Snzzone

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Character A has been managing throughout the day, careful to dodge the plants that they know will get to them. But before their input could be asked for, Character B has pitched the tent practically on top of a soft bed of greens. Each stem is visibly coated with pollen. But what can be done about it now?

B is the first to fall asleep. A wonders if they will get any sleep at all. Rubbing their watering eyes, sniffling every other breath, and clearing their throat once every few minutes. The very familiar itch pricks their sinuses, drawing a harsh blink and an instinctual snap of their wrist, forcing their nostrils closed. After a three count, it still hasn't gone away. A shifts their hand back and forth, attempting to massage the tickle into relaxation, but it refuses to relent.

Occasional howls of wind. The monotone of bugs humming. A knows that those are the only sounds that might override their impending fit.

Should they stay where they are, laid adjacent to B, and try to stifle? Even if they were silent, would their body's trembles shake B awake anyways? Just in time for B to see their pathetic sneezing fits?

Or should they step outside the tent and sneeze freely? Will the door's zipper be too loud? Will they snap a twig beneath their feet on the way out? Even if the exit itself did not wake B, how far away would A have to walk before they could sneeze? Could they even wait to sneeze that long?

The allergic tickle did not appreciate how long it had been ignored, even though it was all A could think of. Building and building, the irritant informed A that once it was out, it would give A a piece of its mind. Decide. Decide. Decide!

Lips parted, shaking, bargaining. Before - Be...fore...!

no it's ok, i can smell it from here. i mean...sure. ok. hands and knees? um. yeah i guess that's a little better. i mean, it smells really good, it's like, soapy. perfumey. keep doing...keep smelling it? for how long? haha no i know but like...five minutes, ten minutes? 'cause i was kinda hoping to...no, no, i don't have a problem with it, i was just curious. yeah, it's cool, just...let me know.

ssnff.

yeah, fine. uh, i don't know how else to describe it. you can't- you can't smell it from back where you are? haha it's pretty strong. no, not bad, it's just like. snff. it could give you a headache if you got too much of it. like a really heady perf-perfume. uhh'khmm. snf. hm? no, i'm good. i could do this for, well however long i need to i guess haha.

ah, fuck. i think i got something in my eye. like a hair or— some dust or something. can you see any...? i feel like i can't even keep them open. so dry. i think i have eye drops, they're probably right in my...no, i know, i'm not going anywhere. shit...augh. my eyes are watering. sndff!

i don't know if this is causing it, but i sometimes get allergies in the summer. my eyes get really itchy...so. so maybe, snff, it's. augh. fuck, that's strong.

put- put my...? how close, like...? ok...like in it? sssnff...auhh. that was really. that really...

keep talking? uh. fuck, i can't think. my nose is like. i'm- i'm pretty sure this thing is giving me allergies. like, i'll keep...smelling it obviously, but i think it's probably, uh. i know, i know, shit, sorry, i can't even talk, it's so strong. um. fuck. i think i...sorry, i cahhnt! ...iT'ZSCHHUh!

—id'TSSSCHH!

had'TSHHHOO!

haT'JJJJSSHEW!!

ugh.

oh my god.

holy shit. i need— can i blow my nose?? i'm not trying to, sdrrf, get out of this or anything...ugh. no, i'm not kidding, i seriously need to blow my nose. i'll go right back, i swear. swear to god. please.

aka scaramouche fic

~

These days, the Wanderer would look back on his memories of fatui harbinger banquets with fondness. The drama, the gossip, the pathetic fronts some of them would put on to get out of certain missions… it was just so amusing. There was very little he wouldn’t give to go back in time and show up with a friend, comment on Signora’s weight, then sit back and watch the chaos happen.

Back then, he found it bothersome. Back then he was ready to be rid of all worldly emotion, welcoming the day he’d simply be too high above such meaningless squabble. Gossip and chatter, however amusingly petty, was just not something a future god needed to concern himself with. 

He sat at the banquet, sipping his classically bitter tea and ignoring the food he did not need to eat. He didn’t speak a word, just idly listening to the chatter like he was simply above it. Practice for when he’d become a god, he supposed.

Sandrone was shouting at Columbina again for something absolutely trivial. Mortal issues a future god like him was probably too high above to understand. He shared a glance with Dottore. Soon, he’d leave all of this behind.

“Fine,” Sandrone huffed. “I guess I’m too busy to need to care about some meaningless singing.”

“Really?” Scaramouche muttered. “I thought I heard Arlecchino say your anger issues were a liability.”

“She said WHAT now?” Sandrone practically screeched, immediately launching into another argument.

….Okay, maybe the drama was a little entertaining.

Scaramouche sniffed, rubbing at his nose with a curled index finger. Ever since his last experiment with Dottore, his nose hadn’t stopped… buzzing. It was an odd sensation in the back of what probably would be his sinuses, as if there was something welling up inside for no other purpose than to make him utterly uncomfortable. It was tolerable before, but now, he was starting to notice the way it extended through his head and made him feel…

exhausted.

Him? Exhausted? No, he couldn’t be. A future god should be above exhaustion. Hells, a future god should be above… all of whatever this is! The buzzing, the sniffling, none of it should be happening. Especially not in front of Dottore, who has the fate of his deification in his very hands. If he deems him too weak…

“Scaramouche, tell Sandrone I’m not ‘childish’ and ‘annoying!’” Childe demanded, drawing a groan out of the tired puppet.

“Oh my me, I don’t CARE.”

“For the last time, Scaramouche, you don’t get to say ‘Oh my me’ instead of ‘Oh my god’, you’re not even a god yet!” Sandrone reminded him.

Scaramouche tuned out the rest of the petty argument, focusing on trying to get his pathetic nose under control. Whatever… reaction he was having to whatever Dottore did to him, no one was going to see it. He had to be extra careful too, he could feel Dottore’s eyes on him…

He cupped his hand over his nose and mouth. Don’t sniffle, don’t sneeze… they are watching your every move… That little ‘buzzing’ in the back of his nose had grown into an unstoppable force. Think, Scaramouche… think… what is there to do…?

“You okay, Scara?” Childe asked, nudging him by the shoulder, almost startling the sneeze out of him. In a moment of pure genius, Scaramouche dropped his fork onto the floor, giving himself an excuse to duck under the table to grab it.

“HehNGt! n’gtt-ch!”

Nearly silent… at least, nearly silent when covered by the sound of pointless bickering. He lifted his head once he realized incessant rubbing wasn’t going to will the tickle out of his nose.

“You were down there for a bit, are you-- woah there.” Childe was giving him a look he really didn’t like. “Your, uh…”

Childe pointed to his nose, and Scaramouche quickly covered his embarrassingly pink nose with his hand. Damn how human-like this puppet body was… he couldn’t wait to be rid of it.

“Hh--” He took a sharp inhale, not daring to release it. He thanked his future self that Dottore was distracted talking to Pantalone about something. He still had a chance…

He couldn’t falter now. Not when he was so close.

…Dammit, was Signora wearing perfume!? She was warned multiple times that that stuff was way too strong for comfort and no one in their right mind liked it, but no, the whole rest of world only exists just to serve number freaking eight of the fatui harbingers--

“Scaramouche,” Dottore cut in. “I am speaking to you.”

The way his name was spoken sent a chill down Scaramouche’s spine, thus knocking loose the sneeze he was so desperately holding back. He dipped forward into cupped hands, no time to even stifle.

“Eh’ptshhuu!”

The whole room went silent. Scaramouche sniffled, honest to his future self, wishing he had never existed.

“...You can sneeze?” Was Childe’s bewildered response after a good few seconds.

“So?” Scaramouche scoffed.

“Oh, he can sneeze,” Dottore confirmed through a breathy chuckle. “He used to be impossible to work with because of it. I’d have to find ways to sedate him if I wanted to even touch his nose.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Scaramouche muttered from where he’d sunk into his seat, his face burning red with embarrassment. “Besides, I’m much stronger now.”

“Maybe so. But regardless, unlike the most of us, you don’t sneeze without reason. Do you have something to declare, Scaramouche?”

“Not to you.”

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you,” Pantalone scolded with a tsk. “This kind of behaviour isn’t very becoming of a ‘future god’.”

“Right, because you’re the expert on being a god, not me, who will actually become one. While we’re at it, why don’t we go to Childe for medical advice?”

“Ha,” Sandrone scoffed. “Funnily enough, I think even Tartaglia would be a better doctor than Dottore.”

“Now now, it’s best we all calm down,” Pulcinella cut in. Scaramouche wasn’t having it. 

“I don’t need to listen to you,” He snapped, “I’m a future god, I-- I’m not--” He sighed in utter annoyance, letting the embarrassment come. It was more embarrassing to fight it and lose. “eh’issHhhu! heh-iSHHhieww!

“Here,” Arlecchino extended a folded napkin, to which Scaramouche swatted it away.

“I’m not one of your pathetic children.”

Arlecchino’s fingers tightened around the napkin, crushing the thin cloth beneath her grip. “You’re right, you’re not one of my children. But don’t worry, some day you’ll get to that level of maturity.”

“That’s enough,” Pierro cut in, silencing every voice. “I was hoping this time I wouldn’t be entering to witness such a mess, but here we are again. Why is it that you all behave like children the moment--”

“Hh’TSShhiuu!”

…Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, be damned with his troublesome nose, now is not the time…

“...Signora.”

….That… was not the name Scaramouche was expecting to hear.

“What did we say about the perfume?”

…Holy shit, God was real.

Scaramouche was too busy reeling over how lucky he got to notice what happened next, but when he was being snapped back into reality, Pierro was gone, Signora was gone, and one or two others he didn’t care for had left as well. 

“Scara.” Childe snapped his fingers once, twice, in front of Scaramouche’s face.

“Hh’NXTt--!”

“There he is,” Pantalone teased.

“Yikes, it’s gotta hurt to do that,” Childe winced. “Just let it out, comrade.”

“I’ll do what I-- n’gtt! What I w-- nXxt-ch!”

“Scaramouche,” Dottore’s voice came in next, and that shut him up completely. “It’s not the perfume… is it? You’re reacting to your last procedure.”

Scaramouche froze completely, all sneezes suddenly disappearing from his sinuses.

 “And to think you’re supposed to be number 6…” Pantalone tsked. He was probably just jealous his sugar baby was paying less attention to him.

Dottore tsked as well. “I didn’t think your body would be rejecting it in such a way… perhaps I overestimated you.” He must have noticed the way Scaramouche’s face fell, because he continued, “Ah, but, before you say anything, we will still be continuing with the experiment. We just need to make a few extra… changes first. Come find me when you’re ready. We’ll open you up and see where we went wrong.”

At some point during the conversation, Scaramouche’s fear turned into a glare, which he held onto Dottore his whole way out. A sigh. A moment in silence to rub his nose with his palm… and then…

“...He’s such a dick.”

“RIGHT!?” Sandrone practically screeched, a rant on the tip of her tongue.

The fear and embarrassment he’d felt in that moment, the amusement and belonging he felt ranting and gossipping with his coworkers… it was all a part of his past. Who he was, and who he is now.

SHARED COMMS WITH @hachiibun !!! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

All the infos you need are below (and in case my handwriting is difficult to read lmao) :

This is a collaboration project ! I will provide 5 slots, and all profit goes towards Hachi's emergency fund. Link under the cut !

Number of slots remaining : 5/5

Details :

I was very fortunate to get my first commission from @hachiibun and I'm so excited and happy! Thank you so much, hachi! I'm seriously so grateful for how beautifully you drew my characters, they look wonderful and just like I imagined! T_T In fact, they look even better than I could've imagined LOL

OCs Elliot Alcor and Ramir Kansanari (pics and character descriptions here): 2 princes, both 25M, fantasy universe, ≈1.5k words

Please reference Kotyo's fantastic art of them here!!

EDIT: I was also lucky to commission @hachiibun to draw a scene from this story, please reference more fantastic art of them here!

SUMMARY: When his dust allergies flare, Elliot learns from experience that Ramir is an unfortunate victim of sympathy sneezing. Ramir would never admit to it, though. First half is snz, second half is the conversation that results.

—

A barely got any warning before they were overtaken by a forceful sneeze that rattled their head. “huh’kXt!”

“Bless you, kitten,” B said, and then appeared to take enjoyment in watching A’s face contort into a scowl.

“Enough with that stupid nickname already.”

“You even sneeze like a kitten.”

A scoffed. They felt another tickle and scrunched their nose, upper lip arching. “Okay, how’s this?” They spat out quickly before squeezing their eyes shut and attempting a sneeze without restraint this time. “ah’tchEHH’iu!”

B barked out a laugh, watching. “Seriously? That was adorable. Don’t tell me that’s the best you can do.”

“I— what the hell?” A scowled deeper and rubbed aggressively at their nose, trying to hold back any more unwarranted sneezing in hopes of quickly putting an end to this ordeal.

B continued to watch them struggle.

“Seems like you got some more in you there, kitten,” B taunted. “Just let em out, why don’t ya?”

“Fuck you.”

A quickly turned around, putting their back to B, before inhaling sharply and giving in to the relentless itch. “hih’tchESH’uh! … hh’gkXt’h!”

“Ooh, so close!” B leaned over A’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of their face. “That first one sounded like it felt good though.”

A sniffled pathetically. “Shut up, already. This isn’t going to stop any time soon.”

B only smiled their shit-eating grin, which A felt like smacking right off their face. “Counting on it.”

A was on the verge of another sneeze and suddenly found themselves feeling a little self-conscious. There was no right way to get through the remainder of their fit with B’s hawk eyes watching their every move, is there? Good thing they don’t really have timetomakeadecision— “hih’djESH’yu! h’kXgt’h! hh’krGHsh’h!”

When A finally drew a raspy breath and blinked open their eyes, B was standing in front of them with a box of tissues in hand. “For the resident kitten.”

So C/aleb officially and canonically sneezing from pepper and it's not the first time main character witness it🥰

The scene starts at 4:52😋