#motherfucker is doing a PHD in english

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

I truly cannot explain how much I hate that I struggle to take criticism of my writing (probably because I tend to write very self indulgently and have had many a 'dissertation on why you and you fanfic are shit' comments back in my wattpad days) but let me tell you there's nothing more VINDICATING than sitting there stewing in angst only to hear the writer who takes criticism like he's going for an olympic gold in it, turning around and saying that the criticer is only trying to make you change your piece to fit THEIR individual likes and dislikes.

[strangerpeace]

So this is a long venting post about my life, but I don’t really have other places to vent on the Internet and maybe some of you will find this amusing. This isn’t a bit. All of this is stuff that has me pissed off, awake at 6:38 AM EDT, typing on a porch, ready to cry and scream and fight God.

Life sucks right now.

And I’ve been making so much lemonade out of lemons that I am now the Citrus Deity.

In no particular order:

- our landlord has been super patient with us, but we owe like 3k of back rent and are like this close to being evicted. that’s great.

- i’m unemployed right now, due to a bunch of academic political bullshit and the fact that when it comes to having resilience in the face of bigoted co-workers or passive aggressive office culture who in no uncertain terms let me know that they hope I die, I’m a wet paper towel made of crying

- there’s a whole ass interpersonal drama between me and a long time friend

- i have really bad acid reflux and it hurts like the dickens

- and then there’s the fucking ghost, but we’ll get to her

- i was accidentally a dick to a bunch of my streaming friends because of prior interpersonal drama and it sucked a lot. apologies and understanding is there, but also god damn it, why am i like this?

- every day i wake up and i just continually feel like, wow—there’s no way to get out of this failure spiral is there? I’m 39 going on 40, a PhD dropout in philosophy and theatre, my streaming career is stalling because my headspace is all fucked, my TTRPG development is also stalling because my headspace is fucked and it feels like I’m shouting into a void, i’ve had to do fundraisers just to get our phones back?, so like another fundraiser for rent is just… alado;mal;sdjfalksdjf

- don’t even get me started on the system shit (yes, i’m a system, etc. etc.)

- and then there’s the fucking ghost, the newest addition to Mount Fucklife. I’m so mad, I’m not even like… spooked out or creeped out. This fucking OLD LADY with a creepy fucking distorted face glitches my phone camera and of fucking course the video is corrupted and somebody in the system decided “nope not dealing with this” and deletes it. But it doesn’t actually matter if anyone believes this, the important part here is that last night, my long time partner ends up taking a swing at me in her sleep!?, quickly apologizes, and says she had a dream where an old woman wouldn’t stop yelling at the two of us about how we’re sleeping in the same bed and we’re not married. And my partner got so mad that she had to punch to get out of the dream. I asked her to describe it and lo and fucking behold, oooo spooky, it’s the same old lady.

Ya’ll. I am being haunted by a fucking old lady who is soooooooo upset and can’t update her fucking retrograde ass beliefs about sexual ethics and relationships during everything else. Like for FUCK’S SAKE, lady, READ THE FUCKING ROOM.

I do NOT have time, energy, or the spoons to somehow explain 21st century sexual and relationship ethics, or polyamory, or interracial relationships to a motherfucking old racist biddy ass conservative motherfucking PHANTASM.

YOU SPECTRAL BINT, I HAVE ACID REFLUX. GET ME SOME FUCKING PEPCID AND TUMS AND THEN MAYBE. MAYBE WE WILL FUCKING TALK.

Anyway, unprofessional language and questionable metaphysics aside, if you need an educator or tutor in English, Philosophy, or any other humanities, please reach out and contact me via DM. If you would like to donate, I also have a Ko-Fi (ko-fi.com/strangerpeace). ok i need to get some sleep.

[flamingbluepanda]

What’s your fav soft joexnicky trope??? And pls, as many deets (this is totally me trying to make my dash more positive)

*cracka knuckles*

College old guard makes everything better

Nicky has the most degrees out of all of them, but Joe takes the time to have the most PhDs

Joe is one of the most VERBOSE motherfuckers in the universe

So much academic lingo, but not so much that it’s unreadable

How does he do it?? No one knows

Especially not Nicky

Who cannot finish a paper to SAVE HIA GODDAMN LIFE

he loves school and he loves learning but ESSAYS oh GOD

English is Nicky’s seventh language because unlike the rest of them he thought English was a passing fad when it became popular throughout the world

Joe just has languages up the wazoo it’s insane

Anyway nicky hates writing essays

He always goes to joe crying just like “habibi please help me”

And joe does every single time

Sometimes when they go to college they go as “complete strangers”

Who lock eyes across a history class and have passionate debates about topics and fake an enemies to lovers arc

It drives Nile crazy

Booker prefers teaching to going to school, and one day he taught a history class and uh

He looked up

And there were joe and Nicky sitting on opposite sides

“Oh no. Oh fuck no”

Poor booker hasn’t taught a class since

(Omg one year while he’s on exile he looks up and sees the same thing day one and this time he’s just too shocked to react.)

(I wanna write that now)

Andy....... thinks college is a scam and doesn’t understand why higher education costs so much.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

Before we start, I'd like to say that the below combination....speaks to me, on a personal level.  

WHEW. 

12x02: Mamma Mia

This episode *eyeroll* - there were like...five? good things about it. 

(Mary Winchester as the OG John Winchester Apologist not being one of them.)

wrong.

Anyway, here is the only good stuff from 12x02.

1.

INTERIOR: SAM AND TONI ARE IN BED RELAXING AND HOLDING GLASSES OF WINE.

For the life of me this is the ONLY DECENT THING I CAN FIND FOR this scene and I do not understand how that’s possible.  You can’t even see her face.  Damn.

There are so many good shots in this!!!! Someone make me a better .gif.  Maybe cut Sam out of it?

Update: semi-acceptable follow-up image:

Sexual escapades are actually a continuing theme in the torture:

TONI 

Good morning, Sam. Let's start again, shall we? Take our time. I've cleared my calendar. I would like names and locations of every Hunter... the passcodes to each and every Men of Letters database held in the bunker, and then – oh, yes – let's do discuss your relationship with the demon Ruby.

** Can’t find the actual reaction to this, so hey let’s play Sam reacts but wrong episodes ONLY**

SEXUAL ESCAPADE THEME RECURS HERE:

[INTERIOR: THE CELLAR, TONI LOOKS OVER HER TORTURE TOOLS AND PICKS UP BRASS KNUCKLES. SHE WALKS OVER AND SLUGS DEAN.]

TONI: Passcodes, Sam. Not yet?

[TONI LOOKS OVER AT DEAN WHO’S CHAINED WITH HIS HANDS OVER HIS HEAD.]

TONI: Anything to add?

DEAN: No. No, I just came by for some tea and a beating.

[TONI: PUTS DOWN THE BRASS KNUCKLES AND PICKS UP A CUP OF TEA.]

TONI: Really? See, I thought you might be on for a little chat about your mate, Benjamin Lafitte. I'm sorry. You called him Benny. You know, the vampire whom you released from Purgatory and...befriended. 

***she sips her fucking tea after she says “befriended” suggestively.  SHE. SIPS. HER. TEA.  This is not a drill***

I see. Well... the English are nothing if not patient.

BONUS - actual footage of Lady Motherfucking Antonia Bevell deciphering the past 11 seasons of subtext in respect to Dean’s sexuality:

Bi!Dean confirmed.  

QUEEN DID NOT COME TO PLAY.

2. 

Dean’s spiral at the bunker 

CASTIEL: Okay, I understand. I'll call you in the morning.

[WHILE TALKING, DEAN RISES AND STARTS PACING.]

DEAN: Cass, hey. So, here's the thing. It's been kind of weird here with, you know, Mom being back. It's like we don't know how to act around each other, so we just kind of make this small talk and act normal, but it's – it's so not normal.

CASTIEL: Um, I'm – I'm not sure. What – what has she said to you?

DEAN: Well, nothing. That – that – that's the whole point.

CASTIEL: Okay, what have you said to her?

CASTIEL HANGS UP.

DEAN: Yeah. Great. That's helpful. Thanks.

***Dean is so OPEN with Cas on this call.  You can tell this is a deeper, different dynamic and it really shows how close they’ve gotten after that heart wrenching Season 11 finale. these NEWLYWEDS. they are in a RELATIONSHIP.  And Cas’s terrible attempt at helping also shows how new and fresh it is, how they’re working through how to “be” this new way together, Dean still working on how to express feelings without spiraling, Cas clumsily trying to support him.  I AM GOOOOOOO.  

This is a fucking warm blanket.

Also confirmed by the subsequent scene, because otherwise WHY EVEN HAVE THIS DIALOGUE in the follow-up call:

DEAN

Hey, Cass, what do you got?

[EXTERIOR: DAY, CASTIEL IS STANDING SLIGHTLY BEHIND A VERY LEAFY TREE.]

CASTIEL

I think I may have found Sam's location. It's a farm. It appears empty, but it was rented two weeks ago to a woman with an English accent.

[DURING THE CONVERSATION THE SCENE SWITCHES BETWEEN THE BUNKER AND THE EXTERIOR OF THE FARMHOUSE.]

DEAN

Did you have a look inside?

CASTIEL

No No, it's – it's powerfully warded.

***Cas asks because he’s not sure if Dean is trying to talk about his feelings again or if it’s still about the case, because this is THAT NEW (and he probably had an ENTIRE headcase moment about his prior horrific attempt to “help” so he’s worked up all sorts of tidbits of advice for next time) *** <- can someone ficlet this little plot hole? I need it in my life.

THAT IS THE ONLY REASON TO HAVE THIS HERE.  THERE IS NO OTHER REASON.

BONUS:

Remember Castiel’s pimp mobile?

That new husband energy:

HES SO DAPPER HERE.  All the heart eyes.

3.

Helpful husband moment

[EXTERIOR: DAY, OUTSIDE THE FARMHOUSE. THE IMPALA PULLS UP. CASTIEL IS LEANING AGAINST THE TRUCK. DEAN AND MARY EXIT THE IMPALA AND WALK UP TO CASTIEL.]

DEAN

Where's all this warding you mentioned?

CASTIEL

It's cloaked. It's very powerful. You brought your mother?

MARY

Hello, Castiel. Yes, he did.

DEAN

You sure there's anyone inside?

CASTIEL

No. The agent said the lease was handled long distance, but someone warded the house.

DEAN

I'm gonna go have a closer look.

[MARY STARTS TO FOLLOW DEAN.]

DEAN: Mom, I got this.

[DEAN SHAKES HIS HEAD IN ACKNOWLEDGEMENT THEN LOOKS TO CASTIEL FOR HELP.]

DEAN: Thanks.

[[DEAN LOOKS AT CASTIEL GRATEFULLY AND WALKS AWAY.]

***This entire scene deserves a thorough rewatch. Go watch it now.  Bathe in the serotonin.  I watched it probably 6 times. THE BODY LANGUAGE.  THE FACIAL EXPRESSIONS.  Cas saying “you brought your mother” because he KNOWS how worried and overprotective Dean is of her, already.  This is Destiel peak supportive husband and Mary is realizing it and its just all so fucking cute and happy. Bravo to all of your Acting Choices!  

4.

PIEEEEEEE

I will not go into my PhD dissertation about how pie is a metaphor for the true happiness and love Dean Winchester desires and DESERVES but feels like he cannot have because it will be snatched away from him.

I will not go into it at this time.  (It will also make me even ANGRIER about what they DID TO PIE in 15x20. I am still healing).

I repeat, I will not go in to it - unless -

5.

Kitchen confidential

Look where Dean is relaxing, with a beer or 3, and looking at old family pictures at the end.  It’s not his room.

It’s the kitchen.  He’s just hanging out in the kitchen, comfortably as if he does this often.

Remember when Lucifer was possessing Cas in 11x18 and we had this scene, where Cas is in his head but in the Winchesters’ kitchen and - I wondered -

If his happy place 

was

the Winchesters’ kitchen.  And why.

THIS SHOW.

I guess the good in this episode took up more space than expected.  I’m sorry for spamming you guys with this long, back to back Season 12 content, but I have a dossier.  

And I’m just getting started.

BONUS:

MICK

Here’s my number.

Also, picturing this, but in Casifer, said TO Rick Springfield.

[mosylufanfic]

Five Times They Got Caught Off-Guard (and one time they decided to settle the question)

Hail, @youareiron-andyouarestrong, I am your Secret Santa! Merry Christmas and here's your present! The prompt “WHO KEEPS HANGING MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE WE ARE” just made me giggle, so I wrote a goofy, fluffy, slightly pratfall-y 5 Times fic. I didn't use all your ideas for majors, but I definitely enjoyed hearing them. You said smut was okay, and while this is still T, it’s pushing the upper edge by the end. I hope you enjoy it, and that you have an amazing remainder of the Christmas season!

Five Times They Got Caught Off-Guard (and one time they decided to settle the question)

Cassian was stripping meat from bone with unsettling efficiency when Jyn walked in the kitchen. 

"I can't believe you want more of that dusty jerky," she said, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter. "I've still got strings in my teeth." She picked her teeth with her fingernail to demonstrate.

"I'm making soup," he said, tossing a leg bone onto a plate and a few scraps of overcooked, dried-out turkey meat into a bowl. "Might as well get some good out of this bird."

"Ah," she said, reaching down for a carrot stick from the veggie platter that Han Solo, that cheap motherfucker, had contributed to their dinner. "Good idea. Do Americans really eat one of those awful things every year?"

"I think it's usually a little tastier." He shrugged, as unfamiliar with American Thanksgiving as she was.

A big noisy holiday dinner had been Bodhi's idea. Most of them in the elderly, rambling house just off campus were too poor to make it home over the break, and about half of them were international students anyway.

Add in some of the strays that Bodhi seemed to pick up like a magnet picking up leftover paper clips, and there had been enough people, and enough dishes, to make up for the dreadful main event. Jyn rubbed her belly and wondered if there was any of Bodhi's veggie curry left. Or the elote Cassian had made. Or the chocolate silk pie that their landlords Chirrut and Baze had brought. Her mouth watered.

A yell exploded from the living room. They both paused in what they were doing and exchanged eyerolls. They'd been booed down for attempting to veto the American football game on the telly.

"Call that football," Jyn said, and bit the carrot stick in half.

"Que chafa," Cassian said, shaking his head.

She laughed. "Man United is playing, too. Night game. Probably almost done."

"Since when do you root for them?"

"Watch your mouth, asshole, I'm rooting for whoever's playing them."

He smiled to himself, looking over at her. Suddenly his smile faded.

"What?" she said. "What are you staring at?"

"How long has that been there?"

"What?" She grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and tried to use it as a mirror. "I got something in my teeth?" Fucking turkey. She'd taken a slice for politeness, even though it had required a gulp of water after every bite.

"No," he said patiently, "look up."

She craned her neck and squinted at the ceiling, almost directly above her. "That's mistletoe."

"Yes, I thought so too."

She lowered her gaze and met Cassian's, feeling her cheeks heat. "I didn't put it up."

He looked away, back at the bird he was still stripping down. "Neither did I."

Her lips tingled. She bit them, and made herself stop. "Someone getting ahead of themselves with Christmas decorations," she said airily, hopping off the counter and sliding past him.

He lifted his head. "Where are you going?"

"I - " She shrugged. "Dunno, my room or something."

He reached over and pulled a giant knife out of the knife block. "Here. Make yourself useful and chop some veggies for the soup."

"You're actually going to let me help in your kitchen?"

"It can't be insulted any worse than it was today," he said. "Leia Organa will be running the world one day, but she won't be feeding it."

"It was supposed to be her brother," she pointed out, taking the knife. "Just, his flight got cancelled and she insisted on doing it in his place. Why'd you let her?"

"Because I've never cooked a twenty-pound turkey before and I foolishly thought she had. Celery and carrots," he instructed, passing her the veggie platter. "Leave the tomato and broccoli."

"You still would have been salty if Luke had been cooking the bird," she observed, following orders. 

"Yes, but we probably would have been able to eat it."

Jyn chopped up the veggies at his direction. When she was done, she leaned against the counter to watch as he performed culinary alchemy, combining seemingly random herbs and spices with the veggies and the remains of the turkey carcass. 

"There," he said, covering it with water and setting the timer on his precious slow cooker. "Let it cook overnight and I'll add noodles in the morning."

She almost moaned. Turkey noodle soup while it was cold and rainy out sounded perfect. "Save some for me."

"Cooks' portion," he said and gave her a rare smile. "You make a good assistant."

"Great," she said. "A fallback in case the cybersecurity market goes to shit before I finish my thesis."

They washed the dishes they'd used, leaving them in the drying rack as the dishwasher chugged away at the dishes from dinner. It was comfortable and companionable and if Jyn thought of the mistletoe dangling above their heads about once a minute or so, she felt sure that Cassian didn't notice.

He nudged her as he was wiping his hands dry. "Want to come hang out in my room? Avoid the fake football?"

She felt the blush start somewhere in her stomach. She crossed her arms, smirking at him. "You hit on all your kitchen assistants?"

Behind his beard, his cheeks darkened. "What? I - no - I - "

Oh. Damn. Well. Fuck, this was awkward.

"I meant to watch the Cruz Azul game on my tablet," he said. "It'll be in Spanish."

She swallowed and attempted a joke. "What's the odds somebody's gonna trip over nothing, roll around like his femur is shattered, and get up five seconds later to jog off the pitch?"

"High," he said, sounding like their housemate Kay, who was going for his PhD in statistics. "Very high."

"Well, that's more like it. Yeah, all right."

--

Cassian rubbed his temples. He had a bitter headache and had just sent out a piteous text to the house group chat, begging for someone, anyone, to bring him a coffee. 

He focused on the essay in front of him. "Alicia, I'd like to see you expand more on this point. You gloss over it somewhat. Professor Draven graded you down for that on your last essay, remember?"

The undergrad he was working with shook her mass of blond ringlets back over her shoulders and scooted her chair closer to his. Why, he couldn't imagine, because his office wasn't much bigger than a closet. "What do you suggest?" she asked.

Even though Alicia was in another section of Professor Draven's 202 class and thus had a different TA, she always came to see Cassian for help with her assignments. A lot of international students in the poli-sci department tended to find him, because of the number of languages he spoke. Alicia had been the most regular this semester, dropping by before every test and essay. Her heavy body spray, some kind of vanilla musk, filled his tiny office and intensified his headache.

He made some suggestions and she noted them down. "So what are your plans for Christmas?" she asked. 

"Oh, I can't really afford to go back to Mexico for the holiday, so I'm staying here." He scanned along. "Now this conclusion is rather good, but it will only be strengthened if you expand on your earlier point."

"So you won't see your family? That's so sad, Cassi!" She put her hand on his arm. "My roommate and I are having a party after finals, before I leave for Berlin. Would you like to come?"

"Um," he said. "I - maybe we should get back to the essay."

A knock at the door interrupted him, and he looked up. Jyn leaned in. "Got a coffee," she said. "Want it?"

"Yes, please," Cassian said, reaching his hand out to take it. He took a sip. Three sugars, no cream, perfect. He smiled at her. "Do I owe you?"

"Your first-born, as agreed."

"Will you take a rain check?"

"No," she said, poker-faced, "I demand a baby right now. Make sure it's a nice plump one."

He chuckled and took another drink. His headache was already receding.

Alicia was studying them both, narrow-eyed. "Is that your girlfriend, Cassi?" she asked in German.

But it was Jyn who answered, in the same language. "Nope," she said, leaning against the doorjamb and slurping from her own takeout cup. Tea, probably, strong and sweet and milky. She was very English in that way. "Just his housemate and caffeine delivery person."

Alicia studied her for another moment, then shrugged and smiled. "Nice to meet you." She turned her back and said, "Can you tell me more about the parts in the middle that needed work?"

"Actually," Cassian said, handing her essay back, "I think we were about done."

"Oh - but -"

"I have to prepare for class," he said firmly. "Just work on those sections and it'll be an excellent final project."

"I still wanted to ask you - "

Even more firmly, he added, "I hope you have a good trip back to Berlin."

Alicia bit her heavily-glossed lip. "I'd still love to see you at my party. Here's my address."  She scribbled on a piece of paper from her notebook and handed it to him. "Lots of fun, I promise!"

Cassian waited until she was gone to drop it in his trash can. 

"Frequent flier?" Jyn asked, taking the seat she'd left behind.

Cassian shrugged, leaning over to crack the window. The air that rushed in was bitter-cold, but clean and fresh, chasing vanilla musk out. "She always wants a lot of help, but never really needs it. Her work is very good as is. I think she just wants reassurance." He opened a drawer and found a pack of crackers, offering her one.

Jyn took it and crunched in. "Or she's pursuing you."

He almost choked on his own cracker. "She's - I'm sorry?"

"She wants in your pants real bad."

"I'm sure she doesn't."

"I'm sure she does."

"She's just a very conscientious student, always works hard on her essays, arrives early for  . . . office hours . . . " He trailed off. "Oh."

Jyn chortled into her tea. "Wake up and smell the perfume, Cassi."

He made a face. "Don't."

"Why not? Don't you like it?"

"No, but I've given up trying to correct her." He looked at his trash can, the party invitation taking on a whole different cast. "Hell."

"Not into it? She's pretty cute."

"No," he said. "And annoyed you had to tell me. I thought she just really liked international relations."

She patted his arm. "She probably does, but she's thinking of a whole different kind of relations." She looked up and froze. "And she's very determined about it, too."

"What now?" he said rather wearily.

She pointed and he looked up to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from his ceiling. He squinted. "How did that get there?"

"Was she early today?"

"Yes, but how would she get it up there?"

"Was your desk rearranged?"

Now that he thought of it, his keyboard was a little off-center, as if it had been moved and then moved back, maybe when a certain blonde German undergrad had climbed up on his desk to hang mistletoe from his ceiling.

Jyn laughed out loud. "For a journalist, Cassian, you're not very observant, are you?"

"I blame the headache," he said, reaching up for the mistletoe. It eluded the very tips of his fingers.

"I got it," she said, stepping up onto her chair and then nudging the keyboard aside so she could climb on the desk. 

"Jyn - !"

"I'm fine, I've got it," she repeated, stretching up for the mistletoe. She had to go up on her toes to get at where Alicia had taped it to the ceiling, and yank hard. "What did she use?" she grunted, "superglue?" She yanked again, and the sprig came free, knocking her off-balance. She took a step into thin air.

Cassian grabbed her waist. "Steady!"

She teetered, folded over, grabbed his shoulders, and they both froze. She shifted carefully, getting both feet firmly back onto the desk. 

"M'alright," she said.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

He became aware that his arms were wrapped around her hips and his face was practically buried in her - ah. 

And he'd knocked both their chairs aside when he'd grabbed for her. They were just far enough away that he couldn't hook one with his foot and drag it over, not with their combined balances so tricky.

"I'm going to bring you down," he said. "All right?"

"Uh-huh."

He shifted his grip, stepped back, and for a moment her whole soft, curving weight slid down his front. Her boots hit the industrial carpet with a thump, and they both let go very fast.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her face pink. She snatched up her tea, which had miraculously survived the shenanigans, and backed through the door. "I'm just - I - see you at home, yeah?"

"No problem," he said, watching her go.

--

Jyn walked in, went directly to the couch, and faceplanted. 

Some time later, she heard the door open and Cassian's footsteps on the creaky old wood floors. "Jyn?"

"Ungh."

"Are you alive?"

"No."

He sounded amused. "What killed you?"

"An all-nighter," she groaned into the cushions. "A bitch of a project. Bugs. Bugs everywhere. It's raining and I forgot my umbrella so I'm cold and wet, and I didn't eat lunch, and I may have to do my project over again because like I said, it was a bitch."

"Anything else?"

She considered. "My foot hurts."

"Well," he said. "I guess I'll just leave your deceased corpse there to rot. It'll be very smelly." He walked out again, creak-creak-creak.

"Nice," she mumbled into the cushions. "Spending too much time around Kay, that's what he's doing."

She considered getting up. Changing out of her wet clothes. Heating up some soup. She groaned again, and downgraded her expectations to getting her wet socks off.

She'd just chucked them to the floor - splat - and was attempting to burrow her chilled feet into the divide between cushions when the floors creaked again. Something thick and warm settled over her. She grunted and turned her head, rubbing her fingers against the fuzziness of the blanket. "What - "

"Just in case you might be revived," Cassian said, crouching by her head. 

She smiled at hm, pulling her feet in under the blanket. They began to sting and prickle with warmth. "It is the season of miracles and all that."

His hair fell damp and soft over his forehead, and his shoulders were rain-spattered, so he must have come in just after her. He could have changed clothes or gotten his own food, but he'd elected to get her a blanket instead.

She wanted to reach out and brush her fingers over his beard. Would it be scratchy or soft? She wanted to run her hand down his throat and feel the motion of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard. 

His eyes flicked up and he frowned. 

She pulled her hand to her chest, afraid she might have already been reaching out to touch him. “What?”

He pointed, and she twisted her head on the cushion to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the reading lamp parked almost directly above their two heads.

“What - “ she said, looking back at him.

They both realized at the same time how close their faces were, and he lurched back, almost butt-planting before staggering to his feet. “Anyway,” he said. “I’ll leave you to warm up.”

“Thanks for the blanket,” she said. “You want it back?”

He shrugged, backing away. “I have more.”

When he was gone, she pulled it over her head with a groan. 

--

Cassian was grading papers from his section when Jyn found him in the library. "Just who I was looking for," she said, plopping down.

"Have a seat," he said absently, opening up the next essay that had been electronically turned in at the last possible second. 

"Have you thought about Christmas presents yet?"

Who could think of presents when he had forty-two essays to wade through and an analysis of the effects of European colonialism on Egyptian foreign policy due in three days? But he set his stylus down and said, "No, why?"

"Because I found the perfect thing for Bodes." She called up a website on her tablet and passed it over. "Look at it. No really. Look. Couldn't you imagine Bodhi's face when he unwraps that?"

Cassian studied the bomber jacket on Jyn's screen. Buttery chocolate-colored leather with a shearling collar, warm and thick and stylish. "He would love it. But the price - "

"I know, I know. That's why I'm showing you."

"Even half the cost is a lot," he said gently. "My budget is candy canes this year and even then it'll be the cheap ones."

"I can math," she said. "And you don't have to give me anything. Look, the more of us get on board, the smaller the individual cost will be. If I blackmail Leia and sweet-talk Han and you appeal to Kay's sense of logic - oh, hey, have you got anything on Han? Because I'm not so sure about my sweet-talking skills."

"You have this all planned out, don't you?"

"Bodes has had a shit year," she said. "We can't send him back to London to see his mum and sisters, but we can give him something."

He bumped his stylus against his lower lip. “Chewie will be in no problem, so ask him first and he'll make Han do it. And go by the Philosophy department to talk to Chirrut and Baze. They're both teaching this afternoon."

She grinned at him. "Right, I'll just have to catch Chirrut after his capstone seminar but before Baze gets out of his 101."

"Good thinking." Baze was always grumpy after a section of his Intro course, mumbling under his breath about pampered babies who wouldn't know Aristotelian ethics if it bit them on the ass. "Just don't let them pay for the whole thing. I want in. And I'll see who else I can round up."

"You're the best," she said. 

Two boys walked up, holding hands. "Hi, uh - "

Jyn leaned back in her chair. "Can we help you?"

"Are you guys using this table?"

"Uh, pretty obviously yeah."

"It's just that we kind of wanted to sit here."

"There's like a thousand other tables on this floor alone."

Although, Cassian reflected, none of the others were tucked away in a sunny corner behind bookshelves, private and quiet.

"I know, but - " The shorter guy blushed. "This one has the mistletoe on the window."

They both looked up. Cassian swore under his breath.

Jyn got up so fast she almost knocked her chair over. "All yours, lads," she said. 

--

When Jyn told her about the mistletoe issue, Leia was supremely unsympathetic. "So? You happen to see some Christmas decorations sometimes, and sometimes you happen to be with Cassian when you do. It's December and we live in a society that pushes a yearly orgy of consumerism with the promise that - "

"Blah blah late stage capitalism, yes, I know, but," Jyn said. "It's getting out of hand."

Leia looked skeptical. 

“I swear to you," Jyn said darkly, "that if Cassian comes along, a piece of mistletoe will materialize over our heads within twenty seconds."

"Confirmation bias," Leia said. 

"Is not!"

"Is," Leia said. "Mistletoe as a decoration is ridiculously common. Look, there’s some above the door right there.” Leia gestured at the door of the Echo Base Coffee Roastery. “And no Cassian.”

“Give it time,” Jyn said. 

Leia rolled her eyes. “It's not that the two of you are making it manifest, It's just that you're hyper-aware of it when you're with him." She smirked at her. "And why is that?"

"Because it's haunting us," Jyn growled.

"Because you want to kiss him so bad you're drooling," Leia said and bit into her scone. 

“So what if I am,” Jyn said, and slouched in her chair.

Leia stopped mid-chew. “Wow,” she said. “You really want to if you’re not denying it. So why haven't you just laid one on him?”

“He’s so calm,” she said. “I don’t know what he wants. He’s impossible to read. What if I slap lips on him and he screams and runs?”

Leia arched a brow. “Unlikely.”

Jyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know what to do.”

“Slap lips on him, as you so romantically put it?”

“Nope. Avoid him until Boxing Day. You Americans rip everything down at 11:30 pm Christmas Day, and it’s like the holiday never existed. No mistletoe, no problem.”

“Yes,” Leia grinned, “but then it’s all Valentine's Day, all the time.”

Jyn’s face worked and then she huffed. “I’ll see you later.”

“You know I’m riiiiight,” Leia sang into her coffee cup, and Jyn made an obscene gesture. She stomped toward the door. Before she could grab the handle, it opened to reveal Cassian, Kay on his heels. 

He stopped.

She stopped. 

As if they’d practiced it, they both looked up at the mistletoe at the same time.

“Right,” Jyn said, pink-faced. “See you later then. Bye.” She nodded at their other housemate. “Kay.”

“Jyn,” Kay said, and stepped around her and Cassian both, announcing, “I advise you to get out of the way and permit the door to close. The wind is very cutting today."

“Right,” Cassian said. For a moment, he and Jyn performed a sort of awkward, shuffling dance as they both tried to pass through in opposite directions. Finally, Jyn was out, Cassian was in, and the door was closed.

Through the window to the left of the door, Jyn caught Leia’s eye. She pointed upward and mouthed I told you! Didn’t I tell you?! She was gesticulating so wildly she almost ran into a pole, and Leia made a dismayed sound.

Cassian looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, watching Jyn scramble out of sight. “Just got some coffee down the wrong pipe.”

He looked doubtful, but turned back to Kay. “This is exactly what I was talking about. Now do you believe me?”

“Confirmation bias,” Kay said, surveying the offerings in the pastry case.

Leia smirked into her coffee again.

--

Jyn turned in her last final on the Thursday before Christmas, and slept like the dead for fourteen hours. 

She wasn't the only one. The house was full of post-finals zombies. When she shuffled out of her attic room and down the stairs in sock feet and ragged sweatpants, she found Chewie, eyes hidden behind his mop of hair, wandering around the second-floor hallway with a toothbrush in his mouth. "Done with the bathroom?" she asked.

He grunted, went back and spit out his toothbrush, came out, and grunted again. Interpreting that to mean all yours, she crawled into the shower and cranked it as hot as it would go. She counted herself lucky that she'd remembered to peel off her sweatpants first.

She felt more human by the time she snapped the water off and climbed out. The sweatpants went back on, but she promised herself that she'd trade them for clean clothes up in her room. Rambling out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over her hair, she almost crashed directly into Cassian. "Uh," she said. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi." Shit, she'd said that already. She slouched against the doorjamb, hoping she looked incredibly casual and not like she was feeling self-conscious about being caught by him in her rattiest clothing. "How's the grading?"

"Turned in," he said. "You? How did your final project turn out?"

"All in. It's probably shit, but it's in."

"I'm sure it's not," he said.

She shrugged. "How's everyone else holding up? Does Bodhi still gibber when you say the words high pressure system to him?" Their friend's aeronautical meteorology class had kicked his ass. 

"He's downgraded to whimpers."

Somewhere off in the distance, the doorbell rang, with the four-note sequence of the Addams Family theme. (Chirrut thought it was funny.)

Jyn ignored it. Someone downstairs would get it and she didn't feel like moving. "Well, that's progress. We should go out tonight or something."

"Us?"

She choked. "Uh, yeah, all of us here in the house. Big, uh, big housemate post-finals party. Alcohol and cake and - " Debauchery, she almost said, and changed it to - "Frivolity."

"Maybe pizza to soak up the booze and sugar," he said.

"Right, yeah, that sounds good." She grinned. "The Mill?"

"That's a good choice. Han's so lazy he refuses to decorate for Christmas, so - "

"No mistletoe," she said brightly, and just like that it was all awkward between them.

She thought of Leia's skepticism that she'd be able to bury all this after Christmas. Especially with Valentine's Day coming up. 

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and averted his eyes. "Jyn, I - " He choked on the rest of his sentence, staring at a spot just over her head.

With a certain feeling of inevitability, she followed his gaze to see a sprig of mistletoe, hanging from the light fixture.

She dropped her eyes again and met his.

He said, "I still don't know who's putting those up."

"Me neither."

"At least in here," he added. 

"Right. Yeah. The Roastery and the library were probably . . . some poor worker who's getting paid minimum wage to climb on a ladder and - " She felt herself rambling and hiked up her chin. "Look, it's five days until Christmas. We don't know why these are suddenly turning up around us but it's just making it weirder and weirder, so I say we settle the question."

"The . . . question," he said carefully.

"Yeah. Let's just kiss and get it over with."

". . . That question."

The doorbell rang again, more insistently. Neither of them moved. 

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

He swallowed. She followed the motion of his Adam's apple down his throat and felt herself break out in a sweat, heat thrumming at all her pulse points. She wasn't sure when she'd decided she wanted to lick his neck, but she did, she did. Maybe some heretofore unsuspected infection of vampirism.

"Maybe we should," he said in a low rumble.

She unfolded her arms and rested her hands high up on his chest. Damn, he was tall. She tilted her head back to meet Cassian's eyes, sticking her chin out in a dare. Go on, then.

Downstairs, a babble of voices broke out. They could have been in the next zip code for all Jyn cared. 

He put his hands to her waist, warm through her worn-thin Gerrera's Gym t-shirt, and leaned down. She shut her eyes just before his mouth brushed hers.

Dry, warm. Fleeting. Tendrils of agreeable heat began to curl through her belly.

Then he was gone.

She swallowed and opened her eyes again, feeling the tendrils of heat curl themselves into nothing.

Her body hummed with tension and dissatisfaction. Was that it? Was that little taste all she was getting?

Even though the light fixture and its stupid, stupid mistletoe was right above their heads, she couldn't read his expression.

She dropped her hands. "Okay. That's done, th-" 

The last word was cut off by his mouth covering hers again. Her back hit the wall so hard the light fixture rattled. She ignored it, too busy winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him, kissing back hungrily.

This, now. This.

If the first kiss had been a taste, this was a five-course banquet. They devoured each other, tongues and teeth and lips and hands. His hands slid south of her waist, clamping on her ass and hauling her into the arc of his body. She whimpered and hooked one leg over his hip. He pressed her harder into the wall and licked into her mouth.

She gasped aloud when he left her mouth and started kissing her neck. Somehow, both her legs were locked around his hips, and his hands - Jesus, he had good hands. She felt like a volcano, all liquid heat inside and liable to go off at the slightest provocation.

"That's more like it," she said, and nipped at his ear.

"I've been wanting to do that since September," he said against her neck.

"So why didn't - ohhh," she groaned as his teeth scraped her skin.

"I'm usually very good at reading people. But I find you impossible to predict."

She grabbed his head in her hands and stared into his eyes. "Take me back to your room and fuck my brains out," she said. "How's that for a read?"

He rocked against her and demonstrated he had no problem with her proposed course of action. "Your room would be better."

"Yours is closer."

He kissed her hard. "I'm next to Kay."

"So," she mumbled into his mouth. 

"He's asleep."

"So?"

"I don't intend to be quiet."

Oh. Oh damn. There went her last brain cell. "Right," she gasped. "My room it is."

--

Over at the Mill some hours later, Leia watched them snuggle in a booth with a little smirk. 

She'd been keeping an eye on that, texting her brother with regular updates. Luke always liked hearing the gossip from her house, especially any news of a certain British-Pakistani aeronautics major. She'd always thought Cassian and Jyn had a certain similarity, under their wildly differing outer presentation. And of course they'd been thirsting for each other practically since they'd met. They made a cute couple.

The smirk turned into a blush when they started kissing and groping each other again. Okay, whenever they got over that in public, they would be a cute couple.

She turned toward the bar and the giant bowl of eggnog that Han Solo had rustled up. Call him what you like - and she did - he could pull a party together.

Bodhi was already there, pouring himself some. "Want one?"

"Absolutely," she said, leaning up next to him. "So - the mistletoe."

He ducked his head and made a sort of grunt.

"You were the one putting it all up in the house, right?" She'd noticed Bodhi decorating for the holiday as early as Thanksgiving morning. 

"Yep," he said on a sigh, passing her a full glass.

She chortled and took a sip that threatened to curl her eyebrows. It was very strong. She blinked and shook her head. When her tongue had regained feeling, she pursued her line of questioning. "What, did you just get tired of watching them orbit around each other for the past few months?"

"Actually . . ." He looked down into his own glass. "It wasn't for them."

She sputtered out her next sip of eggnog. "Say again?"

He sighed. "I had a whole plan. Remember how Luke was supposed to come for Thanksgiving?"

"And his flight got cancelled, yeah."

"And then he was supposed to crash on our couch over break?"

"And then his advisor asked him to stay to work on some 'special project'?" She made a face. She wouldn't be forgiving Professor Yoda anytime soon for attempting to deprive her of her twin. "But - "

"Well, I figured if there was all this mistletoe up, it would be sort . . . of . . . romantic," he mumbled.

Her hand stopped. "Bodhi," she said, slowly and clearly. "How long have you been crushing on my brother?"

"Look, I wasn't trying to be creepy - "

"Of course you weren't," she said. "Just - how long?"

He shook his head. "It's dumb, it doesn't matter."

A voice from behind him said, "I'm interested."

Bodhi whipped around to see Luke standing behind him, face bright and hopeful. "What - you - when?"

"A few hours ago," Luke said. "I drove overnight. I was taking a nap in her room until just now." He toasted Leia with his beer. "She left me a text to come on over."

Bodhi was still goggling at him, the tips of his ears going brick-red. "But I thought - " 

"I excused myself from the project. Professor Yoda's not too happy, but I don't care. So, uh, what was my sister saying? About you and mistletoe, and me?"

They wandered off, eyes only for each other, hands bumping. No need for mistletoe. 

Leia laughed to herself and drank more eggnog.

"Hey, princess, look what I found!" Han leaned over the bar and dangled a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. "Pucker up."

She tossed her eggnog in his face and marched off, refusing to reflect on the not-small part of her that had been intrigued. It would take more than mistletoe to get her to lock lips with Han Solo.

FINIS

[dxsole]

𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 / 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝙽𝙾. 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂: English is his first language and while he has been attempting to learn Spanish for much of his natural born life, he still can’t do it. He does attempt it and can sort of charade his way through the language barrier, though. Also claims to be fluent in Pig Latin.

 𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙾��� 𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴:   high  / average  /  deep.   — Leslie is on the softer, higher side and it gets even higher when scared, which happens a lot. He’s a little nasally, a little breathy, voice cracks often.

 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃:   yes /  no   — He really has no accent, he just sounds like a depressed weatherman.

 𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚁:   confident /  shy  /  approachable  /  hostile  /  other.   — He sounds like he’s more afraid of you than you could ever be of him so it’s like talking to a deer. 

 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴:   slumped  /  straight  /  stiff  /  relaxed.   — For a guy who’s so skittish, he carries himself like one of those wacky inflatable waving arms guys in front of car dealerships. Very wiggly.

 𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂:   head  tilting  / swaying  /  fidgeting  /  stuttering  / gesturing /  arm  crossing /  strokes  chin  /  er , um , or  other  interjections  / plays  with  hair  or  clothing /  hands  at  hips  /  inconsistent  eye  contact  /  maintains  eye  contact  / frequent  pausing  /  stands  close  /  stands  at  distance.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐘.

𝚅𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁𝚈:                     ⬛  ⬛  ⬛  ⬜  ⬜  

𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:                           ⬛  ⬛  ⬛  ⬜  ⬜   

𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴:     ⬛  ⬛  ⬜  ⬜  ⬜ 

 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂:   Nothing pleases Leslie more than watching people lose their mind with how he talks. He has a PhD and, on paper, sounds very intelligent and eloquent and yet he is incapable of having a normal conversation and speaking like a normal person. He can’t do it. What’s the point of having a PhD and NOT messing with people, honestly? 

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘.

𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈:         ⬛  ⬛  ⬜  ⬜  ⬜     

𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈:       ⬛  ⬜  ⬜  ⬜  ⬜     

𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂:   Leslie doesn’t curse very often aside from moments of shock or fear or solely  for emphasis. He tends to use curt four letter words and isn’t one to string a whole sentence around a curse word. They’re side courses not main dishes for him.

𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘.

arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken  shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son  of  a  bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓.

christ  on  a  bike.  christ  on  a  cracker.  damn.  goddamn. godsdamn.  hell.  holy  shit. jesus. jesus  christ. jesus  h  christ. jesus  h.  roosevelt  christ.  lord  have  mercy.  jesus ,  mary  and  joseph.  sweet  jesus. jesus  fucking  christ.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓

straightforward   or   cryptic?  |  finding  the  right  word   or   using  the  first  word  that  comes  to  mind? |  masculinity ,  neutrality(?) ,   or   femininity?  |  formalities   or   abrasiveness?  |  praise   or   equivocation?  | frankness   or   lies?  |  excessive  or   minimal hand  gestures?  | name – calling   or   magnanimity?  | friendly or   blunt  nicknames?

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝙳𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁?   almost  always  /  frequently  / sometimes / rarely  / never.    

𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺?   almost always / frequently / sometimes  /  rarely  /  never.

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂?    almost  always/  frequently  / sometimes  / rarely /  never.      

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂?    almost  always  / frequently /  sometimes  / rarely  /  never.

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ‘𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙼’ 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴?   yes  /  no / yes, but it’s always wrong

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚄𝚂𝙴?   but /  though  /  although  /  however  /  perhaps  /  mayhaps / maybe

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂?    walk  away  /  ask  if  that’s  everything  /  say  that’s  everything /  give  a  proper  goodbye  / tell  their  company  they’re  done  here  /  remain  quiet  /  they  don’t.

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂? titles / first  names  /  surnames  /  full  names  / nicknames.

𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂?   accent / vocabulary /  tone (what a flat affect he has!)  /  level  /  politeness  / brusqueness  /  it  doesn’t.

tagged : @diicktective // Thank you! I’d specifically recommend watching this for Leslie speaking vibes! tagging : @othrsouls​, @loverslanetm​, @amelorates​, @liftedrelics​, @arachnofille​, and anyone else who’d like to do this~!

[harlequinnofhate]

𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 / 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

                                            ━━━━━━━━━━━

𝙽𝙾. 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚄𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂: English, Spanish and French (depends on the verse she could speak more). 

𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙾𝙸𝙲𝙴: high  /  average  /  deep. -  𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃:   yes /  no  𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚁: confident (Harley) /  shy (Harleen) /  approachable (Harley & Harleen)  /  hostile (Harleen)  /  other.   𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴:  slumped  /  straight  /  stiff (Harleen) /  relaxed (Harley).     𝙷𝙰𝙱𝙸𝚃𝚂:  head  tilting  / swaying  /  fidgeting  /  stuttering  / gesturing /  arm  crossing /  strokes  chin  /  er , um , or other , mimicking interjections   /  plays  with  hair  or  clothing /  hands  at  hips  / inconsistent  eye  contact /  maintains  eye  contact / frequent  pausing /  stands  close  / stands  at  distance.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐘.

𝚅𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁𝚈:  ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬜   𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:  ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴:  ⬛  ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬜ 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂:  In spite of growing up without a family, on the orphanage where she lived for the majority of her life, from the catholic church, they had great teachers in regards to education, except morals. And she went to medical school, and got her PhD. For leisure, she likes to do crosswords and reading a lot stuff (hard to believe, but Harley had her quiet moment as well). 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘.

𝙵𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈:  ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬜ ⬜      𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈:  ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬛   𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂: 

𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐘.

arse. ass.  asshole.  bastard.  bitch. bloody.  bugger.  bollocks. chicken  shit.  crap.  cunt.  dick. frick. fuck.  horseshit.  motherfucker.  piss.  prick.  screw.  shit. shitass. son  of  a  bitch.  twat.  wanker.  pussy.

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓.

christ  on  a  bike.  christ  on  a  cracker.  damn.  goddamn. godsdamn.  hell.  holy  shit. jesus. jesus  christ. jesus  h  christ. jesus  h.  roosevelt  christ.  lord  have  mercy.  jesus ,  mary  and  joseph.  sweet  jesus. jesus  fucking  christ.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓

straightforward   or   cryptic?  |  finding  the  right  word   or   using  the  first  word  that  comes  to  mind? |  masculinity ,  neutrality ,   or   femininity?  |  formalities  (Harleen) or   abrasiveness? (Harley) |  praise   or   equivocation?  | frankness   or   lies?  |  excessive (Harley)or  minimal (Harleen) hand  gestures?  |name – calling   or   magnanimity?  | friendly    or   blunt  nicknames?

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

𝙳𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁?   almost  always  /  frequently  / sometimes / rarely  / never.    

𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁’𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺?   almost always  / frequently / sometimes  /  rarely  /  never. (Arthur)

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂?   almost  always (harley)  /  frequently  / sometimes (harleen)/ rarely /  never.      

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂?   almost  always  / frequently (Harley)/  sometimes (Harleen) /  rarely  /  never.

𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚄𝚂𝙴 ‘𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙼’ 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴?   yes  /  no.

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝚄𝚂𝙴?   but /  though  /  although  /  however  /  perhaps  /  mayhaps / maybe

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂?   walk  away  /  ask  if  that’s  everything  /  say  that’s  everything /  give  a  proper  goodbye  / tell  their  company  they’re  done  here  /  remain  quiet  /  they  don’t.  🤣🤣🤣🤣

𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂?   titles / first  names  /  surnames  /  full  names /nicknames.

𝙸𝙽 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙰𝙺 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂?   accent/ vocabulary (Harley) /  tone  /  level  /  politeness (Harleen)  / brusqueness  /  it  doesn’t. 

Tagged by: @justacomedy

Tagging:  @sionismask  @ofpoisonkisses @mistress-of-the-vine  + whoever wants to do it

[thefearofcod]

every STEM motherfucker out there owes me five fucking dollars if they’re gonna ask if they can just do my job for shitsies. some 35 year old chem PhD alum is like hey i wanna take a year off and write and work in an archives and get paid for fun, any archivists able to talk about this with me?

yeah I can talk with you about it, Linda. How many languages do you read? Living languages? Dead languages? 90% of documents are not in english. How’s your programming? your world history? Local history? What’s your fine art credentials like? Can you read cursive? Old cursive? Bad cursive? Old bad cursive, with weird abbreviations and spellings? You know what a long S looks like? How’s your paleography? Have you heard of it? You know how to do a reference interview, like I’m doing right now, because I have an entire class on it? 

“oh well i could come from a conservation angle” Could you? How’s your essential tremor? Do you know Western color theory? Are you patient? How’s your attention to detail?

like I read four languages and I am BARELY qualified. I taught myself paleography. Can you tell a post-mortem photo from a family portrait? How’s your eye for historical fashions? Can you place a photo by the shape of a corset? The pattern of a kimono? HOW ODD, because I can, because I taught myself, because Old Shit Profession does not in fact play.

“gosh, i had no idea archives were so complicated!” yeah girl. I know. That’s why I’m in a fucking Masters program about it.

[honeymoonjin]

DREAM TIME

Be advised, last night I had 4 hours of sleep. Cat woke me up at 5 to feed him and at six I had to begin to get ready because my sister had a special FOUR AND HALF HOUR LONG SPECIAL MASS (consagración???? What’s that in English ??? #WeirdCatholicShit) and I had a huge ass lunch and I was super tired and slept way too long of a nap.

Okay so. I live in Panamá (THE COUNTRY) and I like going to this island called Taboga and you gotta go in a ferry. It’s very pretty and an hour long.

My dream I’m with my family in the ferry and as soon as I got in I fell asleep within my dream. Mostly because of the rocking of the waves that never ever fail to put me to sleep. I wake up because I hear the voices of the boys of BTS and I was like wow am I dreaming. And I open my eyes and it’s them. I ask the manager if I can say hi and tell them how much they mean to me and he’s like. “Alright. Only because there’s nobody else her that recognized them”. And I come in and say “hey I’m Sofía and I really love your music. Pls keep doing what you do, keep being authentic and pls rest a lot. I hope you enjoy your stay in Panama and have fun! I recommend the fried fish and patacones and ceviche. A cold beer too! Bye” but before leaving I turn to Namjoon and I ask him, “so I see that you’re super interested in psychology. What current do you like most? I personally am behaviorist and neuro” and he was like “wow nobody asks me about this. If you must know, I like Jungian Theory” and I was like “oh that’s cool!”

We part ways and I’m with my family and I’m building sandcastles and making holes in the sand near the surf (bc that’s what I like to do most, expose myself to the sun while I dig like a puppy). And the guys come over and ask if I can hang out w them because I seem cool and I’m like yeah sure.

My mom is like yeah you can but you must take the dog, which now apparently was a white huge borzoi called Freya. How did I decide in my dream that a cold weather dog in a tropical country was a good idea I will never understand. The thing is that I take Freya and I hang out w them. I put on Spotify a Vamos a la Playa playlist and they seem to like reggeton and trap and Latin music. We eat fried fish and ceviche, drink Corona, and talk a lot.

Somehow I began berating them about their sleeping schedules and I began saying that “your operant memory stored in your prefrontal brain goes to your hippocampus when you go to sleep. Things you store in your Orbitolateral, Ventrolateral and Dorsolateral prefrontal cortexes pasa thru that at night when you have good REM.” I began saying my dopamine pathway spiel and drew a brain in the sand ??? And showed them the parts of the brain and Namjoon was like 😍😍😍😍

We were digging some holes when lots of crabs began to pour out of the sand and Namjoon was like holy shit and I picked up some of them and I was like “these are the endemic species of panama” and I was talking about crabs while this man was HEART EYES MOTHERFUCKER. Anyways. I’m turning to leave because I only came there for the day and they STAY IN THE FANCY ASS HOTEL IN TABOGA TO FILM BON VOYAGE EPISODES. And Yoongi asked me “aren’t you gonna take a pic of us?” And I was like “I was having so much fun that I forgot about my phone. If you want I can take a pic but I’m not gonna upload it bc I’m actually a pretty private person. Maybe send it to a friend who also is a great fan but would keep quiet about it” and he was like ohhhhh

Anyways I’m going to enter the ferry to go home and Namjoon stops me and asks me if he can have my kakaotalk and I told him that in this side of the world we mostly use WhatsApp. But if you have iMessage I can give you my #. And I did. He also added me on insta and was like but don’t share my profile and I was like no prob man mine is also private.

Over the time we texted and they came over lots to Panama and I became their sort of guide. I think we visited the Canal, Chiriquí and the Volcano, The Valley, and Portobelo. He begins throwing some indirects to me and saying that he likes short, pear shaped women with light brown hair and I’m like “alright then let’s see some tinder profiles of these type of women if you like” and he legit slapped his face and in front of the Canal de Panamá declared his love to me. But I was having doubts.

He is an idol. I’m a psychology nerd who works in a lab in a tiny small country most ppl think is a city of Florida, how are we gonna make this work??? He said “I’m gonna take online courses of psychology and then we can get a PhD together on cognitive science” and I was like 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😍😍😍😍

Then I woke up.

Sorry it was long. It was worth sharing.

---

akhfjdh sofia omg my sweet how do you have such long dreams? my dreams are like ‘namjoon catches u in the shower bc u left the bathroom door open. end.’ or ‘6/7 of bts beat u to death with their shoes while yoongi drinks a glass of red wine and observes. end.’

your strong power brain is coming up with full length novels omg all that psychology study has made you some kind of dream genius director wow

[milesgonzalomorales]

1-50 for studyblr (all or nothing motherfucker ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

I owe you my life anon I wanted to answer these 

What year are you?Third-year as of summer 2018

What’s your major/what do you think you want to major in?Double major in Political Science and History

If applicable, what is your thesis about?                                                        n/a

Do you think you picked the right major?                                                      For sure. At first I was uncertain in my choice bc I switched quite a bit in my first/second year bw English and History, but then I realized that English classes were making me dislike my relationship w/ literature. I love my poli sci and history classes 

Ultimate educational goals?                                                                                 Getting my PhD in International Relations but i have no job to pay for it 

Career goals?                                                                                                         Working with an international organization like the UN or the IMF

Do you think your goals are realistic?                                                                 Certainly. They may be difficult to reach, but they are within my grasp so long as I keep working towards them. 

What classes are you taking right now?                                                             Canadian government/politics, introductory political theory and a comparative history class on race relations in the US and SA                                      

Favorite class out of everything you’ve ever taken and why?                          Introduction to international relations parts 1 and 2, I took them both in my second year back to back (one in the fall, the other in the winter) while I was still in the political science minor. I loved this class for several reasons. First, the content was so interesting that reading the textbook was never a chore and I was always in the first row of the lecture hall ready 15 minutes before classes even started. Another reason I liked this class was bc I had a really good experience with the ta who was my tut. leader in both semesters - there is only one other ta that I’ve had who has been that phenomenal in their teaching. This ta along with another prof have been really influential in my learning and I don’t think thank you will ever be enough for what they both did.  It was actually through these classes that I decided to major in poli sci bc I loved it so much. 

Least favorite class ever and why?                                                                       An Ancient Greek history class bc it was at night and the prof had us read exclusively from a sourebook and his slides sucked.                                

Current favorite class and why?                                                                          Canadian government, I’m learning a lot of cool stuff about my country that high-school teachers never did justice to. Also the prof is really enthusiastic and it’s contagious. 

Current least favorite class and why?                                                                 Political theory… it’s not that I hate it, but some of the texts are really difficult to read at times. Lectures are fun though, the prof really knows how to keep an audience engaged.                                                                                   

Favorite STEM field?                                                                                            I took an anthropology class in first year and loved it, the tutorials were really interesting bc we actually got to handle bone material!! It was nothing like humanities tutorials where you discuss and debate. A fun experience overall and I loved learning about the science parts too even if it was a little complicated sometimes…                      

Favorite humanities subject?                                                                               Political science, hands down. 

Class that you’ve always wanted to take but never had the chance?              I want to take a class on ethnic conflict and security, but it’s a 4th year class and i don’t have the prereqs (yet!) 

Do you use caffeine and if so how much daily?                                                 Never, unless Coffee Crisp counts 

What’s your preferred method of taking in caffeine?                                         ^ see above answer                                                                          

Have you ever tried study drugs?                                                                        Nope, not a huge fan of supplements like that.  

Are you a homework-in-the-morning kind of person?                                       Homework whenever I can type of person                         

Do you listen to music while you study?                                                            Used to, but now it distracts more than anything so I’ll put on some ambient noises or just work silently. 

Crowded area or quiet place?                                                                               Quiet place, but one that has people in it so I feel obligated to work 

What’s your preferred writing implement?                                                          bic gelocity 0.7 black and blue pens. i cannot write w/o them but they run out so fast.                         

Do you need to work out before you can study well?                                        work out??? haven’t heard that term in years 

Describe your perfect study environment.                                                          Idk the specifics, but good lighting, nice temperature, a rolling chair and a high desk i guess? 

Are you procrastinating right now?                                                                     Not really, I have time before assignment deadlines roll in. 

What was the last thing you procrastinated?                                                     Reading Thomas Hobbes Leviathan, the language was too complex and I shied away from it 

Are you a perfectionist?                                                                                        Not really, you make a mistake and you move on, I find that studyblr aesthetic notes are counterproductive 

Do you like easy classes or do you feel bad if you’re not working hard?       I don’t think there is such thing as ‘easy’ classes, it depends on what an individual’s strengths and weaknesses are. That being said, I had a light course load for a first year class where the prof felt bad for assigning us 10 pages of reading a week when another prof was assigning 80-100.    

Are you a good test taker?                                                                                    Most of the time, but with essays, I need to write outlines or I lose my train of thought and get frustrated and anxious about the time and my argument. 

What are you the proudest of out of all the assignments you’ve ever had?   A paper I did for my critical writing for history class 2 semesters ago, I contacted that professor regularly and was in her office all the time working with her to keep making it better and when I saw my final grade of 38/40, I cried with happiness. 

Do you talk to your teachers/professors a lot?                                                  Oh yeah, I’m that student who stays after class, spends half the time at office hours, asks questions during class, you name it. Professors are people too, just really accomplished people. Also they’re pretty cool and they want to see you succeed. 

Describe your favorite teacher/professor and why you like them.                   Okay again not a prof, but this person is training to become a prof and i truly hope he’s successful for several reasons. He has a lot of cool book recs both academic/non-academic, calls out the bullcrap that is academic writing, genuinely goes above the paygrade to make sure that students succeed and most importantly, is enthusiastic about the content himself. (press f to pay respects) 

Describe your least favorite teacher/professor and why you dislike them.     Hnghhhh there was these 2 profs who taught intro ir part 1 and one of those guys was an absolute loser, he constantly made holocaust jokes and other tasteless comments and when i went to talk to him about my final paper, he told me that i’d look like someone who might like to write mine about is/s like ://. never told that prof anything about my academic interests so shut your mouth 

Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher/professor?                         A few times, but I don’t think I could do it. I’d be one of those rambling profs who never end up finishing their scheduled content. 

Most profound thing ever said to you by a teacher/professor?                         Not a prof, but a ta once said that my ideas were worthy of respect and that i shouldn’t feel the need to apologize for contributions (ta: you are valid me: holy fuck i’d die for you) 

Best feedback you’ve ever gotten on something academic?                            Best feedback I’ve ever gotten was on a paper I wrote for my ir class in the first semester where i had a lot of pitfalls in my argumentation style so when i wrote one the next semester w/ the same ta marking it, i got a better mark bc i incorporated that feedback. 

Worst study habit and how are you working on it?                                            My worst habit is lacking discipline and I’m working on it by trying to stick to schedules so I can fall back into routine and ultimately be on top of things 

Are you an in-class fidgeter?                                                                                moment of silence for all the pens i’ve dropped while twirling them/taking them apart. 

How’s your handwriting?                                                                                      pretty neat, not to brag. but apparently my f’s are jumping off the lines practically. 

Write “the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” and post a photo.         sorry, too late for that I’m headed to sleep soon. 

Neat or messy notes?                                                                                            A weird combo?? Like messy enough that you have arrows sticking out from all corners and sometimes things are disorganized, but the writing itself is usually very neat unless i’m tired. 

A lot of notes or the bare minimum?                                                                   A lot, for me, the slides are the skeleton and the meat comes from the prof’s mouth. 

Post a photo/scan of your notes from your favorite class.                               I think I uploaded them to my side blog?? anyway it’s late now so can’t do that 

Are you a doodler?                                                                                                I used to be, but I cut the habit bc sometimes I miss key info if I’m not paying attention. 

Post a photo of your doodles if you have any.                                                    lol i used to post a lot under the tag naailah draws 

Do you have pre-test rituals and what are they?                                                Making sure I have more pens than I’ll ever need and checking the ink refills to ensure there’s enough. 

Are you a tangent-question asker?                                                                      Yup, there’s no such thing as a dumb question. Unless it’s answered on the syllabus. That’s a dumb q. 

Do you make jokes in class?                                                                                Sometimes. I’ve cracked some awful puns in my comparative poli class once and the prof’s mic picked up on it bc i sit at the front so you have a room of 200 or so students hearing me laugh about poverty and i swear it sounds bad but it was not as bad w/ context. 

How many hours do you spend on academics per day?                                   A lot… most of my time is spent on studying/procrastinating on it 

What’s something more important to you than school?                                    Life after school and making a real impact in the world, whether it’s small-scale or large. 

[elprofesore]

Divide and Conquer

As my Colombian father warned me,

I have become 100 percent gringo,

meaning I don’t identify

as a Latino much anymore;

Sure i listen to shakira,

and watch soccer games,

but so do gringos;

i don’t pine for the old country.

i hardly talk to my relatives

in Colombia,

for fear they are drunk

like my father was

before he died,

still broken by the legacy

of conquest,

and the hunger of his childhood.

And the truth is,

i hardly talk to anyone;

i like the solace of my phone,

the escape of Netflix,

and the anonymity of Starbucks;

I have been colonized again,

but this time it is my pleasure;

Can you help me?

Can you convince me,

I am missing something

better?

As an American,

I live in hybrid spaces,

between the educated and the uneducated,

young people and old people,

soccer fans and football fans;

Each culture speaks its own language,

and so I code switch like a brujo, 

meaning witch, (case in point

you meta-hunting-PHD-motherfuckers);

i am completely fluent

in the art of disappearing.

Latino is just another space,

with its own language,

and history,

that is threatened by the culture

of convenience stores,

and couches;

the same culture that threatens

everyone, the Irish,

African American,

the Raver, Punk,

Prussian,

and Jew;

Everybody wants

to think their little space is better,

but this leads what privileged people call, “othering,”

and the uneducated call, “being an asshole”;

meaning I am more precious than you;

because of my beliefs,

my taste,

my education,

my values,

my god,

and therefore:

I deserve just a little more,

so please,

carry this bag for me,

and make my hamburger medium rare;

White European power is real and a Myth;

and like most groups,

it’s members believe they are the most precious,

and historically they have had more guns to prove it,

more victories to print its currency on;

it can afford the printing presses,

and the ads,

it owns its own TV station,

it patented the bullhorn,

it invented the game called monopoly

and takes real profits to the bank;

yet, this is just another space,

with its own language,

history, and beliefs,

and if i speak to you in English,

i am already a member

regardless of my color,

whether i like it or not;

I no longer speak Chibcha or Muisca

and frankly doubt they would want me

in their club either,

as a souled out member, a traitor

to another tribe that believes in purity,

and wants its own disco that plays

nothing but tribal drums;

and even if Western Civilization

doesn’t want me in their club,

I have already been educated in their schools

so I am already an honorary member;

i have white male priviledge;

my light skin opens doors,

i drive a car, eat beef,

have the luxury of not giving a fuck

from time to time;

i live inside the belly of an empire

that plots and schemes behind my back,

and I pretend not to notice;

so it is hard for me to hold a sign

that says, Justice for All,

when I am living inside a country

that lights up at night and says,

Fuck the Poor!

I am part of the problem;

I pay taxes to be protected

by Storm Troopers and Star Wars missiles,

so i feel like a fool saying care about

diversity, when I feel like saying,

everyone should know the pleasure

of watching drone footage on HDTV

while eating Nacho Chips

and Sushi;

As I told you,

I afraid I no longer have a culture of my own,

and though I try to be kind to friends and family,

and to do the right thing in real life,

I am afraid the umbrella i use to keep off the rain

is made of military secrets and midnight raids,

and cutting edge technology that can also

be used to obliterate small towns in a single stroke;

i help pay for it, after all;

i am agreeing to live in a world

where i am allowed to scroll freely on my phone

while others are oppressed to increase my roaming;

as people of color

we must  fight over who is more oppressed

hoping to get a piece of American pie;

instead of joining together

with working class whites

to overthrow the butcher, the baker,

and the candlestick maker;

I see a white and a black

argue in the street

over whether

it is okay to wear

a shirt with an African design

that was made

in fucking China;

and nobody is laughing,

there is no love left between us.

We end up

hating each other;

and writing articles

about each other’s insensitivity;

Meanwhile on Wall Street,

a man in a suit

is watching us fight on youtube

and laughing at what monkeys

we are,

all of us, you, me, anyone that doesn’t own stock in Satan,

and have an offshore account in hell; whites, black,

Asians, Latinos, freaks,

hustlers, poets, transvestites,

carny barkers, dreamers, anyone not born

with a name recognized by Forbes magazine;

“Divide and conquer,”

the Man in a Suit says,

“We keep the system safe

as long as they keep fighting

with each other,

the poor blaming the poor,

or the Illuminati or the Jews,

nobody will see what is right

in front of them.

because they can’t afford to see us,

they don’t have

the education or the breeding

or the free time

to even imagine us,

working so tirelessly against their own interests;

We buy an ad for a million dollars

that says vote for the rich,

you poor fuck,

and we will continue to fuck you over;

Come on, you know you want it! 

and a million people will believe it,

a million people will be bought off

by a handsome face, and snappy slogan.

as long as masses don’t stop to think

because they can’t think,

(which is why we cut the schools)

who has real power and real money,

the poor will continue to blame each other,

because they stand in the same

grocery outlet store, welfare line,

thrift shop; they hate themselves,

and they hate their own reflections,

so they try to deny it

by saying, “But No, Look, We Are Different,

We have different colored skin.”

And they will let the people of color

get an education, as long as they promise

to blame poor white trash for everything,

instead of the rich who were so generous

to give them a scholarship; as long

as we don’t bite the hand that feeds us;

meanwhile,

factories and schools keep churning out souls

that smoke and choke,

and the slave trade continues to blossom;

sex slaves, child slaves, labor slaves

of all colors,

continue to be traffiked across the globe,

and we don’t have time to care,

because we’re are too busy

enjoying the spoils

of that labor,

too busy checking our phones

for status updates,

to see the tiny hands of slave children

inside the flickering screen; (lol).

too busy trying to pay our bills

and keep our little spot

in the pyramid;

And only

1 a million has the courage

to unplug from the madness,

to find a way

that isn’t part of the same murder machine,

we call another day.

but nobody knows his name,

and cares where he is gone;

and today,

I ate a scone,

and had an espresso,

and checked my phone for love;

and today I am not this enlightented one;

today i am like you;

And meanwhile,

everyone is some degree of miserable;

even the Man in the Suit on Wall Street,

(who part of us,

despite our wanting a perfect world

where we just farm and fuck,)

secretly aspires to be is also miserable;

In fact, I have a little secret for you

about the Man in the Suit on Wall Street;

his name is the American Dream,

and he is so coked up

and high on stock markets and data,

he can’t feel his own cock

no matter how many whores

he pays to fuck him,

and no matter how many Lambos

he crashes into walls

just to feel something;

Even he secretly longs

for a simple life

like the one he had

when he was still a boy,

and his parents sent him away to camp;

he still misses the day he got to dress up

like an Indian,

when he could still enjoy

the feel of water between his toes,

and recognize his own face

in the reflection of the water.

[dirnitri-blog]

o lord i thought i could bang this out before opening but nvm i guess?? oh well. i’m jem (pst, she/her/hers) and i like entertainment marketed toward twelve-year-old boys AND i am highkey excited to be here!!! ANYWAY below the cut you can read about my smol flowerboi dimitri. i should be around on all night (on mobile, at least) so feel free to hmu (or like this and i can hyu?? is that even a acronym?????)

(i’d also like reassure you that i actually do have a proper handle on the english language.....just,,,not ooc. bc. reasons?)

aight so: dimitri was born in busan, sk to a upper-level manager of a software company and an heiress. (he’s the 2nd kid—he has an older sister named either sunghee or laila, depending on who’s asking). when the company expanded to the north american market, they charged dimitri’s dad with heading it. soooo when dimitri was like sixish the rim fam packed up and headed over to los angeles.

dimitri had a really comfortable childhood, and wanted for virtually nothing. his parents, however, were determined to raise humble children, so they made dimitri and his sister do chores and help out at their mother’s flower shop, which she opened bc she was bored and rich and also bc she likes flowers. working at his mother’s shop helped dimitri realize his love and talent for botany (and flower arrangement, but he keeps that particular skill on the dl). 

he wanted to study botany but his parents were like ‘hahah plants coo’ but you gotta be $ucce$$ful tho’. so, they compromised: dimitri went on to study eco bio at yale and is now at uchicago pursuing a doctorate in molecular engineering. (he’s finished his class requirements, but is currently participating in research/thesis work. he hopes to be a phd candidate by next semester.)

also at some point he and a couple friends decided to start a smol weed dispensary. one provided the house, one provided the capital, and dimitri provided his Magical Green Thumb. it’s the closest thing he has to a job outside of academia.

ah yes this is slowly inching away from short so let’s move onto other things:

dimitri’s life can literally be constructed by shuffling the following: wake up, bake up, study, caffinate, meme, ta, study. sleep, when time allows. if you manage to catch him outside of a lab or office hours, it’s likely in a cafe, huddled over a cup of something with at least four espresso shots in it. (you may also catch a glimpse of him mobbing around the city on a yellow vespa. beep beep, motherfuckers.)

dimitri is kinda sorta a Gigantic Mess, but that probably wouldn’t be your immediate guess. he definitely comes across as something between a space cadet and a stoner. a very nice guy, but you sometimes get the feeling he’s not all there.

seriously he’s really chill like how and also why are you like this you haven’t slept for over twenty-four hours. also he unironically Memes sometimes which is ://///

dimitri’s about as gay as they come. he does hookups and has had a number of fwbs, but he’s really leery of entering a serious relationship, as he’s not out to his parents. (his sister knows, but they’ve kinda mutually decided that it’s probably better to keep their parents in the dark.)

well, he says it’s because he’s not out to his parents, but it’s really more of a generalized fear of commitment. dimitri hates thinking about the long-term; a substantial reason he went for a doctorate is because the idea of commiting to the workforce terrified him a bit.

anywho word on the street is that you can stop by room 609 in logan square for some dank kush if you’ve got some dank cash winkuwinku

[yasbxxgie]

If even half the stories in Rick James's new autobiography, Glow, are true, then James led one of the most epic rock lives ever. The book, written with David Ritz, was finished posthumously (James died of a heart attack in 2004, at age 56) and is out this week, alongside a digital box set of his Complete Motown Albums.

James became one of the leading lights of funk in the late Seventies and early Eighties, but across the years, the singer was equally obsessed with sex and drugs. At one point in the book, he approvingly remembers the SUNY Buffalo English major he hooked up with for a while ("She had a PhD in blow jobs," according to James) who adapted a line of T.S. Eliot's poetry for him: "In the room the women come and go/Talking of Michelangelo" became "In the room the women come and go, looking to snort Rick James's blow." Ten other stories from the master of punk-funk:

1. O Canada James dodged the Vietnam War draft by heading across the Canadian border from his hometown of Buffalo, New York. But as soon as he got into Toronto, three drunk white guys tried to beat him up for going AWOL. "A trio of three other white guys saw what was happening and came running to my aid." Two of those three: Garth Hudson and Levon Helm, then playing backup for Ronnie Hawkins, later Bob Dylan collaborators in the Band. He also became friendly with Joni Mitchell (they would stay up all night listening to jazz), and she recommended Neil Young, who joined James in a band called the Mynah Birds. They got signed to Motown and were ready to release a single — but it got shelved when the U.S. armed forces caught up with James for going AWOL and threw him in the brig. 2. The Kind of Girls You Don't Take Home to Mother Some of the women James reported liaisons with: Linda Blair (The Exorcist), Elisabeth Shue (Leaving Las Vegas), Catherine Bach (The Dukes of Hazzard TV show), Ola Ray (the video for Michael Jackson's "Thriller"), Iman (the supermodel), Teena Marie (his protégée), Jan Gaye (the wife of his friend and mentor, Marvin Gaye). 3. Street Songs James scuffled on the periphery of the music business for many years before breaking through, watching friends become famous, making money however he could (including drug smuggling from India and Colombia) and periodically ending up in jail. How he remembered getting busted in Toronto on an old charge of breaking and entering a clothing boutique: "A few seconds ago, my life was perfect — the perfect bitch, the perfect financier, the perfect backup band, the perfect connections to the perfect music scene in L.A. Now perfection had turned to pure shit." 4. The First-Aid Kit of the Lizard King While staying at Stephen Stills' place circa 1966, James woke up to find a young guy sitting cross-legged on the floor, "stoned as a motherfucker," watching blood drip from his wrist, "saying things like 'Isn't the blood beautiful? Isn't that the deepest red you've ever seen?'" Alarmed, James woke up Stills, who said, "Oh, fuck, he's doing it again," and bandaged the young man up. Which is how Rick James met Jim Morrison. 5. Cocaine Is a Hell of a Drug James made his national TV debut on American Bandstand. He performed his singles "You and I" and "Mary Jane" and did a long interview with Dick Clark, who he remembers as "one of the nicest cats I'd ever met." The only problem: James had done so much blow backstage, his nose started running profusely. "I started sniffing and wiping myself until it had to be obvious to Dick and a million viewers what was really going on." 6. I'm Rick James, Bitch James nursed a grudge against George Clinton, who consumed his cocaine but didn't help him get a record deal, and Prince, who stole his thunder (and, James claims, his stage moves). Bringing Prince out on tour didn't go well: "My band was a bunch of friendly down-home brothas loved by everyone. His band was a bunch of snobs who never bothered to acknowledge my guys." Years later, what gave James the push to collaborate with Eddie Murphy was that the comedian had gone in the studio with Prince but felt uncomfortable around him. "There wasn't anything I'd rather have done than write a hit for Eddie — and stick it in Prince's ear," James said. 7. The creation of "Super Freak" It was about three in the morning. We had just put the horn parts on "Give It to Me Baby" when I was sitting in front of the console with my bass. I wasn't trying to write. I was just noodling. This bass line came out of nowhere. Four descending notes. Nothing particularly striking. It was cheesy, but it was also catchy. I couldn't stop playing it. At the same time, I started singing, "She's a very kinky girl…" I was about to stop — the whole thing sounded a little dumb — when one of my cats said, "Cut it, Rick."    "You crazy?" I asked.    "No man, it's cool. It's hypnotic."    I kept playing the riff and realized that it was hypnotic. Right then and there I had the engineer hook up a mic and started singing the story as it came to me — this story of a super freak. I never wrote down a word. Made it up on the spot. 8. The Persistence of Memory James went to a dinner party in Hawaii where one of the other guests was Salvador Dali, who kept staring at him — and finally said, "Senor, I am mad about the way you look. Please allow me to sketch you." Dali spent 15 or 20 minutes drawing a portrait of James on his napkin — and then gave James the napkin. It could have been a priceless memento, except the next morning James smoked a joint and went for a swim in the shorts he had been wearing the night before, forgetting that it still held the napkin. The portrait became an inky blob. 9. Back in the Saddle Steven Tyler of Aerosmith became James's recovery buddy during various stays in rehab — he would even jump on James's back for piggy-back rides. "He's the one cat who can outtalk me and actually makes those meetings fun," James said. "Half of what he says is bullshit, but his bullshit is so brilliant I don't care if it's true or not." 10. Rick James's Inferno In his later years, James was constantly battling his addiction to freebase cocaine, and usually losing. After his mother died, he reported, "there was nothing to keep me from descending into the lowest level of hell. That meant orgies. That meant sado-masochism. That even meant bestiality." No details provided (or honestly, wanted). [x]

[beatmyaudio]

So Appalled Song Lyrics – Kanye West

So Appalled Song Lyrics

So Appalled Song Lyrics From Popular Hollywood Artist Kanye West from My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy Album.

This song is sung by singer ” Kanye West ” in Year .

Lyrics of So Appalled :

One hand in the air if you don’t really care Two hands in the air if you don’t really care It’s like that sometimes, I mean ridiculous It’s like that sometimes, this shit ridiculous One hand in the air if you don’t really care Middle finger in the air if you don’t really care It’s like that sometimes, man, ridiculous Life can be sometimes ridiculous I’m so appalled, Spalding ball Balding Donald Trump taking dollars from y’all Baby, you’re fired, your girlfriend hired But if you don’t mind, I’ma keep you on call We above the law, we don’t give a fuck about y’all I got dogs that’ll chew a fucking hole through the wall But since they all lovers, I need more rubbers And if I don’t use rubbers, need more covers Housekeeping, I mean goddamn One time let it be a bad bitch sweeping That know we get O’s like Cheerios That know because they seen us in the videos That know the day that you play me Would be the same day MTV play videos That was a little joke, voila Praises due to the most high, Allah Praises due to the most fly, Prada Baby, I’m magic, tada Address me as your highness, high as United 30,000 feet up and you are not invited Niggas be writing bullshit like they gotta work Niggas is going through real shit, man, they out of work That’s why another goddamn dance track gotta hurt That’s why I’d rather spit something that got a purp’ Champagne wishes, thirty white bitches I mean this shit is fucking ridiculous Five star dishes, different exotic fishes Man this shit is fucking ridiculous How should I begin this? I’m just so offended How am I even mentioned by all these fucking beginners? I’m so appalled, I might buy the mall Just to show niggas how much more I have in store I’m fresher than you all, so I don’t have to pause All of y’all can suck my balls through my drawers Dark Knight feeling, die and be a hero Or live long enough to see yourself become a villain I went from the favorite to the most hated But would you rather be underpaid or overrated? Moral victories is for minor league coaches And ‘Ye already told you we major, you cockroaches Show me where the boats is, Ferrari Testarossas And Hammer went broke so you know I’m more focused I lost 30 mil, so I spent another 30 Cause unlike Hammer, thirty million can’t hurt me Fucking insane, the fuck am I saying? Not only am I fly, I’m fucking not playing All these little bitches too big for they britches Burning they little bridges, fucking ridiculous Champagne wishes, thirty white bitches I mean this shit is fucking ridiculous Five star dishes, different exotic fishes Man this shit is fucking ridiculous Success is what you make it, take it how it come A half a mil in twenties like a billion where I’m from An arrogant drug dealer, the legend I become CNN said I’d be dead by 21 Blackjack, I just pulled an ace As you looking at the king in his face Everything I dream, motherfuckers, I’m watching it take shape While to you I’m just a young rich nigga that lacks faith Range Rove, leather roof, love war, fuck a truce Still move a bird like I’m in bed with Mother Goose Them hoes coming in a baker’s dozen Claiming they was with me when they know they really wasn’t I keep the city’s best, never said she was the brightest So if you had her too, it don’t affect me in the slightest I never met a bitch that didn’t need a little guidance So I dismiss her past until she disappoints your highness I speak the gospel, hostile Tony doing time for what he did to nostrils Paranoid mind, I’m still under the watchful Eye of the law, aspire for more Them kilos came, we gave you Bobby Brown jaw Flaws ain’t flaws when it’s you that makes the call Flow similar to the legends of the falls Spill it, I own you all, yeah One hand in the air if you don’t really care Two hands in the air if you don’t really care It’s like that sometimes, I mean ridiculous It’s like that sometimes, this shit ridiculous One hand in the air if you don’t really care Middle finger in the air if you don’t really care It’s like that sometimes, man, ridiculous Life can be sometimes ridiculous Hah, I am so outrageous I wear my pride on my sleeve like a bracelet If God had an iPod, I’d be on his playlist My phrases amazes the faces in places The favorite, hah, my cup overrunneth with hundreds Dummy, damn, it’s hard not for me to waste it The new Commandment: “Thou shalt not hate, kid” My movement is like the civil rights, I’m Ralph David Abernathy, so call my lady Rosa Parks I am nothing like them niggas, baby, those are marks I met this girl on Valentine’s Day, fucked her in May She found out about April, so she chose to march Hah, damn another broken heart I keep bitches by the twos, nigga, Noah’s ark I got a seven on me, I call my ‘dro Lamar Plus a Trojan in my pocket, Matt Leinart G-A-T in the Pathfinder Cause you haters got PhDs Y’all just some major haters and some math minors Tiger Woods, don’t make me grab iron Ayo, champagne wishes and thirty white bitches You know the shit is fucking ridiculous Cars for the missus and furs for the mistress You know that shit is fucking ridiculous One hand in the air if you don’t really care Two hands in the air if you don’t really care It’s like that sometimes, I mean ridiculous It’s like that sometimes, this shit ridiculous One hand in the air if you don’t really care Middle finger in the air if you don’t really care It’s like that sometimes, man, ridiculous Life can be sometimes ridiculous

So Appalled Song Lyrics

Youtube Channel Link

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