could be right. But... how would you know if you didn't try it?"
"Wh- did you want me to just start randomly sneezing during our first meet, just to possibly gain your favor??!"
"Why not? I think it would've been a good first impression," the Traveler chuckled before continuing, "and I think... you would've looked rather adorable," the Traveler said genuinely. Hearing the comment, the Wanderer became speechless. He felt blood quickly creep up his face. Tipping his hat down, the Wanderer shielded his face. Though this time, not from the sun, but from someone who was literally the human embodiment of it...
#PLSJDBDJD#I wrote this on one go#I have other fics of him but I'm too embarrassed to post#Also this was inspired but some of you guys' headcanons ❤️#sca/ramouche#wan/derer#tra/veler#gen/shin im/pact#snz#snzfic
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Thinking about k/aeya and that one hc of how when he's sick, he ALWAYS has chills. No matter what. Despite being a cryo user, his cryo vision and abilities just work against him. Basically whenever he is sick, he is just a shivering mess for a couple days before he can finally feel better.
His snz probably also comes out quite shaky? hh
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I get so nervous posting my art but here is some more thomato tummy content to go with my mildly lactose-intolerant Ayato post from the other day.✨️
Ignore the weird anatomy I drew this at 3am 😅
#gen//shin im//pact#gutshin impact#stomach kink#gen//shin#genshin hunger#stomach growling#tummy kink#ay//ato#tho//ma
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could u write or draw (or both) about scaramouche? thank you.
A/N ( ߹꒳߹ ) i'm done, finally, kinda... well, the first part is here, the standard hurt and no comfort one with c.hilde, and the second one... probably? i don't really know if i'll finish it, as this request has been eating me alive already, but if i manage to finish it, i'll post it. anyway, here it is, your fic and drawing combo, hope you enjoy. and really sorry for the long long wait.
FAILED MISSION 1/?
NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI
In which Childe and Scaramouche had been paired for an important mission, but on the way there things already start going wrong.
ᴀᴏ3
ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ motion sickness, nausea, graphic descriptions of vomiting, non-human sickee, crying, panic attack, fainting.
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 5k~
Scaramouche rarely slept. It was a well-known fact among his subordinates, the ones who often spent long periods in his service, and the few who survived could confirm. They had never seen that thing close its eyes.
Childe only wished that gossip had reached him sooner, it would've made their travels a lot more bearable. He wouldn't have insisted as much that the smaller harbinger took a rest. They still had a long way to traverse by train after all, but he still hadn't seen the boy nap for a minute. He couldn't help himself, he was a big brother at heart.
The two had been assigned a mission together, not by the Tsaritsa herself, but by a harbinger in the higher ranks. Childe was used to being issued the smaller debt collecting duties, things his higher-ups wouldn't touch with they could help it. So naturally, he had been a little on edge during the trip.
Scaramouche was, well, he didn't know much about the young man, he had only seen him lazily stroll through the halls of the Zapolyarny Palace as if he had never been in a hurry in his whole life. The harbinger carried himself with an air of superiority, a clear smirk of who knows more than they let on. The way he moved, stiff yet gracious, like a performer at a stage play, while wearing a mask seemed to portray so many emotions at once. Despite his size, he was quick to show he wasn't anyone to be looked down on.
Even so, he couldn't help but look at the smaller harbinger with a certain curiosity, a certain yearning to know more. A few days into the trip, Childe could still count on his fingers how many words the two had exchanged. He wouldn't have imagined Scaramouche was such a reserved person, but he quickly deduced he was just bothered by something. The boy remained silent if he could help, but thoroughly scolded the subordinates who dared step over that boundary.
That was why Childe didn't say a word when he first caught Scaramouche with his back against the wall, panting so heavily he heard a few rows of chairs away. He was just a few steps from his cabin door, and there was a puddle of… what looked like vomit between his shoes, thoroughly soaked into the carpet.
He froze for a moment, watching the harbinger brace both of his knees as his head hung over the puddle, something viscous dripping from his lips, in detail. He brought a hand to his chest and rested it there, both watching it rise and fall slowly.
“Leave”, Scaramouche hissed, wiping his mouth in the back of his hand, without even looking at him. His voice was strained as if he was holding back a grunt of pain, the threat in it was still tangible. “Go away.”
“Uh, are you alright? Do you need any help?”, Childe asked, cautiously taking a step forward, but Scaramouche recoiled, eyeing him like a feral animal.
“Go away!”, he snapped, his voice bordering a screech. “You saw nothing.”
Childe didn't say another word, Scaramouche moved too quickly, dashing for the door and disappearing into his room, it slammed violently behind him. He didn't see it for another day, so he did just that, pretended he hadn't seen it, and the smaller harbinger did the same. This wouldn't hold for long, they were bound to cross paths again, so Childe decided to cut to the chase.
Naively enough, the first thought in his mind was motion sickness. The train wouldn't be his first choice either, but he remembered to prepare well, packing enough medicine to last him the entire trip, it would still take several days to reach their destination. Maybe Scaramouche must've forgotten his?
He believed more and more in that theory as the days went by and he noticed Scaramouche eating sparingly, ordering food to his room only for it to be thrown away with barely a spoon or two missing. The harbinger would spend most of the time in his room, and when he would leave, Childe could notice the way his legs trembled, his skin always glistening with sweat.
He made his mind as he, not so discreetly, took the empty seat beside Scaramouche, clutching in his hand an unopened carton of pills.
The harbinger didn't move at first, his reflex in the window didn't waver, but looking at it, Childe could spot his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, the fleeting white of his skin. His lips looked to be shivering as well, his throat constantly moving. He didn't even avert his eyes from the scenery as he spoke:
“What do you want?”
His voice was sharp at first, but the strain on it was noticeable as if he was constantly suppressing a cough. Childe stalled for a bit, running his thumb over the corners of the blister pack as he found himself unusually timid.
“Just checking on you”, he finally replied, looking forward to the empty hall. He heard the boy scoff and he shifted on his seat, his purple eyes now set on his face.
“I will ask again”, he spoke slowly, cold and nearly emotionless if it wasn't for the venom lingering behind his tone. “What. Do you want?”
“Look, I'm just trying to help here”, Childe quickly confessed, turning to face the boy, but finding a haunting glare in such a fair face, it brought him slight chills. “You haven't been looking good. Do you get motion sick too? Because I–”
“What?” Scaramouche' interrupted, his eyebrows raised, but his look never lost its sharp edge.
“I have some medicine for it if you want”, he offered, coyly extending the unopened pack. “You just take two pills, then a nap. It usually works for me.”
“Are you some kind of idiot?”, the harbinger deadpanned, his eyebrows dropping to form a straight line. “I don't need it. Now go away before I–”
“Listen, I'm being nice, so just take it”, Childe challenged, his patience already thin. “Even if you don't use it, it's good to have something like this on you.”
Scaramouche blinked in confusion for a moment, but his expression quickly turned dark.
“You think I don't know what you're planning, Tartaglia? I said: you saw nothing”, he said, his voice sizzling between his teeth, his nose scrunching. “Now leave me alone before I make you forget further.”
“Ugh… Quit being an asshole and just take it. I don't want anything in return”, Childe huffed, getting up from his seat. “I'll just leave it here, you do whatever.”
He turned his back to him and left, the whole interaction leaving him feeling as if he had just painted a target on his back. He heard the boy scoff again and left it as that, no more to be said.
***
Scaramouche didn't know what was happening to him, what had been happening for more than a week now. He should've known to ask for help at the first signs of weakness, but few knew of his real nature, and there was only one capable of knowing what was wrong with him. And he'd rather die than go to him.
A shudder rattled his small frame when he thought of those piercing red eyes staring at him. He was sure that the slimy cold that refused to leave him no matter how many blankets he wrapped himself in had developed into a raging fever. The small harbinger could feel himself shivering violently, his teeth clacking, and still, he was sweating so much his clothes stuck to him like glue.
He couldn't even move without a flash of pain shooting through his muscles, leaving him lightheaded as he struggled to make out what was in front of him. He was sure he had been hallucinating for the past few minutes, for he could distinctly hear thunder roaring inside his head.
With his remaining strength, Scaramouche propped himself on his bed, in a cover of many blankets and a nearly full trash can for his bruised stomach. He didn't dare to look inside, the smell was so strong it could've brought him to tears.
The sickly harbinger had been vomiting on and off for the remainder of the trip. He hated traveling with a passion, not that he got sick from motion as that worthless idiot had implied. Scaramouche wasn't human, he didn't get tired from walking endlessly, he could make it anywhere in Teyvat if he wanted to, but to carry out an urgent mission they had forced him to take the train.
Something, some type of illness he couldn't place had wormed its way into his system, and now his body was desperately trying to purge it out. Painfully so. Scaramouche had only gotten sick a handful of times in all of his existence, experiences he had thoroughly buried under years upon years of other memories, so to feel it again. It felt alien to him.
The boy groaned as his stomach gave a low sickly growl, and he hugged tighter the container against his chest, parting his lips as it was procedural. After vomiting so many times in such a short period, he had learned the tells of his body, paying attention to the harsh cramps that anticipated the gagging, and finally…
“...buur– eurRGHh!” he retched weakly over the trash can, his throat lowering to allow a small trickle of bright yellow vomit, a lumpy mixture of stomach acid to drizzle over his tongue. If his breath hadn't been so heavy, he would've heard it sizzle as it hit the layer of cold curdled vomit covering the bottom.
He was still struggling through the miserable bites of food he had earlier, even after thoroughly vomiting his stomach lining, he could still feel it festering inside him, refusing to come up.
Scaramouche spluttered thoroughly, trying to rid his mouth of that awful burn. No matter how many times he did it, he would never get used to that vile unnatural taste. He didn't need to eat, at least not as much as humans did, he didn't eat to survive. He ate because he enjoyed the tastes, the textures, the feeling of the food sitting on his stomach, but it was all so momentary.
He dreaded what the food would become inside his stomach. How it would sit there for so long, days on end, festering until it became a mush, churning inside him, unable to digest until he finally manages to get it out.
He spat out again, feeling his stomach give in to unwavering nausea, making him retch once more, but nothing of substance came up. His throat felt too tight.
After a couple more empty desperate retches, Scaramouche felt like he was going to fall apart. His chest was tightening painfully, to the point where his breathing got trapped in his throat, only wet desperate gasps coming through.
Scaramouche gripped the container fiercely, clinging to it as if it would somehow hold him as well. It was pitiful. If anyone were to see him cradling a trash can full of his puke like that… A whimper echoed inside, the last ounce of his strength spent on it, and Scaramouche started slipping forward, his vision growing dark as the floorboards approached him rapidly. He heard the violent metallic clunk of the can falling before he did, but after, there was only a ring in his ears.
He couldn't tell for how long he had been out, but as he came to, frantic footsteps were coming in his direction. He could only hear them at first, thumping against his eardrums, almost as if it was coming from inside his skull. It took him a moment of numb recollection to notice his cheek was glued to the floor, and it felt like it was breathing along with him.
A heavy feeling settled in his lungs, dropping all the way to his stomach. There was someone in his room and he couldn't move, he could barely breathe around the fear gripping his lungs. And that disgusting vile stench permeated the whole room, his eyes were welling up with tears. If he could speak, he would beg, or he would curse, he would threaten, but even that was more dignity than he was allowed.
Instead, he started heaving, tears spilling across his cheek, creating a slimy mixture along with snot and drool. His clothes were heavy with day-old vomit, thoroughly coating his chest from where it had spilled as he fell. His body was trying to find a way for him to breathe, but his throat was starting to glue shut. He was going to suffocate if he didn't move.
Someone was calling him, a voice so familiar he could almost see his face in his mind's eye, but the name escaped him. Just like that name. He thought after so many years of being called that, he wouldn't forget that was supposed to be his name.
“Scaramouche!”, the name burst through the white noise clogging his years
He tried to respond, to say anything, to beg for help, but the mere effort had him even more starved for air. Something was trying to climb its way up his throat, but stopping in the back of it, pooling there and clogging his airways. What came out was a strangled, pathetic sob, his soiled chest heaving painfully as it made room for another one.
Scaramouche hadn't noticed the hands gripping him, but now they were putting so much pressure on his porcelain-like skin he could shatter. They had been shaking him, rocking him back and forth, making the chunks of caked vomit fall from him, and his stomach seemed to accompany the motion as if the lone organ had been slamming against the walls of his abdomen. Like an exquisite cut of meat inside a box.
The hands gripped him tighter and in one swift motion that seemed to throw his stomach in sickening loops, he was seated, his body slumping like a dejected doll. He was able to catch a glimpse of the mess he had made, a violent spill right by his bed, taking up a third of the room's floor as chunks of it flew far. The sight had him yearning to gag, but even that took a lot out of him.
Somewhere in the middle of that arc, that horrible pressure in his throat popped into a forceful retch that made his lungs sting. He didn't have the time to turn his head before a mouthful of that sickening slurry overtook his tongue, achingly slowly dripping out of him. He struggled through it, his eyes as wide as could be, waiting desperately as it clogged his throat.
Almost at once, it fell into his lap with a disgusting slosh, gathering into a dense pile, looking almost like porridge if it wasn't for the washed-out colors of rotting food gathered in bits. His mouth was hanging open as desperate wet gaps made him sound like a drowning man, sucking in greedy breaths one after the other, filling his lungs to the brim for he knew it wouldn't last.
The gags were already at the back of his throat, and soon enough, he was already struggling through another heavy wave of vomit coming up his esophagus. This time someone guided him to lean over, the effort of folding his torso earning a yelp out of him as his stomach stung with pain.
A strangled retch led to more vomit splattering over his lap, adding to that lumpy, nearly condensed pile of chunky remains. The smell was horrid, like the death they knew so well, it had him gagging every time it invaded his nostrils, it wouldn't clear.
“It's okay… It's okay…”, the voice reassured, coming directly from behind him, so gentle it didn't even sound like himself.
“C-Chil…de…”, Scaramouche choked through his name, sobs rocking his chest after each syllable. “I– I can't… It… It won't… s-stop.”
“What? What won't stop?”, he asked, both hands gripping his shoulders as the smaller harbinger pitched forward, a broken gag bringing up his answer, along with another mouthful of stomach contents. “That's bad…”, he murmured, more to himself than to Scaramouche.
The boy was nearing his limit, his vision was starting to swim, his head pounding mercilessly, and tears coating his face. No energy in him left to move, more garbled gags poured out of him, his stomach squirming in the stings each would cause, bringing up tiny trickles of bright yellow bile to drip over the pile.
As the heavier parts of his lunch had mostly come up, Scaramouche spat over his own lap, no regard for what he could still dirty. A shuddering sigh left him, his chest still hitching from the panic that had brought him to tears, it still lingered in the pit of his stomach, just waiting to latch onto him like a starved bloodsucker.
“Alright, bear with me for a bit. I'll go get you something to clean up”, Childe pleaded, and Scaramouche could feel him move, getting up and pulling something out of his bed. “Are you still with me, Scara?”
If he could, he would've snapped at him to not call him that, but the thought barely crossed his mind before it was gone, buried under waves of dizziness. Something soft was holding him seated, pillows, a few of them, stacked and arranged around him like a fort. He mustered a small scoff, granted, Childe possessed the ingenuity of a genuine child.
The harbinger was murmuring something to himself as he walked through the room, his footsteps light of a thief, but the slamming of cabinets and drawers denounced his presence, as well as the urgency in his movements. Scaramouche heard intently, his senses on high alert, even if he wouldn't be able to react. It was almost uncharacteristic of him to trust blindly on that voice alone, but he was desperate… he was terrified.
His chest gave a painful spasm between his breathing, making him whimper as that heaviness grew in his vision. He didn't try to fight it, he couldn't, his head was so light he could've been floating, while his body was sinking. It slumped to the side, crashing into a soft pile of pillows.
“Hey, hey! Don't pass out on me now, not again”, Childe said as he rushed to the smaller harbinger's side, holding his face in his hand as he started to slide to the side. The heat rolling off his skin nearly made him flinch, and he remarked in a gasp: “You've got a fever. A pretty nasty one, Scara…”
He responded with a weak groan, his eyes glazed over, staring at somewhere lost in swirling dizzying colors.
“Scara, stay awake, alright?”, he pleaded, managing to get him seated, and laid on the pillows. “Tell me if you feel like vomiting again.”
Scaramouche simply nodded, quietly, swallowing a gulp of foul-tasting saliva that left his throat charred. At this point, he was wondering what had happened to that trash can he had been filling up throughout the trip, but that question was soon answered as he saw Childe put it in front of him. It had rolled off somewhere he couldn't see, spilling its contents as it went.
The eleventh harbinger was nothing more than a smear of color for him, but those deep blue eyes were unmistakable. He kept shooting worried glances at Scaramouche, allowing him to catch those shallow dull eyes amidst the blurred moves.
That must've been the first time he saw him, but he didn't dare to say it, not even to look in his direction, those deep blue eyes were filled with pity, and he hated it. He hated more than anything, to have such a lowly human feel pity for him, to see him like this, to owe his life to one. But deep down, he was thankful it was Childe who was there, not…
“H-How did you get in here?”, was what he translated out of the feeling.
“Unlocked your door, you don't need to know how”, the harbinger quickly dismissed, shifting his attention to the matter at hand. “Scaramouche, I found you passed out. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
“No”, came the simple, cold answer. “It doesn't… happen often.”
“Well, today you were out of your luck, then. I came to wake you up”, Childe responded, his tone exasperated. “We arrived already, and we've got a meeting with an informant in a few— Scara, are you… listening?”
He wasn't, his heart had plummeted to his stomach and it was now beating there, faster and faster, throbbing like a sore wound. He brought a shaky hand to his chest, resting it there as his breathing picked up the pace. Something had woken up that panic again, but what?
“We've… already stopped moving, right?”, he asked again, the answer was obvious, and he was nearly breathless.
“Yes… but I've told them to wait, we've got a minute or two. Now, let's get you cleaned up”, Childe responded with caution, unfolding one of the towels he had brought and pulling it to Scaramouche's face. Heat irradiated from his skin, just from being this close he could feel it.
The smaller harbinger flinched as the soft cloth made contact with his feverish skin, alarms blaring inside his head, but Childe quickly comforted him, resting a gentle hand on his arm and rubbing it up and down.
“It's okay, I'm just wiping that vomit off your face”, he told carefully, patting the fabric over his mouth, letting him get used to it before he went and started cleaning his mouth. “See? It's okay.”
Scaramouche looked paler than it was humanly possible, his skin looked like cracked porcelain, taking on an almost gray complexion, its shine was the sweat covering him like a cascade. Childe took pity on him, he did, the harbinger had been sick for days, truly sick, only he had noticed. Now, he looked like death incarnate.
Not to mention the room. Childe was fighting tooth and nail not to gag from the smile, it stunk of rot and vomit to the point even his war-hardened stomach was unsettled. His sympathy shone over it, however, and he was able to ignore it while Scaramouche was right in front of him, trying to swallow his sobs.
“Still with me, Scara?”, he asked coyly, to which he scoffed the best he could.
“Why… are you to me and talking like that?”, Scaramouche said as the man gently yet thoroughly wiped the vomit off his face.
He thought of jerking away from him more than once, but the pillows were snuggly stacked around him, not limiting his movements, but having him reconsider them. Childe finished cleaning him, and threw the towel open over his lap, turning to answer him.
“How?”, he could hear the smirk in his voice, the chuckle that followed just making it more obvious. Scaramouche scoffed as he turned his face away from him, somehow his ears flushed at the sound. “Sorry, haha, I can't help it. You just remind me so much of my little siblings.”
At that, Scaramouche gave a short huff, turning to face Childe. Trying to put on a mean look despite how sick and pitiful he felt. Instead, the man returned a sympathetic look, something he never thought he would see someone do for him, it threw him off. A shuddering breath escaped him.
“I– Ah! W-Who do you think you are!?”, he nearly screeched, wanting to get away, but his body wouldn't allow him. He suddenly felt disgusted at Childe, his pity had infected him. “Don't you fucking dare look at me like that, I'm not— hng!”
A sharp pain had sprung in his abdomen, and he curled into himself tightly, bringing his knees to his chest, feeling like he had been robbed of all air in his lungs. Childe didn't stall, he leaped to his side, his hand falling on his back as he tried to soothe him.
Scaramouche was in agony, gritting his teeth through grunts, it hurt as if someone was mercilessly wringing out his intestines. He was thrust into the peak of nausea in seconds, the distress and anxiety twisting his gut into knots, his stomach leaping to his throat, in the back of his mouth, pushing against his tongue.
“Here, here”, Childe tried to guide, shoving that filthy bucket under his chin, but he wouldn't move, he wouldn't budge a muscle, the pain had him locked in a tight embrace. He had to think fast. “Then, uh– Here!”
He hastily unfolded a towel, bundling it in his hands and placing it under his chin just in time to catch the first retch. A thin streak of yellow bile weakly splashed over the white fabric, seeping into it like a flavored snow cone, and another one quickly followed.
Scaramouche didn't even have a second to breathe, each pained gasp was dotted by a harsh gag, his back heaving as he struggled through a dense mass traveling up his throat. It felt like his stomach was trying to come out of his throat, and he wouldn't put it past it, he could only hope his body wasn't built for that.
Childe ran a hand up and down his back as it hitched, feeling it distinctly when Scaramouche heaved and vomit sprayed past the towel, splattering heavily onto the floor. He didn't even think about it, the panic was ringing in his ears, but a bit more vomit on the floor wasn't going to make a difference, he just kept shushing Scaramouche.
“I don't know what to do with you. There's no way you can come with me like that…”, Childe nearly whispered, his usually playful tone muted into a genuinely serious one. He felt Scaramouche tense under him, waiting with batted breath for what he was going to say next. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
The harbinger went deathly quiet, his breathing suddenly cutting into a wet choked sound, and he started shaking his head vehemently.
“No, no, no… no, no”, he repeated, struggling to get his voice out of his charred throat, the desperation in it palpable. “No, you're not going to take me there. I'm not going, I'm not— hng!”, he clawed at his chest, his shoulder locking as he fought to control his breathing. “You're not going to just hand me over to him! I'm not going! I'M NOT!”
He was nearly screaming now, holding his chest as wet shrieking gasps poured out of him, his throat soundly struggling through each. Childe's first instinct was to back away, but he had to hold himself from it, maintaining that hand on his back no matter how sharp his muscles felt under his palm.
“Scaramouche…”, he ordered using the softer tone he could muster, hesitating a moment before leaning in closer. “You are sick. I need to. You won't get better if you don't—”, it was as if he had swallowed his words, a shoulder was driven into his nose as Scaramouche scurried away from him.
The boy moved like he wasn't human, crawling away from him on hands and knees, like something out of a horror movie. Childe got to his feet, running the back of his hand under his nose and sniffling. There wasn't any blood, luckily, but he couldn't be worrying about that now.
Scaramouche was clinging to the door, supported by just his hands strongly affixed to the handle, the rest of his body hanging limply under it. Still, he heaved, his lungs wheezing for air as panic and fear ate through him like vultures on a fresh carcass.
He heaved and heaved, in a mixture of sickness and desperation, he kept heaving despite his body having nothing else to give. He recoiled as Childe touched him, a striking breath leaving his nose, the only scream he could muster.
He didn't say a thing, not until he managed to gently peel the young man off the door handle, sitting him down on his knees once again. Shaky sniffles were shaking his frail torso, the heaving evolving into empty violent retching in between sobs. Childe stayed silent, whispering small shushes that fell on deaf ears as he tenderly soothes his back.
“D-Don't… take me to… him…”, he sobbed miserably, nesting his head in between his shoulders. A harsh wet gulp broke through him as he added. “Ple…ase…”
“Scara, I need—”, he tried to explain, but the boy suddenly turned to him, his face was a mess of tears and snot, vomit and drool, all smeared into a pitiful picture. His eyes were red, wide like he had never seen them before, pleading, begging.
“I– 'll do anything! Please, please…”
Childe couldn't speak, he felt like if he tried, he would start crying too. Even though they didn't know each other well, or at all, seeing Scaramouche break down like this. Seeing him cry so miserably, shiver from the fever wreaking havoc through his body, lose his voice from the strain of vomiting. Having him beg. It broke Childe's heart to pieces.
“Why are you so afraid? What happened…”, he asked, but Scaramouche was too far gone, just muttering please, please under his breath, squeezing his hands more and more. He watched as the life was drained from his eyes until they rolled back and Childe scrambled to hold him. “Scara—”
The name was cut by the realization, he was out cold, limp on his arms, unresponsive even to the small taps to his face. Childe was suddenly out of breath, his eyes wide as it dawned on him, what was he going to do?
He kept tapping, as if it could wake him up, even while he held him against his chest, noting he was the one whose heart was out the rhythm now. His name didn't leave his lips, even as he stood up with the boy in his arms.
“Don't worry, you'll be fine, Scara. It'll be fine”, he told him, then repeated to himself as he unlocked the door, sniffing blood as he took a step outside. “The doctor better know what to do.”
#emetophilia#emeto#motion sickness#nausea#vomiting#crying#fainting#tw panic attack#gen/shin im/pact#gen/shin imp/act scara/mouche#gen/shin imp/act chil/de tarta/glia#platonic caretaking#read as platonic only#hurt and discomfort#all hurt no comfort#non human sickee#non human sickie#robot sickee sickie#tw vomit#tw emeto#dana//emeto fic#my writing#dana//emeto art
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