Post-Event Survey

Please remember to take the post-event survey, whether you participated directly or as a viewer/reader! I've had very few responses so far (big thank you to those who already did the thing!!) and would really appreciate a bit more feedback, as this is an important part of planning future events. The survey should take no more than 10 minutes and likely less than that - all questions have an opt out option in case there are any you don't care to answer. You can take the survey via survey monkey or google forms, and both options are anonymous. Here are the links:

I hate to be annoying about this but I'm going to anyway 😂 Sorry!!! It's just a super easy thing that helps me in a big way for future events. If anyone has trouble with it or if I'm wrong in this assumption, of course please let me know! I do try to make this as straightforward and simple as possible but I may be missing something. Thank you to those who participate in the survey, I really do appreciate it!!!

— Cas

I am going to be closing this survey at the end of the month! Once more: if you participated as a creator or enjoyed any of the content from Novemetober Rescheduled, please check out this survey - you're welcome to opt out of any questions that you don't want to answer. Thank you!!

— Cas

Kitchen Cymbals

Day 27: Head pain (prompt list by @monthofsick)

Sickie Wonsang

Caretaker: Sangyeop

Fandom: Lucy

TW: Emeto, Real Person Fiction, graphic description of illness.

Late Arrival Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack (described in detail), vomiting, fever, hospital mention, bad jokes

A/N:

“–nari. Tighnari.” The earth is shaking. It’s warm. Comfortably warm for a moment, and then too much. He squirms. “Tighnari!” Oh, Cyno is shaking him. Cyno is warm. Cyno is—

“Please,” Cyno’s voice wavers. “I need to throw up.”

Tighnari bolts upright. Cyno is sick.

The forest watcher is still half asleep as he forces himself out of the bed. His head is pounding. A result of lack of rest, probably, combined with the incessant city noise, but his priority is getting the trash can to Cyno, and he manages it.

His ears flatten at the immediate sound of the bin being filled.

There are multiple waves, this time. They run in cycles. Cyno’s body tenses, hunches forward, and then with a sick gurgle, rancid smelling liquid gushes from his mouth and nose. Tighnari stands beside him and holds a mass of hair out of the way. It’s thick, and heavy with sweat. His own hands are shaking.

Something heavy sits uncomfortably in his stomach. A bubbling nausea rises in his throat, not from illness, but stress. Being woken so jarringly from such a deep sleep and days of exhaustion has left him reeling, strung out and achy.

He watches Cyno panting, head hung over the trash, and the tightness in his heart manifests into physical pain. It must be nearing 48 hours since anything’s actually stayed in Cyno’s system. His body looks thinner than it did even a day ago. He coughs, and Tighnari can easily see the outline of his ribs when his stomach contracts yet again. There’s another splatter, quickly followed by two more. Tighnari has never been squeamish, but right now the worry feels like a rampage in his gut.

Empty, Cyno leans back to catch his breath, melting into the pillows behind him. Tighnari sets the soiled trash can back on the floor. He brushes a thumb over Cyno’s cheek, catching some wetness and wiping it away, watching the sick man smile and nuzzle into his hand. He looks ill, certainly, but relaxed. Comfortable, even. Tighnari’s tail wilts between his legs and his chest squeezes impossibly further. He doesn’t want to take that from him - he doesn’t want to take anything from Cyno, and definitely not this - but a sense of safety is good for nothing if it’s only an illusion. When Tighnari finally speaks, he feels very far away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he confesses quietly. Cyno cracks an eye open. Tighnari inhales unevenly. “I think… we should go to the Bimarstan.”

At the suggestion, Cyno goes rigid. He stares at Tighnari with some awful mix of shock, betrayal, confusion, and hurt. At the center of it all, a trembling and raw fear, the kind that makes him look far younger than his age.

“Tighnari–” Cyno speaks roughly, like it was hard for him to find his voice, and it cracks upon the single word. He’s gone ashen and bug-eyed. Tighnari melts with a sigh, sagging onto the bed and dropping his forehead to Cyno’s shoulder.

“I know.” Because he does, to a certain extent. There are few things that instill fear into the General Mahamatra, let alone to this degree. Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand in his own and stares at it. He can’t stand the sight of his partner’s pained expression any longer. “I know,” he repeats quietly. “I’m just not sure that I can help you on my own this time.”

“Tighnari. I’ll be fine.” Cyno sounds reassuring. He sounds like he believes his own words. “You’re helping. I feel better already.”

Maybe he does believe it. Tighnari can’t read minds. But he can hear Cyno’s heartbeat and it has the speed and intensity of a cornered animal. Cyno isn’t a liar - and yet, anyone can bend the truth or tiptoe around it, especially when fear is involved.

“I’ve been through worse,” Cyno says, his voice pleading for Tighnari to cave. Instead, his hands shake harder. Cyno looks… Frail. The word comes to mind and punches the oxygen out of him. His own heart pounds and there’s a rushing white noise in his ears that drowns out everything else.

“I don’t… know what to do,” Tighnari grates out. His breaths are coming too short and quick, but the harder he tries to gasp in oxygen, the more his chest hurts. He stands and his tail swishes restlessly, brushing against the floor. Cyno squeezes his hand.

“I promise,” he says. “I promise I’ll be okay, Tighnari. I don’t break promises.”

“I know you don’t.” And he does, except… “I’ll be right back. Stay here, Cyno. Please.”

Tighnari doesn’t wait for a response. He wrenches his hand away and stumbles out of the bedroom, and then out of the front door. He doesn’t make it much further than that.

He can’t.

It crosses Tighnari’s mind that he’s gasping quite loudly, to the point of nearly wheezing, and that Cyno can probably hear him; if he could claw his way further from the building, he would. The last thing he needs is to cause more stress for his partner. But his legs simply refuse to hold him, and he’s shaking from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. He has to blink dark spots from his vision - there is simply not enough oxygen to appease his greedy lungs.

His entire chest feels like both a pulsing bruise and a stab wound and Tighnari grapples with a sort of fury, a rage at his own body’s failure at such an inopportune time. He’s managed to betray both himself and Cyno in one sitting. His left arm begins to tingle and go numb, and Tighnari wonders whether he’s being dealt some form of divine punishment in the form of heart failure. 

He can reason with himself, at least, enough to recognize that this is unlikely. Teyvat’s medical research has yet to discover a definitive way to distinguish between issues of the heart and of the mind, but Tighnari is aware that he’s quite healthy and still significantly younger than the average age of those afflicted with heart problems. Meanwhile, he’s familiar with the mind’s way of tricking the body, if only from having comforted Collei through more panic spells than he’d care to recall. 

But then - there are exceptions to every rule. This feels more painful than Collei has ever articulated, and counting his breaths doesn’t seem to be helping in the way it does with her. Instead he ends up coughing, choking on the very air that’s meant to bring him life. He could be an exception, something could be wrong and Tighnari wouldn’t know because he isn’t a doctor. Every time Tighnari tries to push the worry away, the fear seems to grow. If he dies here, then Cyno…

His stomach lurches. Tighnari whimpers and tugs at his hair, his ears, in some attempt at grounding himself. His tail wraps around his body instinctively as he retches. With his hearing enhanced as it is, Tighnari’s heartbeat is a constant source of white noise in his periphery, but now it sounds like thunder. He clutches at his chest and feels pathetic.

If nothing else, he can be grateful that Cyno’s apartment building is tucked into an alley and away from the busier streets of the city. It’s still loud, but at least the likelihood of some stranger spotting him in such a miserable state is lower. Tighnari is doubly appreciative of this fact when he begins throwing up. Hot vomit scalds his throat and sprays violently beneath a decorative bush. Tighnari is all but frozen on his hands and knees while his body continues to empty itself. By the time he regains control of his stomach, Tighnari can barely think.

The nausea, at least, has abated. He crawls pitifully away from the pool of puke and leans against the solid stone walls of the building. Tighnari clings to his tail, hands brushing through it in a repetitive, soothing motion, and forces himself to pause. He has a near overwhelming urge to rush back into the apartment and check on Cyno - archons, he’s been gone too long - but he must first take stock of his body. If he doesn’t, he risks scaring them both. 

So, slowly, Tighnari does a mental intake of his current state. His muscles ache, but the pain is gradually diffusing, no longer so centralized to his chest. His breathing is shaky but finally effective, and while his heart is racing, it doesn’t hurt, nor does it sound so impossibly loud. He’s still shaky and his legs feel weak, and of course, his head continues pounding. Whether or not he can stand is a question he can’t answer until he’s testing it out, unsteadily managing to get his feet underneath him.

When Tighnari staggers his way back to the bedroom, Cyno is right where he left him, awake and looking devastated. He may have followed his partner’s instructions, but that clearly didn’t stop him from hearing everything. “Tighnari.” Cyno reaches for him immediately. Tighnari shuffles over, feeling dazed and embarrassed. His ears are still ringing. Cyno doesn’t comment on the way the hand Tighnari offers shakes, only shifting slightly to gently cup it in both of his own. They are warm and calloused, and so, so gentle. 

“I’m sorry,” Tighnari rasps, because he hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, and maybe he shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have fallen apart at all. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that he still doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t remember crying, but Cyno wipes some wetness from under his eyes. Tighnari feels his cheeks heat up and looks away, whispering again, “Sorry.”

Exhaustion hits him like a physical force, and he drops onto the bed, staring down at the way their hands intertwine. Cyno tugs him closer, and and Tighnari allows himself to rest on his partner’s chest. His heartbeat is steady now. A regular old life-force. His fingers move to card through Tighnari’s hair, and then to scratch his ears in a way that shakes out some of their tension. When Tighnari eventually musters the strength to look up, Cyno is watching him intently. His expression is steady and determined, and Tighnari knows what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth. 

“I’ll go,” he says, and Tighnari aches because bravery is so integral to Cyno’s being. It’s something he learned so young and has had to rely on far more than is fair. “I’ll go to the Bimarstan,” he reiterates, and his voice is calm enough that if T didn’t have the ears that he does, he wouldn’t have even heard it waver.

He’s not going to make Cyno go there. 

Not yet. 

He realizes it all at once, as though just knowing that it’s an option, that Cyno won’t resist if it is needed, is enough to rebuild Tighnari’s confidence in his own abilities.

“Thank you,” Tighnari says, and Cyno tenses, probably steeling himself to follow through on his words. Tighnari is sure, now, that he would if it was asked of him, but he shakes his head. “I think– well, I may have overreacted a bit,” he admits.

Cyno watches him carefully as Tighnari continues. “Your fever feels better now than when I left, and you slept most of the night, which means some of the nutrients have stayed with you.”

“So,” Cyno’s voice is tentative. Tighnari nods, urging him onward. “I guess you could say I’m hereling for you.”

Tighnari groans. He can’t help it. “You’re–”

“Here-ling, like healing, and “here for you.” Get it?”

“Cyno,” Tighnari scolds. “Not the time.”

His partner shrugs, unaffected. “I think it was funny.”

Tighnari pulls away with a kiss to Cyno’s knuckles. He’s not actually upset; if anything, he still feels apologetic. But worry continues gnawing at his insides, so he gathers a few things from the kitchen before returning to Cyno’s side.

“Okay,” he says, holding up a glass. “This has some hydro-infused nutrients in it - they should be tasteless, and it’s meant to be rehydrating. I actually haven’t used them before,” Tighnari murmurs. “So although they come from a trusted colleague, if you feel anything odd after consuming this, let me know.”

Cyno nods and reaches for the glass. Unsurprising. Now that Tighnari’s offered him a way out of the Bimarstan, he’ll be content to try anything. Tighnari pulls the glass away just slightly.

“Cyno. This is important.” When he swallows, his throat is dry. “This goes not just for the drink - you’re not out of the woods yet with this ailment. If you start feeling worse, I need you to let me know. Can you promise that?”

The matra has gone still, listening quietly. When Tighnari finishes speaking, Cyno keeps looking at him attentively.

“Are you okay, Tighnari?”

The question makes his legs weak. No, he’s not, and Cyno can see straight through him. There’s an unsettling battle between the tension still running through Tighnari’s veins and the weight of his exhaustion, and his headache has only intensified. He allows himself the luxury of rolling into the bed beside his partner before responding with a sigh. 

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tempted to leave it at that. But honesty is a two-way street. “I’m tired and that makes me nervous that I won’t— I might not notice if something is really wrong. You seemed so much better earlier, and I had just convinced myself that you were fine.”

“I felt fine earlier.” Cyno reaches for the medicine and drinks it slowly. “And I feel better now. But I meant what I said: I can see a doctor. Especially if it will make you feel better.”

Tighnari’s heart swells. He waits patiently for Cyno to rest the glass on his nightstand, and then wraps his arms around him. He’s still sick and sweaty and warmer than he should be, and once he’s healed, he’ll have to regain some of his muscle mass. But Cyno still manages to feel strong when he returns the embrace.

“I trust you,” Tighnari says, squeezing a bit tighter, tucking his head under Cyno’s chin. “If you say you feel better, I believe you. I just need you to keep being honest. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you because I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Okay,” Cyno says. “I promise, Tighnari. I won’t lie to you.”

The words are probably more than he needed to say; Tighnari already knew this much. And yet, his body relaxes upon hearing them.

He doesn’t sleep for a long while. Cyno drifts off, still recovering, and Tighnari plays with his hair. Some of his restless energy begins to fade, but he’d rather watch his partner sleep peacefully than close his eyes. It’s a relief when the matra stays that way for multiple hours. When he wakes up, Tighnari is alarmed, briefly, and ready to reach for the trash can in the event of repeat from earlier. But Cyno only smiles lazily, yawns, and starts tracing gentle lines on Tighnari’s back. It’s soothing. Tighnari’s muscles complain as they loosen and readjust, but it isn’t the worst feeling. He fights against heavy eyelids until he hears Cyno chuckle.

“You can rest,” he says. “I’ll wake you if I need anything, Nari.”

Tighnari scrunches his face up, still resistant. It doesn’t feel right, and yet…

“I promise,” Cyno says. Tighnari doesn’t need anything to verify the truth to his words, but he listens closely anyway. Between the sound of one steady heartbeat and the next, Tighnari finally allows himself to drift off.

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

@monthofsick

Chapter two (Day 9!): Persistent Sickness

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Sick Kaeya, Caretaker Diluc

Warnings: Vomiting, Emeto, fainting, hallucinations

Summary:

A Safe Place (part 4/4) [day 24]

Cliff’s past experiences in hospitals have all been bad. For @monthofsick day 24: Panic and @badthingshappenbingo Paralyzed by Fear. 3,698 words, original work, TWs emeto (mild x1), hospital/surgical content, child abuse/trauma. If you'd like to skip the first half which is a childhood flashback, control-find the word “eighteen”.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - This is the final part! Thanks for sticking with me guys.

24. Panic

@monthofsick

Warnings for; graphic descriptions of vomiting, Implied off-screen diarrhea, dizziness/weakness/feeling faint, borderline panic-attacks, getting sick in public

I bring you all a very, very miserable Cyno, who's having one of the worst days of his life.

I think this might just be my favourite fic I've done for Novemetober yet, it's the most fun I've had with a fic so far. It was just so fun and self indulgent and I couldn't put it down! I looked forward to every little moment I could write!

We've talked about this scenario so much on here too, it was just so exciting to finally write it. I can't wait to see everybody's reactions and hear what they think. I hope you all enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

27. Head pain/Injury

@monthofsick

Warnings for; head injury, disorientation and confusion, brief mention of passing out, vomiting, mentions of hospitals

It is FINALLY HERE, after wanting to write this part of Heizou's arc for so long, I finally got around to it!!

I had a silly amount of fun with this, it's so exciting to expand on the actual plot that's made up of all these sickfics. At poor Heizou's expense though, he did not have a good time here.

I really hope you all enjoy this one!!

@monthofsick

Month of Sick Day 5 prompt: Undesirable Caretaker

Warnings: Use of mild mind control, vomiting

Characters: Stelle & Kafka [Honkai: Star Rail]

Summary:

Day Four: Messy

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Warnings: Vomiting, Emeto, nightmare mention. Intersibling tension.

Summary:

@monthofsick

Late Arrival Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 Here

This was written to fill @monthofsick day 14: Can't Keep Anything Down

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, nightmare mention, slight anxiety, bad jokes

Anon asked:

Tighnari wakes, warm and cozy, curled up against Cyno, only because of his alarm. There’s a moment of disorientation, confusion because he isn’t in his own bed or even in his own home. He doesn’t often use an alarm, instead rising with the birds and the sun. There’s no birdsong, here. Only background noise from the city, and Cyno’s labored breathing.

The sound brings Tighnari both clarity and concern. He remembers why he set the alarm while in the process of blearily shutting it off. With heavy limbs, he stumbles around the place until he manages to grab a glass of water and some medicine from his own belongings, which still rest in a messy pile near the door.

When he returns to the bedroom, he hesitates. He loathes to disrupt Cyno’s rest. If he ignores the rattle in the his airways, the sweat on his temples, and the way his whole body occasionally shivers, the matra looks peaceful. It’s reassuring to see him relaxed to this degree. Outside of playing cards and eating meals, the two of them often spend their precious little time together snuggling or napping for this very reason. With the intensity of their jobs, they both struggle to unwind. For Tighnari, at least, there’s something about watching his partner sleep that helps rebuild a sense of safety. He can convince himself that nothing bad will happen to either of them when they’re wrapped up in blankets together, secure enough to close their eyes and sometimes, now, even dream.

Still, the last thing Tighnari wants is to let his sentimentality get in the way of what is necessary. Cyno is a light sleeper - that he slept through the alarm is moderately disquieting - so Tighnari traces the soft lines of the sick man’s face with a hovering touch and scratches his head. He barely stirs.

“Cyno,” Tighnari speaks quietly, absently teasing white hair. The fever has risen. His voice is an odd pitch and louder than he intended when he speaks again. “Hey, Cyno. Wake up.”

There’s an incoherent mumble, muffled by blanket. Tighnari peels layers of off him and Cyno makes a noise of distaste.

“I know.” A slight note of regret shimmers in the air, but apology loses in the war against pragmatism, at least for Tighnari. “We need to get your fever down.”

“’s too cold,” the matra slurs. His hands grasp at the air blindly, no doubt seeking the covers.

Tighnari nods and helps him to sit up. “Chills,” he explains. “From the fever.” He mixes the medicine in - a natural herbal powder that’s meant to lower and stabilize body temperature - before handing the glass over. “This might taste a bit odd, but it should help. Do you think you can keep medicine down right now?”

Cyno nods, looking suspiciously more determined than he does confident. His hands shake as he takes the glass, so Tighnari helps guide it to his lips. “Drink slowly. Just a few sips is enough.”

“A few sips” is all it takes for Cyno to clamp his mouth tightly shut. His throat bobs threateningly and he leans back, eyes closed. He’s clearly trying to keep his stomach under control, but he’s so feverish that he can hardly hold his head up.

“Breathe in through your nose. Slowly,” Tighnari instructs. He reaches for the trashcan beside the bed and pulls it close. When Cyno lurches forward with an aborted heave, tears escaping out of the corners of his eyes, Tighnari sighs and lifts the bin onto the bed.

“It’s okay, Cyno.” He brushes sweaty hair away from his partner’s face. Cyno shakes his head and Tighnari can’t help but smile fondly. Stubborn as usual. Sure enough, though, it doesn’t take long before a coughing fit racks Cyno’s body. Tighnari helps him lean forward and rubs his back, wincing as he begins to retch. Inevitably, the fluids come right back up, splattering against the plastic. Cyno continues to gag, his body straining unforgivingly until there’s another splash of liquid. He groans, shudders, and flops back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m sorry,” he sniffles miserably, rubbing at wet eyes and coughing weakly. 

“Hey,” Tighnari looks at him sternly. “It’s not your fault. The medicine must have been too much.”

Cyno might agree, if he had the energy, but he’s too busy trying to prevent his teeth from chattering.

“I’m going to get some plain water. When you’re ready, we can try that, okay?” 

Tighnari looks painfully hopeful, but Cyno can’t even bring himself to nod. His stomach aches, hollow and angry. Now that it’s been upturned, it refuses to settle. He’s left burping up rancid air, drool pooling in his mouth until he’s spitting it into the waste bin. He’s suffering through lingering dry heaves when his partner returns.

“Oh, no.” There’s a clink as Tighnari puts the glass aside in favor of rubbing Cyno’s back through each painful retch. It’s a sweet gesture, both grounding and comforting. It’s nice not to be alone. Tighnari nudges him and offers a glass of water once his stomach lets up. “Just rinse your mouth out, for now.”

It doesn’t take the nausea away by any means - queasy tremors still rattle through him relentlessly - but Cyno feels moderately more human once the nasty taste has lessened. His eyelids droop. 

“Cyno, honey,” Tighnari says. Cyno’s thoughts are a fog of confusion, but his chest warms pleasantly. It’s not common for Tighnari to use terms of endearment, even when they’re alone. The mood is quickly dampened by his next words. “Do you feel up to a bit of water?”

Cyno can’t help the pitiful whine that escapes him. “Sleep.” He’s halfway to begging and hates how fragile his voice sounds. Then Tighnari’s hand is weaving through his hair, feeling like salve on a burn wound.

“Soon,” Tighnari agrees. “Drink this first?”

If Cyno were to firmly resist, he knows that Tighnari wouldn’t force him. He also knows that Tighnari is worried. He breathes slowly and manages a few sips. 

Instantly, the water sloshes in his stomach. That persistent chill is replaced as his body warms over uncomfortably, pricks of sweat forming on his temples. He closes his eyes and hands the glass back to Tighnari, feeling the forest watcher’s eyes on him all the while. Cyno suppresses a heave. 

Exhaustion weighs heavy upon him; he can fall back asleep, he thinks, and then it will be fine. Surely, it will stay down. That’s all he really needs - just a bit of water in his system to prevent dehydration, to reassure Tighnari. Tired as he is, sleep takes him quickly enough.

———

The next time he wakes, it's brief. No more than an hour has passed. Cyno is dizzy. He feels ill. He’s hardly aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t hear Tighnari asking if he’s okay, so he doesn’t respond. His stomach dips, and burning liquid hurtles up his throat, out his mouth and nose. Some clarity returns to him, then. He’s made a mess. His bare chest is sticky. He thinks he might be crying, because Tighnari is soothing him with great care, wiping him down with towels. Cyno is cold again, and very saddened to find that he still has no covers. “I’m sorry,” he hears Tighnari say, and then the world drifts away.

———

Tighnari watches Cyno curl onto his side, trembling, and aches. He massages the sick man’s back. Any patient unable to keep fluids down for going on six hours, at a minimum, is concerning, regardless of whether a bond with an otherworldly being enhances their body’s general durability. Tighnari’s expertise in first aid only goes as far as the tools he has at his disposal. If, for example, intravenous fluid administration becomes a necessity, he’ll have to drag Cyno to the Bimarstan, kicking and screaming - maybe literally, with the near-delirious state he’s in. Considering his traumatic history with Akademiya “medicine,” his reluctance is justified. In all fairness, Tighnari is also not fond of the idea, for reasons of his own. The Bimarstan is truly a last resort.

“We need to get your fever down,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He isn’t sure Cyno can hear him, but he gives him one final head scratch before standing. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time Tighnari returns with lukewarm water and a few clean towels, Cyno has drifted off again. Even in sleep, his body shivers. “This is probably going to feel cold to you,” Tighnari warns. He’s relieved when, as he places a wet towel on his forehead, Cyno only shifts slightly. For the next few minutes, Tighnari works to cool the matra’s skin with the additional towels, careful not to dampen the bed.

There’s little to do after that but wait and repeat the process roughly every hour. The time passes slowly. Tighnari cleans the trash bin out and tidies the apartment. He makes mint tea, and then soup. He writes Collei and Kaveh with updates: he plans to stay in the city for at least another three days to ensure Cyno’s full recovery, and may stay longer if necessary. He entrusts Collei and a few other forest watchers to assist in covering his duties while he’s away. Tighnari aches a bit, thinking about Gandharva Ville, and he drifts back to Cyno’s side to, once again, simply watch him sleep.

This time, though, his brow is furrowed, teeth clenched. His body tenses and curls further inwards. When Tighnari touches his shoulder, he wakes with a gasp.

“You’re okay.” Tighnari speaks softly, watching the other man attentively. He’s still tense and breathless, but he nods. He’s trying to play it off. Tighnari lets him. He waits, giving Cyno space to calm his body.

“I’m okay,” Cyno echoes, simultaneously reaching for his hand. The forest watcher offers it without comment and waits for Cyno’s breath to returns to a more normal speed. Despite the nightmare, Cyno looks better. More lucid, certainly. Tighnari touches his wrist. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Cyno says, smiling. “‘m still sleepy.”

Tighnari nods, a sigh of relief shaking its way out of him. “I would expect so. Your body is healing, after all.” He checks Cyno’s temperature and is pleased to find that, though the fever is still there, it has definitely improved since a few hours ago. Cyno drinks water without complaint and appears unfazed afterwards. Rest really can work wonders.

“Tighnari,” Cyno speaks slowly. “Can the stomach flu impact your memory?” The question instantly shoots fear back through Tighnari’s veins; as though it never really left. His chest feels tight and his brows furrow.

“Well, you did have quite a high fever, which can have that effect, although it’s highly unusual and would be cause for concern. Why? What’s going on?”

Cyno’s expression changes minutely. He doesn’t smile, but the glimmer in his eye is the equivalent of a smirk. Tighnari realizes what’s coming a second too late to interject. “It’s just that, I once heard a pun about amnesia, but I can’t remember how it goes.”

Tighnari groans. He knows his expression is blatantly fond, so he hides his face in his hands. It’s reassuring that Cyno is joking again - albeit less so that it may be at the cost of Tighnari’s sanity.

“What?” Cyno continues. “A little joke when you're sick never hurt antibody.”

“Stop.”

“Fine. I have a joke about the flu but I’d hope you don’t “get it,” anyway.”

Tighnari gives up. He rolls his eyes and simply doesn’t respond, letting Cyno rattle off some justification as to why puns are hilarious. The frustrating thing is that the jokes really have relaxed him, which was no doubt their intended purpose; silly as it is, hearing Cyno back to his usual antics has eased some tension that Tighnari hadn’t even noticed building inside him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. For once, though, he doesn’t cut Cyno’s explanation short, content letting the words wash over him, even if he pays little attention to the meaning behind them. Cyno looks tired but proud as he wraps up his little speech, and Tighnari doesn’t hide his affection this time.

It’s only another 30 minutes or so before Cyno falls back asleep, but he’s been able to keep the water and a bowl of soup down for the duration. With the worst of his worries placated, the exhaustion catches up to Tighnari all at once. He snuggles in next to Cyno. If he can’t stay awake to watch him rest, then sleeping right beside him is the next best thing.

———

Part 3 coming soon! Hopefully

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A Safe Place (part 3) [day 18]

A feverish Cliff is seen in the emergency room. For @monthofsick Day 18 “Unfamiliar surroundings”. 2,965 words, original work, TWs emeto, hospital content.

Part 1 | Part 2 - I swear this was supposed to be 2 parts but now it’s gonna be 4? Lol whoops.

Elliot supported Cliff into the busy ER. It was a Saturday, of course there were a lot of people there, Elliot thought regretfully. Silly to hope otherwise. Elliot eased Cliff into a seat as close to the reception desk as possible and then checked Cliff in, presenting Cliff’s ID and health insurance card. He was grateful Cliff’s wallet and phone were the two things his boyfriend had actually brought with him when he left his parents’ house, although a jacket and his inhaler would have been useful third and fourth choices.

“What’s this visit for?” The receptionist asked after scanning the cards and handing them back to Elliot.

“My boyfriend is having trouble breathing,” Elliot said, hoping this concerned her as much as it concerned him. “He has asthma, he’s wheezing, and he has a high fever. He didn’t know who I was earlier.”

The receptionist stood up a little to catch a glimpse of Cliff in his seat, who did look like he was struggling. “Okay, we’ll get him triaged as soon as possible,” the receptionist said. Elliot chose to believe her for his own sanity’s sake. “In the meantime, have him wear a mask.”

Written for @monthofsick Day 13: Professionalism Failure

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, implied scat/diarrhea off screen

Anon asked:

A/N:

This meeting has been a thorn in Tighnari’s side since the sages demanded to arrange it weeks ago. Despite his best efforts to wriggle his way out of it, the thorn had stuck. They’d backed him into a corner of sorts; the Akademiya demanded his presence specifically to even consider allocating funding to assist in the healing and maintenance of the Avidya Forest. Somehow, now that he’s in attendance, it’s even worse than he’d expected.

He scowls at the itinerary in front of him. It’s weighted so that anything anyone’s interested in will happen at the very end. No chance of leaving early. He probably shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

The one saving grace is that Cyno is here as well. While the matras’ financials are essentially secured as a matter of tradition, the specific way in which the money gets distributed is up in the air. Depending on the outcome, Cyno’s internal sense of justice may be placed in alignment with or in opposition to their mandates. This meeting may be even more important for him than for the forest rangers.

Which is why Tighnari is alarmed when, about 45 minutes into the 5 hour meeting, Cyno’s head is pillowed in his arms, resting upon the ridiculously long conference table. Although Tighnari is seated a distance away, he thinks he can see sweat matting the matra’s hair down. With any luck, he’s just being paranoid, though that seems unlikely. Even more so when Cyno raises his head and suddenly stands. His typically warm skin tone has paled to an ashy brown. He’s hunched over, too. His posture is altered so slightly that Tighnari doubts anyone else has noticed, despite all eyes turning his way at the scrape of his chair, but it’s glaringly obvious to him. Not to mention - this is Cyno’s second time interrupting the meeting. For the second time, too, he quietly excuses himself for the bathroom.

It’s fortunate that Alhaitham is still Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari had been somewhat grumpy towards his friend for the fact that he hadn’t been able to exempt him from the meeting, but the fiery grudge is doused when the ex-scribe’s glare silences annoyed complaints from the other sages about the General Mahamatra’s exit. If Alhaitham’s lingering frown is anything to go by, he’s noticed something off about Cyno as well.

The meeting continues on, and its participants are forced to split into breakout groups. They’re meant to be discussing the continued importance of knowledge to Sumeru, though no one seems to care enough to stay on topic. Instead, the people around Tighnari begin trash-talking Cyno.

“That’s enough gossip, I think,” Tighnari asserts dryly. He recognizes a handful of the nuisances around him as Bimarstan employees and smirks as they pale before him. “Sorry, who was it you were saying is unprofessional? I, for one, wonder about the ethical repercussions medical personnel might face if they were, say, reported for rudely speculating on a past patient’s personal life.” He resists the urge to make specific jabs at a particularly loud doctor whom he has quite damning intelligence on, but keeps the option available for future use as needed.

Fortunately, his colleagues are just barely smart enough to catch his threat. They carry their discussion to the topic at hand, and then onto some other irrelevant gossip that Tighnari doesn’t care enough to comment on. Instead, he’s distracted by tracking the time that Cyno’s been gone. Ten minutes, then 15. When the door finally creaks open, conversation lulls. Heads turn.

“I apologize for the disruption,” Cyno says upon entering. He looks… marginally better than he had when he’d left. The sages accept his apology with minor grumbling that is cut surprisingly short - again, likely thanks to the Acting Grand Sage. Tighnari will thank him, later. He tries to let his concern fade away, but is unable to resist clearing his throat.

“I’d like for the General to join our group, if that’s alright? I believe his insight would be rather beneficial to our current discussion.” A discussion to which Tighnari has been paying no attention. He is grateful once again for Alhaitham, who nods and silently leaves no room for disagreement.

Up close, Cyno looks exhausted. Tighnari was right to be worried. Cyno runs hot, but doesn’t tend to sweat; definitely not this profusely. He’s quiet by nature, but has never hesitated to voice his opinions. Now he says nothing even when their colleagues unapologetically speak with microaggressions and horribly biased misconceptions about the Eremites. His eyes are unfocused; Tighnari wonders if he’s hearing the conversation at all. As time passes, Cyno’s condition only worsens and he drifts closer to Tighnari’s side. Eventually, the matra’s stomach makes an angry noise and his cheeks flush. Tighnari pulls him aside.

“Do you need to leave?” He asks gently. Tighnari silently dares anyone else to comment with a quick glare at the rest of the group. They continue to chatter amongst themselves, shuffling out of earshot. Perhaps out of respect, an effort to grant some privacy; perhaps simply to gossip more. Tighnari simply does not care - not right now, at least. He’ll deal with it later if he needs to.

“I’m sorry,” Cyno says, voice weak. “I’m okay. My–” He sucks in a sharp breath and winces, his hand shaking as it drifts to his midsection. A moment passes; the pain intensifies and then relents. When he speaks again, Cyno’s voice is dulled. “My stomach is just disagreeing with something I ate.”

Clearly. If his partner were feeling better Tighnari would argue that this is a severe understatement. “You’ve been feeling bad this whole time?” Tighnari asks instead. The General shrugs.

“It’s manageable.”

Very deliberate phrasing, Tighnari notes. Outwardly, he nods. “Let me know if that changes, Cyno.”

The meeting carries on. It’s boring and obnoxious. The loud doctor continues to be vocal about his nonsense. Tighnari rebukes him occasionally for the sake of a bit of entertainment, but the other man is easily cowed. He defers quickly to Tighnari’s judgement each time. Uninteresting, but probably for the best; there’s no point in getting worked up over someone who will likely lose his position for malpractice in the next few months.

For his part, Cyno remains unspeaking in the presence of the rest of the group. He sits off to the side and fidgets, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, which Tighnari suspects is due to both a fever and humiliation. When the side of his face comes to rest against the table, Tighnari resists the urge to remove his heavy headdress only because he knows that doing so would embarrass Cyno further.

Next on the itinerary is free discussion, meaning that everyone at the meeting is supposed to get up, walk around, talk to people… Tighnari does not care for this sort of connection making. He doesn’t bother moving, and responds politely but vaguely to anyone who approaches him. More importantly, he responds the same way when anyone tries to approach his partner - perhaps with a touch of extra heat. Of course, Cyno could fend for himself, even in his current state, but Tighnari has no doubt that at least some of their colleagues have picked up on the General's vulnerability and are deliberately targeting it. He’s just sent someone away perhaps a bit too forcefully to be called diplomatic, when a cool, clammy hand wraps around his arm. Cyno is looking up at him.

“Tighnari. I feel sick.” A queasy burp escapes him. Tighnari frowns.

“You’re nauseous? Cyno,” he chides. “You need to rest at home.”

Fortunately, Cyno nods in agreement. “I’ll let the sages know that I’m leaving. You should stay,” he says, waving away Tighnari's skepticism. “I can handle this and - hic! - there’s no need for the forest to suffer for my failings.”

Tighnari nearly rolls his eyes. He’s sure that neither the forest nor the matra need to face consequences as a result of an illness entirely out of Cyno’s control; though he can acknowledge there is some benefit in his presence here, if the other man is able to hold out on his own. If he stays, Tighnari could at least ensure nothing disastrous happens regarding either of their positions.

Still. He would easily sacrifice that for the sake of Cyno’s wellbeing.

He watches the sick man approach the sages, who sit in large, looming chairs, making Cyno look tiny. Alhaitham stands, as if to stretch his legs, and moves close. Frustratingly, with all of the chatter and the distance between then, Tighnari can’t hear a thing without imposing on the conversation directly. He can see Cyno speak, and then Alhaitham nods. The elder sages frown and one says something, before two more join in. Cyno's head bobs, then shakes, and then he muffles what looks to be another burp into his fist. He’s still for a moment, aside from his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. 

Even without knowing the exact words exchanged, it’s more than evident that the sages are unwilling to respect Cyno’s needs. Tighnari is about to interfere when Alhaitham’s voice jumps up a notch - likely deliberately at a volume just loud enough for Tighnari to hear.

“So,” he’s saying to the other sages, “you’re saying that a doctor whose medical skills are acknowledged by the Akademiya must verify that he’s ill?”

Tighnari tenses. He immediately glances around the large room, eyes searching. Alhaitham is still speaking.

“For example,” he continues. “A Bimarstan doctor?”

There’s no use checking whether the sages agree - Alhaitham has them cornered. Now Tighnari just needs to— Ah. There.

He barely resists grabbing the doctor by the ear and latches onto his wrist instead. Under his breath, he speaks with venom, “Cyno is sick, clearly, don’t you agree?”

The man is silent, probably stunned, and Tighnari continues. “Or would denying the obvious truth be worth risking—”

“Oh no, yes, you are correct, Master Tighnari,” the doctor rambles nervously. Tighnari pushes him before the sages. They glance at one another. Cyno looks up, as well, but stays quiet, taking measured breaths.

“Well?” Tighnari asks. “He’s a Bimarstan doctor.”

With the glares of both Tighnari and Alhaitham pinned on him, the eldest sage slowly nods. Tighnari turns his gaze to the doctor and taps his foot. “Go on, then.”

“Oh! Um, yes, I believe that the General Mahamatra is experiencing some, uh, gastrointestinal distress. He should rest at home for the quickest recovery.”

“And,” Tighnari jumps in before he gets a chance to scurry away. “Would you recommend that someone assist in his care during this time, perhaps due to the strain of having been forced to stay on his feet for so long?”

“Ah, yes. Master Tighnari is correct, it would be wise for him to accompany the General. Should– should you all agree–” His backtracking cuts off with a wheeze as Tighnari stomps on his foot.

The eldest sage doesn’t look pleased, but he sighs, unsmiling as he spits out begrudging words. “I will allow it. But the forest watcher must agree to reapply for his funding and return to the city in a few weeks' time... Should he still be interested in the Akademiya’s support, that is.”

Tighnari grits his teeth. These geezers always need to get the last word in. “Fine,” he snaps, foregoing any pretense of politeness. He all but drags Cyno out of the conference room - gently of course, though he’s sure they’re equally eager to be elsewhere.

As soon as they’re through the door, Cyno stops.

“Tighnari. The bathroom— urp!” He lurches forward with an empty heave, then scrambles away. Tighnari is quick on his heels, and finds Cyno in an unlocked stall, trembling with his head hanging over the toilet. He hasn’t been sick yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Hey,” Tighnari speaks quietly. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Cyno glances at him briefly, then nods and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Tighnari scoffs.

“For saving me from that meeting? Cyno, please.”

The matra shakes his head. “It was important. And now you’ll have to come back. Not to mention– ugh,” a queasy shudder runs through him before Cyno is able to speak again. “Not to mention having to do the paperwork a second time.”

It’s an annoyance, but the paperwork isn't a big issue. Tighnari tells Cyno as much. “Just focus on getting better.”

The sick man has lost a great deal of the color in his face, and sweat glistens on his temples. His whole body is tense. Tighnari brushes his hair back, hoping to protect it from any mess and provide some comfort at the same time. “Try to relax,” he says.

“Guh,” Cyno moans. “I feel so… gross.”

Tighnari aches in sympathy. For as ill as Cyno looks, he’s sure he feels even worse. Minutes pass slowly. Cyno’s stomach makes angry noises and he’s periodically wracked by hiccups and burps. Eventually, Tighnari coaxes him into leaning back against his chest. His hands card through Cyno’s hair as the sick man turns, pressing his face into Tighnari's neck.

“You’re okay,” Tighnari murmurs. There are warm little puffs of air against his neck and it tickles, but he remains still.

He’s just beginning to sweat from his partner’s body heat when Cyno lurches away from him, hunched forward over an empty but gut-wrenching belch. His entire body heaves three times until he’s burping up a flood of vomit. It pours out of him with alarming urgency. Tighnari keeps his hair out of the way, but he can do little else but watch as Cyno violently empties himself. Each time he thinks it may be over, Cyno’s stomach contracts again. He sways; Tighnari steadies him just in time for another jet of puke to splash into the toilet water.

Disgusted shudders run through Cyno while he tries desperately to catch his breath. When he gets close, he is overtaken by coughs that bring up more bile. He groans.

Fortunately, there’s only so much in his stomach. When Cyno’s retching fails to bring anything else up for a handful of minutes, Tighnari half-drags him out of the stall, away from the sour smell. It seems to help. Cyno wipes his face and swallows thickly.

“How are you feeling?” Tighnari asks.

Cyno shrugs. “Bit better. For now.”

Tighnari hums; it’s to be expected. He suspects a bout of food poisoning or the stomach bug, so the next 24 hours or so will likely be challenging.  It’s a humbling thing, being able to do so little in the way of comfort at such a time. Still, he does what he can, massaging the back of Cyno’s neck, feeling him relax in time with his ministrations. He only stops when the matra begins drifting off.

Tighnari pokes his cheek. Cyno cracks an annoyed eye open, and Tighnari raises a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to sleep here? In this bathroom? Where our colleagues will eventually find us?”

Cyno nods. Cheeky bastard. His words are slurred when he speaks, as if his mouth has relaxed along with his body. “As long ’s you keep doin’ that…”

With a snort, Tighnari pulls them both to their feet. “Let’s go, you big lummox. I’d much rather give you a massage on your couch than on these gross tile floors.”

“Mhm,” Cyno mumbles, leaning heavily against his partner as they walk. “Nari… thank you.”

Chest warm, Tighnari ruffles the other man’s hair lightly and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Any time.”

———

Fanart for this fic!!!

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A Safe Place (part 2) [day 7]

Cliff’s cough turns into something more serious. For @monthofsick Day 7 “Too feverish to think” and my @badthingshappenbingo space “Delirium”. Wasn’t expecting this to be more than 2 parts but the boys had other plans! 3,385 words, original work, TWs emeto, references to parental homophobia/abuse. [Part 1]

The night Cliff showed up soaked and feverish on the doorstep of Elliot’s family home, Elliot held him and stayed awake until dawn. Cliff was asleep, his overly warm body in Elliot’s arms. Elliot, on the other hand, was wide awake. He was disturbed by Cliff’s sudden appearance and the shape his boyfriend was in. He didn’t know what happened or how to deal with this. He was nineteen and usually he felt like that made him an adult, but right now all he wanted was to go wake his parents up for help. Of course he wasn’t going to turn Cliff away - he’d protect Cliff however he could - but the lack of context was maddening.

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