oh i actually do have a middle name but you're not allowed to know it

anonymous asked:

if you're still taking prompts can you do a sick!Isak drabble/one shot, not sure why but I HC him as being the kind of person who ignores the fact that he's ill until he's actually really really ill, queue collapsing in front of people (because he's too much of a stubborn arse to tell people that he's not feeling well "its just a cold" and also maybe he feels like he has to be the strong one and he's not "allowed" to be ill because he never really had someone to take care of him in the past

Prompt: isaks really sick but refuses to admit it to anyone or let anyone take care of him 🙈❤️

you know… I’ve been thinking about this and thinking about this long before I was ever prompted about it. I mean- what kind of sick is Isak?? Is he cuddly, is he whiny, is he one who refuses to admit that he’s sick?

YES YES AND YES. ENJOY.

——————

“I’m not sick.” Isak groans, the little half- sniffle and half- cough completely contradicting his statement.

Even arches an eyebrow over his shoulder, folding down Isak’s bed spread and readying it for one very reluctant inhabitant, “Oh no, you’re the perfect bill of health.”

“I am.

“Baby,” Even says patiently, looking upwards in hopes to gather what strength he could from the gods to deal with a petulant boyfriend, “you’ve sneezed seven times in the last five minutes. You’ve used almost a full box of tissues in the last hour. You are sick. Come lay down.”

Baby,” Isak says, ignoring the narrowing of Even’s eyes as he mocks his usual pet name, “I have a party tonight that I am not missing because of allergies.”

Even sighs, trying to stomp down the irritation building, “Allergies my ass. You’re sick and you look like you’re going to collapse in front of me.”

Isak turns around and walk out the door with a curse and another sneeze.

Even groans and flops down on Isak’s bed, pointedly not staring at the mountain of tissues that bounces as he lands. This fucking boy was going to kill him-

Even hears a gross-sounding cough from the kitchen

-if he didn’t kill himself first.

———

“He’s sick.” Even murmurs to Jonas as they both stand off to the side watching Isak’s attempts to dance and drink and laugh with a couple of second years from his biology class.

Attempts being the main word. Because with the way Isak’s eyes are going heavy lidded and the sway to his feet, he seems to be having a rough time focusing on staying awake, let alone charming his classmates.

“No shit,” Jonas responds, taking a gulp of beer and shaking his head, “I thought I needed a hazmat suit when he walked in the door. You let him come?”

Even sighs, “I don’t let him do anything. It’s one of our rules. We don’t control each other. We can pointedly suggest and try to persuade, but- right now, trying to persuade Isak is like trying to persuade a brick wall. One who can’t take four breaths without collapsing a lung.”

See the thing is, Isak and Even do have a rule- one made after a particularly rough night in which they did more yelling at each other than they did kissing, or even speaking. Because the thing is, Even is really fucking finicky about taking orders. He chafes and he resents when other people feel like they can tell him to do something and he’d do it.

Maybe it’s because he’s lived nearly his entire life with people expecting him to follow a strict regimen so he doesn’t have an episode, maybe its because he was born with a natural issue with authority, maybe it doesn’t fucking matter because Even does not like to be told what to do.

And as it turns out, neither does Isak.

Unless they are in bed, which is a completely different conversation.

Bottom line is, they don’t tell each other what to do and as much as Even would have loved to take him aside and force Isak to go home, or have forced him to stay home in the first place- they don’t do that.

Though this seems to be biting Even in the ass though as his boyfriend looks increasingly like death warmed over.

Speaking of which, Isak seems to freeze in the middle of some story he was telling, face suddenly paling under the strobe lights. Even can’t help but straighten when Isak runs a hand through his sweaty hair and wobbles dangerously. He seems to cast his eyes around the room in a daze, not quite catching on any one figure.

Even shoves his unfinished beer into Jonas’s hands and strides across the room, having to jump the last few steps as Isak takes a wrong step and near collapses.

Even snakes an arm around his waist and catches him before any damage could be done, “Hey, baby, how you doing?”

Isak groans, head lulling to the side and eyes blinking in and out of focus, “Maybe I’m a little sick.”

Even bites back a smile, even as worry churns through his gut. He waves off a couple of third year boys who eye Isak warily. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

—–

“I don’t want tea,” Isak sighs petulantly, throwing an errant arm over his eyes as he snuggles back into his pillows.

Even agrees easily, unbuttoning Isak’s jeans and sliding them down his thighs, “Then no tea. Is there anything you do want?”

Isak is quiet a moment, then mumbles something incoherently into the junction of his arm.

“What was that?”

His arm slides free of his face and Isak meets Even’s eyes, “I don’t want to be sick. I don’t want to be this weak, little brat who loses it after getting a cold. I don’t need this, you don’t need this-”

“I don’t need what? To take care of my sick boyfriend who takes care of me?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean,” Isak groans, “Fuck I don’t know what I mean. I don’t feel good and you’re making me think.”

“Being sick doesn’t make you weak, baby,” Even slips off his shoes and jacket before crawling in on his side of the bed.

“I know,” Isak starts, “But like, I never get sick. I’ve never had time to get sick between my mom and school and- I just don’t have time to be sick. What if something happened and I’m like, passed out with snot coming out of my nose and you need me?”

Even snorted and pressed his face close to Isak, pecking his red raw nose. “You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.”

Isak swats at him, “I don’t like you.”

“Well that’s too bad because I love you. Even when you’re being ridiculous. You can still take care of me when you’re sick- not that you fucking need to take care of me at all.”

Isak harrumphs, but let’s it go. He lets out a wet sounding sniffle and smiles slightly when Even hands him a tissue.

“Don’t look at me when I’m blowing my nose.”

“What? Why? I’ve never found you so sexy.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re weird.” Isak sniffles again and coughs, flinching at the feeling of his raw throat. He looks down at Even under his lashes, “Can I have some tea now?”

Even laughs, ducking his head into the hollow of Isak’s throat before pushing himself up, “Yeah, I’ll get you some tea. Anything else?”

Isak shrugs, “Maybe a cookie? I think Eskild has some on his shelf… and Noora always has really good chicken soup on hers. Maybe some of that for later?”

Even stares down at the pitiful creature in Isak’s bed, feeling an overwhelming sense of fondness and love. “Anything else?”

Isak smiles shyly, but the movement triggers a coughing sick and Isak groans, taking Even’s pillow and putting it over his face in an attempt to smother himself. When that doesn’t work, he lets the pillow go, “Maybe just come back to bed and lay down with me?”

Even can do that too.

akaashingly  asked:

mikayuu 55? :p

I’m still up for more prompts, it’s fun to try to write these, so feel free to send me more. Prompts listed here and here

Prompt:  “Our first date is a picnic on a beach under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?”

Thanks for the prompt, and sorry this took so long! I got hit with inspiration today by this sketch from @kazissimo over on her twitter [posted here with her permission!!] so with that, here we go! 


Mika was startled out of the reading of the latest chapter of Food Wars by the sound of loud snore erupting from above him, causing him to jump and nearly lose his place. He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, while Yuu-chan had opted to lie on the bed to cuddle with Junji.

He peeked over the bed to see Yuu on his back, knees up, arms draped over the small white cat, who was stretched out across his belly. He let out a soft sigh, resting his chin on the bed as he observed the two sleeping.

Was it so silly for him to want to be his own cat? Probably, yes, Mika. It is silly to want to be your cat just because…

Mika yawned and rested the side of his face on the cool comforter, and closed his eyes, the magazine dropping to the floor.  

It was the summer before they went off to college - both of them were facing the reality of attending university- thankfully together- and Mika had been thinking a lot more about what that would mean for him and his best friend. Moving away, separated from their family, striking it out as independent adults together.

Best Friend…

Another snore erupted from Yuu’s open mouth. Mika buried his head into the comforter to mask his laughter. When he peeked back up, Junji stared at him with her bright blue eyes. Mika reached out to scratch under her chin, and she stretched, causing Yuu to stir. Mika snapped his hand away and grabbed his magazine again, hoping Yuu didn’t see him and think he was being a creeper and watching him sleep.

“Mika?”

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Nonlinear Storytelling in Sherlock Series 3

So one thing that’s really been weirding me out series 3 is the use of nonlinear storytelling, which I feel has been dialed way up from previous series. mid0nz has some gorgeous analysis of the bomb scene’s interruption by Sherlock’s confession, but other than that, I haven’t heard people talking a whole lot about the structure of the episodes so far. If I’ve missed it, please, please, point me that way!

What follows is probably way too involved, and it doesn’t really reach any conclusions, so sorry about that, but here I go anyway:

Most books we read and TV shows and movies we watch treat time in pretty much the same way, according to what Joan Silber calls “classic time”: “a brief natural span–a month, a season, a year–handled in scene-and-summary” (Time in the Art of Fiction 8) – this is the convention of traditional realist fiction, which takes for granted that most of us would agree that we experience time as a generally forward-moving, chronologically coherent force. It’s certainly what we’re familiar most with, although I have the sense that contemporary audiences are increasingly comfortable with unconventional treatments of time. We don’t even bat an eyelash at flash backs (which Silber calls “switchback time”), and shows like How I Met Your Mother are in fact predicated on a nonlinear structure. OK, I’m getting way too in-depth with this, but long story short, my point is that classic time is still more or less our default.

Classic time also seems to be the default for the first two series of Sherlock. This is not to say there aren’t disruptions to straightforward chronology in s1&2. Film and TV mysteries often utilize a bit of non-linear storytelling to dramatize the resolution of a case – rather than Miss Marple simply sitting everyone down and explaining what happened, we see it play out in front of us, jumping back in time to the moment the crime was committed. We see this in Sherlock, for instance, when Joe confesses to murdering Andrew West in TGG, or when Sherlock reveals he was really taking Irene’s pulse in ASIB. In the first two series of Sherlock, this happens fairly frequently – we quickly flash back to the moment in question, often focused on the crucial clues we may have missed the first time around. And of course, these aren’t the only times the show breaks a linear pattern in the first two series, either. We get flashbacks in ASIB (Sherlock saving Irene) and in TRF (Mycroft admitting he interrogated Moriarty), for instance, and I’m sure there are lots of other examples. So it’s not like nonlinear storytelling is terribly unusual in Sherlock, but, again, classic time is has pretty much been the show’s default. I don’t think the structure in its own right has ever been nearly so programmatically disordered as it seems to be in s3.

That the structural choices of s3 have departed from those in s1&2 is made jarringly evident in TEH. While the story unfolds more or less in a chronological fashion (this isn’t Memento, here), there are a lot of choices that take us out of classic time in the strictest sense and call attention to the structure of the episode itself. Right away, our sense of the chronological movement of the episode is disturbed – we begin thinking we’re picking up where we left off at the end of TRF, but the writers very loudly tell us this is “bollocks” (via Lestrade) and then jump two years forward in time. The recurrence of the various Reichenbach survival theories throughout the episode is another conceit that exists on the level of storytelling, not on the level of the characters – that is, it’s the writers manipulating the structure of the episode in a way that doesn’t necessarily have to do with that naturalistic assumption of classic time. Structurally, the Reichenbach theories seem to be operating almost as a way to mark each act – Anderson’s starts us off, Sharon Rooney’s Sheriarty theory marks the half-hour point almost to the minute, and Sherlock’s real strategy literally comes in the middle of the resolution of the episode. And what makes the insertion of the confession scene into the middle of the bomb countdown so bizarre is the way is disjoints time. Like, seriously, when is Sherlock telling Anderson all this? Is it taking place before John and Sherlock went down into the Tube station, or after? It’s completely out of any context in time. I love everything mid0nz has to say about how this moment allows Gatiss and Moffat, et al, to rewrite John Watson’s last words (if he were dying, he’d no longer say “Please god, let me live,” but instead, “Of course I forgive you”).  I also love her point that the confession he makes to Anderson is one that he’ll never make to John, and I agree that this is a very important choice in terms of his character. But even with all that said, I’m still not sure I understand why the writers made the choice to put Sherlock’s confession smack-dab in the middle of the bomb scene.

As confusing at this is to me, though, it pales in comparison to what happens in TSOT, because while TEH may have this one really pointed chronological rupture, TSOT is basically about as wibbly wobbly timey wimey as you can get. OK, that’s an overstatement, but it’s really freaking nonlinear.

I mean, Sherlock’s best man speech is constantly being intercut with flash backs. He can hardly get two words out before we’re jumping back to another case or an interlude of Mrs. Hudson laughing like she was torturing an owl or what have you. I’m not saying I didn’t love all of those moments, because I did, but when you include all the flash backs, Sherlock’s speech, which is actually probably only a few minutes long, winds up taking up a full half of the episode. But even before that, we’re jumping all over the shop in terms of the relationship to time, first in the quick summary of Lestrade’s 18-month pursuit with the Waters gang, and then after the wedding we leap back to Sherlock’s confrontation with Mary’s ex and his bonding with Archie over maggots. This isn’t just switchback time, this is – I don’t know what, super mega switchback time on steroids.

What I can’t work out for the life of me is–why? I mean, yes, all the switchbacking comes together in the end, when the penny finally drops and Sherlock realizes that the nurse used John’s middle name. We move forward fairly propulsively from there, but it’s a long lead-up to that point. We basically have an hour’s worth of preamble and setup and a half hour of denouement – which, actually, probably isn’t all that disproportionate in terms of classic rising action and all that, but because it’s been doled out in these tiny little disordered chunks, I’m left feeling like we didn’t actually get to see anything happen in front of us in this episode.

The other thing that niggles at me is the way scene and summary are operating here. In the course of his speech, Sherlock basically summarizes at least seven months that we only get to see tiny little slivers of. This applies both to the cases and to John and Mary’s engagement. I think we can all agree that some of the most heart-rending moments of TSOT are when Sherlock is attempting to cope with John’s impending marriage (the serviettes, interviewing/intimidating old flames, I mean, this stuff is comedy gold but it’s also so, so sad). And I just can’t help imagining what this series would have been like if we had another episode or two to see all those events unfold in realtime, rather than simply having them summarized to us in Sherlock’s speech.

The obvious result would be that all of those cases would be developed further – and not just on John’s blog (if one can call that development). And while some of them might not stand up to much greater scrutiny, I would certainly have enjoyed seeing the boys on the case more. The other result, I think, of giving those seven months more screen time would have been that we’d actually get to see the development of John and Mary’s relationship and we’d witness the slow building up of pressure within Sherlock as their wedding day comes closer and closer. We certainly get glimpses of it in TSOT, but I think there could have been the potential for a truly excruciating slow-burn to have been accomplished if the events of this episode had been approached chronologically over the course of, say, two episodes.

Of course, that would never happen for lots of reasons (productions constraints being perhaps foremost among them). And, again, I’m not saying I don’t really enjoy the episode as it’s organized now. But I also think it’s worth thinking about what consequences the structure has – not only on how we receive it, but also in terms of what it allows the writers to accomplish, and what a different choice could have made room for.

OK, that got way out of hand. A million points to you if you stuck it out to the end. And now I will ask: anyone else have any other thoughts about the structure and approach to time in these episodes?

for pipalypso week!

famous actress Piper meets Calypso, one of the first people not to recognise her

I finally figured out that I seem to write much quicker and get more done when I do it by hand, so I’m giving that a try instead of typing everything! Fingers crossed this works out. It’s working so far hey I actually finished this in time for pipalypso week! amazing

for now it’s just a lil one-shot but I’m thinking I might actually continue it at some point or write more bc I really like the famous piper au

fandom: Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus
pairing: Calypso/Piper McLean
word count: 1,626

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cock-speed  asked:

I'm soooo pumped that you're writing for OPM! As for prompts, I had to really wrack my brain - I kind of resigned myself to only seeing shippy stuff, and now I don't even know what I *want* to see - but what about a temeraire fusion (with Saitama as the dragon, and Genos as would-be captain maybe?) IDK.

Though dragons were generally accepted better than most monsters, you didn’t really see them out in the public that often anymore.

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bgonemydear  asked:

linctavia: "i hired a dog walking company and i’ve never met the person who comes to my apartment but they leave me really cute notes and they give my dog presents and i kind of love them because my dog does and ALSO one of the artists at this gallery opening is hella cute and i want them to paint me like one of their french girls AU"

It’s genuinely alarming to Octavia to realize that, not only does she need a dog walker, but she’s the kind of person who can afford one.

“Why is this weird?” Clarke asks, not looking up from her phone. Clarke is one of the few people who can always be on her phone without making the person she’s talking to feel ignored. Clarke has a bizarre skill set.

“I grew up poor, remember? I didn’t think I was going to–I don’t know. Dog walkers are like–nannies and cleaning ladies and personal chefs. Things rich people have.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clarke says. “I get that.” She grins. “I’m sure you could just get your brother to do it for you, but he probably gets more from his real job.”

“Any time you want to stop trying to get me to invite my brother to stuff so you can flirt with him is fine with me,” Octavia shoots back. “There’s this new thing called using his number to just ask him out you could try.”

“There’s got to be a snappier name for that,” says Clarke. She puts her phone away and pulls a business-card holder out of her bag, flipping through until she finds one and gives it to Octavia. “Here. Dog-walking agency.”

“How do you just have this on you?” Octavia asks. Clarke’s life is so weird.

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