Tags and trigger warnings: emetophilia, vomiting, whump, medical whump, all hurt no comfort, wet & messy, Dottore being a creep, scat, poisoning, heavy non-con, nonconsensual touching, Use of Scaramouche's real name, Inazuma spoilers, Panic attacks.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Scaramouche has been avoiding Dottore's routine exams out of fear, although this time he can't.

Posted to Ao3: September 24th 2021

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Scaramouche wasn't human that much was obvious. All it took was one look at the man's faintly glowing pupils to see that he had glowing strands of hair as well although he'd chopped most of it long ago when he gained his own identity. His own sense of self.

Scaramouche often reveled in the fact that he wasn't human, after all, he had the power to do as he wished now so why not flaunt it.

Being inhuman meant being free from fragility after all.

There were a few caveats that came with being inhuman that he despised however, this was one such time.

The Harbingers as a whole often received checkups from Dottore, it was to make sure they were in physically fit condition after a mission to not only continue serving the Tsaritsa but also to make sure they were having no issues in regards to their Delusions.

After all, a weak harbinger was of no use to the Tsaritsa nor the Fatui's cause.

Scaramouche's checkups were always more extensive however and he hated it with a burning passion. He hated how Dottore would examine him from practically every angle, looking down on him despite the awe on his face as if he were an insect under a microscope.

He hated how he would poke and prod him relentlessly with needles, a look of excited glee on his face as if he desperately couldn't wait to cut Scaramouche open and take a look inside of him.

Just the image of Dottore's face hovering over him practically leering at him as he lay on the metal examination table had Scaramouche shuddering with disgust.

But most of all he hated, absolutely despised with every single fiber of his being how just the thought of stepping into Doctor's office sent a jolt of fear piercing through him in an instant, often making his hands tremble and his heart pound in his chest.

It was why Scaramouche did everything he absolutely could to avoid coming here, if he ever got sick he'd hold up in his home often not leaving for days and barely even allowing servants in. That fear that if anyone knew he was sick he'd be hauled off to Dottore within seconds, always present in his mind.

Sickness was a weakness, after all, the Tsaritsa couldn't have that and neither could Scaramouche.

This time however he had no say in the matter, the Tsaritsa had ordered all of the harbingers to get looked at before they were to leave on their most recent mission.

Each of them would be going to one of the other six nations in Teyvat on orders to recover the Gnosis of each archon, it didn't matter how they went about it truthfully, although subterfuge was preferred to an outright attack, as long as the gnosis was recovered.

And Scaramouche made his way to Dottore's office, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he clenched his hands tightly into fists to keep them from trembling. He tries his damndest to force back the anxiety and fear welling up in his chest, looming over him like a ravenous beast ready to strike but it only grows with each step he takes forward.

He reaches the familiar almost unassuming wooden door in the Zapolyarny palace, behind this door sits Dottore's lab and office. Scaramouche has no doubt that the man is eagerly awaiting his arrival. Scaramouche takes a deep shuddering breath as he closes his eyes, his heartbeat pounding like thunder in his ears.

However, despite his attempts to calm down the anxiety and fear swirling in his chest doesn't ease up even slightly. And so knowing that it was best just to get this over with so that he could go home take a long hot shower and forget about it Scaramouche opens the door.

Almost instantly he freezes when he sees Childe sitting in one of the few chairs strewn around the office, a scowl on his face as he fills out the paperwork he'd been given.

"Oh great, just great you're here too," Childe sighed as he glanced up towards the door.

To say that Childe and Scaramouche disliked each other was an understatement. In fact, nearly all the harbingers seemed to hate Scaramouche, pointing to the fact that he didn't know when to shut up as the main cause for the resentment. Scaramouche often overstepped his boundaries in his malicious insults and he didn't care who got hurt.

Dottore seemed to be the only exception to the rule because he often looked at Scaramouche with curiosity and excitement in his eyes as he wondered what exactly made him tick.

"At least you're not wearing that stupid fucking hat," Childe mumbled under his breath as he returned to his paperwork.

Sighing he looks down the hallway where Dottore sits in his lab which doubled as the examination room. "Do I really need to put how many times I've used my delusion in the last week on here?"

Scaramouche doesn't respond to Childe's insult as he takes a seat far, far away from the other man, his every nerve on edge as he slowly looks around the familiar office.

Tall bookshelves lined the cream-colored walls, thick, heavy-looking books lining the shelves. The two tables and desk are cluttered with stacks of paperwork and manilla-colored envelopes. The floor had a rather tacky-looking yet colorful purple and green rug.

The faint scent of antiseptic and formaldehyde hangs in the air, stinging Scaramouche's nose slightly.

The office would seem messy albeit unassuming to anyone else but to Scaramouche, it only has him tightly clutching the arm of his chair, trying to force down the fear welling up inside of him.

A loud almost dramatic sigh sounds from the direction of the lab, and as the sound of familiar approaching footsteps echo down the hall has every hair on Scaramouche's body seems to stand on end.

He closes his eyes for a moment taking a deep breath, his nails practically digging into the arm of the chair as the footsteps draw closer and closer. He'd be fine, a little discomfort but he'd be fine.

Typically he walked away from Dottore's examinations with nothing more than a few scrapes here and there, one or two small punctures on his skin from where Dottore took his blood, and perhaps some aching joints from the time he spends laying down on the metal examination table.

He knows this, he's used to the slightly invasive procedures, in fact, he's gotten worse wounds in battle. But the way Dottore always looked at him whenever he saw him, especially when he lay on the examination table, like he was nothing more than an insect ready to be toyed with was what truly unnerved him.

"Yes, yes Tartaglia do you lack reading comprehension, or are you simply that stupid? Do as the instructions say on the paper," Dottore practically growls, clearly frustrated that he had to stop whatever it was he was doing in his lab.

He pauses as he comes into the room and Scaramouche slowly looks up at him, instantly regretting it when he sees that familiar smile of glee spread across Dottore's face when he sees Scaramouche.

"Well fuck you too I guess," Childe muttered under his breath as he continued filling out the paperwork.

Dottore gives a soft hum but ignores him as he approaches Scaramouche his eyes slowly roving over him for a moment. "Ah, Kunikuzushi you've finally arrived. You missed your previous appointments with me so it is good to see that everything is in working order," he chuckles, his tone is full of excitement.

He truly can't wait to examine him again, to run more tests and see if he can find the truth to his sentience, how he functions differently from a normal human body. Just the thought of it has an almost manic light appearing in Dottore's eyes.

Resisting the urge to shudder, Scaramouche glares at him. "Don't call me that," he hissed, even though he knew that Dottore wouldn't listen.

He never did, instead of Scaramouche, Balladeer, or even number six, it was always that name that Scaramouche hated so much. The one he'd thrown away the moment he became aware.

"Good to see you're lively as always, now follow me. We have a lot to catch up on considering you've missed your previous examinations," Dottore said as he gestured Scaramouche to follow him. While his tone is overly eager, his words are said as an order, he knows Scaramouche doesn't have a choice this time and he's taking full advantage of it.

Scaramouche's eyes go wide as he frowns quickly looking over at Childe, his heart pounding frantically in his chest at Dottore's words. "Wait, what about him? He was here before I was," he pointed out, hoping, no praying for a lifeline. To prolong the inevitable for just a few moments longer.

With as long as he has lived, as much as he has seen, and as much he's experienced Scaramouche should know that the universe isn't that kind.

"Tartaglia has already had his examination, he's just filling out the necessary paperwork regarding his delusion usage and its effectiveness against various enemies," Dottore explained cheerfully.

He grins again although this one is bordering on mocking contempt, almost a sneer. "Now come with me Kunikuzushi, or else I'll need to inform her Majesty about your lack of cooperation regarding this matter. I'm sure you wouldn't want that now would you."

It's a threat, clear and simple, one that has fear sinking its cold claws into Scaramouche deeply. Dottore knows he's afraid he knows Scaramouche's weakness and weakness has no place among the Fatui, much less the harbingers.

Scaramouche slowly gets to his feet, trying his best to take a deep breath, to calm his nerves but at the same time, he feels as if he can't drag enough air in. "...Okay. I understand," he said after a moment, his voice smaller, more subdued than before.

He really doesn't have a choice. No matter what he wished he couldn't avoid it any longer.

"Very good, I'm glad you understand so well," Dottore told him cheerfully. "Now come with me, this may take a while considering I have a lot to do," he said as he began walking back to the lab.

Scaramouche follows slowly, a scowl on his face and his gaze on the floor as he does everything he can to try to calm down. His hands are clenched tightly into fists but even that doesn't stop them from shaking and he hates it. He hates that he can't hide his fear, his weakness any longer.

Alongside his heartbeat, the familiar sound of his footsteps on the tile floor of the lab seems to echo in his ears. He keeps his gaze on the tile floor as they enter the lab but that doesn't stop the fear and anxiety from settling along his body like an oppressive fog.

"Here we are, have a seat on the examination table," Dottore told him as he made his way over to a nearby countertop where various medical implements were laid out.

Scaramouche finally looks up, shuddering breaths leaving his mouth as his eyes dart over to the examination table in question. The large metal slab seems to overshadow everything else in the room, looming ominous and large in Scaramouche's eyes.

The scent of antiseptic, formaldehyde and cleaning products is incredibly harsh violently stinging Scaramouche's nose. Compared to the waiting room the office is cold as ice and that combined with his fear has goosebumps rising along Scaramouche's skin.

The lab is clean of course, completely and utterly sterile, despite the numerous specimen jars lining the wooden shelves on the walls, the limbs and body parts inside, just as lifeless as the room they were in.

Scaramouche takes a deep shuddering breath, swallowing hard his throat and mouth feeling strangely dry. The scent of the cleaning products is thick enough that he can practically taste it, a bitter almost poisonous taste coating his tongue with each breath he takes.

He's silent as he slowly makes his way over to the examination table feeling Dottore's eyes boring into him the whole time, merely watching him.

The metal is almost ice cold against Scaramouche's skin as he slowly lays down on it, it's familiar though and no matter how much he hates that familiarity it gives him more substantial to cling to in an effort to ground himself.

His eyes go up to the slightly harsh bright white lights beaming down on him from the device hovering above the examination table.

Scaramouche tenses up slightly, turning his head when Dottore approaches him, stopping beside the examination table.

Dottore reaches up, adjusting the lights above the table so that they dim slightly. "There we go, wouldn't want to damage those lovely eyes of yours," he said to himself with a soft hum.

He glances down at Scaramouche, a mocking smile spreading across his face when he notices Scaramouche's hands shaking slightly on the examination table. He takes a moment to stare at him, noting the barely suppressed fear and panic hidden behind those violet eyes.

A familiar feeling of catharsis washes over Dottore, a feeling he always experienced when Scaramouche was laying on his examination table. The man was at his mercy now, after all, he could do as he pleased with him whether that be a vivisection without a tranquilizer or something as simple as just drawing blood.

As long as he didn't kill Scaramouche or permanently maim him it didn't matter.

"You seem scared Kunikuzushi," he noted his grin growing when Scaramouche clenched his hand into a fist at Dottore's words, the man's eyes growing sharp.

"Are you blind or something? I'm not scared of you. Do you know how stupid that sounds," Scaramouche growled.

Dottore chuckled because despite the vitriol Scaramouche was spewing at him, his hands were still shaking, that fear was still lurking in those eyes.

"Whatever you say, although if it will hypothetically calm your nerves this examination is going to be rather routine. Although there is one new thing I must test today," Dottore told him, still chuckling, his hands placed in the pockets of his lab coat as he stared down at Scaramouche. "Can't have you fainting in the middle of the examination after all. I need my best subject awake and responsive to get the best results."

That was truly what Dottore cared about at the end of the day, Scaramouche's fear was just icing on the cake. As long as he got the results he wanted or gained new information while doing his experiments it was a success in his eyes, and he didn't particularly care what he needed to do to get it.

Scaramouche says nothing, merely glared up at him, a cold fury in his eyes that makes Dottore grin, completely unfazed by it.

"Ah yes, one more question before we begin the examination. Did you eat today?" He asked, that happy grin still present on his face.

"What?" Scaramouche asked confused, the seemingly unassuming question has Scaramouche's panic spiking, however. Dottore had said that this examination minus one thing was going to be routine, was today going to be the day he'd actually attempt to dissect Scaramouche?

If so, order from the Tsaritsa or not he wouldn't allow it.

"Did you eat today? This is very important so I would appreciate an honest answer, any attempts to lie will be quickly discovered later," Dottore explained with a sigh as if annoyed he had to repeat himself.

Scowling Scaramouche slowly nodded. "Yes, I had breakfast and lunch," he said after a moment, still baffled as to why Dottore had asked.

"Good, good, good," Dottore repeats to himself as he steps away from the table for a moment, going over to where he laid out the necessary medical instruments.

Sitting beside the tray is a small brown vial filled with a dark almost sludgy liquid. It would help with the experiment that he wished to run on Scaramouche, but that would be later once the initial examination was complete.

After all, once Scaramouche drank it he wouldn't be able to do much talking for quite a little while. Just the thought of seeing exactly what results his experiment would produce has Dottore antsy and giddy, excitement buzzing in his veins to the point where a slight tingling feeling dances along his skin.

He truly, truly can't wait to see what happens.

~~~

"Here we are, hold this," Dottore told him as he set the vial of Scaramouche's blood off to the side.

He places a piece of gauze over the area on Scaramouche's arm where the needle is inserted, holding it there as he removes the syringe setting that off to the side as well his motions well-practiced.

This is the last part of the routine examination before his experiment can begin and Dottore can barely contain his excitement. Scowling Scaramouche follows his instructions, his fingers replacing Dottore's on the gauze.

Despite the slight sting from the numerous places Dottore has stuck him with needles, Scaramouche feels fine. This really does seem to be a routine examination, but somewhere in the back of his mind he can't help but feel like something is truly wrong.

Scaramouche's eyes rove around the lab almost absentmindedly looking for anything strange and out of place. But minus one or two new specimen jars everything looks painfully familiar.

"Is that all? Can I leave now?" Scaramouche asked once he'd been bandaged up. He's eager to finally leave this hellhole, he despises this place with every fiber of his being and every second he stays here makes him feel sick.

A slight queasiness settling in his stomach caused by the anxiety and fear that have been flowing through his body the entire time.

"Not yet, there is still one last thing I need from you," Dottore sighed as he stood up from the stool he'd been sitting on.

Scaramouche frowns, his panic spiking as he sees Dottore go over to the nearby countertop and pick up something before quickly returning to Scaramouche's side. There's a manic, almost giddy look on Dottore's face that only has every hair on Scaramouche's body standing on end.

"This is the one thing I spoke of early, it is a simple solution I've made to help this experiment go smoothly," he explained as he held up the vial of sludge-like liquid for Scaramouche to see.

He removes the small cork with ease, setting it off to the side before he holds the vial out to Scaramouche. "Drink this Kunikuzushi if you would be so kind," he told him. It's not a request, it's an order pure and simple.

"No, I won't," Scaramouche said almost instantly as he eyed the vial. Every one of his senses were screaming at him that something awful would happen to him if he drank whatever was in the vial, his hand trembling as he stared at it with wide eyes.

He didn't know if it was a tranquilizer, a pain killer, or what but he had enough common sense to know that if Dottore wanted him to drink it then it was nothing good.

Dottore's grin falls as he looks down at Scaramouche with a cold, almost detached gaze. Then he's reaching out faster than Scaramouche has ever seen him move, his hand grabs Scaramouche's jaws tightly, his fingers digging into the skin as another one of his fingers slips between Scaramouche's lips prying his mouth open.

Scaramouche instantly struggles, flailing and writhing on the table, clawing at the front of Dottore's clothes as he tries to push him away, to fight him off, his eyes wide and filled with sheer panic.

Chuckling darkly and unphased by Scaramouche's struggles, Dottore brings the vial of liquid to Scaramouche's lips and pours the liquid inside, his grin turns into a wide mocking sneer when Scaramouche coughs and splutters practically choking on the liquid.

It tastes disgusting, bitter, and vile like dead plants, the texture like wet sand as it sits heavily on his tongue gliding down his throat like syrup. His first instinct when Dottore's hand leaves his mouth is to spit it out, he doesn't know what this stuff is. What it'll do to him and he really doesn't wanna find out.

He sits up and attempts to spit it out but before he can Dottore's hand clamped over his mouth, his other tightly squeezing Scaramouche's nose as he forces him to lay back down on the examination table.

"Swallow it Kunikuzushi," he demands, his eyes cold as they meet Scaramouche's panicked fearful gaze. "If you don't follow my instructions I'll go straight to her majesty and tell her you need to be disposed of due to lack of cooperation."

At that Scaramouche freezes, his struggling stopping in an instant his eyes wide with horror as he stares up at Dottore. He can't breathe and he feels as if his lungs are going to burst but none of that matters, the words Dottore had just spoken to him echoing in his mind.

Disposed of. Not killed but thrown away.

"It seems you understand Kunikuzushi. I'm going to remove my hands, do not attempt to spit out the medicine again. Swallow it," Dottore orders once more.

This time when he draws back Scaramouche takes a deep shuddering breath in through his nose, as he screws his eyes tightly shut struggling to force back the warm tears he can feel building up there. He doesn't know what this stuff is going to do to him, or anything that'll happen once he swallows it and that utterly terrifies him.

But if it was between that and being tossed away like a piece of trash again, then this was the better option, the only option in his eyes.

And so against everything screaming at him not to Scaramouche swallows the disgusting liquid, shuddering as it slides down his throat.

He hears Dottore chuckle and opens his eyes, blinking away the small amount of tears in them as he glares up at the man with as much fury and hatred as he can muster right now.

"There we are, that wasn't so hard. Now we wait, it should begin kicking in soon, about four to five minutes," Dottore informed him.

"Was that a fucking tranquilizer?" Scaramouche manages to growl, desperately wanting to know what exactly Dottore had just given him. The taste of the medicine still coats his mouth tasting like dirt and poison, as if he'd eaten a dead leaf.

At that Dottore laughs, "Oh my, is that what you thought it was? No, no it wasn't. Although perhaps once the experiment is underway, you may wish it had been."

"Cryptic bastard," Scaramouche huffs as he looks back up at the lights hovering over the examination table.

He feels a bit warm, not uncomfortable but definitely noticeable, which isn't a surprise considering he'd been laying under these harsh lights this entire time.

Scowling he shifts slightly in an effort to get a bit more comfortable on the table, then he stops as he begins to notice something strange.

There's an odd almost cold slimy weight settling in his gut, it's incredibly heavy and it hurts for some reason a weird pressure forming in his stomach. He grimaces, a low hiss leaving his mouth as a deep ache seems to punch him in the gut spreading until his whole stomach feels as if it's being squeezed.

He can't feel Dottore's eyes staring at him intensely as if he's under a microscope leaving him feeling like he's trapped under the man's gaze. Something is wrong, horribly, horribly wrong Scaramouche just doesn't know what.

Air bubbles up Scaramouches throat and he can't really muffle the loud, almost rumbling burp that leaves his mouth. "W-what was that stuff? What did you give me," he manages to snap as a series of hiccups begin bubbling out of him.

"Just something to help the experiment along, truthfully this method is much easier and less barbaric than the initial method I came up with," Dottore said with a smile. "Only two minutes for it to begin working, interesting," he said almost to himself.

He turns away from Scaramouche scribbling something down on a nearby notepad, he turns back to Scaramouche that manic flame of giddiness alive in his eyes once more. "Tell me how you feel Kunikuzushi. Any discomfort, or pain. This is very important to the experiment so I would appreciate you being honest."

Scaramouche grits his teeth squeezing his eyes shut as another deep ache seems to punch him in the gut, alongside the pain there's something else as well an intense almost dizzying nausea slowly enveloping him. Swallowing hard he glares at Dottore the best he can.

"It hurts...what in the hell did you give me," he hissed, his eyes going wide when another loud burp pried itself from his mouth.

"Pain? Where exactly?" Dottore asked, completely ignoring Scaramouche's question, his mind hyper-fixated on only one thing. Carrying out this experiment.

Scaramouche groans swallowing thickly as hiccups continue bubbling out of him, between the pain and nausea it's hard for him to focus and it takes him a moment to get his bearings enough to answer Dottore. "My...ugh...my stomach...it hurts," he manages to say.

Dottore gives a soft hum as he sets his pencil down for a moment before reaching out, gently and carefully placing his hands on Scaramouche's stomach.

Scaramouche yelps his back arching at the sudden touch that has his pain and nausea spike intensely, a nauseated hiccup leaving his mouth followed by a groan. He squeezes his eyes shut feeling light-headed, as he swallows thickly trying to clear the salvia suddenly building up in his mouth, hush panting breaths leaving his mouth.

He doesn't know what's happening to him or even what Dottore gave him but he's absolutely terrified. He'd expected a tranquilizer or something similar, he'd prepared himself to lose consciousness and possibly wake up aching and sore. He hadn't expected the intense pain and sickening nausea he was currently experiencing.

Dottore gives a soft hum as his fingers dance along the skin of Scaramouche's stomach, the skin is bloated and taut beneath his fingers, the taut warm heaviness pressing back against his hand, the fabric of Scaramouche's shirt beginning to stretch tightly over it. "Ahh, there's bloating," Dottore mutters to himself as his fingers glided along Scaramouche's stomach. "And tenderness as well."

"S-stop that!" Scaramouche snapped another loud burp rumbling up his throat. His stomach is in agony and he curls in on himself slightly gritting his teeth as he tried his hardest to simply breathe around the intense overwhelming ache in his stomach.

Dottore's touch isn't helping in the slightest, if anything it's making him feel sicker, his nausea only growing the more he touches Scaramouche's stomach. He swallows almost convulsively feeling something warm trickling out of the corner of his mouth and to his horror he realizes it's drool.

His face burns with shame as he reaches up shakily wiping it away but even more takes its place.

"Increased saliva production as well," Dottore mutters as one of his hands leaves Scaramouche's stomach to write down his findings. Turning back to Scaramouche he grins. "Tell me Kunikuzushi besides the stomach pain, what else are you feeling?"

Scaramouche takes a deep shuddering breath, swallowing almost audibly when one of his breaths seems to get caught in his throat. "S-sick," he manages in between the nauseated hiccups still bubbling out of him. "Feel...really sick," he gasps.

He groans again, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of intense nausea rolls over him. A burning heat cloaks his body making him feel as if he's boiling in his skin, the contents of his stomach practically curdling inside of him feeling far, far too heavy in his gut.

"It's...it's hot," Scaramouche whispers, his eyes still closed.

Dottore gives a soft hum as he stares at Scaramouche for a moment, his eyes roving over him. Scaramouche's skin is pale, almost white as a sheet, sweat cloaks his skin, and he's trembling slightly as he lays on the exam table.

Reaching out, Dottore feels Scaramouche's forehead briefly. "No rise in temperature, that's good," he muttered, writing down his findings.

His hands return to Scaramouche's stomach, moving upwards. "Tell me if this hurts and if you can manage how much on a scale from one to ten," he told him, giving Scaramouche no warning other than that before he presses down sharply on his stomach with one hand.

Scaramouche yelps his eyes flying wide open as he jolts his back arching off of the table slightly, a gurgling burp leaves his mouth, and he gags. "W-wha..." he gasped then he groaned coughing as he rolled over on his side.

He wraps his arms around his stomach and Dottore lets him as he turns to note down Scaramouche's reaction. "I'll take that as a yes and a ten on the scale of pain," he said to himself.

Scaramouche merely whimpers in response. Another loud gurgling burp leaves his mouth as the drool building up inside of it trickles onto the examination table. He grimaces when his stomach makes a loud gurgling noise; it's harsh and tense as if the organ is snarling at him, a wave of intense dizzying nausea rolling over him as the room seems to swirl and sway before his eyes.

He closes his eyes, swallowing thickly when another burp leaves his mouth and this time he can taste the disgusting bitterness of the medicine he'd been forced to drink at the back of his throat.

Scaramouche goes incredibly still, his entire body tensing up as his stomach continues to violently churn, practically writhing and bubbling beneath his fingertips. Hiccups continue bubbling out of him, each one more nauseated and sickly sounding than the last as they get progressively wetter.

He hates this, absolutely despises it pure fear and horror gripping him as he gradually begins to realize what's about to happen to him. And it can't, it just can't , he's scared he doesn't want this. He wants to go home anywhere but this godforsaken lab with the person he absolutely despises watching him fall apart at the seams.

A cold sweat pricks at his burning skin as Dottore easily nudges Scaramouche's hands away from his stomach to gain access once more.

"How is the pain Kunikuzushi? Does it hurt even if I don't press on your stomach?" Dottore asked eagerly, a wide maniac grin on his face.

It was fascinating, all so, so fascinating. He had an idea of how a vessel, an Euxia, would function but Scaramouche is helping confirm or deny those theories with actual solid evidence. Archon vessels didn't need a vision and that information was what had gotten Dottore interested in the first place considering his hatred of vision users.

But to find out how Scaramouche truly functioned was a mystery he was itching to solve and one that he would, no matter what it took. Scaramouche interestingly enough seemed to function much like a human would although he would need a test much like this one to be sure.

Scaramouche groans low in his throat, the noise weak and miserable, Dottore's hands roving along his stomach only make his nausea worse. His stomach feels as if it suddenly flips inside of him, the weight and heaviness he'd felt almost rolling over as it sloshing like an overfilled glass and Scaramouche gags the noise wet and harsh as his breath hitches.

A small splatter of vomit comes up trickling onto the table as it drips from his lips, Scaramouche coughs whimpering, a pitiful broken noise right before he gives loud gurgling retch that has large wave, of lumpy thick tanish vomit spilling from his lips and over the side of the exam table.

"Interesting, so you can vomit just as a human would. The theory of any food you consume being converted directly into elemental energy was shaky but can be easily reworked," Dottore said almost thoughtfully, awe coating his voice as one hand leaves Scaramouche's stomach to write down his findings.

"N-no, make it stop, please-" Scaramouche begins whimpering, his eyes wide and glassy with tears, but he's cut off as a gurgling, rumbling burp leaves his mouth bringing with it another thick wave of lumpy vomit.

The mess has an almost smoothie-like consistency practically globbing up into a pile as Scaramouche brings it up, it splashes over the edge of the exam table congealing on the tile floor but Dottore is completely unphased by the mess his hand still moving along Scaramouche's stomach a thoughtful look on his face.

Scaramouche hates this he hates every single thing about this, no one least of all Dottore was supposed to see him in this weakened pitiful state. No one was supposed to know of his weakness, his fear. That fear is weighing heavily on him like an oppressive weight, sinking its cold claws in deep as it consumes him warm tears welling up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

As he's retching up another wave he feels something gurgling, in the lower part of his stomach pain streaking across it not even easing up slightly as the thick, tan vomit continuously pours from his mouth.

Feeling that gurgling again in the lower part of his stomach Scaramouche shakily tries to get up, he needs to leave. To get somewhere alone that's not here because things are about to get a lot worse for him and each of his violent retches is only bringing him closer to that dangerous edge.

"What do you think you're doing? The experiment hasn't concluded yet," Dottore said, his tone cold as he grabbed Scaramouche's shoulders and forced him to lay back down on the exam table.

Scaramouche splutters and coughs, nearly choking as he's placed on his back still in the middle of throwing up, some of the mess spilling onto his clothes and he has to turn his head to the side before he begins suffocating. The vomit is hot, almost searing, sticky, and strangely heavy as it soaks into his clothes clinging to his skin.

"See Kunikuzushi, we wouldn't want you suffocating now, would we? This wouldn't have happened had you not tried to interrupt the experiment before it's concluded," Dottore said, sneering at him, his tone mocking as he talked down to him. Seeing that look of pure fear clear in Scaramouche's tear-filled eyes, and feeling his body trembling like a newborn deer made him incredibly happy.

"Don't worry though, I've prepared something just in case the pain became a bit too much for you," Dottore chuckled.

One of his hands leaves Scaramouche's shoulders and reaches down to the underside of the exam table, finding the switch there he presses it, a grin spreading across his face as metal cuffs rise out of hidden slots by Scaramouche's wrist and lock around them pinning him in place.

"There we are, thankfully I'm a courteous person. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself while conducting this experiment," he said cheerfully as Scaramouche's face contorted into a look of pure and utter terror. "For such a small subject it seems that your stomach can hold quite a lot can't it," he noted his tone mocking.

Scaramouche whimpers loudly, a high pitiful pleading noise and that's when Dottore notices the brown sludgy liquid spreading from beneath Scaramouche and he laughs. Practically cackling as he turns and walks away for a moment.

Scaramouche is still retching the noises violent as he brings up smaller waves of vomit, his entire body burning with shame. He wants nothing more than to disappear to vanish off the very face of Teyvat itself, the shame feels etched into his very soul growing even larger when Dottore's mocking laugh fills the room alongside his retching.

Dottore returns with a familiar-looking contraption in hand, and Scaramouche whimpers, more tears gathering in his eyes as he manages to say one word. "No," he whimpered, his voice small, broken.

Dottore continues laughing as he raises the Kamera and briefly takes a picture, grabbing the photo and shaking it until the image slowly fades in.

"Oh, Kunikuzushi, my favorite test subject if only the other harbingers could see you now. I'm sure they would be overjoyed to realize that you can in fact learn when to shut your mouth," Dottore said cheerfully, his tone sincere and full of happiness as he held up the picture for Scaramouche to see.

Reveling in the pure catharsis that washed over him when Scaramouche looked up at him, his eyes tearful filled with fear and pleading. "P-please...don't...I'll do anything."

He couldn't let more people know, no one else could see him like this. He gags again and Dottore chuckles waiting until the fit has passed until he thinks Scaramouche can speak again.

"Well...I would love to run a few more experiments. For now, this one is over, it was truly fascinating to see how your body functions similar to a human," he said as he released the restraints from Scaramouche's wrist.

Scaramouche slowly sits up, his entire body trembling. He feels absolutely disgusting in every sense of the word, the mess he made is clinging heavily to his skin and his clothes feel as though they were smothering him. And his stomach is still killing him that deep ache still settled in his gut right alongside the nausea making him dizzy.

"It-it's over? I-I can leave?" Scaramouche whispers his voice trembling as if he can't believe Dottore's words. He wants nothing more than to leave this hell hole but he doesn't dare hope, he's learned far too easily how it can be shattered in an instant.

"Yes, this experiment has concluded although if you feel any lingering effects from the drug such as prolonged stomach pain and vomiting return here so that I may take another look at you. I wouldn't want my favorite test subject to become inoperable," Dottore told him with a sigh, seemingly disappointed that the experiment was over.

Scaramouche nodded quickly but stopped when that had him gagging again bringing up a trickle of bile onto the floor.

Scaramouche shakily climbs off the exam table having to grab it to steady himself when his legs shake beneath him the heavy mess clinging to his clothes splattering to the floor with a wet smacking noise.

But none of that matters, all that does is that he can leave. He can finally leave.

"Oh and Kunikuzushi, one more thing," Dottore said, calling out to him as he was stumbling his way towards the exit.

Scaramouche pauses that fear and dread looming over him once more in an instant, like a beast ready to strike as he slowly turns to look back at Dottore. "Y-yes?" He asked his voice barely above a whisper.

He's so close, freedom is right within reach.

"If you miss any more of your appointments then I'm afraid that the other Harbingers and perhaps the rest of the Fatui may somehow end up seeing this," Dottore said, holding up the photo for Scaramouche to see. It's his most vulnerable moment captured in one horrifying instant and Dottore knows this. "Do I make myself clear Kunikuzushi?"

Scaramouche nods slowly, still trembling. "Y-yes...sir."

"Good, I'm thankful you're so smart Kunikuzushi. You may leave now."