tried and true and familiar

Introducing Youkael

Hi!! alright so obviously- this isn’t quite evak. Instead, i was rolling with the tidal wave of movement we got yesterday and decided to introduce myself (and maybe some followers of mine?) to youkael! Who’s pictures are super cute and i am here for it! But obviously, i am probably wrong about everything regarding this ship so i apologize. 

but enjoy in the mean time!


“Do we want to do Grand Theft Auto or Call of Duty?”

Mikael glanced in between the two games, weighing the pros and cons of each. “Car chases or blowing shit up. Decisions, decisions.”

There was no responding scoff- no derisive snort saying come on Mikael let’s play something that doesn’t involve death and destruction. 

Which, like, Mikael would then respond with it’s 2017 dude. What? You want to paint each other’s nails instead?

It was a tried and true conversation. One so familiar that Mikael already had the retort on the tip of his tongue, ready to spout out without missing a beat as if his and Yousef’s conversations had been choreographed for a millennia. 

But there was no response.

Mikael looked over his shoulder and frowned. Yousef had apparently fled the room in the .02 seconds it had taken for Mikael to look through his games.

“Yousef,” he calls out, “Where’d you go, man?”

There was a hum of voice outside of his room, and then a hand waving distractedly in the doorway. Mikael got the hint and shut up, shrugging before returning to the matter at hand.

Several seconds pass in relative silence before Mikael turns around again and sighs. 

Yousef is at the doorway, leaning against the grainy wood with nothing but a long white towel secured around his waist. And Mikael is only human alright? He can’t help but let his eyes trail down for just half a second, tracing the natural lines of his best friend’s chest. Or noting smooth dark skin and-

Mikael chuckles and pulls a strand of floppy hair away from his face, turning back towards the games, “Which one? And why don’t you put some clothes. Shower time is over.”

Yousef shrugs and waves his hand. The iphone in it blinks awake, showcasing for only a millisecond a picture of the two of them. Of Yousef and Mikael sitting together on the wooden picnic tables at Bakka. Of Yousef leaning to him, looking all the more the lazy bad boy Mikael knew him to be.

He blinks at the brief flash in his eyes; that afternoon, laughing and relaxing in the afternoon sun- just the three of them. 

“So one of my cousins goes to Nissen, right?” Yousef pushes off the wall and makes his way to the edge of the bed where Mikael had been sitting. At his gentle nudging, he fell back, rolling his eyes when Yousef contorted himself to an odd angle that allowed half his body on his bed, and the other half dangling oddly off.

But his head was now pillowed firmly on Mikael’s stomach, so he couldn’t complain. 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever met her. She’s only a second year.”

“What about her?”

Yousef turns a bit, cheek sliding against the fabric of Mikael’s shirt and heating up the skin below, “She knows Even.”

And that’s just. Mikael swallows and tries to release the tension that had suddenly spasmed up in his muscles (in his very core) “Oh… how uh- how is he?”

“Apparently he’s been spending a lot of time with a boy in her year.”

Mikael’s face twists, “I’m sure Sonja loves that.”

“Mikael,” And that’s Yousef’s calm voice, his quiet ‘i am so wise beyond my years’ voice. He had always been the calmest of the three of them. While Even and Mikael had run off to film wacky stunts and adventures, Yousef had tagged along with a quiet smile and enough money to bail the two of them out of trouble. “You should call him.”

“I tried that,” Mikael cuts in sharply, and hates himself a bit for the way Yousef flinches. He lowers his voice, “I tried it and he didn’t respond. Not once. Not after- what happened.”

“Maybe its time to try again.”

The silence that lapsed was uneasy- but not oppressive. Never oppressive with Yousef. Sometimes filled with heat, with the weight of unspoken words and hard glances, and whispers to remind Mikael of Yousef’s limitations and fears regarding his family, his religion, and why they-

Well. That’s a story for another time.

“Who’s the boy with him? Did your cousin mention anything more about that? Is he…”

“She didn’t mention it. And she wouldn’t have.”

“The plot thickens,” he tries to joke, “I um- let me think about texting him. I just need a bit more time. He just- he left, Yous. Just had his thing and left without a word. Who does that?”

“Okay,” Yousef responds easily enough and then heaves himself up, “So what are we doing? Video games? Come on, Mikael, can’t we play something that doesn’t involve death and destruction?”

Mikael can’t help the grin that twitches at the corner of his mouth. 

Discworld series: Esmerelda "Granny" Weatherwax [ISTJ]

UNOFFICIAL TYPING by: past-misfortunes

Introverted Sensing (Si): Granny is a traditional, no-nonsense witch who has a sense of how things are based on how things have been. She prefers the old way of witchcraft and frowns upon the new and romantic “magick.” Actually, Granny doesn’t hold much with anything new, be it Magrat’s trousers, Nanny Ogg’s red boots, or Esk's being a wizard, and is often resistant to anything contrary to what she knows to be tried and true. She takes comfort in familiar things such as making her own hats, and most of the witches books in the Discworld series end with Granny returning to her cottage in Lancre. She’s deeply affected by the past, most notably her family’s reputation for “going to the bad,” which is implied to be what drives her to do right by other people.

Extroverted Thinking (Te): Blunt and logical, Granny isn’t one to bite her tongue to spare the feelings of others. She takes a sensible approach to things and is quick to utilize the information at hand. She values her mind and prides herself in her ability to think and act reasonably and do what needs to be done. She’s very practical, realizing that power often lies in knowing things that other people don’t know, and is quick to use this to her advantage, having figured out that she can use her reputation and authority to get people to cooperate with her (such as mumbling random words to make them believe that they’ve been cursed instead of actually cursing them). Granny is also skilled at knowing how to simplify concepts to the most basic level so other people can understand them.

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Granny’s morality is very black and white, and she’s unshakeable when her values are questioned (“There’s no grays, only white that’s got grubby”). She’s not very outwardly emotional, and deals with her feelings on her own. Her feelings show through her actions rather than words (such as when she gives Tiffany her hat and allows her to call her “Granny” rather than “Mistress Weatherwax”).

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): While she’s usually uncomfortable probing new ideas and would rather take a reasonable rather than imaginative view, Granny often expresses a certain degree of creativity. She makes up stories for the villagers (telling a man with a bad back to talk a walk to the river to throw in a stone for the sprites instead of telling him he has a bad back, because she knows the story will work better) and has been shown to have an occasional dramatic flair (making her appearance at the opera through a trapdoor, throwing herself against iron in the forgery after being bitten by a vampire). In Maskerade, she tells Agnes that she used to call herself Endemonidia.

anonymous asked:

Teach me how to analyze stories? No one has ever taught me and I don't want to read without thinking. What is your process? Or what tips so you have, or what suggested books to read to help me? I feel so idiotic over it and I don't know how to improve.

Essentially, what you’re looking for are patterns.

Just like the English language has to make an infinite number of words out of only twenty six letters, writers have to weave an extraordinary number of stories with just a few really old tried-and-true threads. Most of these threads you’re familiar with, whether you know it or not—we call them “tropes” or “motifs” or “cliches” or “archetypes.”

One of them is Hero. One of them is Wise Mentor. One of them is Descending to the Underworld. One of them is Good versus Evil. One of them is Journey and another is War. There’s Trickster and Monster and Betrayal and Love Conquers All and Curse and Flood and Quest and Maiden and Birth and Death and Marriage and—you’re getting the idea, right?

So once you know all the letters in the literary alphabet, you can start to recognize words. Words are combinations of letters that keep showing up—so you see a lot of hero/quest/monster/maiden and hero/journey/quest/homecoming and good vs evil/war and curse/love conquers all and mother/death/maiden/marriage and jealousy/betrayal/death and these should sound familiar to you, these are the basic building blocks of fairy tales and mythologies and religions the world over, they’re the stories we keep retelling, again and again. 

And because these skeleton stories are the words literature speaks, it’s really hard to articulate something without those words. Even in rejecting them, you’re joining in the conversation—the antihero only exists as a reply to the Hero, for example. And the way authors incorporate these archetypes speaks to their purpose in writing, the theme they’re trying to get across.

for example—illness is a common motif in literature, but how does our character die? Is it noble and beautiful, like consumption in the 19th century (where you waste away, pale and lovely ala La Boheme and Traviata) or is it ugly, degrading, weakening, robbing you of your personhood, the way cancer is shown to be in the play W;t? Asking these questions helps us understand what the author is trying to say about death, life, our relationship to our bodies.

We can do this with journeys (does the protagonist learn anything? do they come home different? do they come home at all? do they even leave?) we can do this with mothers (evil? step? good and loving, watching from beyond the grave? complicated? feminine or masculine? single or the other side of a coin to the father archetype?) we can do this with princesses and christ figures and violence and sex and descriptions of scenery.

In conclusion:

TL;DR Analyzing literature is really just looking for Persephone and Jesus and King Arthur and Odysseus and Prometheus and Red Riding Hood and Othello and quests and food and death and sex. It’s all about pattern-recognition, and pattern subversion, and trying to figure out what “classic literature” the author liked as a pretentious college student.

The best book I’ve read on the subject is How to Read Literature Like a Professor, which is a really accessible and lays all of this out in more detail, with great examples.

The Jolly Roger and What Happened to Frederick

The short version of this little ramble is this: The Jolly Roger is just one huge Snowing parallel.

Remember when Snow lied to Charming? Said she didn’t love him? Because George threatened to kill him? What did Charming do? Left George’s castle yes, but he didn’t search for Snow right away. He got chased by the guards and then ran into Abigail, who gave him the tale of her boyfriend, Frederick. He got turned to gold accidentally and was now a statue. The only thing that could save him was water from Lake Nostos. So Charming volunteered to get the water. Why? Because without Snow he had nothing to live for. Without love, he could go out on what amounted to a suicide mission, in order to try and forget his love.

Of course, Charming defeats the siren, saves Frederick. And seeing Abigail with her love, finally convinces him to look for Snow. To make sure she was happy. And telling him the truth. He had to try, just once. And when he found her (in Heart of Darkness)…Snow had forgotten him (due to a potion). So Charming tried True Love’s Kiss and it didn’t work. Sound familiar?

Now we have Hook. Alone in the world without his love. And he tries to go back to the man he was, the selfish pirate. But he can’t. Just like Charming couldn’t move on without Snow, Hook can’t move on without Emma. True Love, once found, can never be replaced. Snow showed Charming that he was more than George’s pawn; that he was a hero and a knight, worthy of True Love. Emma showed Hook that he was more than just a selfish pirate; that he too was a hero, returning him to the man he had been before his brother’s death. Neither man can go back to who they were before. The shepherd is gone. And so is the pirate. And nothing truly matters except finding their True Love.

I think we’ll see the beginning of Hook’s quest to find Emma by the end of the flashbacks in “The Jolly Roger,” just like we do Charming’s quest to find Snow in “What Happened to Frederick.” The message will be dealt with later, most likely in the finale. 

Edit: As Chelsea points out: Killian and the barmaid just might be a parallel for Charming and the siren. Charming initially kisses the siren (who looks like Snow) but pushes her away. Killian will probably push the barmaid away as well.

Basically, the episode is kind of a two for one. We get the Snowing parallel with Hook and Charming. And we get what happened to Hook giving him yet another point of understanding with Emma. He knows all about the longing to go back to a life that’s been lost, a seemingly easier life. But he couldn’t do it. And he knows she can’t either.

“The Language of Love” - A My Forged Wedding Fanfiction featuring Ren Shibasaki

Warning! Smexy times ahead with Ren!

Written for the lovely duelergirl as part of my follower giveaway many moons ago. Thank you for your patience my dear!

Featuring a cameo by lntellectual

Rated M for Mature

The familiar sounds of music and laughter welcomed Ren as he stepped foot into Long Island, the frown on his lips relaxing into a small smile as he was greeted with the usual helloes and waves from his lifelong friends. It was a surprise to most people who knew the scientist-slash-prince to find that the quiet man enjoyed spending time in the lively watering hole, his mild mannered nature seeming more of a fit for libraries than a neighborhood bar. But while he certainly enjoyed peace and quiet, there was nothing quite like the comforting feeling of home that he got being among the men who knew him and loved him like family.

It was a feeling he needed especially that evening, as he had been missing his fiancee Vanessa sorely.  She had been busy most of the last few weeks preparing for her final project as an art student majoring in fashion design at Tokyo University, which meant many late nights and early mornings for the petite brunette.  Staying extra hours at school to work on her redesign of Marie Antoinette’s ball gown for a steam punk alternate universe, her time with Ren had been all too few and much too far between for the young man’s liking.  He never had problems sleeping in his own bed before, but after getting used to Vanessa’s soft, warm body lying against his own every night, her few hours in bed with him had begun to take its toll, slight bags forming underneath his azure eyes from tossing and turning without his love to snuggle him into a peaceful night’s rest.

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Story of My Cats

ATTENTION: I’m gonna try to keep ‘em. If there were an easy good home for them I’d leave them, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Been practicing picking them up and chasing them around a bunch and I think I can do it. Or at worst, bring one (who is slightly more acclimated) and have someone in my Brooklyn building watch the other for a few weeks until I come back and get her.

Thank you to everyone for the kind words and thoughts. I was overwhelmed with these two. All the advice was encouraging and helpful. Keep it coming.

I have two ten year old grey tabbies who are sisters. They are sweet but will not let themselves be picked up and handled. I need a home for them. I am putting their life story here in the hopes that a cat lover out there will feel for them. Pictures included. The internet is for pictures of cats, right? Here you go.

In of July of 2004 there was a big storm. During that storm, a feral cat in a field in Astoria, NY gave birth to five kittens. My brother Kevin Hines’ apartment, as well as Louie Pearlman’s apartment, looked onto this field and they saw the new kittens. Some folks rescued them and put the word out for people to adopt. Five kittens.

One of the group contacted me and asked if I would. I had no pets and a big apartment in Williamsburg. At first I didn’t want to, because it seemed like too much of a hassle. But I was suspicious of my hesitancy: would it really be THAT hard to have cats? Cats don’t need a ton of attention. They mind themselves well. I’d grown up with cats and liked them.  And weren’t pets a part of a full life? You take care of them and they keep you present and out of your own dumb head. 

I said I’d take two, so they could keep each other company. Two sisters, four months old. I named them Maggie and Hopey after characters from my favorite comic book Love and Rockets (best friends, sometimes lovers, former punk rockers). This was November 2004.

I told the girl I was dating at the time about it and she exclaimed “Kitties!” But when I brought them home, we realized it wasn’t going to be cuddle time with these kitties. They had been outdoors for four months and were wild. They weren’t hostile, but they were terrified of people and the hid immediately and for days.

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