registrar

college gothic
  • someone in your class mentions communism. they speak about it at length. you are in biology class.
  • you text your mother. she does not respond for 3 days. you text her again and then realize that it has only been 2 hours since your first text.
  • freshmen travel in packs. what are they afraid of.
  • your class is in room 153. the numbers start at 201. you cannot find the first floor.
  • someone is talking about communism. it is not the same person as last time. this is an english class.
  • your transcript says you have an A in philosophy 3310. you do not remember taking this class. what did you learn? what did you do?
  • you meet your elevator buddy. you do not speak. you never do. you ride in silence. one day, they are not there. you miss them.
  • your advisor refers you to the registrar. the registrar refers you to admissions. admissions refers you to both the registrar and your advisor. you have spoken to two people who do not exist and one who has been dead for ten years.
  • the boy who sits next to you wears the same clothes everyday. you think this is strange but when you mention it, he tells you that this is the first time he has worn this outfit. you realize that you have lived this day before.
  • you pass someone sleeping in the quad. he has always been there. stop looking at him.
  • someone answers, “communism.” it is not someone who has been previously mentioned. the question was, “what is an example of the art of ancient greece?”
  • you have a doppelganger on campus. you have never met them. they know all of your friends.
  • the seniors speak only to professors. their eyes are dead. they have given up the safety of the pack long ago.
  • the professor is talking about STD’s. your math class is very strange.
  • the powerpoint is in comic sans. you suspect that your economics professor is an extraterrestrial being after all.
  • “communism,” the man serving you lunch insists. wearily you nod. that’s what everyone says.

lemonbird  asked:

IMPORTANT QUESTION. Vampires aren't suppose to enter a premise without being invited right? What if a hermit vampire was living in his falling apart old castle and some fuck bought it as a "fixer upper", would the vampire just glitch out on to the lawn or would he be okay since he lived there before?

Okay so this would depend on where you are in the world, and whether or not they had squatters rights (can’t be evicted and can apply for legal ownership of place once they have been there for X amount of years) but I mean, the dude owns the place, even if it is a run down mess he was still there first and there’s probably some ancient land ownership law which can’t be overwritten by modern laws (you find all sorts of weird things are still technically legal cause no one bothered to update the books since 1645) so basically whoever just bought this castle to turn it into a modern fixer upper, congrats, you also just bought yourself a vampire and he’s not going anywhere.

(Also now I kind of want to write this where a family buys it to turn it into a hotel/wedding venue and the kids find the vampire in the attic and he ends up being the weird uncle who gets roped into hilarious wedding related shenanigans?? Like 


“Okay yes fine, you can host weddings here, but registrar only, no religious ones.” 
“But Theolodious, why?”
“Really Sharon, really, do I have to spell it out for you. Really.”

*

“We really should increase the lighting for photographs, what about skylights?”
“No.”
“But—”
“How about I just set all of you on fire while you’re trying to sleep.”

*

“Please, for the love of god, please don’t let people throw confetti or rice, I’m begging you.”

*

“Okay what’s our final head count for the night?”
“107.”
“Are you sure?”
“Did I fucking stutter Steve?”

*

“Uncle Theo, why does the groom have “help me” on the bottom of his shoes, why is everyone laughing?.”
“Because small one, humanity has failed collectively as a species and heteronormativity is a constructed lie designed to oppress over half the population for not conforming to arcane and chauvinistic ideals put in place by dead scholars who have long since turned to dust and have no place influencing modern society.”
“…”
“Permanence is an illusion.”

*

“Madame, flattering as your offer is for a quickie, you’re not my type.”
“What is your type then?” ;) ;) ;)
“O negative.”

*

“Whoo, what a day, I could eat a horse.”
“Same.”
“…”
“…well obviously I’m not going to.”

*

“Theo…are you…are you crying?”
“Yes.”
“You big softie, I never thought someone like you would cry at a wedding.”
“…I’ve lived a long life, Sharron. People come and go, the christening you bless will be the funeral you mourn in less than a century. But people keep saying “I love you”, that has to count for something.”

Guess who got married? Aww yiss, that’s right, folks! My photographer shared some sneak peak photos with us, but we’ll have to wait a while before seeing them all. I’ll do a proper post once I get my hands on them!

Thank you all for your lovely messages and well-wishes! It means a lot that you were thinking of me this weekend <3 It was a really beautiful day and I’m very happy!

bzfd.it
Russia Orders Internet Providers Not To Host The Daily Stormer
“The Daily Stormer website promotes neo-Nazi ideology, raises racial, national and other types of social discord,” the head of Russia's federal communications regulator wrote in a statement.
By Kevin Collier

Shut down by US tech companies, the internet’s biggest neo-Nazi website has been denied sanctuary by Russia, too.

Daily Stormer had on Wednesday attempted to rebrand itself as dailystormer.ru after several American web hosting services, including GoDaddy.com and CloudFlare, pulled their support. The site had acted as a hub for a white supremacists and neo-Nazis who rallied last weekend in Charlottesville, Virginia, where a driver killed anti-racist protester Heather Heyer. After her death, the Daily Stormer site began posting offensive content about Heyer, prompting widespread outrage.

But while individual American companies made the decision to refuse to host Daily Stormer, in Russia, where government censorship is far more restrictive, it was a legal matter. Russian law specifically prohibits, among other things, online content that glorifies Naziism.

Alexander Zharov, the head of Russia’s Roskomnadzor, the country’s federal communications regulator, wrote in a statement that it was within his agency’s authority to instruct Russian domain registrars to refuse to host the site.

“The Daily Stormer website promotes neo-Nazi ideology, raises racial, national and other types of social discord,” Zharov wrote. “Russian legislation has an extremely tough regime to counter any manifestations of extremism on the Internet.”

It’s not clear how quickly the Russian state made its decision, but the site was already inaccessible by early afternoon Wednesday, when attempts to reach it were met with a “DNS address not found.”

It’s unclear where the Daily Stormer will try to land next. The site is down, and its Twitter account, which normally would be used to point followers to its next iteration, has been suspended for violating Twitter’s terms of service.

Acho que depois de tanto tempo afirmando pra mim mesma o quanto nós éramos errados um pro outro, eu finalmente consegui entender que eu estava certa. Minha intuição nunca foi de falhar, mas eu sempre fui teimosa e acabei insistindo em você. Eu não tô querendo dizer que a gente tinha que ser perfeito um para o outro, nem que a gente combine ou qualquer coisa desse gênero. Porque eu continuo sem entender seus vacilos e você ainda não enxerga meus acertos. O que eu tento dizer é que você pode ser todo errado e cheio de defeitos, mas se encaixou em mim de um jeito que nem todos aqueles outros anteriores conseguiram. Todos os outros foram mais passageiros do que você. Até que conseguimos criar um laço nesse pouco tempo de tentativa que acabou sendo um dos nossos piores erros. E nas tentativas de te esquecer, sempre há um caminho que me leva até você. Ou quando é você mesmo que me puxa de volta e me faz ver o quanto minto pra mim mesma, quando digo aos quatro cantos do mundo que a gente não é certo um pro outro. Mas no fim acabamos sendo um que completa o outro. Você é meu oposto. Eu te apresento o meu inferno e mesmo assim você me leva ao paraíso. Eu aos poucos estou aprendendo a ficar sem você, mas é como se eu não soubesse andar. Estou tendo que aprender a dar meus primeiros passos novamente. E para registrar: quem mudou do nada e partiu sem dizer adeus foi você. Não temos mais jeito e não podemos tentar recuperar algo que já se perdeu.
—  Ele é totalmente o Oposto de mim.
Signs That You Attend An #HBCU...

1. When you got to school, you thought it was going to be like Hillman…


…but it ended up being more like College Hill.



2. If you’re a girl, you may have felt a little like this…

3. Girls show up to 8 a.m. classes in stilettos and in full make up


4. Your school gear always comes up missing when you visit home…

and you catch your family wearing it a few weeks later


5. Everyone on campus is quick to rattle off the names of your alma mater’s most influential alumni.


Morehouse

Howard

Tennessee State

North Carolina A&T


6. History classes (and poli sci, and English, and music) are steeped in black history…



And you can’t graduate without taking an African history class…

7. Graduating on time would be a miracle…

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8. During finals, the library feels a little bit like the club…


9. You Try to get a copy of your transcript, and the registrar is like…





10. You’re used to seeing someone you know leaving the financial aid office looking like this:

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(Unless it was refund check time, in which case they looked more like this…)




11. You missed every class during homecoming week…




12. Then you skipped your school’s homecoming to go to Howard’s…



13. The best part of the football games was halftime…




14. Out of nowhere everyone emerges outside on the first day of spring…




15. When people suddenly disappear during the semester, it’s probably  because they were doing this…

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16. And you spend hours waiting to see them do this on the yard…

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 (even though you can’t see or hear what was going on)…

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17. When you go to a party, no one can dance because of this…

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18. But you’ve never seen more than two Iotas at the same place at the same time…

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19. You’ve never heard of Delta Zeta or TKE or Alpha Phi or Kappa Alpha….

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But you can recite the names of the Divine 9 in order of their founding dates, even if you never pledged.

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20. Every dorm has a dude who can cut hair, or a girl who can put in weave for cheap.

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21. Eventually half the girls you know go natural at one point…

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22. You get a job off-campus so you won’t forget what it was like to have white friends…

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23. When you come home to visit, your family gives you a hard time about your decision to flout family tradition and go to Howard instead of Hampton…

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Or FAMU instead of Bethune-Cookman…

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Or Southern instead of Grambling…

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Or Alabama A&M instead of Alabama State

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24. But, in spite of the rivalries with other schools, whenever you meet someone who went to an HBCU, you do this.

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25. Because you both know that there’s one thing you can agree on:

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Esta es una de las tantas y tantas historias fascinantes —escritas o habladas— que se le quedan a uno para siempre, más en el corazón que en la memoria, y de las cuales está llena la vida de todo el mundo. Tal vez sean las ánimas en pena de la literatura. Algunas son perlas legítimas de poesía que uno ha conocido al vuelo sin registrar muy bien quién era el autor, porque nos parecía inolvidable, o que habíamos oído contar sin preguntarnos a quién, y al cabo de cierto tiempo ya no sabíamos a ciencia cierta si eran historias que soñamos. De todas ellas, sin duda la más bella, y la más conocida, es la del ratoncito recién nacido que se encontró con un murciélago al salir de su cueva y regresó asombrado, gritando: «Madre, he visto un ángel».
—  Como ánimas en pena, Gabriel García Márquez

For incoming high school seniors, your last year in high school is approaching, and this means you’ll start applying to different colleges and/or universities where you could potentially spend the next chapter of your life in. Here’s a list of tips that will guide you every step of the way, from choosing schools to filling up your application form. 

Keep reading

The Keeper of Names

Do you remember who I am?
No?
That’s a shame.
We have met many times. And each time, I talk with you about the same thing.


There is a staff member that is a silent ally to the students of Elsewhere University.

There is a staff member who, once they learn of the staff member’s existence, is feared by the staff and professors before promptly being forgotten.

There is a staff member who is, above all else, coveted by the Gentry of Elsewhere University.


The official title is Administrator of University Affairs and Services. The official duties include maintaining the registrar of students and employment records of the staff, outreach to the local community, and coordinating campus events. The official job description has many flowery words about “record maintenance” and “interdepartmental coordination between Admissions and Human Resources.”

The official job description says nothing of the runes carved into flesh with an iron knife and bandaged with a poultice of salt and crushed blooms of Solomon’s Seal for the protection of the body.
The official job description says nothing of the blood pact sealed with the Librarians for protection of the mind.
Because they are the Keeper of Names. And the official job description says nothing of how it means sacrificing your own Name, for the protection of the soul. For the protection of all.

The position itself used to be two separate roles - Academic Affairs and University Services, before being combined after a particularly clever Noble learned the Name of the Director of University Services and used it to leverage the Name of the Director of Academic Affairs and Admissions. The Noble used this knowledge to steal the names of several students and staff members, sparking a Quest for their return. Following the conclusion of the Quest, the University Administration felt it prudent to take measures to ensure this wielding of Names against staff could never happen again.

How do I know all this about the Keeper?

A better question:
Do you remember who I am?
No?
That’s a shame.

x

Tips for Class Selection!

Disclaimer: This post has more tips for first year students who haven’t taken university/college classes before! Also, every school has a different process of choosing your courses. I just based these tips off of the course selection processes I have used. As always, different things work for different people!

Planning

  • Plan out what you are going to take long before the day of. Look through the course calendar and write down every course that interests you. Pare it down over the course of a few weeks until you have a suitable number of choices. Separate them into required courses, top choices, and backups. Make sure you are 100% sure about your choices, rather than making them the night before and having regrets.
  • Look at breadth requirements and program requirements when planning. There might be courses that you are required to take for your program, so your first priority should be getting those into your schedule. Also, many schools have breadth requirements which require you to take classes from various faculties in order to graduate. If you have room, get these over with as early as possible. In upper years, there are more interesting classes you might want to take and you don’t want to be stuck in Intro to Spanish just so you can graduate.
  • Unless you are 100% a morning person, avoid taking 8:30 AM classes. Everyone thinks that because they woke up at 6AM every day in high school, they can take 8:30s. I do not recommend. It’s a lot easier to wake up early when you have a strict class schedule like in high school, and when you can go to bed whenever you want at home. In res, you might be lucky to be in bed by 1AM because of noise and wanting to hang out with friends, and you might only have to get up at 10AM for the rest of your classes. Even if you’re a morning person, just go with the 9:30-11:30 range.
  • Take a morning class and a night class. You should try out at least one evening class and one earlier in the morning to find out which you prefer. It would suck to be in your final year and find out that night classes worked really well for you when you could have been taking them all along. If you do end up hating them, it’s only for one semester in first year and then you never have to take them again!
  • Make sure you know how much time there is between classes and campuses. A lot of universities have satellite campuses, or just buildings that are really far apart. Make sure that if you are scheduling back-to-back classes, you actually have time to get to them. 

During Selection

  • If there is an option to add courses to a pre-selection list, do it. At both of the schools I have attended, there was a shopping cart option that was open before enrollment. This is so useful, because it makes it possible for you to enroll in just one click during your appointment. Also, it can get super stressful to try and find every course and add it when you know other people are fighting for spots as well, so finding them earlier on without a time crunch will reduce stress.
  • Know when your enrollment time is, and try to get on at that time. Hopefully your school has split up the enrollment times fairly, which means you are more likely to get on and get the classes you want if you go on your assigned time. Try to avoid making other plans during that time.
  • Check and double check that you are in the right section. Don’t accidentally put yourself in an online version or an 8:30 AM because you aren’t paying attention. Make sure the course codes match up with what you actually want.
  • Map out a mock schedule on Excel, if one isn’t given to you. There is no point in selecting classes that have time conflicts, so avoid that by making a schedule for yourself.
  • Make sure you have saved your selections before you exit out. A lot of sites nowadays have auto-save features, but course selection sites are usually not one of them. Check and double check that you are actually enrolled before you leave. 

If You Run Into Problems

  • Have backups chosen. Prepare to not get into every class that you wanted, and have backups chosen. It will lessen the disappointment, and save you from having to go back to the drawing board if some of your choices were full.
  • Know who to contact if you run into problems. Have the email or phone number of your academic advisor or program registrar on hand. Don’t feel like your questions are stupid. You can also try posting on your class Facebook page, because other students may have run into the same problem.
  • Add yourself to a waitlist, but only if you know the limitations. If there is a course you want but didn’t get into, consider adding yourself to the waitlist. However, make sure that being on the waitlist isn’t going to screw you over. Sometimes being on a waitlist automatically takes you out of one of your old selections, regardless of if you get into the new one. Make sure it is worth it.
You Should Wear Those More Often

A/N: One week until I move back into my college dorm! I’m so excited! Today is my last day of work at my summer job, I think I’m gonna miss it a little.
Anyways, I wrote this over the course of a few days. It’s way longer than I was planning, but that seems to be an ongoing theme in my life. Soak up this smut guys, I’m not sure when the next one will come.

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Word count: 4048 (that’s my longest one yet, whoops)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oh boy, here we go… This is probably the most detailed smut I’ve written in a long time. There’s some dirty talk, Reader with a glasses!kink, slight Dom!Reader, slight Dom!Sam, lots of teasing, uhhhhhh there’s a handjob in there too… I think that’s it. It’s pretty loaded when it comes to my writing. Whatever. Enjoy, guys.

~

“Sam, do you have your…” you trail off, mouth opening slightly as your head angled slightly. “Oh, holy–fuck me.”

In front of you, the usual Adonis that was Sam Winchester had been spruced up more than just a little. His FBI suit was well pressed, completely wrinkle free, and his hair was tamed just perfectly. But the real kicker, something you’d yet to see before, was the pair of glasses sitting on his face.

His eyebrows raise over the top edge of them, and you clear your throat.

“Uhm… I was gonna…” you blink a few times, trying to remember what you were going to say, but for the life of you, you can’t. “I was gonna ask if you had our… Our…”

“Tickets to the play?” he holds up a pair of tickets and you blink once more.

“Yeah,” you nod dumbly, a soft redness peeking through your cheeks. “Yeah, uhm… The tickets. Yeah, sorry. I just… I’ve never seen you in glasses.”

He gives a little smirk, one that lets you know that he’s reveling in your little momentary lapse of thought.

“I’ve only worn them a few times,” he admits, affixing them to the bridge of his nose. “I can tell that you like them, though.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. “I do. A lot.”

“How much is a lot, baby girl?” he takes a step closer to you, snaking an arm around your back.

And, oh good God, you absolutely melt with the nickname. You swear your panties will be ruined by the end of this evening, if they aren’t already.

“A lot means that as soon as we get back from this play, I’m jumping you and you’re gonna wear those glasses the entire time,” you tell him, offering him your best flirting smile as you grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him down so that you can kiss him.

He pulls away with that fucking perfect dimpled smile, flashing you a look that tells you that he most certainly likes the sound of your plans.

“We need to get going if we don’t want to be late,” he says, and you sigh softly, smoothing out the front of his jacket. “I’m looking forward to coming back, though.”

“If I hadn’t been looking forward to this for months in advance, we’d be staying in for the evening,” you tell him, watching his little grin grow. “Don’t smirk at me! It’s true!”

“Oh, I know it’s true,” he says. “I’m just wondering how you’ll be able to get through this play when you keep thinking of me through the entire thing. Will you be able to focus?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you say with a laughing shove to his chest. He bursts into laughter also, taking you hand in his as you both made your way out to Baby.

Dean had loaned her to the two of you for the night, the only stipulation being that she was returned exactly as she was left.

Which, according to Dean, included no stains, no finger-or-footprints on windows, and a suspicious lack of food crumbs.

“I’ve taken pictures of her! You bring her back exactly the same or I’ll kick both of your asses!” Dean calls through the garage as you settle into the passenger seat.

“Dean, we know,” Sam says to his brother, and you just laugh as the both of you leave for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see your favorite playwright in one of his own plays.

It’s about a two hour drive to the theater, and when you get there, Sam chats it up with the ticket registrar while you make a run for the bathroom to pee before the show so that you won’t have to during intermission or, God forbid, during the actual play.

You make it out and see Sam waiting for you, two tickets in hand. You see the silvery coloring to them, and your eyes widen as you look up to his face.

“You didn’t,” you breathe, taking them from him and reading the printed on words. “Row five? You got us row fucking five? How in the actual fuck?”

“Shh, people are looking,” he says with a slight smile. “I told the lady it was your birthday and we’d bought tickets. I asked if I could upgrade them to a better spot and she said that she’s sentimental, and that not even thirty seconds prior a couple had returned theirs saying that they wouldn’t be able to make it to the show.”

“Sam, this is why I fucking love you,” you hug him tightly, taking his hand as you both ventured into the theater.

The play begins shortly thereafter and continues without hitch, and you sigh happily as you lean onto Sam’s shoulder.

He smiles, leaning down to you during intermission.

“So I actually had to tell that woman that I’m an undercover FBI agent that’s looking to catch one of the supporting characters after the play is over in order to get these tickets,” he admits, and your mouth falls open in shock.

“Sam!” you hiss, and he gives you a cheeky grin.

“The glasses really were the finishing touch,” he winks. “I convinced her that they have a camera in them so that if there was a confrontation involved, I would have it documented.”

You bite your lip and look away, trying to stifle the goofy smile that wants to grow on your face. You want to be mad at him for lying, but you just can’t find it in you.

You shake your head and shoot him a glance, your smile only happily growing as you see his face with those perfectly-fitting glasses on.

“What am I going to do with you?” you exhale, shaking you head.

“You said you were gonna jump me once this play was over. I’ve actually been looking forward to it,” he reminds you.

Sam was in such a good mood, so happy, and that made you happy. It’s very rare that you see him get to be this carefree, unworried about the next upcoming apocalypse or some case.

He sneaks his hand into yours and that’s how the two of you stay for the remainder of the play.

Once a standing ovation has been offered, and all of the cast has had their final bows, Sam guides you back to Baby, winking at you as he shut the passenger door for you.

He climbs his long legs into the driver’s seat and off the two of you drive, back to the bunker as it’s already late in the night.

You watch the scenery go by for a while, but you grow bored of that quickly and turn your attention toward Sam.

His broad frame sits with ease, his foot on the pedal keeping it steady just a mile or two over the speed limit. Your eyes trace the curve of his jaw, firm and defined and, God, so gorgeous.

And the glasses. Jesus Christ, those glasses are doing more to you than a plastic frame with two pieces of glass should be capable of.

He glances over out of the corner of his eye, his perfect lips curving upwards a half an inch or so as he noticed your stare.

“You don’t have to stare from so far away, y'know,” he murmurs, and you gnaw on your bottom lip as you unbuckle your seat belt.

You slip across the seat to right beside him, your legs parting just slightly so that you have one on either side of the middle seat hump in the floorboard.

His breath catches slightly as you pull the tight skirt of your dress up, exposing your thighs so that you can move about slightly more.

You smirk, hand resting on his thigh as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“That was really fun,” you tell him, rubbing his thigh slowly and feeling the slightest jump in his pants. “I almost didn’t want it to end.”

“Almost,” he breathes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Yeah, but then I thought of your gorgeous cock,” you whisper, reaching slightly higher up his leg to rub your palm over the growing bulge in his pants. “And I remembered how you look when you fuck me real hard, and I just imagined that with those glasses and… Ugh, Sam.”

You hum and rub your free hand down the front of your dress, over your breasts, and release a soft sigh.

“Jesus, [Y/N], I would’ve left the theater right then and there if you’d told me that,” he blows a breath out.

“But Sam, you taught me that waiting is always the best part,” you work to undo his belt with one hand, sliding the other up his chest to feel his firm chest muscles under his suit.

His breath shortens, and he shifts his leg so that you have better access to his belt. Finally, you get it undone, and you look up to him with a flutter of lashes.

He looks down at you, those hazel eyes just amplified by the glasses on his face. You exhale softly and undo the buttons on his pants and pull the zipper down slowly, your fingertips just gracing over his pants so that there is barely any pressure.

“[Y/N/N], just…” he trails off with a raw groan as your hand palms his growing length.

“Shh, Sam,” you hush him, finally managing to free him from the confines of his pants and underwear. “Keep those pretty eyes on the road and let me handle the rest.”

“Jesus, baby girl,” he groans as you lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his length.

You take him into your mouth as far as you can go, gliding your tongue across velvety flesh gently. One hand moves to circle the remainder of his endowed length that you can’t fit into your mouth and rubs slowly, torturous circles that you know drives him crazy.

“Fuck, [Y/N],” he pants, his right hand moving from the steering wheel to cup the back of your neck and ease your movements.

You moan softly against him, feeling a rush of wetness between your legs that needs to be satisfied. Your hips rise, searching for friction that isn’t there.

You pull away for a moment, letting your hand fully grip him and pump a few times as you pressed numerous kisses to the bottom side of his cock, feeling it jump when you got to the base of it. Your lips seal around his length once again and your head moves to take him down your throat.

This time you move faster than just the slow movements of before, wet sounds leaving your lips as you sucked.

“[Y/N], I’m almost there,” Sam warns, his breath ragged and his voice absolutely wrecked.

You pull away slowly, noisily, and grin up at him, your eyes catching his.

“Dean said no stains, remember?” you tell him, sitting up fully and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “We’ll have to wait until we get back.”

“We’re almost home, baby girl, and as soon as I get you there, I’m gonna fuck you real slow,” he says in a shaking voice, swallowing once before offering you a dark expression. “Real slow, you’re gonna be on edge for hours, baby girl.”

“Are you gonna make me sore in the morning?” you ask him, biting your bottom lip.

“After what you just did?” he asks, shooting you an incredulous look. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You can’t help the moan that leaves your lips, watching his eyes darken behind clear glass.

The ensuing silence just radiates sexual tension, and you shift in your seat, trying desperately to search for some kind of relief of the throbbing in your lower belly.

Sam glances over and notices.

“Almost there, [Y/N],” he says quietly as you recognize the road easily.

As he pulls into the garage, you practically shoot from your seat and make a dash for his room, not wanting to wait any longer.

You pass Dean on the way, who is dressed like he would any other day.

“Finally,” he mutters. “I’ve been waiting for you two to get back for over an hour. I’m going to a bar.”

Praise the Lord, you think. A bunker with just Sam for a few hours, that should be fun.

You make it into Sam’s room and start shedding clothes, hearing a slight exchange of words between the brothers as you perch yourself on Sam’s bed.

He comes in after a moment, his eyes falling on you instantly.

His lips quirk upwards in a grin as he closes his door. You lick your lip seductively, chest moving as you took a long inhale of air.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” you ask him in a pouting voice.

“On your back, baby girl,” he says as he begins to undo his jacket. “You know what I want. Show me how wet that pretty pussy is.”

You moan aloud and tip back onto your back, falling onto his pillows. Knees part as his shirt falls to the floor, your hands settling on your thighs.

Being this exposed makes you giddy, makes your heart race in your chest. But it’s Sam, and you know that he won’t look at you with anything other than love and awe.

Finally shed of his upper garments, he kneels down on the bed, just beside your feet, his eyes trailing up your flesh slowly.

“Sam,” you whimper, and his gaze floats to yours. “Please, God, I need you to fuck me.”

He smirks, pressing in close enough to lean down and give a slow kiss to the patch of skin just on the inside of your left knee.

“You know I don’t like being teased, [Y/N],” he says, looking up at you as he moved up a fraction of an inch. “But you teased me, so I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

“Oh, can’t you tease me after?” you try to bargain, gasping as his teeth bit into your inner thigh, the part he’d just kissed.

“You said it yourself, baby girl. The waiting is the best part,” he reminds you, and you throw your head back onto the pillows as he moves up yet again and kisses.

All you can do is let him do this, there’s no stopping him once he’s set his mind to something like this. A soft whimper leaves your lips as he presses a kiss to the very top of your inner thigh, then a louder gasp as he nips hard at the skin.

“Sam, please,” you hear the desperation in your own voice, and thank God, he finally listens.

His mouth attaches to your clit instantly, and your mouth falls open in a wordless cry as he turns from zero to fifty thousand in a second.

“Oh, fuck, Sam!” you cry, hands shooting to his hair to try to desperately relieve some of the unending pressure on your lower half. “Sam, Jesus!”

He pauses only to look up, his eyes mischievous as they shone through those goddamn glasses that started all of this.

He grins, pressing a single kiss to your belly, slowly inching his way up your chest with a kiss here and a bite there. He moves his whole body over yours, his hands holding his weight on either side of your head.

“Not so fun to be teased, is it?” he asks, nose bumping yours as his hair fell to curtain around your face.

“Sam, please,” you whimper. “Please, just fuck me. God, I can’t take it anymore.”

He smiles, revealing those perfect teeth of his, and presses a hungry kiss to your lips. His mouth is so soft, even with the intensity of it all, and you can just barely taste yourself on him.

He pulls away and starts down your neck, and your hands push through his hair.

“Turn over, baby girl,” he says into your skin, his breath warm on your flesh. He pulls away so that he can undo his pants, and you scramble to turn over like he’s asked, not wanting to draw this out any more.

Hands grip your hips hard and pull you back, your ass hitting his hips and making a loud groan leave your lips.

“You want it now, baby girl?” he asks, a kiss on your shoulder occupying your thoughts as he rutted his hips against yours.

“Yes, God, yes,” you moan, arching into him as he lined up to your entrance.

“Real slow, remember that,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he presses into you, bottoming out and just staying there for a moment. “That feel good, pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, reaching a hand back to curl around his neck. “Please move, Sam.”

“I will, [Y/N],” he says, giving a soft kiss to the edge of your jaw. He shifts slightly, sliding an arm around your stomach while the other one moves to scoop your hair up off the back of your neck and drape it over his shoulder, so that all of your back is pressing to his chest.

His hips roll so fucking slowly that you want to cry. You can feel every inch of his length as he slides out, then just as slowly pushes back in.

“Sam, please,” you turn your head and his lips connect with yours messily, and he ups his pace just slightly. You hand tightens its grip on the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s just so slow, you feel every little movement, every exhaled breath as he pushes in, every little hitch when you press back on his length.

He shifts slightly, instead of being pressed to his back, he moves so that he’s over you, and your face is buried in pillows as he grows a faster rhythm.

You can’t halt the soft sighs that leave your lips with every brush of his skin against yours. His lips find the back of your neck and trail down your spine, warm and soft against your heated skin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, one hand splaying over your belly as he drove into you over and over again.

“Sam, I need more,” you beg, turning to look over your shoulder at him.

He looks up at you, those eyes dark yet warm, something about him firm and unmoving as he says, “No, baby girl. You’re gonna take what I give you. I said I was gonna go real slow.”

“Then harder, please,” you breathe, biting your bottom lip. “If not faster, then harder, please.”

He gives you a slight smile and presses a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts once more, his left hand moving up to grip his headboard so that he could give more jarring thrusts while maintaining his tempo.

One thrust in particular hits just perfectly inside you, and you release a soft cry as a gasp fills your lungs.

“Yeah, right there!” you tell him, and his next thrust hits that same spot that makes stars dance across your vision. “Yes, Sam!”

He quickens slightly, jarring that spot every time now, and it doesn’t take long for you to build higher and higher, the best kind of burning filling your lower belly.

“Fuck, Sam!” you gasp, on the cusp of falling apart, when he stops, grinning into your shoulder.

“I told you that you’d be on edge for hours,” he says into your sweaty skin, the amusement not hidden in his voice at all. “You wanted to play this game, baby girl, so I’m playing.”

“Sam,” you whimper, desperate for him to stop all of this and just give you what you need. “Please, please, just make me cum. Please.”

“Not yet, baby girl,” he pulls completely out and turns you over, so that you’re on your back and facing him. He grins down at you. “You’re always so impatient.”

“God, because I want you all the time!” you moan, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Your lips connect with his, hot and seeking and hungry.

A low groan rumbles in his chest, and you arch your hips toward his encouragingly.

“If I make you cum now, it won’t be the last time tonight,” he finally decides to bargain with you.

“Yes, fine,” you agree instantly. “I don’t care, I just need you.”

His lips quirk upwards, and he adjusts his glasses before lining himself up once more and pushing home, a deep, soul reverberating groan parting your lips.

You watch the way his muscles move when he fucks you, the way his abdomen is so tight and his biceps flexing as he held his grip on the headboard.

And then it’s like fire across your entire body, his pounding reaching that spot that has your toes curling and quivering gasps leaving your lips every second.

His name is a chant from your mouth, his eyes holding yours as your mouth fell open, once more on the cusp of falling apart.

This time he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, his thick length pushing repeatedly until you’re clawing at his back, back arching as an earth-shattering orgasm swept over you.

Six, seven, eight more thrusts and he’s grunting into your neck, his load emptying inside you and dripping down your thighs as he gave a few final lazy thrusts.

With a heavy sigh, he drops down beside you, on his side facing you with a goofy smile on his lips.

“The glasses really did it for you, huh?” he murmurs, reaching up to push some hair out of your face.

“You should wear them more often,” you tell him. “If it will always wind up like tonight, wear them every day.”

“I’m not even done with you yet and you’re already talking about next time,” he tells you, and you flash him a small smile.

“Hey, a girl can dream.”

“[Y/N],” a voice says, and you smile at the sound of it. “[Y/N]! Come on, wake up!”

You blink and open your eyes, and suddenly you’re not in bed with Sam, and you’re most definitely not back at the bunker.

“Where…” you trail off and sit up, seeing both Dean and Sam dressed and ready, wandering about the room and collecting necessary things.

“About time, Sweetheart,” Dean says. “It’s almost time. You need to get ready.”

“Yeah,” you say, blinking as you remembered that you were currently on a hunt with the two boys, looking for a hellhound that was set to collect a sleazy retail banker’s soul. “Yeah, just gimme a sec. I’m already dressed, I just need to put on my boots and find my-”

“Glasses?” Sam’s voice prompts, and you look up to see him holding out your pair of hellhound-seeing glasses, his own pair perched on his face.

Good God.

“Yeah, thanks,” you tell him, swallowing nervously while hoping that you didn’t say anything in your sleep.

“Okay, in headin’ out to the car. You’ve got two minutes,” Dean says as he gathers up his things. You watch him leave as you pull on your boots.

“Hey,” Sam clears his throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

Shit shit shit…

“You look good in glasses,” Sam remarks, and you look up to him in complete awe.

“Holy shit,” you can’t believe what he just said. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, they uh… They frame your face well. It looks good,” he says, and you see the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks.

You swallow and decide to make a bold move.

“I had a dream about us fucking and you were wearing glasses,” you say suddenly, and his eyes widen. “So, I mean, if you’re up for it, I’m definitely game. After this case, I mean.”

You head for the door to leave him to think about your proposition, a tiny smile on your lips as you remembered the dream.

And when you turn to look back at him, he’s grinning that same cheesy smile from your dream.

“Oh, I’m so setting laid tonight.”

~

Forevers:
@dslocum89
@thesupernaturalmoose1967
@queencflair
@sisterwinchesterwriter

4

Open When Letters 

A continuación frases que puedes escribir en cartas para meterlas en los sobres, también ideas para complementar los temas:

  1. Open… Right Now!: The distance is only physical, [incluir breve explicación]
  2. You need a kiss: Utiliza pintalabios para colorear tus labios y luego besar un trozo de papel.
  3. You are mad: No hay diversión sin locura #YOLO
  4. You feel like crying: Nunca digas “no puedo”, levantate, respira, desahógate en el lugar que más te guste, sonríe, sigue adelante.
  5. You want to run out: [Incluir pétalos de flores, hojas secas] Aquí un lugar que solo tu y yo conoceremos.
  6. You want to be NERDY!: [Dibuja lentes y un moñito muy nerds] [Incluir pasos para ser nerd, aunque no sean muchos] [Puedes bromear un poco]
  7. You see a woman crying: No hay mujer más desnuda que la que llora en los brazos de un hombre.
  8. Halloween: Si eres de México puedes incluir una “calaverita”, si eres de algún otro lugar o no sabes lo que es, agrega una carta temática. [Obsequiarle dulces puede complementar el detalle]
  9. You are nervous: Nos vamos a poner los pantalones e intentar no vomitar… Lo de más es tuyo.
  10. You’re had a hard day/ need motivation: Eres más fuerte de lo que crees, levantate y sigue. Cuando pienses en rendirte, recuerda la razón por la que empezaste.
  11. You are tired: Cansado pero no vencido, y eres fuerte, se que puedes.
  12. You are going to do GYM: ¡VAMOS! ¡¿Qué haces aquí parado?! ¡Corre Corre Corre!
  13. You have nothing better to do/ Bored: [Regalarle hojas para que dibuje, un sudoku, una sopa de letras o algo que sirva para distraer.]
  14. You are sad: Ningún mar en calma hizo experto a un marinero.
  15. Open in case of Zombie Apocalypse: [Puedes ver la película “Zombielad” o “Tierra de zombies” y registrar los tips o inventar tu mismo una lista que lo salve de una epidemia zombie.]
  16. It’s october 25th: Octubre 25, es el 298° día del amo en el calendario gregoriano y el 299° en los años bisiestos. Quedan 67 días para finalizar el año.
  17. It’s five o’clock in the morning: “Buenos días domilón/a”
  18. Birthday: [Una carta emotiva donde expreses felicidad por su cumpleaños, incluir confeti, globitos dibujados y un pastelito, también dibujado.]
  19. You feel lonely: [Deja algunas de tus redes sociales y hasta tu número] “No estás solo, me tienes a mi”
  20. You want to be hipster: 1. Come mucha nutella 2. Repite todo el día “Okay?, Okay” 3. Lee libros y escribelo en facebook.
  21. You can’t sleep: Contemos ovejas juntos: 1….2…..3…..4…..5….
  22. You want to know more about me: [Escribe una breve autobiografía, en la que incluyes datos raros o curiosos sobre ti, hasta puedes incluir una foto tuya.]
  23. You are sick: ¡Que te mejores!. [Regalar un sobre de té de manzanilla.]
  24. You need information: Atelophobia: the fear of not being good enough, but you are perfect like pizza…
  25. Somebody hates you: Meteré tu opinión en mi cuenta bancaria, para ver si en un par de años me genera algún tipo de interés.
  26. You feel like a hero: ¡Eres un héroe! ¿Me darías tu autógrafo?
  27. You are gonna travelling: Te deseo un buen viaje
  28. You are stressed: “Rompele la cabeza a alguien, disculpate y sigue con tu vida” [Puedes incluir un té de hiervabuena o hiervasrelajantes]
  29. You want to draw: [Incluir una hoja blanca para que tu chico/a dibuje lo que quiera.]
  30. You want to celebrate: YOU ROCK [Agrega pequeños globos de fiesta, de preferencia reales]
  31. You don’t feel handsome: Para mi, eres atractivo.
  32. You need a laugh: [Busca chistes en internet y escribele algunos, o imprime fotos de memes.]
  33. You are going to sleep: Buenas noches, descansa, sueña bonito y nos vemos luego.
  34. It’s winter break: Felices vacaciones, no olvides tu chamarra y un rico chocolate/ponche de frutas.
  35. You miss me: [Imprime tu mejor foto y regálasela.]
  36. It’s new years eve!: [Una carta como si fuera el día de fin de año, deseando tus mejores de seos para él/ella y si quieres hasta su familia.]
  37. Christmas’ day: [Una carta para el día de navidad, deseando lo mejor y enviando abrazos.]
  38. You are working: Un café y un poco de música te mantendrán vivo.
  39. You want a surprise: [Agrega un dibujo, una cartita o un detalle pequeño que haga especial esta carta, sorprendelo/la]
  40. You need a push: Si estás buscando una señal para seguir adelante, aquí está, es esta.
  41. April fools day: [Puedes dejar vacío este sobre]

disturbiosnocturnos  asked:

hi! i saw your post about midterm elections, did a bit of googling, and am still a bit lost. are midterm elections just regular elections??? cos they seem to happen every 4 years when presidents are elected. also, do i have to register to vote the day i turn 18 or the year i turn 18??? or months before??? i just wanna be ready cos i know whats coming is gonna be tough on us. thank you lots!!

The elections we refer to as Midterm Elections are held every four years, at the half-way point between presidential elections.

The big difference between a Presidential and a Midterm Election is, well, that you vote for the president in one and not the other. 

Midterm elections are held on a federal level because, by law, every House seat is open for re-election every two years, and every Senate seat is open every six years.

This is why in 2018 ALL 435 House seats will be up for re-election in 2018, but only 33 of the 100 Senate seats will be up. 

Also, midterm elections usually have state and local offices, issues, referendums, and propositions on the ballot. 36 of 50 state governors are up on the block in 2018. 

Please don’t underestimate how important your local issues are: whatever the federal government passes down, its usually up to the state how those laws will be enforced. See: like all of reproductive rights 

As for your questions regarding WHEN you can register:

Most states only require that you be 18 before the next election when you register. Check out the requirements for your state HERE.

So, for example, if you turn 18 ON OR BEFORE November 6th, 2018, you can probably register to vote now. 

Some states, like California, even give you the option of registering to vote on the same for that you use to register for a DL, a permit, or a state ID. 

HOWEVER: Not all states have the same rules regarding voting registration.

  • Alaska: Be at least 18 years old or within 90 days of your 18th birthday
  • Connecticut: Be at least 17 and turning 18 before Election Day

  • District of Columbia: Be at least 17 years old, and turn 18 years old on or before the date of the next general election

  • Georgia: At least 17 ½ years of age to register and 18 to vote.

  • Iowa: 6 months before 18th birthday

  • Louisiana: Must be 17 years old (16 years old if registering in person at the registrar of voters office or at the Louisiana Office of Motor Vehicles), but must be 18 years old to vote.

  • Missouri: 17 ½ years of age to register, 18 years of age to vote

  • Nebraska: 18 years of age on or before the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November of the current calendar year.

  • New Jersey: 17 years of age to register, 18 years of age to vote

  • New Mexico: 17 years of age to pre-register, 18 years of age to vote

  • New York: 18 by end of calendar year that you register (note: you must be 18 years old by the date of the general, primary or other election in which you want to vote).

  • West Virginia: Must be 17 years old and 18 before the next general election. 17 year olds may register and vote in primary elections if they turn 18 before the next general election.

  • Wisconsin: Be at least 18 years of age on the day of the election to be eligible to vote. Persons who are otherwise eligible to vote may register to vote at 17 years of age if they will be 18 by the next election.
Hope this helps!
10 things to do the summer before college

Soooo this is Part 1 of my Post of the Week series, and it won by just three votes. The new poll can be found here, please vote for your choices!

10 Things to do the summer before college:

1. Pay the enrollment/housing deposit. This might seem obvious, but the number of people who’ve lost out on guaranteed residences because they didn’t pay the deposit on time is disheartening. (For most US colleges, this date is May 1, whereas it’s between April and June 1 for most Canadian university.)

2. Check if you are eligible for any transfer credits, and how they translate into your courses. Several colleges might already offer you transfer credits on your acceptance letters, but the number itself might be rather vague and it’s highly possible that not all your credits count towards your major. For this reason, contact the admissions counselor/registrar to check how much of your credit is actually usable before you make your life plans about graduating in three years.

3. If you’re undecided, make a list of the courses you’re potentially interested in and watch lectures from your university. These lectures might be available on 3rd party online platforms, or on the unversity website. Most departments will also be happy to share a few videos with you if you display interest, so be sure to explore that option. In some cases, online classes may actually result in more transferable credit.

4. If you’re an international student, this is a good time to start making a list of all the documents you need for your passport renewal/visa interview. Some of these documents (tax rebate statements, pension plans from the company, etc) might take several weeks to come. You don’t want to be scrambling around the night before the visa interview to actually have these with you.

5. Additional tip for international students: read up a little about your cultural background. I do not intend for you to become condescending and label every act cultural appropriation, but you being from another country is likely a cause of intrigue for most ‘home’ students, and you will be able to hold a more interesting conversation if you have certain interesting things to tell them about yourself.

6. Get an internship or some sort of professional exposure to the field you hope to major in. This experience might vary- for instance, a finance major would likely benefit from an internship at an investment bank, whereas a physics major might learn from guided research under a professor. So find out about what is generally expected of your major, what you enjoy doing, and some summer engagement in the overlapping area.

7. Create your resume. You will most likely be applying for jobs once you start college, and unless it’s a paper printing/dishwashing job (AKA, ones that don’t require much prior experience), they will ask for a resume. The career center will be more inclined to help you if you show up with some semblance of ambition, as opposed to slumping on their chair and demanding for some means to earn money.

8. Research the clubs/extra-curricular opportunities. Knowing about this helps you understand the general essence of the student life on campus, and gives you a general idea before hand about how and where you want to contribute. Ideally, look into three clubs that relate to your major, and 4 that are merely a hobby. If you have been admitted on the basis of your extra-curriculars, and are required to continue something specific in college, then plan your other activities around this central one. 

9. Research your future classmates/roommates. Don’t stalk them to the extent that you’re in a tree outside their house with binoculars, but a slight amount of social media research doesn’t hurt. 

10. READ THAT BOOK YOU’VE BEEN MEANING TO/PICK UP A HOBBY/TRAVEL/EAT AT YOUR FAVOURITE RESTAURANTS MORE OFTEN/GO ON A ROAD TRIP/SPEND TIME WITH FAMILY. Please don’t get so caught up in future possibilities that you forget to live in the present. Take an absurd amount of pictures, make heartfelt promises to always keep in touch with your friends, dye your hair purple, and hug your parents a little tighter these last few months. This is the last vacation you can spend without stressing about the future, so enjoy it. I know you’re gonna be great.

How do you move a priceless work of art? Very carefully, of course. Hear a MoMA conservator and registrar explain the process to Leonard Lopate of WNYC Radio


[Jackson Pollock. One: Number 31, 1950. 1950. The Museum of Modern Art, New York. © 2016 Pollock-Krasner Foundation / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York]

The signs as murder mystery characters
  • Aries: Grumpy chief of the police department
  • Taurus: Character who will get into trouble in future books/seasons
  • Gemini: The specialist registrar (examines bodies)
  • Cancer: The murderer
  • Leo: The victim
  • Virgo: The priest/lawyer
  • Libra: Sidekick of detective
  • Scorpio: In cahoots with the murderer
  • Sagittarius: Glad the victim is dead
  • Capricorn: Detective
  • Aquarius: Distraught over victims death
  • Pisces: Troublesome ex of the detective
What’s in the booooooox?!?!

Anonymous submitted: 

I’ve been at my current registrar job for about two years.  My predecessor had held the position for 45+ years, and during that time had set aside a number of boxes that they deigned not ready for cataloging for one reason or another. Some had been sitting there for more than 15 years. Like, these boxes came in when flip-phones were advanced technology and jorts were haute couture. 

Anyway, I am working my way through these boxes, and most of them are filled with nondescript items that are just happy someone is finally paying them some long overdue love and respect.

Cut to yesterday, where I open a box after carefully reviewing the accession documentation and find a human phalange.

Yup, just a finger bone, hanging out with a pile of modern tourist trade baskets and knick knacks from all across the world!  The files do not reference this item in any way, shape, or form so I am left with a random finger bone with no associated culture, provenance, or identifiable data that could lead to repatriation, and the donor is deceased with no heirs to contact. 

The proper immediate reaction is this: 

And this is why you process collections in a timely manner, people!

Era prevedibile? Lo era!

Nel 1986, radio radicale, a seguito di un aumento dei costi di gestione, annunciò la sua chiusura. Sospesi i programmi, l'unica cosa che continuò ad essere mandata in onda furono le telefonate degli ascoltatori. Senza censure.

Avevate un minuto esatto per registrare un messaggio qualsiasi.

Fu l'apoteosi. Insulti, bestemmie, complottisti, capi popolo, haters, apologia al fascismo, insulti razzisti, tra Nord e Sud e via dicendo. In pratica, tutto il web 2.0 che conosciamo oggi. L'esperimento, se vogliamo, venne ripetuto per ragioni analoghe nel 1991 e nel 1993. Secondo le fonti di radio radicale, durante quei mesi, fu la radio più seguita in Italia. La cosa non mi stupirebbe.

Ora invece abbiamo i social network. E i social network hanno sentenziato la fine dell'internet che conoscevamo noi vecchi tromboni. D'altronde si è passati da surfare (immagine fantastica) a navigare (non la barca a vela, sciocchini, ma la nave della Tirrenia. E voi non state manco al timone).

A suo tempo qualcuno ci aveva messo in guardia sulla “chimera internet”. Con ragione. Dare carta bianca alle persone non vuol dire aumentare il dialogo, le opportunità, le occasioni, le idee. Anzi, significa tramutare il tutto in una grande riunione di condominio, o meglio, u a enorme radio radicale.

L'altra cosa interessante è il suo appiattimento. In un vecchio spot Telekom di Spike Lee (sì, pure lui aveva il mutuo da pagare), ci si chiedeva cosa sarebbe potuto accadere (in positivo ovvio) se Gandhi avesse avuto, al tempo, internet (precisamente la rete Telekom). Quale cosa magnifica vedere Gandhi parlare in streaming live sul Facebook. Pensateci.

Ecco, nel migliore dei casi si sarebbe fatto i selfie come il 99% delle persone famose oggi o, al massimo, sarebbe diventato una gif tipo Bennie Sanders, Zizek, Chomsky o ancora, ne avrebbero doppiato la voce come fanno con il Dalai Lama, per farlo parlare in molisano (dico un dialetto per dire non rompete i coglioni dopo).

L'opinione di tutti, tutta insieme, non solo non serve a un cazzo, ma ne limita il dialogo, lo distorce, genera mostri e soprattutto, fa perdere tempo. Tutte cose che sappiamo, discorsi già fatti ma che non cambiano di una virgola le cose. C'è una soluzione? No. Internet ha imprigionato questa generazione come la tv fece con la nostra. Per un momento ci siamo illusi, o forse ci saremmo illusi lo stesso perché eravamo ancora giovani, ma è durato poco.