Some middle-aged ladies just wandered down the street (idk we have perfectly good sidewalks but they

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Some middle-aged ladies just wandered down the street (idk we have perfectly good sidewalks but they were in the middle of the street, why) having a loud conversation and it was the thickest Buffalo accent I’ve ever heard and I am completely helpless as to how to represent that in any meaningful way here. I do not know how to describe it. But holy shit. Holy shit. It was, it was intense. 

I am not from here. I have lived here a decade. In my native county, 300 miles from here, we speak distinctively but I also can’t describe it. Buffalo’s part of the Great Lakes Vowel Shift, my home territory is not. They’re related accents. 

You never really hear about the northern rednecks. In movies, anybody working-class is Southern, and there’s all this baggage that goes with that. But up here, in the dark woods, in the twisty old suburbs, in the stodgy working class enclaves, there are all kinds of accents and all kinds of superstitions and all kinds of subcultures and linguistic quirks and all kinds of intimately recognizable, but utterly indescribable artifacts of a very distinctive way of being. 

And it’s so hard to describe, partly because nobody ever does; you only notice it if you are not of it, and if you are not of it, you don’t understand it. 

I guess this guy’s accent is about right but these ladies, it was thicker than that, and I don’t know how to describe it. (Those accent tag videos are a horrifying timesuck and just you try watching the Rochester guy without laughing until you pee, I dare you. Oh my god what got me was when he was reading the question about the daddy long legs and pronounced it “layigs”.)

I don’t know how my accent stacks up anymore. I never notice I have one.

Anyway. You only notice it from outside, and from the outside, you don’t get it. It defies accurate analysis.

I’m not really working on this but I’m

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I’m not really working on this but I’m working on this– Iolo Arana is the only friend of Poe’s to visit Yavin 4 during a school break, and he gets to meet Kes.

From the banter, Kes had met BB before, but couldn’t understand Binary, much to the little droid’s frustration.

“You could make him a text readout,” Iolo pointed out, as Poe sat down next to him. Inside the speeder it was dim and quiet enough for Iolo to open his eyes. The headache was definitely getting better– humid, terrestrial air was really helping.

Poe settled himself and poked BB-8 with his toe. “Beep is perfectly capable of generating a text readout if he really wants people to know what he’s saying,” he said.

BB rotated his upper sensor array, and projected a little holo readout that said, “NO”, and Poe laughed so hard he couldn’t sit up straight.

“I’m just bad with machines,” Kes said, firing up the speeder with an ease that belied his words. “Poe gets all his mechanical inclinations and most of his brains from his mother, you know?” Iolo managed to laugh at that, and Kes grinned at him over his shoulder. “I just gave him his looks.”

“Oh, ouch,” Poe said.

“That’s not an ouch,” Iolo pointed out mildly. “I don’t know, are you done growing? Because if you’re going to fill out like that I might have to reconsider my acceptance of your policy of not dating me.”

“Hey hey,” Kes said, “you can keep talking, and why won’t you date him, Poe? He’s adorable.”

“Papa,” Poe said, pained. “Don’t hit on my friends. This is why I never bring anybody home.”

“Ha,” Kes said, “I haven’t even gotten started yet,” and added something in Iberican that Iolo caught absolutely none of.

“Papa,” Poe said, low and offended.

“Es la verdad,” Kes said, and Iolo knew that meant “it’s the truth”, but he didn’t know why he remembered that. He should’ve brushed up on the Iberican instructional holos he still had on a datapad somewhere. Actually… they might be on the datapad he had with him. Hm.

“It’s rude to use a language not everyone present speaks,” Poe said, grimly annoyed. He dug at BB-8 with his toe. “That goes for you too, Beep.”

BB-8 projected another holo, and this time it said, “FUCK YOU”, and this time it was Iolo who laughed so hard he slid over sideways in the seat and lay against Poe, wheezing helplessly.

“What have I done to deserve this?” Poe asked. “Why must this happen? I am disrespected on all fronts.”

“Now you know what it’s like to have a kid,” Kes said. “They never respect you. They’re only ever assholes to you.”

bedbugsbiting replied to your post

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I love Fluevogs! I’ve only ever had one pair, but I wore them for years.

I have been coveting Fluevogs for like– it’s gotta be 5 years now, at least, I’ve kept on tormenting myself with the website, and how gorgeous the various shoes look, and like– quirky. which is the only kind way of describing what sense of style I do have. And a while back, the dude was commuting to Toronto once a week and he was like, you know, there’s a whole store of Fluevogs there. you could go look at them. And I was just so ashamed of even wanting something that fancy, you know, like how would I deserve something like that, I don’t even make three hundred dollars in a week how could I even think I deserved three hundred dollar shoes? 

And we went past the store and I  made myself tell him I wanted to go inside, but I couldn’t make myself ask to try anything on, and left with my face bright red. But he’s known me for fifteen years, so after lunch, he said, we could go back in there if you wanted. and you could try some on. i think you could have a pair of shoes. they’re not too fancy. 

And I did, and I still feel weird, but I also am really really really pleased with them. 

bizarre-caviar reblogged your post:Poe had a really interesting junior year....

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bizarre-caviar reblogged your post:Poe had a really interesting junior year. Learned…

Literally all I want to do with my life is study star wars species

Did I miss any cute ones? I don’t have a comprehensive knowledge of the possible species so I just ran through Wookieepedia at, like, random, trying to find ones that were cool but not too weird. I wanted to continue the series but I just couldn’t think of any more. (I was going to do a Mon Calamari and that was about it that I could think of.)

Once a week postings is not enough to stave off the withdrawal I have from your fic. (But reaaly you

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*blushes* Thank you! 

I keep thinking that surely I should be able to do bonus extra more frequent updates but then something always comes up and I never manage to get the chapter up early. So I probably should just stick to the once weekly thing. I’m so impatient to get the whole thing up and done with and published, but taking my time has been yielding better results in terms of me being happy with the final thing. 

I also feel like if I posted more I’d be jinxing it somehow? That’s a silly thing to think, but. I told myself the whole story was done, and it’s really not. It needs a lot of polishing. 

But thank you so much for writing to me, because even if I’m slow at answering asks, they do mean a lot to me.

From my commute, at a Williamsville stoplight this morning....

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From my commute, at a Williamsville stoplight this morning. Dodge Avenger with an Avengers sticker, among others. LOL nerd! (Me too!)

kylostahp: deputychairman: nehirose: harrisonforddaily: Harri...

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kylostahp:

deputychairman:

nehirose:

harrisonforddaily:

Harrison Ford in his carpentry workshop, 1982.

aka and here we have the reasons for time travel

my god he’s like a PARODY of mom porn “so good looking, and good at DIY too! they say he’s *conspiratorial whisper* good with his hands” I hate myself for finding this attractive

and just look at the size of that drill

Awkward confession time: As a wee child, for some reason I cannot now unpick, I identified Han Solo as in some way resembling my father. I don’t know; my father is a six-foot-tall narrow-built skinny white dude with dark hair. I don’t know!
Maybe it’s because my dad has always worn pants of about the style and fit of Han Solo’s pants in the movies? IDK. It was the early eighties when I formed this impression, okay?
Also my father is a carpenter. Much of my life with him has been spent in the workshop handing him things and holding the ends of things while he sawed them, or whatever. That’s what I did last week, braced things while he hammered nails into them, and ran to fetch drill bits and such. That’s my relationship with my dad.
SO. The thrilling conclusion: I am COMPLETELY UNABLE to find ANY of this glorious Harrison Ford material sexually enticing in ANY WAY.
When I think “Daddy” I am definitely not thinking about anything sexual. Whatever the opposite is of a daddy kink, that’s what I have.
I’m sorry, Glorious Young Harrison Ford. You are entirely inaccessible to my sexual identity. You’re hard-wired into my id but mostly I just really want to follow you around and hug your leg and have you comb my hair and give me ice cream. It’s kind of weird, because I’m now pretty conditioned to write smut about anything?
Not Han Solo. Sorry guys.