#mby i will just use stray one

[lazywerebat]

you know what since those blogs are interacting w me i decided i will put some kind of these on EVERY of my post. on every. even this one.

[cuddlepilefics]

Funny Cat Videos

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Minho

Caregivers: Jisung, Felix

Prompt: Persistent Sniffles @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Minho had caught a runny nose about a week ago. He didn’t really feel sick at all and he knew his nose had always been sensitive, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if the weather changes were messing with it. The temperatures had dropped significantly last week and it had been rather windy since then. Already used to being a bit sniffly during the colder seasons, Minho didn’t think he had caught a cold, so he didn’t let his runny nose stop him from going over his day as usual. He’d just have to make sure to take some tissues everywhere he went. The group too knew that little quirk of his and didn’t think much of their friend’s sniffles. They had a few practices together till lunch, during which Minho was fooling around with his dongsaengs as usual. He even promised to meet up with Jisung again after their separated practices in the afternoon, to go for a walk and take some pictures before the seasons would change entirely. They split up after lunch and Minho went to the practice room with Hyunjin and Felix to work on some choreographies. It all was well and they had a lot of fun, at least in the beginning. The longer they continued dancing, the more run-down Minho felt. He usually had more stamina than that but wasn’t all too surprised to be more out of breath as his nose was slowly closing up. “Hyung, do you want to go home?”, Hyunjin offered. They had just struck the ending pose before Minho doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting. His lips were chapped already from only breathing through his mouth. The older shook his head, breathing: “I’b fide, just ndeed to catch mby breath.” – “Come on, you sound so stuffed up and we’ve already been at it for hours. We’d go home in a bit more than an hour anyway, so let’s just head back a bit early”, Felix frowned, surprised when Minho gave in and nodded.

They took their time to drink some water and stretch before, packing their things and throwing on their hoodies. Felix also texted Jisung that he might need to postpone his plans with Minho for the evening. He also secretly shot a picture of the older and sent it to Jisung, who agreed that their hyung looked a little worse for wear and told the Aussie that 3racha had actually gone back to the dorm an hour ago. There was construction work in the part of the building where the studios were located and they found their dorm to have less background noise at the moment. Felix smiled at the thought of having their friends back already. Way too often did they stay at the studio till the early morning hours, so this was a pleasant change. The three dancers made their way back mostly silent, apart from Minho’s frequent sniffles. The wind had picked up, making his nose run and eyes water. At this point, he wasn’t so sure about not having caught a cold anymore. The fatigue a strong indicator, as dancing didn’t usually take that much out of him. The longer they walked through the cold wind, the more aware Minho became of a few things. He felt weak and exhausted, shuddering from time to time as the wind penetrated the fabric of his hoodie. Sure, he had been dancing for a while but it wasn’t enough to explain why he felt so sore. All he wanted now was a hot shower, maybe a cup of tea and to curl up in his bed. Yeah, he had probably caught a cold, he figured.

Minho sluggishly stumbled into the dorm, kicking off his shoes. His eyes fell on the trio sitting at the dining table with sheets of papers scattered around Chan’s laptop. That was when he remembered, he had promised to take Jisung out as soon as they got home. A shiver ran down his spine and he rubbed his arms in an attempt to generate warmth, dreading the thought of having to go out again. Hyunjin had gone straight to his room to get changed while Felix sat down next to Chan, who looked at the quiet Minho and mused: “You were a lot more upbeat a few hours ago.” – “That was whend I could still breathe through mby ndose”, the dancer sniffled, giving a soft cough afterwards. Feeling to tired to stand, he sat down at the table too and was soon joined by Seungmin and Jeongin, who had gotten back mere minutes before the dance-line. “You sound rough”, Jisung smiled sympathetically, as his hyung crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on top of them, whining: “I’b so condgested, I cad’t evend swear properly ‘bout how bad I feel.” – “Oh, my gosh, what a tragedy!”, Seungmin mocked, smiling innocently when his hyung lifted his head to glare at him through watery eyes. “I dond’t appreciate that sarcasmb”, Minho pouted, dropping his head onto his arms again with a pathetic sniffle. Jisung got up and rounded the table, resting a hand on the older’s back and whispering: “Come on, you’ll feel a lot better after taking a shower.” Felix had been completely right earlier, there was no way the rapper would drag his friend outside in this condition.

Minho brought his sweater-paw up to his face and pressed his fabric-covered knuckles against his itching nose, sniffling while Jisung pulled him to the bathroom, promising: “I’ll get you some comfy clothes, hyung. Just go and warm up, yeah?” A hot shower sounded way too tempting for the dancer to argue and he slowly peeled off his sweaty practice clothes. Sighing as the hot water soothed his achy muscles, Minho relaxed his tense shoulders and tried to breathe deeply, so the steam would help clear him up a bit. He heard the bathroom door open and close again a short time after and when he poked his head out of the shower, he found his favorite sweater along with his warmest sweatpants on the sink. Jisung really knew him too well. Minho didn’t want to leave the shower but he knew his dongsaengs wanted to wash up as well, so he forced himself out and hurried to towel off and put on his clothes before he could get cold again. The shower had really helped him to feel better and he could at least breathe through his nose a little. The only downside was that he felt incredibly sleepy and knew he still had plans for the evening. He felt guilty, especially after Chan had pointed out that he wasn’t as upbeat anymore, and worried about ruining Jisung’s fun during their walk later.

Minho went back to the living room to ask the younger at what time he was planning to head out but Jisung was nowhere to be seen. Felix sat where the rapper had sat earlier and got up when his hyung approached them, frowning: “Hyung, your hair is dripping.” – “Where’s Sungie?”, the older asked as Felix dragged him back to the bathroom to properly towel-dry his hair. “Jisung is waiting in your room for you. There you go, that’s better. I’ll make you some tea”, he smiled when he was satisfied the older’s hair was only slightly damp. Minho nodded and shuffled to his room, while Felix made his way to the kitchen to fix his hyung a cup of tea. Dropping onto his bed next to Jisung, the dancer rested his face in his hands for a moment and sniffled before looking at his dongsaeng blearily. “I’m sorry, I’m not as upbeat as this morning. When do you want to head out, so I can change into something more fashionable in time?”, Minho rasped, feeling more drained as the minutes ticked by. The younger looked at him with a shocked expression before asking: “You don’t really think I’m dragging you out like this? It’s totally fine that you’re tired and I didn’t make you put on something comfy only to change again.” – “Oh”, the dancer hummed, too out of it to really catch on.

There was a knock at the door before Felix entered, placing a steaming cup on Minho’s nightstand. “How do you feel, hyung?”, the Aussie frowned, taking the opportunity of Minho lifting his head to look at him to feel his forehead, “You feel a bit warm to me.” – “Ndo, I’b cold”, the older argued, “I’b jus’ stuffed up ad tired.” Hugging him for warmth, Jisung cooed: “Do you need company?” He himself always preferred to have a cuddle buddy when he wasn’t at his best and he knew the same was true for Felix, so they wouldn’t mind hanging around their friend. “I dond’t want you to catch mby cold”,Minho muttered sadly, wishing at least one of them would stay. He was dead tired but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, since he had always struggled to sleep when his nose was blocked. From experience he could tell, he’d just keep tossing and turning restlessly. Hugging him tighter, Jisung pouted: “Shame, that’s exactly what I came here for.” – “Wait, really?”, Minho asked confused, causing both his dongsaengs to laugh. “No hyung, I’m joking but I really don’t care. I don’t mind keeping you company even if that means taking a risk”, the rapper explained, moving aside, so the older could lay down. “Same goes for me”, Felix smiled, “For now, I’m going to take a shower but I’ll check on the two of you later.”

Once the Aussie had left, Jisung settled with his back against the headboard, Minho instantly rolling onto his side to hide is face against the rapper’s thigh. “Want to try and sleep already? I could wake you for dinner”, the younger offered. The dancer shook his head, sniffling: “I cand’t really sleep when I’b sick. Mbaybe we could watch sombethi’g.” Jisung nodded and went to retrieve his hyung’s laptop from his desk. He knew the older loved funny cat videos and it would hopefully take his mind off his misery for some time, at least till dinner. Afterwards, he’d try to convince him to sleep. Minho got comfortable with his head on Jisung’s lap, while the younger absentmindedly played with his damp hair. The soothing action almost made the dancer drift off to sleep and he drowsily closed his eyes, when the door opened. Felix had finished his shower and quietly slipped into the room, a tissue-box under his arm. “Hey, I thought you might need this”, he whispered, placing it down on the nightstand before climbing over his hyung and cuddling against his back. Sandwiched between his dongsaengs, Minho melted into the warmth, accepting the drowsiness and letting Jisung’s hand in his hair lull him to sleep.

When Chan went to get them for dinner, he was surprised to find both, Minho and Felix asleep. Jisung paused their video and looked at the leader questioningly. “Dinner’s ready, do you think we should wake them?”, the oldest whispered. Shrugging, Jisung reached over, tapped Felix’ shoulder and whispered: “Lix would be mad if we wouldn’t wake him but I think Minho-hyung should sleep.” – “Hmm?”, Felix hummed lowly, blinking at his hyung standing in the doorway. “Dinner”, Chan mouthed and Jisung carefully slid out of bed. However, when Felix tried to climb over Minho, the older woke up and looked at him confused. Cooing at the dancer’s disoriented expression, Felix whispered: “Sorry, we didn’t want to wake you but dinner’s ready. Do you want to come or go back to sleep?” Minho rubbed at his face a few times, yawning before sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. He shouldn’t have slept anyway, so he wouldn’t lie awake at night, and now that he was awake, he might as well eat.

Minho spent the entire meal in a sleepy daze, completely zoned out of the conversations and only focusing on eating whatever Chan had scooped onto his plate. Eating itself was a quite tricky task, as his nose was blocked entirely and he struggled to breathe at all while eating. It also didn’t help that everything tasted bland to him. If he could at least enjoy the flavor, he’d probably find more motivation to eat. When they all finished and the table was cleared, Minho sluggishly made his way to the living room, plopping down on the couch. “Hyung, you still look sleepy, don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in your bed?”, Felix frowned, reaching out his hand to smooth down his hyung’s disheveled hair. Minho’s eyes fluttered shut, lips slightly parted before he brought his sleeve up to his face, ducking down with a sneeze. “I’b sleepy but I always get restless. Dond’t thigk I could go back to sleep”, he sniffled, rubbing at his tired and watery eyes. The ceiling light made his eyes water even more and he contemplated going back to his room, just to have some dark and quiet, but that would mean him laying awake all by himself with no distraction from how miserable he felt. Seemingly having read his mind, Felix sighed: “How about cuddles? That worked pretty well earlier, didn’t it?” The older bit his lip, feeling guilty. It truly sounded nice but he had already ruined Jisung’s plans of going out, he didn’t want to ruin Felix’ evening too.

“Come on, we’ll get you to sleep somehow”, the Aussie smiled, pulling Minho up without giving him much chance to argue. Jisung watched the two of them with a fond smile and followed, taking a short detour to the bathroom. When he joined them in Minho’s room, they were already in bed with Felix snuggled against the older’s back. “Hey, don’t exclude me from the cuddle session”, the rapper pouted, making Felix laugh. Minho shuffled a bit to the side, so Jisung could squeeze into bed too, which he did, going back to his earlier position as the dancer’s pillow. “Before you go to sleep, please put on some lip balm because they look like their going to bleed soon”, he whispered, handing his hyung the lip balm he had collected from the bathroom. Minho hummed and put some on his lips before getting comfy again. Gently running his hand through the older’s hair, Jisung questioned: “Does it feel good like that?” Minho hummed in confirmation, closing his eyes again. The younger two exchanged a smile at their hyung’s pleased face. He really resembled a cat sometimes and they were sure, if he could purr, he’d be purring right now. Despite his earlier objections, Minho actually fell asleep pretty fast. At some point during the night, Jisung shuffled down into a laying position too, sandwiching the older between him and Felix. Laying that tightly squeezed into a small bed, at least one of the two woke up every time their hyung grew restless and was quick to pat his hair, successfully soothing him back to sleep.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Spells and Sneezes

I needed to try some Fantasy sickfic, and also practice my “stuffy talk”, so have ~3700 words of a very sneezy, stuffed up sorcerer. This post was inspired by a prompt I saw from this site long ago about a tall, thin, sneezy warlock, but I can’t find that post again to link it to save my life. So generic thanks to whoever came up with the prompt!

“Hehhtt’SSCCHHEEEWW!!

The tickle he thought he’d stifled exploded out of him unexpectedly as a massive, wet sneeze. The tall, young sorcerer groaned and wiped his dripping nose wearily with an already sodden handkerchief. His entire workbench was now covered in the spray. He sighed dejectedly, glancing out the window, the weak afternoon sunlight offering little comfort.

 He had been stuck on this spell for days now, and the deadline was fast approaching. And this wasn’t just any order, this was for the KING. He was preparing to wage war and was looking for chainmail woven with a defense spell for 3,000 of his top officers. The king had chosen him to fill this order because defense spells had been his specialty during his apprenticeship, but for some reason this powerful chain was toying with him. If he could get just one prototype together, making the rest would be the work of a day. But he had not been able to make even one yet.

He groaned again, wincing as he continued to wipe his raw, dripping nose. His head hurt. His throat hurt. His eyes hurt. His chest hurt from all the coughing he’d been doing. But he couldn’t rest until this was done.

He summoned the chair he had shoved aside a few minutes ago. Neither sitting nor standing seemed to help him concentrate better, so he kept going back and forth. He leaned his head in his hand and picked up his quill again, scratching sigils fruitlessly.

A merry knock startled him and he leapt to his feet, his lithe frame quivering. For a moment he imagined it was the king’s advisors coming to collect the spell a week early. Instead, his younger sister poked her head in, waving cheerily. 

“Brother, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Did I startle you? I’m sorry. It has been some weeks since I’ve seen you, and I wanted to check on you.”

She bustled in, her cleaning cart clattering behind her and parking itself by the door. Elliamina was a kitchen witch, and renowned throughout the land for her cleaning abilities, especially for never having an apprenticeship of her own. She had helped her older brother with his studies, being the more studious of the two, and had picked up some knowledge of her own, enough to make her own way in the world without formal training. 

She danced over, wrapping her arms around him warmly. She was almost a meter shorter than him, but otherwise they were nearly identical, though there was a 5 year span between them. The length of their hair was the only difference. Elmrador weakly returned her hug, his heart still pounding. 

“Good to see you, Mina. I have missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you, but I’ve been quite busy with orders of late. I can’t visit long today though. I have much work to do.”

“Well, at least let me give your cottage a quick tidy while I’m here.” She stepped back and surveyed him, cocking her head. “You are ill, brother.” Her mouth immediately quirked down sadly.

It was a statement, not a question. He also frowned. “I am fine.”

As if only to betray him, a hoarse coughing fit snuck up on him, leaving him red and breathless. He rubbed his chest ruefully. “Or at any rate, I don’t need you fussing. I need to finish this order. It’s for the king.”

“Hm.” She looked at him skeptically. “I have the supplies to make a tonic for you. Let me give you that at least. You look miserable.”

He grunted his approval. “As long as you don’t mix it with a sleeping draught.”

“If that's what you want,” she said, rolling her eyes. She flitted back to her cart and began to mix up a simple potion. Meanwhile, he seated himself again and resumed his scribbling. Another dratted tickle was growing in his nose though, which was streaming in earnest. He mopped the drips, to no avail.

“Ah… ah… Ahhkkt’shoooooo!” His handkerchief caught only part of the spray due to how sodden and crumpled it was, and his workbench was once again covered. Mina was at his side in a moment, rubbing his back.

“Poor dear! Elm, you sound awful. You should be in bed.”

“As soon as I work this through.”

She sighed and shook her head, handing him the steaming tonic. He took it with a grateful smile and gulped it down before taking up his quill again, rubbing his hands together to warm them before he did. 

Seeing he didn’t intend to chat further, she began to clean his one room cottage. It was all he needed, just the right amount of space. He kept it cozy and neat for the most part, but when he was busy, cleaning was the last thing on his mind, which is one of the reasons she liked to visit often. She genuinely loved cleaning, especially for people she cared about. She began at the ceiling, sweeping down cobwebs and dusting the corners as she sang to herself. Elm personally thought her singing was a big component of her magic, though she denied it. 

After the ceiling, she moved to the walls and cupboards. Elm found himself watching her idly rather than working. He turned back to his papers, shaking his throbbing head, trying to clear it. The tonic seemed to be affecting his fever. He had previously been shivering in the warm room, but now he was starting to sweat.  The congestion seemed to be leaving his chest but was streaming out of his nose in earnest. 

He didn’t know where his other handkerchiefs were, so he kept using the current one, but it was getting less and less effective as his sniffles got wetter and wetter. It wasn’t long before he started sneezing, both from his overactive nose, and the dust his sister was creating. 

“Errr’sssHUUH! ErrrRIESSH’shew! Ehhhkxxt’SHEEEWW!”

 Mina threw down her duster in exasperation. “I don’t know how you can stand to keep working. *I* can hardly work with you like this!”

He shrugged petulantly, rubbing his red nose. “Well, if you weren’dt kickig ub so mbuch dusdt…”

“Oh! Is the tonic not helping? It shouldn’t make you sound like that.”

“Idt helped the cough. Bud idt mbade mby ndose worse,” he mumbled weakly.

She rolled her eyes. “That tonic works on everyone else, except stubborn sorcerers. I bet your magic is going haywire and counteracting it. Especially without the sleeping effect.”

“Thadt’s ndot mby fauldt.” He shivered and coughed softly, summoning a blanket to wrap around his shoulders as he was suddenly freezing instead of sweating.

She sighed and moved to his side again, rubbing his back some more. He leaned against her wearily.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Ndo. I worgk best adt ndight.”

“Poor dear. You’re exhausted. No wonder you’re ill. What has got you so worked up?”

She glanced at the papers spread before him. “Chainmail woven with defense? Clever. Lucky you, getting an interesting project like this.”

“Idt’s driving mbe to distraction. I can’dt quide sordt it oudt.”

Her sharp eyes roved over the parchment quickly. “Your writing is terrible when you’re ill. I can hardly make it out. Ah, but here’s one of the reasons you're having trouble--half of these sigils appear to be reversed. See these here? They’re meaningless. Don’t tell me you’ve been working with them like this?”

He groaned pathetically. “They weren’dt like thadt whend I wrote themb! I ndo they weren’dt!”

She reached out and tried to feel his forehead. He batted her hand away before she could. She frowned.

“You know your magic is unpredictable when something is wrong with you, brother. My guess is you sneezed on these and they reversed themselves. You’re positively crackling with stray mana. Not to mention you’re probably feverish. You need to take some rest.”

“I can’dt. I have to deliver 3,000 of these in a weegk’s time, and I haven’dt even godden one yedt.”

“You’re not being productive like this though.”

“Ndeither are you. I thoughdt you were cleanig.”

She swatted him playfully. “See to yourself first, Elmrador, before you worry about me.”  

 Shaking her head, she reluctantly went back to her cleaning. The thin sorcerer directed his gaze back to his work, slowly fixing the reversed sigils, but he couldn’t get his eyes to stay in focus. They were so heavy. Everything was blurred around the edges. 

His head was overwhelmingly heavy too, and achingly throbbing. He let it drop to the workbench, the cool wood pleasant on his hot forehead. He let his mouth hang open and tried to breathe, letting his nose drip gently into his handkerchief.

He must have dozed off, because Elliamina’s touch startled him some moments later. He turned to look at her, his cheek still on the bench.

“Why are you fighting yourself? You’re no good to anyone like this. The project can wait.”

“Will you mbake mbe some tea?” he asked pitifully, changing the subject. 

She rubbed his back, surveying him keenly. “I’ll make you some tea if you take it in bed.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, slowly pulling the blanket closer to himself as he rose and shuffled to the corner where his bed stood. He clumsily discarded his outer tunic and boots as he went, kicking them aside before falling onto the mattress and heaping blankets and pillows over himself, dozing immediately. His sister busied herself boiling the water and preparing the tea leaves. 

When it was ready, she shook him awake again and helped him sit up.

“I can do idt mbyself,” he muttered, shaking her off.

“You’re worn out enough,” she chided gently. “So let me help.”

He couldn’t argue with that. The tea was sweet and hot, the perfect temperature to start drinking immediately. But naturally, the warm liquid made his nose stream in earnest. His sister had been fussing around, fluffing his pillows and picking up his discarded clothes. When she noticed his sodden handkerchief, long past its usefulness, she quickly summoned another. He took it with a grateful smile, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his watery eyes. He blew his nose several times, but his sinuses were stopped tight, and blowing just made his head throb terribly.

Once the tea was gone and he had finally stopped shivering, he felt he couldn't keep his eyes open for another minute. He fell back into the bed as Elliamina dimmed the lights and covered him warmly. 

Mina watched as he seemed to slip into a doze immediately. After a moment, she returned to her cleaning. She had made up her mind that she would stay here with him until he was over the worst of this. And since she would be here for a while, she had decided she would scour his cottage from top to bottom. 

However, her brother couldn't seem to settle. He tossed and turned, coughing more and more often, the most awful-sounding fits. Finally he rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at her pitifully.

"I can'dt sleebp," he croaked. "First I'mb sweatig, then I'mb freezig. And I can'dt breathe for the coughig." 

She clicked her tongue, coming to his side. She felt his forehead and cheeks, and this time he let her, leaning his head into her hand. 

“You are so warm, Elm,” she tutted, brushing the sweaty hair off of his brow. “Would you like me to make you another tonic, a stronger one to help you sleep?”

He hesitated, then nodded miserably. 

“Just a moment, then.” She trotted to her cart, ingredients flying to her hands before she had even reached it. She made a potion double the strength of the first one, with a strong dash of sleeping draught. Turning, she made her way back to the bed with the steaming mug as her brother once more struggled into a sitting position, hindered by another coughing fit.

He swallowed the mixture in a few gulps, grimacing, whether from the taste or his sore throat, she wasn’t sure. Then, she helped him lie back yet again, propping him up with pillows so he could breathe easier. The process seemed to wear him out. His eyes drifted closed immediately. 

Elliamina tucked him in, straightening the blankets around him. He mumbled something incoherent as sleep overcame him.

“What did you say?”

“Stay with mbe,” he mumbled, his wheezy exhale turning into a snore.

“Don’t worry, I will,” she whispered, though she knew he did not hear. 

Elliamina spent the rest of the evening puttering around, finishing her deep scour, making soup for when her brother woke, tending to his garden, and other domestic things that she had helped him with since they were children. She gave special attention to his workbench. She cleaned it and sanitized it thoroughly, even using a special cleansing spell on the parchment he had been working on. Sure enough, as soon as it was clean, she saw many of the sigils reverse themselves to what they should be. With a little smile, she replaced the papers where she had found them. Meanwhile, the tonic did its job admirably; Elmrador hardly moved, and he was breathing much easier. The only sound he made for many hours was soft, even snoring.

Evening turned into night. Mina was an early sleeper and early riser. As soon as the sun was down, she made a little nest for herself with extra blankets and pillows on the freshly scoured floor in front of the fireplace. She was weary from her day’s efforts, and dropped off to sleep without any effort, expecting her brother to sleep soundly through the night as well.

Imagine her surprise when she was awakened by him jumping out of bed in the middle of the night and running to his workbench, lighting candles hastily as he went. He banged down into his desk chair, picked up his quill, and began scribbling furiously, muttering to himself.

“Elm? What ails you?” she yawned, getting to her feet and wrapping her shawl around herself to go stand at his side, feeling his forehead. His temperature seemed almost normal, though his cheeks were flushed. He paid her no mind.

“The spell. It came to me in my sleep. I know what I was missing.” He sniffled wetly, wiping his sleeve under his nose, but continued scribbling away. 

“I shan’t try to reason with you, since you’re so determined, though I wonder how you’re awake at all for how strong that tonic was. I don’t want to imagine the state you’ll be in in the morning.” She sighed softly. He seemed fine for now, but the tonic could only mask symptoms for so long.

With a shrug, she shuffled back to her nest. As she went, she mumbled: “Fates help you if you wake me again, though.” In front of the fire once more, she burrowed into her blankets, and was quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his quill and his muttering. 

It was a harsh cough that woke her again in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise, but not hers. She yawned and stretched luxuriously. For a moment she forgot where she was, until a wet sneeze made her turn. 

Elmrador was just as she had left him the night before, hunched over his workbench. Spread out all around him were what appeared to be hundreds of chain shirts, and more were in the process of being finished. However, her brother looked more asleep than awake as he worked. Harsh, dark circles ringed his eyes, vivid against his pallor, as was his raw, chapped nose. Just as she noted this, the nose disappeared into his handkerchief .

“Hrrr’RUSH’eeww! Ahh’NNXGH’shuuh!”

“Oh Elm,” she murmured fondly. “You are in quite a state now, aren��t you?”

“Mbina… Good mornig. Loogk, I fidished mby prototype. Idt’s mby best worgk, I thingk.”

“It had better be, for you to be working as ill as you areYou look awful. You ought to go back to bed right away.”

“Id a few mbinutes. As sood as I fidish these three, I’ll have 300 done. Thed I cad automate themb to reblicate thembselves.”

Such a long speech made him cough harshly, his voice long gone. She tutted disapprovingly. “You’ll be in bed for a week after this. You’ve done yourself in, stubborn fool. 

“Id was worth idt,” he said, almost smugly. “Idt’s for the king.” 

“So you said,” she said, yet again rolling her eyes. “We’ll see if you can say the same in a few days.”

A hoarse grunt was his only reply. He had gone back to his work and needed all his remaining concentration to finish.

Seeing that he wasn’t moving until he reached his target, Elliamina did her own washing and grooming, cleaned up her bedding, and got coffee and breakfast going. Just as she was putting the eggs on, she saw him toss down his tools with a final flourish. However, as he said, the chain mail materials continued to manipulate themselves to form more armor even as Elmrador wearily stood, scrubbing his face and swiping at his dripping nose with a once again sodden handkerchief. 

A round of rough, barking coughs made him hunch over again a moment later, a hand pressed to his chest. A weak “ow” was all he could manage as he tried to catch his breath, a hand now at his temple.

“I didn’t thingk coughig could hurdt so mbuch,” he wheezed.

“Only when you push your body past its limit. Come along, it’s bed for you for the foreseeable future, you dunce.” She moved to his side and grasped his elbow, leading him back to his mattress.  

“You don’dt ndeed to help mbe walk, I’m ndot an invalid, only full of cold,” he muttered, trying to pull away. Mina was not dissuaded.

“Be that as it may, I’d rather help you get there just the same. You look as if a strong breeze will blow you over, and then where would I be?”

He deigned not to reply and instead allowed her to seat him on the edge of the bed where he swayed weakly as she helped him remove his sweaty clothes and don his nightshirt before propping him up against a heap of pillows, as his wheezy breathing was rather worrying her. She plied him once more with tea and tonic, which he accepted without a fuss. Then she brought over the plate of steaming eggs and toast. He made a face and pushed it away.

“I don’dt like eggs even whed I’mb ndot sick. I cerdainly don’dt wandt themb ndow.”

“Ah, so that’s why you have so many eggs. Well, would you at least eat the toast?”

He grunted noncommittally and took a half-hearted bite, taking a long time to chew and swallow. He only managed to finish half a slice before he pushed that away too. “Can’dt. Throadt hurdts too mbuch. Jusdt mbakes mbe feel sicker.” He gamely finished his tea though as she watched worriedly.

“You never turn down food. You’re already a beanstalk, Elm. I wish you would eat something.”

A rough cough was the only reply he could manage as he quickly coasted toward sleep once again. Mina sighed and decided to let him sleep, putting the food aside. That was what he needed most now anyway. 

And sleep he did, for a long time. Yet his work was not done. He had to get up for a few hours the next day, for once all the shirts were complete he had to do the final quality review of the armor. Elliamina hovered worriedly at his elbow as he did intricate magic to test the limits of his creations. He was so weak he could hardly stand, arms shaking and face flushed as he cast. He had to sit often to catch his breath and wait out bouts of lightheadedness or coughs, but he would be damned before he delivered a subpar product to the king. Mina assisted him as best as she was able, doing whatever she could for his health and ensuring he didn't harm himself.

 After hours of rigorous testing, he finally pronounced them suitable, while Elmrador himself ached with weariness. Without another word, he proceeded to crawl back into bed and bury himself in blankets, immediately beginning to snore as one deeply exhausted.

He passed most of the next several days in an illness and tonic-induced slumber. He was miserable when he was awake, every fiber of his being aching or throbbing. Mina forced him to eat and drink whenever she could, but mostly he wanted to sleep, and she let him do just that. 

He was in fact asleep when the king's men arrived for the armor. A small crew of men rode up to the cottage with much pomp and ceremony. Mina greeted them in the garden, introducing herself as the sorcerer's assistant. They were immediately enthralled with her, as was everyone that met her for the first time, and she utilized this to expertly manage the transaction. Within 20 minutes the men were departing with many sacks of chain shirts in their cart, ecstatic with their purchase, while Mina carried a hefty pouch of gold, more than Elm had originally bargained for, into the cottage. Elmrador was still asleep, oblivious to it all. She knew he had lost track of the days some time ago, and she didn't see a reason to excite him until he was better.

Instead of waking him, she safely hid the gold in his stores. She then pulled up her chair once more to her place beside his bed, took up her needlework, and softly began to hum as she worked while her brother slept on peacefully.

[saebit]

9PM

Three boys struggling to deal with the uncomfortable consequences of being outed (disclaimer: not fluff; kind of a filler scene)

Taekyung had left school as soon as the bell for the last period rang. The rumors had been snowballing and it was getting too much to handle, even for a boy that had built himself up to not care about what other people thought of him. It was already 9PM, and Taekyung was still sitting on a ledge in an empty lot near the school.

☼

It was only 9PM, but Shinwoo was ready to go home. Studying all alone in the student council room felt strange. On a normal day, he’d sit in a classroom or the library because he knew Daon and Taekyung would be having their tutoring session here. It was obvious why neither of them would show up anymore, though. Usually Shinwoo would stay an hour longer, until the end of the evening self-learning session, but this week had been too stressful. Hearing the whispers and snickers about Daon and Taekyung felt like he was reliving his past. It hurt, like someone was sticking pins into his half-healed scars. He felt another wave of anxiety just thinking about sitting in one of his other study spots. Just because the people there weren't talking out loud didn't mean they weren't fabricating stories around the few bits of information they had heard through their phone screens. He hated how little he could do to make them stop.

☼

“Believe me, I was just being nice because he was new!” Daon ended his defense with a tone of desperation. His explanations had began as a whisper, but slowly became louder. Almost all of the students in the library were at the table he was sitting at, and he had to make sure they all heard him explain himself.

“We do believe you! It’s just that the kids in class are being weird,” Jungwoo, one of Daon’s classmates, said.

“Actually, come with us to class,” someone else suggested. “We can clear it up, can't we?” Daon was happy they all believed him, but hated this kind of attention. Going to class would be another session of twisting his words and intentions in front of a different set of eyes, hoping he was saying the right things to make them stop staring at him.

“The teacher’s gonna be there.” Daon hoped that would make them rethink their suggestion, but was scared to disagree too strongly in case they would figure out he was lying.

“I can just tell the teacher I want to go over my old homework. He'll leave the class to get it,” another student offered. It didn't work. Why couldn’t they text everyone this new development in the story like they always did? Nobody really cared if he was actually dating Taekyung or not. They were never this eager to help him out before. Everyone just wanted to be entertained, to have something big to happen so that they could be the first ones to talk about it.

Not wanting this issue to exhaust more of his energy, Daon quietly agreed with a nod and went out into the hallway, a herd of students trailing behind him as he walked towards his homeroom. He looked at the clock at the end of the corridor. It was 9PM. Maybe after this he could finally go home. He took a deep breath before the classroom door and then pushed it open.

☼

Shinwoo stepped back from the food trays he had just filled and looked around. Maybe this time he'd be able to see the stray cat. As he walked down the sidewalk to look at the other side of the bushes, his eyes passed over a familiar figure.

“Taekyung?” he called out, his walk speeding up into a jog. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh,” Taekyung muttered, taking a break from staring at the empty backpack in his lap to look at Shinwoo. “I couldn’t get to pack my bag before I left so I’m waiting for them to leave.” Shinwoo’s eyebrows raised in worry.

“Them?” he asked. Taekyung shifted his gaze away and didn’t answer. Was he waiting for the whole school to empty?

“Hey,” Shinwoo said, stepping closer to him. “Come with me.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s go back together. They can’t say anything if you’re with me.”

Shinwoo thought Taekyung would protest, but he got up without a word and began putting on his backpack. After taking a couple of steps in the direction of the school, Taekyung turned around and stared at a confounded Shinwoo, waiting for him to catch up.

☼

Daon’s words seemed to have dampened the situation with his classmates.

“Wait, dude, really?”

“I feel bad for misunderstanding you. I should’ve known it was the other guy being clingy.”

“Yeah man, sorry, we know you try your best not to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“Did you see how happy Taekyung looked though?”

The kids laughed. Daon's chest tightened.

“I know someone in his class before and he said he's just weird like that. Seems like he’ll either completely ignore you or get obsessed with you like that.”

The teacher suddenly opened the classroom door, interrupting the boys' chatter.

“Why are you all crowding around the president? You’re allowed to get help from him but stay quiet and take turns.”

“Sorry.”

Daon's classmates scattered back to their seats, and his entourage from the library slithered out of the room, yet still stuck close to the door, not wanting to leave the lead star of the school's most exciting rumor out of their sight.

Daon stood alone at the front of the class, watching the kids type furiously on their phones, relaying what had just happened to all of their contacts as fast as they could. At that moment, he felt particularly alone. As if he didn’t matter to anyone.

The guilt of throwing Taekyung under the bus hit him like a ton of bricks. Daon had tied the person most important to him to a stake and abandoned him, just so he could keep his sanity. But how sane could he stay without Taekyung? Taekyung was the only one who really cared for him. But then again, it’s not like he would after he found out what Daon did.

“Well, then, I’ll get going guys!” Daon announced brightly, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. He was supposed to be relieved to have this problem off his hands, but it just felt like his heart had sunken even lower.

“Wait up, President, let me come with you,” someone said, closing their bag as they stood up.

“Keep up,” Daon replied as he left the room, but he didn't mean it. He was tired of selfish people sticking to him like leeches.

☼

Shinwoo heard a door open and paused at the middle of the staircase, each of his feet on different steps. Taekyung looked over in confusion, and then followed Shinwoo's gaze to see who he was looking at. Daon stood at the top of the stairs with a dejected expression, staring right back at Shinwoo.

To Taekyung, that same expression appeared unreadable and practically emotionless. The fact that Daon didn't even acknowledge that Taekyung was there didn't help. Before any of them could process anything, the door opened again.

A buzzing crowd spilled out out of the entrance and huddled behind Daon like a swarm of ants, slowly falling silent as they saw the three boys.

“Throw salt on him or he’ll bring you more bad luck,” a voice sneered.

Daon, pretending he didn't hear, quickly looked down and rushed past the two of them without a word, not wanting this to turn into another scene for people to talk about, not wanting to hurt Taekyung more than he already had.

A lump formed in Taekyung’s throat as he watched Daon pass by. Noticing Taekyung's eyes moisten, Shinwoo grabbed him by the wrist and led him up the stairs and past the group of students.

“Birds of the same feather stick together,” that same voice snickered. Shinwoo turned and glowered, intimidating some students and making them hurry down the steps.

When Taekyung and Shinwoo entered the building, people from other classes were leaking out of their classrooms. They had already heard about the trio meeting and were eager to be firsthand witnesses to an exciting face-off.

“Ignore them,” Shinwoo whispered, trying to ease Taekyung's nerves. He loosened his hold on Taekyung’s wrist in case Taekyung felt uncomfortable about everyone’s eyes on them. To Shinwoo's surprise, Taekyung snatched his hand back, gripping it all the way to the classroom.

☼

The crowd behind Daon had dispersed, but their conversations continued in the group chat. Daon glanced down at his phone, whose screen stayed lit up because of how often the notifications were coming up.

◾️yea that’s just how that kid is lol

◾️fr y’all are a little too mean

◾️k but I wanna feel safe at an all-boys school

◾️broo

◾️no offense prez ik ur not like that

◾️mby he is

◾️dude shut up hahaha

He didn’t reply to anything and turned his phone off.

☼

The air in Taekyung's classroom was stiff, as if Taekyung and Shinwoo’s entrance interrupted something. There were only a couple of students left, the others having already deserted their desks to get first-row tickets to the drama. Shinwoo stayed by the door, waiting for Taekyung to finish putting his books in.

The other boys in the room spoke to each other without words, heads occasionally turning towards each other, smirks crawling up their faces when their eyes met. One of them glanced at Shinwoo, but to his luck, Shinwoo was glaring right back. The boy's grin immediately fell, and he quickly focused back on to whatever was on his desk, but clearly felt so embarrassed that he hurriedly cleared his desk and left.

The rest of the students seemed to have been waiting for someone else to leave first. A symphony of zips filled the quiet room. Taekyung watched as everyone scuttered out the door, and then he zipped his own bag up.

“The room is so empty,” Taekyung said, looking back. “And it’s barely past 9PM.”

[notmusa]

character faq

Hi! I'm new to your blog and love your style! What's the story behind your characters?

hello, welcome. there isnt really a story. ian dropped out of college & was homeless for a bit but then he met jules & donovan & he lives in donovans apartment & theyre musicians in the band at a burlesque club (&jules works at a bakery(shes not a musician)). they fight crime

just kidding they dont fight crime. they have their own tags and also are all under /tagged/characters

Heya!! Do u have any of those voice proposal things for yr oc's? I'm curious haha

hello. i dont have any canon voices but one day i should storyboard some harmontown dialogue bc i could conceivably see donovan sounding like jeff davis. ian doesnt sound anything like dan harmon tho. he sounds more like jon benjamin. maybe i should do a bobs burgers scene w ian/jules. she doesnt sound like kristen schaal tho. she sounds like…………. somebody else idk. thanks for the q

What does Donovan like about Ian? Like does he think he's cute or what?

mmmm i think probably the first thing that caught donovans attention was ian’s a goodass pianist & donovan was like whoa, & the attraction grew from there. & then like “look at this lil scruffy guy who doesnt give a shit” idk man. why is this guy so distant at rehearsal & then real laid back at the bar. why do the dancers let him nap on the chaise lounge in their changing room. i guess his attraction was fuled by curiosity

what does ian like about donovan?

ian was really paranoid & suspicious of donovan for a long time bc donovan treated him like a human & ian wasnt used to that. but now its like “donovans good and i like him.” ian is not complicated in that regard

oh hey what makes jules like ian and vice versa? thanks in advance

jules was home schooled & sort of as a consequence of that she is not great at socializing w people her own age. shes used to hanging out w people older than her. socializing as an adult is hard!!!!! so ian showing up one day just happened to work out. shes a compassionate person & loves how ian is basically harmless, despite his rough appearance. & ian loves that shes so small & kind & good & excited about things he doesnt understand like anime & video games. he must protect her & she must protect him

We know now that Donovan and Ian are a thing, but does Donovan think Ian is cute and the other way around?

donovan thinks ians cute like how a stray dog is cute. a stray might always have some behavior problems & etc but theyre still scruffy lil buddies that mean well & u dont have the heart to keep them off the couch even though they shed. ian likes that donovan is warm and comfortable and doesnt get mad when he messes up & some other stuff i dont know how to explain with words

Does Ian get into a lot of fights? I always see him bleeding.

ian might occasionally goad someone into mashing his face in when hes in that special mood. but also consider this: he is a clumsy drunk

it seems like Ian is "a no good human thing" as they call it (who are they and do they really..??). im really curious, if you don't mind answering that, is he inspired by at least something? he surely has some hobbies mby...? yes, the drinking thing.. but everyone wakes up at some point, right?? also you're always saying only bad things about him. it could be that i don't understand life, or maybe you/your characters

hehehe i like this ask.ian does not give good first impression & the little snapshots i draw of him tend to lean p heavily on his delinquent side. but heres the deal. ian is a musician! his true passion is music. he studied music in university & his current job is making music. he loves his cat & bob ross & taking walks & astro boy & mini golf & cheez its & pinball & socks & people watching & dive bar culture & other stuff. & he likes donovan & jules a lot. but he has some problems that inhibit his ability to thrive & he doesnt know how to help himself & he makes poor choices. but hes an ok person overall

Does Ian have a last name? Does anyone know his full name?

ians last name is bloom