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Seriously click it you WON’T regret it 

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Glad to see you back! I have started university and now unfortunately can completely relate to the students in Francis' arts class.

hahahah BEST OF LUCK ANON 

but seriously, the wacky, memorable liberal arts professors are the best. some of the things that come out of their mouth whether or not it has any relevance to their topic of expertise are like nuggets of gold that you will remember forever.

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(part 1)

(part 2)

All Leon wanted was to get through this day of classes before he could go home and hyperfixate on video games and K-dramas. Professor Alfred Jones and Professor Francis Bonnefoy, apparently, would have none of it.

“I cannot believe this,” Francis said in a grave voice, draped over Alfred’s podium at the room as if he were stricken with a Victorian ailment. “I cannot believe that our hailed university, the Pantheon of our modern day, where the new generation could rise to make our world flourish...hired an idiot to lead them.”

“Francis, my class started already,” Alfred deadpanned.

“Has it! Well, then perhaps this is the first time it has started, for clearly they have not had a competent films studies professor up until now. Someone who could truly open their eyes to the art, the delicate subtlety, the life of film.” 

“Goddamn, I didn’t realise you taught a class in sappy poetry too. I must have missed that department announcement.” 

“You would not know true poetry if it languished in all of its beauty and sorrow on your bed, Jones,” Francis said. 

“Look me in the eyes, Francis,” Alfred said. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you know what the fuck is going on in Last Year in Marienbad.”  

“You Americans and your obsession with plot! With action!” Francis said. “What are you teaching your youth, eh? How are they going to understand the history of film when their professor only cries at sappy movies, like Love Story, or God forbid, Finding Nemo?” 

“You leave Finding Nemo out of your frilly mouth!”

“You!” Francis pointed at Leon, who sighed heavily. “What do you know about the way that film can convey ideas and stories through an enigmatic nature, utilizing its unique art of editing and visuals to portray memory and concepts that no other form of art could try?”

“Er,” Leon said. “We watched Hiroshima Mon Amour last week.” 

“I shudder to think what this Americain has said to you about Resnais,” Francis said derisively. 

“I stuck to the syllabus,” Alfred protested. “The syllabus that you are currently mucking up because my class started ten minutes ago and you wouldn’t leave me alone for my lunch.” 

“You were speaking blasphemy about Marienbad.” 

“All I said was that he couldn’t draw a straight line even if he had a ruler.” 

“Your obsession with linear storylines. Typical of someone so young like you. Class--” Francis turned to the class as if this was his domain. Leon checked the time on his watch. “You are young, but you do not have to be plagued with childishness. Non-linear storylines evoke memory, and nostalgia is not merely the realm of the old.”

“You stole that from Hayao Miyazaki,” said Alfred. 

“I’m surprised you know of any movies that require subtitles. I had my doubts about whether or not you could actually read.” 

“Don’t you have a class going on right now?” 

“Ah, my TA can take care of it,” Francis said with a wave of the hand. Leon knew that Michelle had Francis’ course at this very hour, and was probably breathing a sigh of relief. “You would not have your beloved Christopher Nolan were it not for Alain Resnais! You would not have your silly little Inception were it not for Resnais’ genius and innovation, and the subjectivity of perspective!” 

“I can love ketchup and still hate tomatoes.” 

“Respect the tomato, Alfred! If you refuse to savour the tomato, give it the respect and dignity and appreciation that it deserves!” 

“Kinda making it tough to do it when you’re hijacking my class on the tomato, huh, Francis!” 

Leon exchanged glances with his fellow classmates, and he could tell that the same thought was going through all of their heads:

Was this going to be on the final? 

[bananonymity]

I see 🤔 Well I adore what you do

Thank you <3

[bananonymity]

HOW are you not famous?? Your writing is brilliant

shhhhhhh t’is bc i’m anonymous 

but thank you very much <3 i’m tickled that you like it. i haven’t been present in the hetalia fandom for years until very recently, so i’m happy that you enjoy my schtuff !

[bananonymity]

(part 1)

“Are there any other options?” said Emil. “That aren’t a four-hour course?”

Ludwig, ever patient on the outside and ever frustrated and ready to throw his keyboard out his office window on the inside, went back to the drawing board of available courses.

“Studio art has some openings this semester,” said Ludwig. Emil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s fine, it’s geared towards beginners. And you ar en’t expected to make museum-worthy masterpieces in there. It’s to study both the creation and the criticism of modern art.”

“I don’t know much about modern art,” admitted Emil. He admitted to a liking towards minimalism, which brought great astonishment and exasperation from his roommate Leon, who upon seeing Emil’s decor of his side of the dorm genuinely worried that Emil was tight on money and therefore lacking in any possession. But a college course on it, especially as a first year student, inevitably felt daunting.

“That’s all right,” Ludwig said. “After you go through Professor Bonnefoy, you will understand it, whether you like it or not.”

-

“Now tell me, class,” Francis Bonnefoy said. His voice was as silky as the freshly squeezed oil paints on the palette. “What do you gather from this piece?”

On the projector, which Professor Bonnefoy spent a good five minutes cursing at in the beginning of class trying to make it work, was a Cy Twombly piece, The Italians, MoMA, 1961. Francis stood at the head of the room, smiling at his class with anticipation while the students stared silently ahead.

Michelle knew that this was an important piece of work. By the way that Francis’s chest puffed the moment he brought the photo up, she could assume that he was very fond of this piece. It was in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. It also looked like what would result if one gave a child a 96-crayon Crayola box and a white wall.

“Anyone?” said Francis.

No one said a word. One student was constantly taking off their glasses, polishing the lenses, and returning it to their lens as if he genuinely thought that the scribbles were a speck of dust on his specs. Another student buried their face in their hands. The student next to Michelle burst into tears.

Francis immediately blossomed as if the student’s tears of terror watered him into fruition.

“It is a moving piece,” he said. “No–a powerful piece. You feel it, don’t you, Raivis?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Raivis whispered through his tears.

“What is it that Twombly is trying to express in this masterpiece?” Francis said, plowing through Raivis’ grief. “What is it that he is trying to communicate? Modern artists do not aim to make beauty–that is the philosophy of the old world. The old age of art, who think that one must have some technical skill in order to be an artist.”

“They weren’t wrong,” someone muttered.

“Twombly did not want to impress,” said Francis. “He wanted to communicate. He was a cryptologist in the military before he became an artist. He communicated through code, through mathematics, through complexity–”

He slammed his hand against the projector in a fit of passion.

“What is it, in this piece, that you can pick up?” said Francis. “What symbols do you pick up, that mean more than they say? Michelle!”

Michelle jumped in her seat. Why, oh why, couldn’t he have randomly called on her during the Duchamp example? At least she could recognize that the art piece in question was a urinal.

“What,” Francis said, “do you see? What message is being conveyed?”

“Um.” Michelle squinted at the painting. She did not know what to make of the scratched lines and the jagged scribbles. She definitely did not want to be the student who had to bring up the definitely phallic shape in purple crayon in the middle of the piece.

“It says….’The Italians’ on it,” Michelle said. “So it’s…definitely taking place in Italy?”

Francis sighed heavily, a heartbroken sort of sigh that made Michelle feel like she had not only betrayed him, but also set his life savings on fire and kicked his dog.

“Observation must start somewhere, I suppose,” Francis said. “It is my fault, we should have gone into the history of European graffiti. Then…then you would be able to understand…Now take notes, everyone.”

Michelle popped more lead into her pencil. She did not doubt that she could probably recreate this piece onto her notebook as notes, if only to make a point to herself. But she reckoned that Francis would give her zero marks if he caught her.

-

“You don’t make it sound like a good thing,” Emil said.

Ludwig did not bother hiding a grimace.

“I suppose art just isn’t my thing,” he said.

(tbc?)

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a sampling of film studies professor alfred jones’ rankings of famous films

Yojimbo (dir. Akira Kurosawa, 1961): his favourite western and it’s not even a western. he just loves a good showdown with a lone wolf badass. watches it when he’s feeling particularly cranky when university bureaucracy is especially annoying. 9/10

The Bicycle Thief (dir. Vittorio de Sica, 1948): yes, he knows that most well-known films have miserable endings and disappointing resolutions more often than not. yes, he acknowledges that there is hardly ever a critically acclaimed arthouse film where the main characters come out in a somewhat better place than they started. he still throws the nearest pillow at the screen every time he watches this to the end. 4/10

It’s a Wonderful Life (dir. Frank Capra, 1946): now THAT’S what he’s talking about 10/10

Y Tu Mamá También (dir. Alfonso Cuaron, 2001): has beef with the movie out of jealousy more than anything else. the fact that the cinematography is blissfully ignorant of conventional hollywood aesthetic rather than opposing it offends him. also ever since that one snl skit he always suggests watching it to students when they’re gloomy 8/10

Breathless (dir. Jon-Luc Godard,1960): next. 0/10

Metropolis (dir. Fitz Lang, 1927): watched it once while tipsy, has never been the same since. warily avoided his supervisors for a good week after watching. 2/10

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a handful of hetalia as john mulaney quotes

hre: i'll keep all my emotions right here and then one day, i'll die

post-teutonic knights prussia: i was raised Catholic, i don’t know if you can tell that from the everything about me

lithuania: i was a French maid for a period of time. i was treated well in my day. i worked for a variety of sirs

iceland: i am very small. and i have no money. so you can imagine the kind of stress that i am under

colonial america: why don’t you give me a candle for looking in the mirror and a floppy hat and i’ll tremble off to bed in my long victorian nightgown? was there ever even a ghost, mother, or was the dead victorian girl you saw just me all along?

greece: outta my way, i just wanna sit here and feed my birds

poland: ‘The horse used the elevator?’ you know those days when you’re like, ‘is the horse smart?’

america: when i walk down the street, i need everybody, all day long, to like me so much. it’s exhausting.

spain: i smoked cocaine the night before my college graduation. now i’m afraid to get a flu shot. people change.

germany, in the eu: i gave you more money than the Civil War cost and you fucking spent it already?

china: ah! one feels like a duck splashing around in all this wet! and when one feels like a duck, one is happy!

hungary: it’s okay. she’s just going through that phase where she says penis and vagina a lot. aren’t we all?

austria: you want me to do whaaaaaaaat?

england: i look like i was just sitting in a room in a chair eating Saltines for like 28 years and then i walked right out here.

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(part 1)

“Are there any other options?” said Emil. “That aren’t a four-hour course?”

Ludwig, ever patient on the outside and ever frustrated and ready to throw his keyboard out his office window on the inside, went back to the drawing board of available courses.

“Studio art has some openings this semester,” said Ludwig. Emil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s fine, it’s geared towards beginners. And you ar en’t expected to make museum-worthy masterpieces in there. It’s to study both the creation and the criticism of modern art.”

“I don’t know much about modern art,” admitted Emil. He admitted to a liking towards minimalism, which brought great astonishment and exasperation from his roommate Leon, who upon seeing Emil’s decor of his side of the dorm genuinely worried that Emil was tight on money and therefore lacking in any possession. But a college course on it, especially as a first year student, inevitably felt daunting.

“That’s all right,” Ludwig said. “After you go through Professor Bonnefoy, you will understand it, whether you like it or not.”

-

“Now tell me, class,” Francis Bonnefoy said. His voice was as silky as the freshly squeezed oil paints on the palette. “What do you gather from this piece?”

On the projector, which Professor Bonnefoy spent a good five minutes cursing at in the beginning of class trying to make it work, was a Cy Twombly piece, The Italians, MoMA, 1961. Francis stood at the head of the room, smiling at his class with anticipation while the students stared silently ahead.

Michelle knew that this was an important piece of work. By the way that Francis’s chest puffed the moment he brought the photo up, she could assume that he was very fond of this piece. It was in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. It also looked like what would result if one gave a child a 96-crayon Crayola box and a white wall.

“Anyone?” said Francis.

No one said a word. One student was constantly taking off their glasses, polishing the lenses, and returning it to their lens as if he genuinely thought that the scribbles were a speck of dust on his specs. Another student buried their face in their hands. The student next to Michelle burst into tears.

Francis immediately blossomed as if the student’s tears of terror watered him into fruition.

“It is a moving piece,” he said. “No--a powerful piece. You feel it, don’t you, Raivis?”

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Raivis whispered through his tears.

“What is it that Twombly is trying to express in this masterpiece?” Francis said, plowing through Raivis’ grief. “What is it that he is trying to communicate? Modern artists do not aim to make beauty--that is the philosophy of the old world. The old age of art, who think that one must have some technical skill in order to be an artist.”

“They weren’t wrong,” someone muttered.

“Twombly did not want to impress,” said Francis. “He wanted to communicate. He was a cryptologist in the military before he became an artist. He communicated through code, through mathematics, through complexity--”

He slammed his hand against the projector in a fit of passion.

“What is it, in this piece, that you can pick up?” said Francis. “What symbols do you pick up, that mean more than they say? Michelle!”

Michelle jumped in her seat. Why, oh why, couldn’t he have randomly called on her during the Duchamp example? At least she could recognize that the art piece in question was a urinal.

“What,” Francis said, “do you see? What message is being conveyed?”

“Um.” Michelle squinted at the painting. She did not know what to make of the scratched lines and the jagged scribbles. She definitely did not want to be the student who had to bring up the definitely phallic shape in purple crayon in the middle of the piece.

“It says....’The Italians’ on it,” Michelle said. “So it’s...definitely taking place in Italy?”

Francis sighed heavily, a heartbroken sort of sigh that made Michelle feel like she had not only betrayed him, but also set his life savings on fire and kicked his dog.

“Observation must start somewhere, I suppose,” Francis said. “It is my fault, we should have gone into the history of European graffiti. Then...then you would be able to understand...Now take notes, everyone.”

Michelle popped more lead into her pencil. She did not doubt that she could probably recreate this piece onto her notebook as notes, if only to make a point to herself. But she reckoned that Francis would give her zero marks if he caught her.

-

“You don’t make it sound like a good thing,” Emil said.

Ludwig did not bother hiding a grimace.

“I suppose art just isn’t my thing,” he said.

(tbc?)

[bananonymity]

Headcanon

Francis can’t listen to the orchestral of ‘The Rite of Spring’ without getting pissed off.

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Hetalia World ☆ Stars - Chapter 187 Original Translation: y4nderenka // donamoeba Scanlation: jammerlea // pandabaozi Please link back to our Tumblr when using translated images on other sites. T/N: Himaruya has said in his most recent blog entry that Holy Rome referring to Prussia as 'big brother' was a mistake missed by his editors.

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“Today’s Hetalia Preparation Course” [7/6] Original Birz translation: losthitsu Translation updates: donamoeba

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Disclaimer: In this post, I will not consider nor speculate a Holy Rome = Germany connection. I’ll only be covering canon material.

Guardian-Sibling Dyad:

The strength of the two’s relationship begins before Germany’s birth. Prussia zealously worked towards consolidating the German states into one sovereign nation. While Germany has plenty of older brothers, Prussia steps in as his main caretaker.

Source: Hetascanlations, World Stars Chapter 12. 

Ex: In the scene depicting Germany’s birth, there’s a clear moment that demarcates Prussia’s status as the closest elder brother.

Germany’s a source of pride and joy for Prussia but also someone whom he loves deeply. As such, he protected Germany—a then helpless and inexperienced child—from political enemies.

This period of impotence doesn’t last very long, however. Germany learns the ropes of being a nation very quickly and respectively ages just as fast. He’s immediately immersed in the world of politics.

Keep reading

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Based on this au

-

“So,” said Ludwig, “you’d like to drop Music Theory.”

Student Advisor Ludwig Beilschmidt’s office was orderly, clean, and devoid of distraction. It was a wonder how it hadn’t driven anyone mad yet. Emil found it calming to a point; it made him somewhat nostalgic for his comfort zone of Icelandic minimalism, except for the lack of spacious windows.

Emil nodded.

“Not your liking?” said Ludwig.

“It wasn’t bad,” Emil said. He had no real complaint against the course. The first day of class, Professor Edelstein spent the entire hour and fifteen minutes teaching the students how to find the cheapest textbooks on Amazon. “But I already know music theory.”

“So you’d like to challenge yourself,” Ludwig said.

“I guess,” Emil said.

Ludwig nodded with approval, missing or ignoring the glum note to Emil’s tone. The real reason that he wanted to drop out was in fact the very opposite; the moment he stepped into the music building, he felt such oppressive intimidation that he actually texted his older brother for comfort, which went something like this:

LUKAS: How are you liking your classes?

EMIL: [thumbs down emoji]

It was a risky move, because goodness knew if this amount of unprecedented emotional vulnerability would worry Lukas. Emil regretted the raw honesty immediately afterward, but by then it was too late.

“That’s one of the great things about university,” said Ludwig. “It gives you avenues to study subjects you wouldn’t have thought of before. Now, dropping this course would mean you need to take up another course to fulfill the minimum amount of credits to be a full time student in this semester. Have you thought of what you would like to add?”

“Not exactly,” Emil said, staring at the corner of Ludwig’s screen where about seven new email notifications from frantic students at the edge of add-drop period scrambled to change their majors.

“Well, I can tell you that you still have some gen eds that you would have to fulfill,” said Ludwig. “One social studies and one art course. That would be good to take care of while you are still a first year.”

“Mm,” Emil said.

“And if you’re up for a challenge, or have interest in specific topics, there are certainly some classes in the one thousand level that have extra space.”

“Mm.”

“Or since you’re already quite ahead in your credits, you can explore a topic for your own enrichment.”

“Mm.”

Ludwig gave Emil a look of pleading exasperation. Emil fixed his gaze stubbornly on the window.

“What is your preference?” Ludwig said.

Emil pursed his lips. He knew that it was harder on Ludwig than on him to deal with his unhelpful indecision, but it did not give him any clearer opinion on what he ought to do. Maybe he should have bitten the bullet and stayed in Professor Roderich’s class. Maybe he should have thought of this before the semester started. Maybe he should have never applied to a university so far from home. Maybe he should have never graduated high school, in general.

“I guess finish my gen ed courses,” Emil said.

Ludwig nodded with enthusiasm for the both of them.

“So, an art course and a social studies course,” said Ludwig. “We have several art courses that are available for you here. Let’s see…”

Ludwig pulled up all the available courses for the semester that would fulfill an art credit. The array of choices made Emil’s eyes blur.

“How about Intro to Film?” said Ludwig. “That would cover your art credit, and also give you an extra English credit if you’re looking into pursuing a certificate.”

“A certificate?” Emil said. “What for?”

“Certification for Digital Media, if that interests you,” Ludwig said.

Emil sputtered.

“I don’t even know what my major is!” he said. “What’s a certificate going to do for me?”

“You don’t have to take it for a certificate,” Ludwig said quickly as Emil buried his face in his hands. “I just meant that it was a nice way to kill two birds with one stone if--”

“But I don’t want to kill birds,” Emil said. “I don’t even know what birds to kill. What kind of person am I if I went around killing random birds just because society tells me that’s how to get a job?”

He slumped back into his seat, letting out a huff of distress. He supposed that he needn’t yell about it, but he had to affirm himself that he made a solid point. Ludwig, in the meantime, only rubbed his brow wearily.

“No certification then,” said Ludwig. “But if we just look at art credits, would that interest you?”

“What is the class like?” Emil said.

“Well...”

“Class, I want you to write this down. Soviet cinema banks on violently killing off every character that has a face on screen. You can quote me on that, I have a doctorate.”

Leon Wang, Emil’s roommate, scribbled this down on his notebook, if only because he knew it would make a solid tweet later on. Professor Alfred F. Jones paced about the front of the room, whizzing through his PowerPoint presentation faster than any of the students could actually take notes.

“Battleship Potemkin? Dead,” said Alfred. “Strike? Dead. A five-second example of the Kuleshov effect? Dead baby. Basically, if you want to make a Soviet montage, kill a bunch of farmers from different camera angles.”

“Professor Jones?” One student raised their hand in the back.

“Call me Alfred,” Alfred said, flashing a dazzling grin. “What’s up?”

“Can you go back to the last slide with all the notes?” they said.

“Fine, but you all gotta catch up faster than that,” Alfred said.

He backspaced on the PowerPoint, skipping through the past fifteen or so slides that he had flew through in half a minute until he reached the slide of haphazard bullet points.

“So, to recap,” said Alfred. “Soviet montage wasn’t necessarily trying to break the rules of cinema. Leave that to the French in the sixties, God help them. But Eisenstein and Kuleshov in particular wanted to use editing differently, to create a synergetic meaning through editing shots together that, by itself, wouldn’t communicate that. Sort of like how on Instagram, you can either build a collage or just have multiple photos in a post, and the effect of it is different depending on how you arrange it, right?”

“What?” said Leon.

“So there you go,” Alfred said. Leon sighed and wrote Instagram = Soviet montage (?) in his notebooks, and hoped that Alfred upload the slides onto Blackboard later today.

“But here’s the wild thing,” said Alfred. “Soviet montage outlived the USSR. Stalin is dead! But even in the play-it-safe boon of Hollywood, we still use those seemingly weird and non-linear montage editing for our movies. Take Arrival. Has anyone here not seen Arrival?”

Several hands went up in the air. Alfred threw a dry erase board marker on the floor.

“Too bad! Spoilers alert,” he said. “The reason why you go into the movie thinking that it is being told in a linear manner, and that Amy Adams’ daughter dies in the beginning of the story, is through the Kuleshov effect. You see her in the beginning of the movie watching her daughter die, and then the scene cuts to her going to work. And you--the audience, you think she looks so sad and distant and uninterested in the news about these octopus aliens because of the recent death of her daughter. But actually you only think that because the two scenes are put back to back. Her face was really just neutral, but because of editing you think they are related, when it is actually a flash forward--or flashback. Dead baby!”

Leon nodded fervently, writing with a little more vigor in his notebook. Maybe Alfred actually did know what he was talking about. He made sense, which was more than he could ask for in a college course. This course made him feel excitable, to relish the honor and merit of his favorite medium, handing back to it the dignity it deserved.

“Or like in this one episode of Lizzie McGuire,” said Alfred.

Leon blanked immediately.

“There is this one scene I remember,” Alfred said, his eyes widening with nostalgia. “I don’t remember the characters’ names at all, or the plot, or if this was even an episode of Lizzie McGuire, but I’m kind of certain that it was on the TV when I was about ten years old. Anyway, there was a scene where this boy, no idea who he was, maybe he was like, Hilary Duff’s little brother or something? Anyway, he had a dirty nose and his mom was like, you got a dirty nose and when and licked a napkin or something to clean it off, and then it would suddenly cut to an unrelated, non-narrative shot of a lion licking her cub’s face, and then cut back to the mom wiping the dirt off her kid’s face. The lion has nothing to do with the story, but it was edited in there to make a more symbolic comparison, to emphasize the overbearing nature of the mother. Disney Channel was flexing its Soviet montage, baby!”

Alfred sped through several tens other PowerPoint slides that looked like they held vital information. Leon leaned over to the student sitting next to him.

“What the hell is Lizzie McGuire?” he whispered.

“All right, fifteen minute break commences now,” Alfred said, closing his laptop while students desperately scribbled the last of the bullet points with their aching hands. “Second half of class, we’ll get right into the film. Unfortunately, if you graduate from this school with a film degree and not know what the Odessa steps are, you aren’t going to make it out alive in Hollywood or wherever the hell you guys want to go. So we’re going to have to watch some Eisenstein. I’m so sorry, everyone.”

While other students went to use the restroom, or checked their text messages on their phones, Leon flipped through the syllabus for this course once more. He was hopeful that they would watch a John Woo film in this course, which did not seem like a far cry from what Alfred would assign. Apparently, one of their midterms would include writing a paper applying an advanced film theory to Die Hard.

“Come on, kids!” Alfred said. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to stretch your legs. This is a four-hour course, you’ve got all the time to sit around. Don’t you know that sitting is the new smoking?”

He promptly took a bite from a box of Chick-Fil-A strips waiting for him on the podium.

(tbc?)

[bananonymity]

Pixiv ID: 49790538

Member: 具りこ

[bananonymity]

oh dear a hetalia university au

THE PROFESSORS

Alfred Jones - Film Studies

-Specializes in genre film, especially film comedy

-Class participation points is if you livetweet your observations and thoughts on a film that you watch in class with the hashtag #JonesJokes1100 (1100 is the course number)

-If you go to him for office hours he will spend half of the time recommending cult films to you

-Will find any excuse to screen at least one (1) Fast and Furious film in any of his class

-Hides snack food in the (public) classrooms he teaches in, will share with the class if a student finds it first

-thinks jean-luc godard is a punk bitch who weighs 20 pounds soaking wet

Arthur Kirkland -  Literature

-Children’s Literature and Fantasy specialization

-that one professor who bumbles into class in sweater vests and an entire teapot 

-”Hi everyone, class is canceled today. I couldn’t find a fucking parking spot.”

-Bring up in his class that Lord of the Rings is an allegory of WWII. I dare you.

-YouTube autoplay defeats him every time

-”IT’S. IN. THE. BLOODY. SYLLABUS.”

Ludwig Beilschmidt - Advisor

-Poor man is responsible for arranging the schedules and eventual graduation of 18,000 students who eat spaghetti out of a shoe when they run out of plates

-Takes every panicked and not necessarily sober student’s frantic emails about a major change with weary stride

-Definitely drinks in the office

-Brings his dogs to campus for therapy dog Thursdays. Then proceeds to pet the dogs himself for two hours

Francis Bonnefoy- Studio Art (all credit for characterization goes to @thedisappointedidealist12 )

-A tortured contemporary artist who needs to teach millennials/gen Z students to appreciate and critique modern art

-makes it a goal in life to baffle and infuriate his students, but once in a blue moon would make a really good point in his lessons that blows everyone’s minds

-Forces students to go to gallery openings and art exhibits with him for extra credit so that he can talk to death about what he thinks about every piece to them

-will fail anyone who said ‘I could have painted that.”

-bonus: argues with Alfred all the time about the merits of French new wave cinema

Gilbert Beilschmidt - Political Science/History

-Leadership class to study famous leaders in history, how they exercised and spread their influence to the people.(is it just me or does Frederick the Great take up a lot more of the syllabus than the other topics?)

-Seemingly easy-going and a human disaster but once add-drop period is over your nose is on the grindstone and you realize that this man actually knows his shit plus some and also you might fail but hey, you’ll have fun doing it

-if his class survives the semester he will take them to the bar and buy them all shots

-”Dear Professor Beilschmidt, This is Xiao Mei from your Political Psychology class. Would it still be okay for me to take the final tomorrow at 12PM? Thank you for your time! Regards, Xiao Mei.” “whatever -- Sent From iPhone”

Elizaveta Hedervary- Gender Studies

-on one hand, she’s the professor who will invite students to her home to spend the holidays if they cannot go home for break

-on the other hand, there is a reason why No Other Faculty dares to take her parking spot

-she and Gilbert use the same class room back to back, which has led to petty territorial rivalries and pranks

-Will publicly drag you and your unfounded opinions in class in the gentlest, most ruthless manner

-You can skip the test if you beat her in arm wrestling in front of the class (spoiler alert: you can’t)

Lovino Vargas- Dining Hall Manager

-Makes it his life goal to change the campus’ perception of the dining hall food by working hard and cooking delicious food

-WILL complain with every breath about budget, quality of groceries, poor pay, and college students who think putting spaghetti-os on a piece of bread is a meal

-on the flip side, very attentive to the students, especially female students, and keeps an eye out for any sign of unhealthy or eating disorder and encourages them to eat wholesome meals. if he catches a student skipping meals because of workload, he will shove a bruschetta in their hands and glare at them until they eat

-a bit too scared to go on strike over pay, although Francis encourages it wholeheartedly

Antonio Carriedo- Librarian

-In the past, he and Arthur were rivals to graduate summa cum laude in their programs. now, Antonio is taking it easy

-Still unironically uses nineties style catalogue cards because it relaxes him, also his computer mysteriously malfunctions every time he tries to use it to locate a book for someone

-if you ask him for a book he will somehow have you sharing your life story right at the help desk for a good fifteen minutes. he WILL forget what book you were asking for

Yao Wang - Business

-Uses memes to stay relevant with the youth (“Don’t forget to YEET”)

-Often invites students to a group lunch after class is over and remembers all his old students’ names

-Don’t even think about trying to leave class early. He may not call you out but expect a threatening Office jpg to airdrop into your phone

-loves it when students bring their children to class, will hold the baby while lecturing

THE STUDENTS

Emil Steilsson - First Year Undecided Student

-Freshman from Iceland, first time leaving his home and struggles to put himself out there to make friends or meet new people

-Raised in a large and close household but because he’s quite a bit younger than his brothers, doesn’t always feels like he belongs

-Also, his first time being away from his brothers, which gives him an anxiety that he will never admit

Leon Wang - First Year Film Studies Student

-Freshman from Hong Kong and Emil’s roommate

-Professor Wang’s kid brother; Yao Wang will bring him tupperware of home cooked Chinese meals every Thursday which Leon will not admit to deeply appreciating

-He will share all his food with you, but he will also eat all your food in return

-A bit of an age gap between him and his brother, and he was raised mostly in boarding schools in England growing up, so he doesn’t get to see his parents often and therefore unconsciously deals with a complex of feeling unwanted or shuffled around

-If he wasn’t such a nice kid Emil would probably have a nervous breakdown having Leon as a roommate (their tidiness levels are Very Different)

Michelle - Second Year Art Student

-Sophomore from Seychelles and fast friends of the boys

-Has a work study job at Professor Bonnefoy’s department

-She has trouble fitting in with the other students and often feels a bit left out from her peer group, despite her friendly efforts

-Because she pursues art, she often worries about her future job prospects, and lacks much confidence in her skills in any other field