#he’s allowed to update his CV

[anotherdescentintomadness]

If you think CQL is the only reason Wang YiBo’s star is on the rise, please check yourself. He’s been grinding since day one to get where he is. There are roles he landed that people think he only got because of CQL, but they’re wrong.

People have been underestimating Wang YiBo for his entire career, because he’s pretty, because he’s young, and because he entered the industry on the idol track. And as evidenced by the fact that so many are upset that he removed CQL from his bio — saying he’s ungrateful, that he would be nothing without it — even these fans underestimate him.

Sure, CQL helped his trajectory to move faster, but he was grinding every day there too, on set. Because he gives 110% to everything he does. Every time. Without fail. In spite of fatigue, illness, injury, harassment, fabricated scandals or anything else. He’s not a success because of CQL. He’s a success because he’s Wang YiBo.

This video collects some of the work Wang YiBo has done, along with quotes from directors and other industry colleagues, and does a great job showing that Wang YiBo’s success is due to his insane work ethic, his passion, and his unflagging vision for the career he’s building for himself. And all of this before the age of 26.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Do you people ever go through comedycv.co.uk? Because going to that link and just clicking through has become one of my regular hobbies. You know how there always posts going around Tumblr about how it's sad that the old internet is lost? Well did you know there's some old internet that's very much still online, and it has summaries of comedians' careers, frozen in time at the exact point when they became too successful to need to keep updating it?

I enjoy clicking on random pages of comedians I've never heard of, to find out what was going on back then. But it's even more interesting to look at the pages for comedians I know about, and see what was the most recent accomplishment listed, at what point they stopped worrying about this website. In many cases, it's when they became famous enough for it to not matter. In the cases of younger comedians, it's when time moved on enough for this bit of the old internet to become irrelevant in the face of social media. But the website's still up. One of those things that it seems like should be gone, but everyone's forgotten it's there so no one's remembered to take it down. I love finding things like that. Though I do have an occasional track record of sharing those things on Tumblr and then someone involved in it comes across my Tumblr post and then it gets taken down as a result of me sharing it. Okay that only happened once but it was enough to freak me out, hopefully this one Tumblr post doesn't get an entire website taken down. Pretty sure I don't personally have the power to bring down an entire website.

I mean, obviously there have to be exceptions to people whose Comedy CV page stopped updating when they got too famous to need it, and people whose page stopped updating when the rise of social media made it irrelevant. And that would be the person whose Comedy CV page kept getting updated while he was with an agent who made him do things like that, and then dropped it the moment he was allowed to have one of those public entertainment careers where you get really angry about members of the public knowing you exist:

The quotes about his comedy, all of them praise and not a single bit of the Lee-esque ironic self-deprecation that I'd expect in a situation like this, continue for almost a whole other page. It's significantly longer than most of the other ones.

Not a single mention of Mock the Week, that's how old this one is:

"Alex Horne and his assistant Tim Key"

Here's a less fun thing about comedy advertising pages that are so old: defining women in a male-dominated environment by their competition with other women. That's something you still see today and it sucks, but it doesn't happen constantly anymore the way it used to. Like Danielle Ward being "one of the few female satirists", rather than just a very good comedian who performs satire. Not that I'm blaming Danielle Ward for this, I assume she didn't write that herself, and it's the way marketing was encouraged.

And Josie Long, on the other hand is, "unnaturally far from girlie adolescence". Don't worry, she's not shit like all those other female comedians (again, not Josie Long's fault, I can't imagine this was her idea). Her page must be really old, as it doesn't mention winning the Perrier Newcomer Award in 2006.

When I first started clicking through these, I saw Ahir Shah's name and thought, I bet that'll be weird, since even the older comedians - as in, the Chocolate Milk Gang-era ones - have much younger pictures of themselves on here. Ahir Shah is young (at least I hope he is, at least compared to some people, since he's my age), so a younger picture of him will be really young. I thought that before I opened his page for the first time, but I still wasn't remotely prepared for what I saw there:

On the subject of small children who were born in the same year as me, did you know that Daniel Sloss met Frankie Boyle once?

Long list of credits, even with no Thick of It yet. Not even Gash. God, imagine a world without Armando Iannucci's Gash. What a sad world.

Awww...

Sorry, why has Roisin Conaty never mentioned her Monopoly Woman character in anything I've seen?

Love that highly rough around the edges comedian Rhod Gilbert has a professionally written essay in his description, and a picture of himself in business attire.

Oh, sorry, Stewart, I thought you were all counterculture and don't do mainstream advertising? What are you doing here looking like a movie star and with not a single ironic self-deprecating quote?

A couple of years ago now, in a journey somewhat similar to the Comedy CV one, I went through all these old Edinburgh programs, and I learned that there are an amazingly large number of terrible pictures of Russell Howard that got used in official promo between about 2004 and about 2009 (there are not just in old programs, also in old articles about him, it's remarkably consistent). I don't know why, but for some reason Russell Howard did not give a single good picture of himself to any official sources during those years. This was one of those terrible pictures, used in the Edinburgh Fringe 2005 poster for his show Skylarking, which is something I know off the top of my head because I have spent too much time reading old Edinburgh programs. Again, no mention of Mock the Week, so this is older than his start on that. But newer than his 2005 show, so that dates it pretty specifically.

"Russell has twice toured as the special guest of Perrier Award Winner, Daniel Kitson." Amazingly grandiose way to refer to doing tour support.

On that subject, I'm going to stop pretending I didn't primarily use this to look up Chocolate Milk Gang members, and show you the main ones from that. Zaltzman has a page that's so long I had to cut a little bit of it off even by spreading it across two screenshots:

There's a quote praising him by Dominic Maxwell in there, then a humble Metro reviewer, who many years later would be with The Times and call Andy John Oliver's "left-behind sidekick". What a dick.

Andy's page has gone beyond just a curiosity to me, and has helped me a bit with some of my completism. You get things on these pages that, once they got bigger, seemed to small to ever mention again. So you might only know the comedian had done those things if you find stuff that was written when they were small enough for those little things to seem like a bigger deal. I've been trying to track down his episode of Live Floor Show ever since reading it on there, which I've never seen mentioned anywhere else. Andy Zaltzman's page is written like a genuine CV, which is helpful.

And at this point I should stop pretending this whole post has been anything besides an excuse to show you this picture of John Oliver when he had long-ish hair and the career of a baby:

John Oliver's episode of People Like Us is 2x05, from 2001, and that description calls it "the new series of People Like Us", so that tells you when that was written. This page was also helpful for the completest in me, when I did things like make a compilation of John Oliver's scenes from the early 00s when he appeared in one scene of one episode each of several different sitcoms:

I haven't even scratched the surface with this post of the amusing things on that Comedy CV site, everyone go look at the adorable old picture of Joe Lycett. I promise, mindlessly clicking through the links is a great way to spend an afternoon.

[ddelline]

friday fic f*ckery (wip wednesday 2 days late)

blurb | she returns! with updates! later than promised! new cv/sm snippet, after ..... six months :,) well, work kicked my ass, ch236 certainly didn't do any of us any favors, and then I f*cked off to latam for a month of vacation. but I'm back!!! rested, tan (for ca the 2nd time in my life) and freshly (re)inspired. so we can have some cv/sm ch2 snippet, as a treat ;a;

premise | we're entering culling game territory. that's all imma say for now. well ok, not much happens here, I mostly just wanted to show signs of life lol

Satoru is falling.

He’s falling, rapidly dropping from at least half a kilometer skywards. Cursing the inherent capricious fickleness of Prison Realm—Prison Realm, Buddha, Hell incarnate, whom- slash whatever has stuck him in this never ending loop—he rights himself midair, fumbling his graceless way through multi-seals of Red and Blue until he’s maneuvered himself from horizontal to upright. He cushions a dense amount of amplification/reversal beneath the soles of his feet, puffs an audible breath, and looks down.

Beneath his feet stretches a silver-black, opaque barrier. By cursory glance he estimates its radius to at least a handful miles. The skies above are overcast, though bright; the light spearing through the banks of cloud bounces off the barrier, giving its matte gray hull a sheen which flickers and wobbles in stretches of paces and tracts.

The barrier is an obvious giveaway: this is a Culling Game colony. Satoru’s well enough familiar; remembers a stretch of eight sleepless hours in which he’d devoured dossier after dossier of news clippings, incident reports, stat compendiums and autopsies, two weeks into the Culling Games, and a scant forty eight hours post-unsealing. He remembers boring naked eyes into a painstakingly noted, three-dimensional map-cum-graph of the Culling Game territory; affected regions: Tohoku, Kanto, Chūbu, Kansai, Chugoku and Kyushu; confirmed colonies: Aomori, Iwate, Miyagi, Saitama, Chiba, Tokyo, Tokyo, Kanagawa, Yamamashi, Aichi, Shiga, Kyoto, Hyogo, Osaka, Hiroshima and Kagoshima.

Satoru has taken in the broad sweeps of Tokyo’s metropolis from far above one too many times to mistake wherever he is for anywhere closeby. What he chances: a large city along the coast; given his current proximity to an Eastbound shoreline, as well as a considerable expanse of forested areas and roiling, yellow fields eating into the scenery, he’s going to assume he’s either a few hundred kilometers North or South of Tokyo. Maybe Miyagi. Or Chūbu. 

The barrier is too dense and too cleverly constructed to allow Satoru to peek through and glean more than the most base information: cityscape and skyline are barely visible, the shapes and contours which oscillate beneath the ripples of the sky-in-the-barrier appear like a mirage out of focus. There is vague movement far below, tiny prickles of dots which move every which way. Every few intervalled seconds reveal noiseless, sepia-tinted flashes. Explosions.

Well. There’s only one way in which he can proceed, unless he’d planned on hightailing it out of there. Which he hadn’t. Satoru, at this point past the point of expecting the worst—and somehow, cyclically, living (dying, really) through it—makes his way downwards warily.

He doesn’t know what to expect, in truth; twenty nine years, an indeterminate number of days, weeks or years inside Prison Realm, plus an unknown bout of days cycling through iterations of timelines which may or may not have actually occurred—he’s been exposed to shoddy veils cracking around the density of his own cursed energy; written tests covering the cursed fundamentals of purification barriers; barrier techniques specifically tailored to keep him excluded from what’s outside, safely contained within.

He doesn’t know what to expect here.

Satoru touches down on the barrier.

“Yo! I’m Kogane!”

If he weren’t blasé about the most outlandish of jujutsu techniques being shoved in his face by now, Satoru wonders if he wouldn’t have reared back into guard. He squints at the cursed spirit which has materialised in his face out of thin air. He’s read himself to the basics of this, but it’s his first time seeing it.

He’s about to reply ad hoc when it continues, voice tinny and clearly electronically scrambled. “The death matches known as the Culling Game are underway inside of this barrier!! Once you step in, you’re a player too!!”

“I—”

“Knowing that, will you go inside anyway!?”

“That’s morbid,” huffs Satoru.

The cursed spirit, Kogane—its structural composition isn’t all curse, atom constellations mashed down somewhere halfway between cursed spirit and inanimate object—undulates and flicks its tail. It doesn’t go on, seemingly content to wait for his reply. It’ll have to be in the affirmative or negative, Satoru guesses. A game interface, then. Curse based, but all in all a tool.

“Sure, I’ll tap in.” What’s adding some more death, decay and public property destruction to his already considerable tally?

Kogane’s tail whips twice, ceasing when it’s a perfunctory line, its arrow-like tip pointing straight into the glassy dome beneath. Beware, ye who enter—but here’s a map, lest you get lost en route to the deathmatch arenas. “Tch, sick bastards,” he mutters.

When it next speaks, its delivery is robotic, flat: “Gojō Satoru has joined the Culling Game. Would you like to review the rules?”

Satoru has already reviewed the rules. Most cold, factual data obtained and recorded on the Culling Game had been cursory at best—and guess work and estimates at worst—Ijichi plus Nitta times two had managed to patchwork sorcerer’s statements, CCTV and aerial scans, and classified government reports into a general debrief: the (probable) how’s, when’s and why’s of the game. 

“I’m  good,” he says.

Kogane tuts. Mechanical and rote though it may be, it sounds chiding. Then it disappears, flickering twice, its shape disrupted by something static-adjacent until it bleeds out of sight and mind.

“Huh.” Satoru waits on the spot for a few seconds—parses out a few seconds, in case there’s more incoming.

Nothing else happens. He rights himself, and sinks a foot through the barrier.

[sequinsmile-x]

High Tide

An Alternate Version of Riptide

-x-

This is part two of my two-year writing anniversary celebration.

Riptide was my first ever attempt at full-blown angst, and boy did I go for it. Over the last two years the one thing people have repeatedly asked me for is a version where they get a happy ending. So here we are.

Special shout out to Lina who let me read Riptide to her over Facetime recently..it was a journey haha

(If you have never read Riptide before please note the warnings/tags. It features Major Character Death among other triggers)

I hope you enjoy all enjoy this <3

-x-

Words: 4k

Warnings: Canon typical violence/injury shooting/gun violence, hospitalisation

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily is barely in the house when her cell phone starts ringing. The sound is loud in the seemingly empty house, and it makes her already pounding head ache.

She groans as she drops her bag onto the floor and she grabs the phone out of her pocket. For a moment she’s grateful it isn’t JJ ringing, not sure she could take another case so soon, but then she frowns at the withheld number.

“Hello?” She says as she answers it, making her way further into her home as she does. She looks around, surprised to see Aaron isn’t home yet.

“Am I speaking to Emily Prentiss?”

“Yes…” she says, coming to a standstill, the unmistakable sound of a busy hospital in the background. Her throat goes dry and she swallows thickly, “Who’s calling?”

“My name is Sally, I’m calling from George Washington hospital. It’s about your fiancée, Aaron Hotchner.”

She drops to the couch, scrambling for the tv remote as the nurse fills her in. She gives her a rushed description of a shooting at the pharmacy where Aaron had gone to pick up her medication. She listens carefully, her brain only taking note of the important details, like where he was, and the fact he was somehow still alive but in surgery, as she sees the CVS on the news on TV.

She calls JJ, and she doesn’t remember much else after that. ___

She’s staring at the floor. Counting the tiles in the waiting room over and over again so she could do something other than think about a life without him, or the grim look on the doctor’s face when they provided her with an update on Aaron’s surgery.

“Em?”

She looks up, her hands tightly clasped in her lap as JJ holds a cup of coffee up to her, one in her other hand for herself. Emily flashes her a quick, grateful, smile before she takes the coffee being offered to her, holding it between her hands. It’s almost a little too hot, but it’s grounding, something she can feel other than the overwhelming fear she’s trying to choke down. Worried that if she acknowledged it, if she allowed herself to fully feel it, it would be like admitting she had already lost him.

“I can’t promise it’s good coffee,” JJ says, sitting back down next to her, “But it’s hot, and I put extra Splenda in it for you, for the shock.”

“Thanks,” Emily replies, making no move to drink the coffee, her eyes fixed back on the floor.

“Em-”

“Don’t,” says, her voice stronger than before, and she looks at her friend, doesn’t miss, or particularly care about, the hurt that flits across her face, “Don’t tell me everything will be ok. We don’t know that,” she shakes her head, “It’s absurd if you think about it.”

“What is?” JJ asks, as patient as ever. Well aware that Emily’s frustration was nothing to do with her, but a coping mechanism to deal with what was happening.

“He’s done all kinds of dangerous shit throughout his life. Look what he did for a living for fuck sake. And not one, but two serial killers became obsessed with him and tried to kill him. And he gets shot and almost dies, and could still die, going to the fucking pharmacy,” she chokes out, her words shuddering around a sob she wouldn’t let loose, “It’s fucking absurd.” She closes her eyes tightly, fighting off the tears she knows are inevitable, that have been threatening to fall since she found out. “I can’t lose him JJ.”

JJ doesn’t say anything, and they both know it’s because there is nothing she can say. She simply reaches out for her hand, lifting it to link their fingers. It reminds Emily of a moment from what felt like a lifetime ago when Penelope had been shot.

Two moments in time crashing into each other and merging, like waves on the high sea.

___

His hand is cold.

It’s normal, according to the nurse, Louise, who she’d asked twice, because of the amount of blood he’d lost. She wants to scream that it isn’t normal, not for him, that his hands were always warm. That the simple press of his palm into her lower back was enough to warm her entire body, the closest thing to home she’d ever known. She keeps his hand in hers, hoping her skin can warm his up.

Her focus is on the rhythmic beeping of the machine showing that his heart was still beating, her eyes closed as listens. Taking some comfort in the steady beat despite the way it makes her headache worse, her sinus infection battling with her torrent emotions to see what would be victorious in making her snap.

She has no idea how much time passes, minutes and hours blurring into one as she sits there, frozen in place until he wakes up. She runs her thumb back and forth over his wrist, his pulse reassuring, something she would know the feel of anywhere. As familiar to her as his smile, his love.

“I’ve lived without you before,” she says out loud, the words escaping before she realises she’s going to speak, “And…I have no interest in going back to that, in living in a world that you don’t exist in,” she clears her throat, her vision going blurry as tears gather at her lashline but don’t fall. “So I need you to be ok.”

There’s a knock at the door, and the nurse, Louise, walks in, a plastic bag in her hands.

“I just need to do some checkups,” she explains, and Emily forces a tight smile, standing up so she is no longer in the way. She immediately finds herself playing with her engagement ring, twisting it around her finger. Louise walks up to her and passes her the bag, “These are some of his belongings,” she says as Emily takes the bag, “In all of the chaos earlier they were mixed up with someone else's.”

“Thanks,” Emily says, walking over to the small loveseat in the corner of Aaron’s room, taking a seat to busy herself with going through the bag. A lacklustre attempt to distract herself from watching Louise take Aaron’s stats, her skills as a profiler enough for her to immediately recognise if things were good or not.

She grabs his wallet first, her thumb rubbing against the soft leather, a gift she’d bought him last Christmas. His old one had been worn out, almost falling to pieces, and it was only when he opened his new one, a smile on his face as he spotted the monogram on the front, that he admitted Haley had bought him his last one.

They still had it, safely stored in the desk in their shared home office.

She puts the wallet to one side and frowns as she pulls bags of candy out next. She freezes at the sight of the orange bottle in the bottom of the bag before she reaches in to grab it. She can’t ignore the shake of her hand as she holds it, the white label that bore her name and prescription stained dark red.

Blood she knew was his dried over their address.

___

The pain was familiar. Greeting him like an old friend as he wakes up, his breath seizing in his chest as it briefly overwhelms him, all of his senses returning at once.

The first thing that makes it through the fog, the haze of the pain, is her.

“You’re ok, sweetheart,” Emily says, her hand squeezing his tightly, “You’re ok.”

Aaron opens his eyes, the lights bright in his hospital room, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.

“Em?”

“I’m right here,” she leans over so he can see her, reaching past him to press the call button for the nurse.

He tries to squeeze her hand, but can’t control his limbs quite yet, his whole body aching and heavy. She notices, because she never missed anything when it came to him, and she smiles at him. She leans down to kiss his forehead and then rests hers against it, her eyes screwed closed as she feels his breath skip across her face.

“I love you,” she says, the words rushed, almost merging into one, saying them in a panic because she was worried he’d never hear her say them again.

“Love you too,” he replies, his voice breathless, and weak, but it makes her smile anyway, “what…what happened?”

“You were shot,” she says, the words tasting bitter. It was only the second time she’d said it, the first having been to JJ on the phone. She hears the door open, an indicator they are no longer alone, and she sees that he’s tired. Bound to fall back asleep within the next few minutes, “But you’re ok. We’ll talk about everything later.”

“Ah Mr Hotchner, it’s lovely to see you awake,” Louise says as she approaches, “Your fiancée was very worried about you.”

Emily smiles at her before stepping back to allow room for Louise to check on Aaron.

She keeps her hand tight around his, not wanting to lose the connection for even a moment.

___

“Are you ok?”

The question surprises her, partially because she wasn’t aware he was awake, but mostly because it seems absurd. Ridiculous that he’s asking how she is when he’s been stitched back together this evening, his breathing laboured from where a bullet had skipped through his chest. The damage left in its wake enough to have killed him.

She looks up from where her gaze had been focused on their joint hands, and the concern in his eyes makes her ache.

“I’m as ok as I can be,” she replies, squeezing his hand.

“No,” he says, blinking as he tries to clear his vision, the pain and the medication making him slower than usual, “I mean, have you taken your antibiotics? For your sinus infection.”

For a reason she can’t explain, that’s what breaks her. His gentle attempt to make sure she’d taken the medication he almost died getting for her enough to make the tears she’d been holding back for hours escape. Burning twin tracks down her skin in a way she’s sure will leave permanent marks behind.

“Yes,” she chokes out, a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh catching in her chest, “I took the fucking antibiotics.”

He wants to reach out for her, pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he can’t. Even the simple act of shifting in his bed was enough to make pain snap throughout his body. Instead, he grips her hand as tight as he can, and he tries to smile at her.

“Good,” he says, wanting nothing more than to make her smile, “otherwise I got shot for nothing.”

It takes a second for his words to register, and her mouth falls open in outrage, her cheeks warm with something other than her tears.

“Aaron.”

“What? Too soon?”

She shakes her head at him, any desire to shout at him gone as soon as it had appears. She stands up and sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to hurt him, and she leans in. She pushes his hair from his forehead, and can’t help but smile at the slightly glazed look in his eyes, the medication he’d been given doing its job.

He’s looking at her in the same way he did when he had been drinking. She’d never seen him drunk, but when he was tipsy he was handsy, and he’d look at her like she’d hung the stars herself. It was as if the alcohol, and in this case the pain medication, took away any control he had on expressing how he felt about her. His love for her clear for everyone to see.

“I think it might always be too soon for this one, honey,” she replies, leaning down and kissing him, the cannula delivering him oxygen scratching at her skin.

He smiles apologetically at her, and furrows his brow, “What time is it?”

She pulls back to look at her watch, sighing as she does so.

“3 am,” she replies, “I shouldn’t even be here, but the nurse let me stay,” he raises an eyebrow at her and she clears her throat, avoiding his gaze, “I may have made it clear what I do for a living.”

He laughs and it hurts, his hand pressing into his chest as he catches his breath. She apologises, and he shakes his head at her, his grip on her hand tight as the wave of pain washes over him, ebbing away bit by bit.

“3 am?” He asks when he can talk again, and she nods. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

She chokes out a laugh, resting her forehead against his. It occurs to her again that she could have lost him, that her birthday would have been her first full day without him, and the tears start again. Falling from her cheeks to his.

“Yeah,” she sniffs, her chin trembling with the force of her emotions, “Happy Birthday to me.”

___

Aaron groans as he gets to the top of the stairs, pausing as he leans against the wall to catch his breath. It was frustrating, his recovery slower than he remembered it being when he was attached by Foyet. Emily kept reminding him that it had only been three weeks since he’d been shot, and she’d smile when she pointed out that he was older now, that these things took more time.

He sees the light streaming out from under the door to the spare room, and he walks towards it, seeking her out so he could order their dinner. He pushes the door open and finds her standing in front of the closet in there, mostly used to store her vast number of coats, staring at a white dress hanging on the front of it. He registers what he’s looking at and turns around.

“Shit, Em, sorry,” he says, aware that from the start the one tradition she had wanted to keep was him not seeing her dress before they got married, “I didn’t realise what you were doing in here.”

“It’s ok, Aaron,” she replies, and he turns back to look at her, his gaze fixed solely on her face, “I think we’ve had our share of bad luck.”

He searches her face for a sign she’s lying, that she’s just saying it to make him feel better. That this wasn’t another thing he’d taken from her, but he sees nothing but her smile, a small sparkle in her eyes that never failed to draw him in. He walks over and wraps his arms around her, wincing slightly at the pull at his chest, before he kisses her. Stamping his lips against hers twice before he pulls back and looks at the dress in front of them.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, kissing her hairline, “You’ll look incredible in it.”

She hums, her arms wrapping around his waist as she rests her head on his shoulder, “Just not today.”

“No,” he replies, holding her a little tighter, pushing past the pain that thrums through his abdomen, “Not today.”

It was something they’d decided when he was still in the hospital. Postponing the wedding was the only sensible choice, and they both knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Especially on the day that was supposed to be their wedding day.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shifting so he can look at her, “I know how much it meant to you.”

She frowns and pulls away, “Aaron, you mean a lot to me. Not some day we randomly chose, or a dress. You. If you’d…” she swallows thickly, “If you’d died…I’d be standing here alone,” she tries to smile at him but it shakes, and he cups her cheek. The warmth of his skin against hers was enough to make her heart stutter in her chest. “Plus, I need you on top form for our wedding night,” she says, her smile widening, “So you can be winded for another reason than just walking up the stairs.”

He shakes his head at her, joining in on her laughter, and he leans in to kiss her. They stand there as they both lose track of time, but not each other.

___

They get married on New Year's Day, just the two of them and Jack at the courthouse. It was perfect, and Emily can’t picture it happening in any other way.

She doesn’t wear the dress, opting for something simpler instead.

___

The knock on the door almost as soon as she gets home surprises her. She checks her watch as she wonders where Aaron is, knowing he should have made it home just before her. Her sinuses felt like they were about to burst and she wanted to get started on the antibiotics as soon as she could.

She opens the door to see who police officers stood on her porch. “Hi, we’re here to speak to Ms Emily Prentiss?”

Emily’s throat goes dry. “That’s me.” She makes no move to let them in. “How can I help?”

“I think it’s best we come in ma’am, and that you sit down.” The female officer says, a smile on her face that seemed fake.

Emily nods and lets them past her, closing the door behind them. She doesn’t sit, instead she crosses her arms across her chest and clears her throat. “What’s going on?”

“Ma’am-”

“Please.” She says, fear she doesn’t fully understand filling her chest. “Just tell me.”

The officers exchange a look before the male one looks back at her. “We believe Aaron Hotchner lives here?”

“Yes, he does.” She stutters out. “He’s my fiancée.”

“I’m sorry to inform you ma’am that he was killed earlier this evening in an attempted robbery of the CVS on Columbia Pike,”

___

She shoots up in bed, gasping to pull air into her lungs, misplaced grief stuffed into them instead.

“Em?”

She jumps at the feel of a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to look at him, placing her hand over his, her fingers digging into his skin.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he says, his other hand reaching out for her thigh, gently squeezing against her skin, “It’s me. I’m here.” She launches herself at him, her arms tight around him as she does her best to all but crawl under his skin, her hands forming fists in his t-shirt, “You’re ok, baby, you’re ok.”

His words are muffled against the top of her head, his lips against her hairline, and she feels herself relax, the edges of her nightmare fading away as reality washes over her.

She hadn’t lost him. He was right here.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, pulling back to look at him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, reaching out and cupping her cheek, the metal of his wedding ring cool against her skin as he wipes away her tears. “The pharmacy?” She nods, confirming what he already knew. It had been a pattern ever since he’d come home from the hospital, all the months that had passed since doing nothing to stop her subconscious from torturing her with what could have been. “Come here.”

She lets herself be pulled into his arms as he lays them back down, and she ends up practically laying on top of him, the feel of his embrace providing her with the same comfort it always did.

“I love you,” she says, as she always did when she woke up from one of these nightmares, aware of the fact she came close to never being able to say it to him again.

Aaron kisses the top of her head and runs his fingers through her hair, attempting to lull her to sleep.

“I love you too,” he replies, “You know what I’ve been thinking?” He asks, and she hums in response, her hand reaching for his so she can play with his wedding ring, twirling it around his finger to remind herself that she’d put it there. That she’d had the chance. “It’s about time we went on that honeymoon.”

___

She’d grumbled about it. Half-heartedly complaining about the honeymoon she said they were both too old for, but she can’t deny that she needs this. A break from home, from work. From the trial, which was now only weeks away, that would hopefully send the man who could have taken Aaron from her to prison.

She closes her eyes and blows out a breath, shaking her head an in attempt to get rid of those thoughts, of the memory of what she could have lost almost 8 months ago. She opens her eye again and takes in the view in front of her, once again getting lost in it.

She had no idea just how much he’d paid for this, but they had a view of the Eiffel Tower from their hotel room, and she had spent most of the time since they’d arrived that morning standing on the balcony looking at it.

Aaron had given her so much. Not just love she hadn’t thought was possible in real life, or the sense of home she’d always been searching for. But he’d given her this. He’d made her love Paris again, something she had spent close to a decade now thinking was impossible.

She hears the balcony door slide open and she smiles as he joins her wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling her back into his embrace. Emily leans against his back and smiles as he presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“Aren’t you glad I convinced you to do this?” He murmurs against her skin. He tangles their left hands together, their wedding rings hitting each other with the motion.

She tilts her head to look at him, and is unable to stop herself from kissing him, placing a hand on his cheek to keep him in place. She pulls back so their noses touch. “I’ll admit a honeymoon wasn’t the worst idea in the world.”

He kisses her again, smiling too widely against her lips for it to be more than a brush against her. “Where are you taking me first, tour guide?”

___

Guilty.

The word kept echoing around her head. She was no stranger to a courtroom, and she had given evidence at more trials than she could count, but this was different. She’d spent the whole trial sitting in the gallery along with the other victims or their relatives, listening to the details of the day that almost changed everything.

She’d watched the CCTV footage of the incident, of Aaron and other people getting shot, and it had almost been too much, her grip on her husband’s hand getting tighter as the days went on.

Guilty.

It was over.

“Em, you ok?”

She looks up to see Aaron standing in front of her, his hands on his hips. He was wearing a suit and a serious expression on his face, and for a moment it was like it’s almost 20 years ago and she was meeting him for the first time. She smiles at him and nods, and he joins her on the bench she’s sitting on, his arm around her shoulders.

“Are you ok?” She asks as she leans into him.

“I’m glad it’s over,” he replies, and she knows it’s all she’ll get for now.

“Me too,” she says, and she tilts her head to look up at him, smiling as she does so, “What do we do now?”

Aaron smiles and leans down to kiss her, his love and adoration washing over her before he pulls back, a soft smile on his face.

“Whatever we want.”

___

“Love was like the waves in the sea, gentle and good sometimes, rough and terrible at others, but that it was endless and stronger than the sky and earth and everything in between.” - Veronica Rossi

-x-

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[diabolus1exmachina]

Citroen B11 (1938) 

André Citroën, an engineer, set up a factory to make gearbox mechanisms with right angle bevel gears. In 1908 he took over the Mors automobile factory, managing to revive it. Thanks to his friendship with Henry Ford, he became familiar with the techniques used in the USA to produce large series. This allowed him to design and install large factories to supply war material to the French government during the First World War. 

The origin of the 11 CV must be found in the conditions established by André Citroën for his engineers with a view to the new model to be developed: he wanted to manufacture a light car, weighing less than 800 kg, capable of traveling at 100 km/h, transport four passengers, and consume less than 10 liters per 100 km. The incorporation to the firm, in 1933, of the aeronautical engineer André Lefèbvre, coming from the firms Voisin and Renault, was fundamental for the development of this project. He presented the sketch of a small car with front-wheel drive and monocoque bodywork, known as Petit Voiture (PV), equipped with a 7 fiscal horsepower engine. The body design was the work of Flaminio Bertoni, an Italian designer who also created the bodies of the Citroën 2CV and the advanced DS. The project received the approval of Citroën, manufacturing the first prototypes in August 1933. On March 23, 1934 it was presented to selected dealers, being baptized as 7CV, version A. On April 18 its official presentation took place. 

During the 1934 Paris Salon, Citroën, in addition to presenting the 7 CV update with its B series, announced the new 11 CV model. This vehicle, following the guidelines established by the 7 CV, had a body with a very similar monocoque design that was wider and longer, as well as front-wheel drive. The range of the 11 CV model was basically made up of the following variants: Light (AL/BL ) and Normal, manufactured between 1935 and 1939, with a power of 46 horses. Of the first 75,000 units were manufactured and of the second 40,000. The difference between the Normal and Light versions was that the former were slightly longer and wider.

[usafphantom2]

To combat laser weapons, USAF improves pilots' eye protection

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 12/02/2023 - 13:00 in Military

The Human Systems Division of the U.S. Air Force Lifecycle Management Center is in the process of updating goggles for crews operating several USAF aircraft around the world.

Composed of eight different devices and known as the Block 3 product family, the glasses will provide protection against laser threats and introduce for the first time a combined capacity of ballistic and laser protection. Eyewear devices include separate day and night glasses, ballistic glasses and visors designed for integration with night vision glasses. The devices will be available to all crews, except those operating U-2 and F-35 Lightning II aircraft. The type of eye protection the crew will receive will depend on the mission.

“If you are flying low and slow or hovering like a helicopter or CV-22 Osprey, the crew would prefer to have ballistic protection, as well as laser protection. However, if you are on a fighter or flying a bomber at high altitude, the chances of needing ballistic protection are not so high. We also worked with the U.S. intelligence community, which provided an assessment of the threats faced by air crew members,” Beer said. “We used this information to determine what we needed to protect ourselves against and what eye protection technologies we needed to adopt,” said Mark Beer, deputy manager of the Air Crew Laser Eye Protection Program program.

Cases of "lazing" - laser pointers pointed at aircraft pilots - have increased in recent years, according to the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) and the U.S. Air Force Office of Special Investigations. In 2022 alone, there were 9,500 incidents throughout the country.

"Eye health is very important for our pilots. The consequences of being hit by a laser without adequate protection can not only prevent the pilot from flying and landing an aircraft safely, but can also cost them their career. Therefore, our goal is to ensure that the right glasses are available to everyone. We work closely with the Air Force Research Laboratory (AFRL) in this effort. AFRL researchers were instrumental in the pre-engineering phase of manufacturing and development and in experiments with dye and filter technologies," said Captain Pete Coats, chief manager of the laser eye protection program for crews of the Human Systems Division.

Along with improved protection, night glasses will allow more natural light through the lenses, increasing the visibility of crew members. A key part of the development of glasses has been partnerships with stakeholders. More than 42,000 devices will be fielded for Air Force units by 2027.

The Air Force Life Cycle Management Center (AFLCMC), based at Wright-Patterson Air Base, is designed to provide a single face and voice to customers, manage weapon systems throughout their life cycles, and simplify and consolidate personnel functions and processes to reduce redundancy and increase efficiency. In addition, the operational structure of the AFLCMC provides a framework for decision-making and process optimization throughout the life cycle of the weapons system.

Tags: Military AviationLaserUSAF - United States Air Force / U.S. Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[castrochronicles]

WEST VIRGINIA UPDATE

Case No. 4:23-cv-00556 (Castro v. Warner et al.), U.S. District Court for the Southern District of West Virginia

September 28, 2023: The court grants the motion of the West Virginia Republican Party to intervene in the case.

Thereafter, a platoon of six lawyers from the American Center for Law and Justice parachutes into the case, filing visiting attorney paperwork to represent the West Virginia Republican Party.

September 28, 2023: John Anthony objects to the intervention of the WVGOP: "This is nothing more than a corrupt attempt to allow others to foot Defendant Donald John Trump’s mounting legal bills." After filing his objection on the docket, he then files a second objection on Twitter:

[twst-vampire]

☆ ARMA DOOMSDAY ☆

( FINALLY! finished arma’s bio after putting it off for so long….i feel like i could’ve put sm more info but it’s a start !! )

MORE DETAILS UNDER THE CUT !!

cv: kanichi kurita

twisted from: judge doom (who framed roger rabbit)

gender: male

sexuality: bisexual

species: human (???)

birthday: 12/21

star sign: sagittarius

age: 19

height: 175 ( 5’8 )

dominant hand: right

hair color: warm grey

eye color: red

homeland : new inkwell

family: rocco degreasy (deceased), ricky degreasy (deceased)

description:

☆ arma is toontasma’s rambunctious dorm leader with a taste for being number one! he’s arrogant and annoying at times but he’s got serious talent and achievements to back it up.

background snippet:

☆ after being recruited and adopted by two talent scouts, arma spent the entirety of his childhood in the spotlight. it seemed like a dream come true…but the media and his guardians put him through the wringer, leading him down a very messy path he wishes to forget to this day.

school info:

year: 3

dorm: @toontasma

club: movie appreciation

favorite subject: math

hobby: cars, business

likes: money, annoying others, leadership

dislikes: things that take forever, invasive questions

favorite food: chili dogs

disliked food: bell peppers

talents: singing, acting, playing instruments

UNIQUE MAGIC

ALL EYES ON YOU

☆ this allows arma to expose the strengths and weaknesses of others magic abilities. an ideal magic for someone who likes to boss others around but a great tactical advantage for anyone lucky to team up with him!

trivia:

☆ shamelessly stole the lounge idea from azul. ask him and he’ll say “i’m not copying the guy if i do it ten times better. anyways come down to ink and paint club ^^”

☆ definitely says corny “updog” “ligma” and “deez nuts” jokes and laughs horribly if someone falls for it everytime

☆ a cartoony guy. he’s very expressive and he seem to abide by the laws of cartoon physics and logic, especially if there’s great comedic timing

☆ arma absolutely hates the cold. he trembles all too easily and his nose starts to run. stays at nrc during winter break bc he can’t be bothered to travel to a snowy city. also, he’s an absolute nightmare when he’s sick.

☆ he’s trying to quit smoking but failing terribly. he slips back into it too easily. he at least know time and place but that won’t stop him from having a cigarette hanging off his lips

☆ can play a lot of instruments but he’s partial to piano and saxophone. he usually likes to practice alone. same vain with singing.

PLAYLIST (UPDATED OFTEN):

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLem_n5_EybqhMjeOqkd4og56eVHZ5IFbo

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 26

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: We’re still at the angst, because someone’s obviously still an idiot. We also might detect some jealousy. 

WC: 4214

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​ <3

This series is complete on Patreon

Support my writing

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Five days later, she’s sitting in her kitchen, job application website open on her laptop while Bobby’s at work and Olivia’s at school.

The first night was hard on the girl. Olivia crawled into bed with her, spinning up tales that she missed her toys they left at Dean’s but she is sure that a part of the little girl’s heart is aching for Dean because hers is too. 

Y/N hasn’t heard from him and it took everything in her not to shoot him a message and ask him how he’s doing. She’s fairly certain that if she would choose to go down that road, she’ll get weak and that’s against the new rule that she’s set up for herself in order to protect herself and her family.

Donna sent her a text when she arrived back at her old apartment, asking how her honeymoon was going and when Y/N told her that she’s back, Donna offered to come over. They sat around the tiny kitchen table with boxed wine between them, drinking and talking. Yeah, boxed wine. Over are the days of cheap bottles. Well, she reckons she could afford it with the money from the marriage contract but she’d rather not as she has a future to think about. 

She didn’t sulk, didn’t allow herself to. She needed to be strong for Olivia and keep it all together. Her friend parted with a promise to help her find a man who she deserved. She only smiled. Couldn’t find it in her heart to say that she’s not looking for a man, that she thinks that Dean’s ruined her for all other men, that she’s most likely destined to be alone forever. At least she has Liv, and honestly, that’s all that counts. God, she’s so glad to have that little girl. She would have been broken beyond repair if it wasn't for Liv. 

While she touches up her CV at the kitchen table where she poured her heart out to Donna the evening before, her phone starts to buzz next to her. Her heart jumps. She hates the buzz of her phone because she’ll always think that it could be Dean and when it’s not him, she will always feel so deflated. Somehow, she’s okay with the situation but a little part of her still hopes that he would change his mind and come back to her. 

This time it’s no different when she looks at her phone. If anything, it’s even worse. Sam’s calling. 

She debates on not picking up but decides that she has to because he’s probably calling about the annulment. It’s really the only thing left that keeps her tied to Dean on a contractual level, and after she signs that, it’s like the marriage never existed. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah, uh, hi, Y/N,” The man can be heard on the other end. A little breath leaves him, and she can imagine that he’s smiling. Ever the friendly Sam. She can’t lie, she misses him too. 

“You’re calling about the annulment?” She gets straight to the point. There’s really no point in stretching this out unnecessarily. 

“Um, actually no. Dean’s not really talkative and he’s not going to sign it.” 

“What do you mean he’s not going to sign it?” She doesn’t understand, has a hard time wrapping her head around it. Why did Dean still want to be married to her when she walked away from him? There’s no point in pretending anymore and she has made up her mind. The only way she’s going is forward and not back. She wants to move on. 

“Don’t worry about it. He’s only been back two days, I need time to talk him through it. We should have the annulment finalized by Monday, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” She says into the receiver, because she does. If someone can talk sense into Dean, it will probably be Sam. “How is he?” 

“Do you want to hear the truth or do you want me to lie to make you feel better?” 

“Lie.” 

“He’s doing great.” 

“That’s good.” 

Sam snorts, “Well, I knew you'd feel better if you knew that he’s doing okay without you.”

“You’re right. I don’t want him to feel bad but somehow I also want him to, you understand?”

A burst of laughter rumbles on the other end, “I know,” Sam replies, “He’s a gigantic dick, Y/N. I think he knows that and he’s beating himself up for it. He’s been back at work for two days and according to Rowena, it’s hell. He doesn’t talk to anyone and if he opens his mouth, it’s to shout at people.” 

“Wow, he’s coping well.” 

The man laughs again, “Dean’s never been good at taking rejections. He’ll get over it, eventually. Someday. Maybe. Well,” Sam pauses and exhales loudly, “Tell you the truth, I don’t think he’ll get over it. I’ve never seen him like this and it scares me, hence me calling you.” 

Y/N feels sorry for him. And there she thought that she was miserable without him. Somehow it gives her a little satisfaction to know that he’s doing just as bad, if not worse. Can anyone blame her to feel like this?

“I’m not going to go back to him just so that he’ll stop being an ass to other people.” 

“That’s not what I was going to ask you about.”

“Ah, why beat around the bush, Sam. What is it?”

Sam sighs, “Okay, as you might know, Dean hasn’t told anyone that you two broke up.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” She hopes Sam can feel through the phone how hard she’s rolling her eyes right now.

“Shush,” Sam scolds  and continues before she can say sorry for interrupting him, “He has a charity gala to attend tonight, and it would be great if you would accompany him.”

The bark of laughter that leaves her mouth is hard to hold back, “You what?” 

Sam’s not laughing, “I mean it, Y/N. He’s not doing great and he has to attend. Technically you are still his wife and you have a contract, so..”

“Oh, please, don’t come at me with a contract, Sam. Dean told me that I’m allowed to walk away. He said that he doesn’t need me to get the shares. He wasn’t the one stopping me when I walked out on him, so tell me, why should I do this? Why should I pretend when I don’t have to anymore?”

“Because you still care about him,” 

Sam’s answer is a hit to her heart. She does. She cares so fucking much but also, that means that she’s not going to give in because it’s time to put herself first. She can’t hold herself together for Olivia’s sake when there’s nobody backing her up. She won’t go through this again. 

Of course Sam’s on Dean’s side. He’s friendly to her but if Sam would have to pick sides, it would always be Dean’s. 

“I’m sorry,” She says, her voice shaking a little. No, she’s not going to cry. Not again. Not anymore.

“Okay,” Sam relents too easily, “Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“No, I can’t. Dean’s lucky to have you as a friend.” She means it. 

“I’ll come to see you as soon as Dean signs the papers, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself and Olivia, okay? And tell me if you need anything.”

“I will, Sam. Thanks.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

She hangs up before she can say goodbye. The phone drops onto the table and she’s back to burying her face into her arms as she sobs. 

*

 For the next five weeks, Y/N  tries to avoid looking at tabloids pages, instead, concentrating on Olivia and helping to ease the little girl back into her old environment. 

Of course there have been texts from Donna telling her that there’s no news from Dean, at least not with another woman. She knows that she shouldn’t care about it, because if he wants to date again, it’s his right, but somehow, she can’t help but feel the pinpricks in her heart. It’s not something bad but something good because it keeps her hopes alive for a while. After she was reluctant to answer Donna's text about Dean in the first two weeks, her friend has decided that she doesn’t want to update Y/N anymore. Which is also fine with her. The less she’s reminded of Dean, the quicker it will be to get over him.

She snorts out a laugh at that thought. Yeah, right. 

Bobby has been weird the last two weeks too. He went out to meetings, saying it has something to do with his union but she knows that he doesn’t even have a union so she really doesn’t have any explanation for the two to three times the man went AWOL when he should be home but again, it’s nothing that should worry her. Bobby is still young enough to have his own life. She guesses that it has to do with a new lady friend maybe. Maybe Bobby’s being cautious too, maybe he doesn’t want her and Olivia to know when things aren’t steady with the two. She couldn’t blame him for thinking like that.

Tonight is the first time in over a month that she feels comfortable enough to leave the security of her own home. Perhaps Donna has something to do with it, begging her to finally go out and face the world, and Y/N can’t lie that Donna’s not right. It’s time to face it like a grown-up. She can’t be buried in her four walls forever. She eventually has to go out and socialize. She’s been going out a lot for interviews but that’s about it. No company has called her back yet, though. Thankfully, she still has more than enough money to get by. 

As soon as she arrives at The Roadhouse and Donna sees her, the woman is quick to be by her side, “I have a surprise for you!” 

“Oh no,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I hate surprises.” 

“It’s not bad, I just thought, you know,” 

“Donna,” She warns her friend. Somehow, she doesn’t like where this discussion is going. 

“There’s this guy, I invited him. He’s nice, so be nice, okay? He’s not going to be the love of your life, I know that too but you should put yourself out there, just a drink, okay? It will broaden up your horizon, maybe get your ex-husband out of your mind for a little bit.” 

Jesus, Donna’s talking a mile a minute. She barely understands what the woman is raving on about.

“What?”

“There,” Donna pulls her close, points a finger to the booth where Garth is sitting with someone whose back is turned to her. 

“Oh, Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna yes!” The blonde exclaims cheerily before placing her hands on Y/N shoulders and pushing her towards the booth. “His name is Cubbie.”

“Cub-what?” 

“It’s a nickname, Y/N.”

“If that’s the nickname I don’t wanna know about his real name.”

“Cuthbert. Cuthbert Sinclair, if you wanna know. He’s a magician.”

“That’s great. Super.” Y/N groans and turns around towards the exit but Donna’s hand is firm around her shoulders, guiding her back to where Garth is already standing up to make room for her. 

“Hey, Cubbie! This is Y/N, the woman I talked to you about.” Donna’s all smiles and somehow, Y/N’s hand itches to hurt her friend.

“I’m Y/N,” She says then. The only way is forward now. 

Cubbie, still what a fucking weird name, stands up and his hands immediately go to her arms and pulls her closer to press a wet kiss on her cheek. 

Ew. Oh no, this won’t end well. 

Reluctantly she sits down, wonders how long she has to sit here until she can get up and leave without being too rude. 

She lets him buy her a drink and he orders fries to share between them while they talk. It’s not exactly bad but they just share small talk about the weather and where they’re from.

“So, you’re a magician?” She tries to sound like she’s interested, wanting to get into the deeper conversational territory.

“Yeah,” Cubbie reaches over and strokes her hair behind her ear and when he sits back up, he shows her the coin that he apparently pulled out of her, a bright smile dotes his face. She does her best to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Good god,” She exclaims and the man laughs. 

He goes on to tell her about magic, which she again, has no interest in listening to. Jesus, the man can talk. While she debates on maybe hurting herself with a toothpick to have a fucking reason to get out, Cubbie excuses himself to go to the bathroom but before he goes, he leans down next to her, “How about we’re doing a little disappearing act, huh?”

“Oh god,” She huffs out but Cubbie doesn’t get her blatant disinterest. He just smiles at her.

“Think about it, I’ll be right back.”

Good riddance, is what she wants to say but doesn’t. Instead, she smiles a faux smile.

While he’s gone, she takes out her phone, shooting Bobby a text that she’ll probably won’t be that long when he feels someone is taking a seat in the booth opposite of her. 

“Back alread—”

The word won’t come out because it’s not Cubbie who’s sitting across from her but Dean. 

He has a cap on his head, is dressed casually in a black t-shirt underneath a blue plaid shirt. There are faint black circles under his eyes. He has shaved off his beard but from the length of the stubble, she can tell that he’s in the process of growing it out again. 

“C’mon, Y/N, seriously? That guy?” He asks, sounding offended, and honestly, it’s not what she really wants the first thing out his mouth to be after not being on speaking terms for over a month.

“It’s none of your business, Dean.” She snaps at him. 

“You’re right. It isn’t.” He agrees, “What is he? An accountant?”

“He has a name and he’s a magician.”

Dean barks out a laugh and even though it’s mean, she can’t help but smirk with him. 

“His name is Cubbie.” She adds, which earns another hearty laugh from Dean.

“Cubbie the magician?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if he has a stage name,” Y/N shrugs, “He asked me if I wanna do a disappearing act with him.”

“Oh, he will disappear, alright,” Dean growls angrily. 

She can’t read him. Why is he here, why is he crashing her blind date? So she asks, “Dean, what is this? Why are you here?” 

“I’m here every week to see if you’ll be here.”

“You know that there are phones, right?” 

“Would you have answered the phone if I called?” He challenges her and she holds his gaze. He’s right, she probably wouldn’t, even if she was hoping that he’d call but she doesn’t think that she would have picked it up because she doesn’t know if her heart can take what he’s going to tell her over the phone. “Yeah, I thought so. How’s Olivia?”

“She’s good. She enjoys being back at school. She’s going on a field trip in two weeks and I think I’m going to go along to chaperone.” 

Honestly, Y/N has no idea why she’s telling him that. Why she easily falls into a conversion with him about little things. But it feels easy, it feels like meeting an old friend. Someone where she can just pick up where they left off, even if they haven’t seen each other for a long time. Dean was her friend, she can’t deny that, and she guesses the reason why she feels at ease is that her heart can’t forget it either.

“I can do that, too,” Dean suggests without even thinking twice.

“Dean, she’s none of your concern, we’re fine without you.” Her words might be too harsh but he needs a reminder that not everything revolves around him. 

“Great.” He mumbles as Cubbie comes back from the bathroom. The poor guy stands there and is a little irritated by Dean’s presence. 

“You ready to leave?” Cubbie asks, straight up ignoring Dean’s presence and she has to give him that. It takes balls. Dean’s not someone who can be ignored. He’s tall and broad and yeah, awfully good looking. 

She stands up, nodding her head. Even if she has no intention of going anywhere with Cubbie, she also knows that she can’t stay here with Dean.

When she walks away, Dean holds her back by her wrist. The touch of him is almost too much to bear and she stills, has to close her eyes as she tries to breathe evenly. 

“You’re leaving with him? Seriously?” 

Opening her eyes to look at the source of the voice, she can clearly see the irritation on Dean’s face. 

Pulling her hand from his hold, she brings it close to her chest, fearing that she’d reach out if she let her heart decide over her mind, “It’s none of your business, Dean. You had your chance but you blew it. I’m trying to move on.” 

Dean stands up too and he’s close. The warmth radiates from him. Her body betrays her a little, sways a little closer to him. Cubbie is a couple of steps ahead but he stalls and looks back, waiting for her to follow him out. She wants to, she really does, it’s just so hard to move when the magnetic pull of Dean wraps itself around her. 

“Now, say it again a little more convincingly. Make me believe it.” Dean demands with a gruff voice while he crosses his arms over his chest, his palms nearly disappearing into his armpits, as if he too, has to resist reaching out to touch her again when it’s not what she wants.

How is it possible that he still can read her like a book? It’s not fucking fair. 

She narrows her eyes, staring him down. “You’re an ass, Dean.” She hisses and pushes out of the door, past Cubbie. When she’s out, she flags down a cab and gets in. Only when the driver rounds the street of the first block does she realize that she left Cubbie at the bar. Great. Now the act with her leaving the bar with some date is even less convincing to Dean. 

God, she’s a failure. 

 *

 “You know he still cares deeply about you, right?” Donna flops down on Y/N’s worn out couch with a bottle of beer in hand and Y/N walks over to join her friend with her glass of red wine. 

The incident at the bar in which Dean had held a metaphorical pissing competition against an oblivious Cubbie was four days ago. Almost a distant memory. She hasn’t heard from the magician, but also it’s not really surprising since they didn’t even exchange their numbers and Donna has not mentioned him again. At least there’s that. 

She frowns for a moment, “Cubbie? He barely knows me.”

Her friend rolls her eyes to the back and takes a pull at the bottle, “Dean, dummy!”

“Yeah, well, he has a hell of a way of showing it.” She grumbles, burying her face into her goblet and tips it back to take a big gulp. 

Donna admitted after the incident that she watched them with amusement. Poor Cubbie was standing there lost and sulked away on his own. Apparently, Dean grinned brightly, and god, just the image of him being so joyful and cocky about her misery makes her want to smack him across the face. But for that, she would have to see him again, which she won’t. Nope. Not going there. She can’t move on when he keeps popping up.

“You don’t see it, do you?” Donna tilts her head that’s resting on the back of the old faded sofa, cocking her eyebrow as she asks.

“See what?” Y/N eyebrows match her friend’s. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” Donna huffs out, followed by a giggle. Okay, the woman should definitely not drink any more beer, also since tomorrow is Monday and she has to work. Y/N for her part, is still struggling with finding a job that would keep her head above water. She’s debating on taking two lesser paid jobs but then again, there would be no time left to spend with Liv and since she’s making Liv her priority, she keeps on searching. The blonde lays her hand on Y/N’s thigh, squeezes it, “He’s so fucking in love.”

With knitted eyebrows, she glares at her friend. Dean? In love? Has that been obvious? She shakes her head, “That’s not what he told me,” 

Her friend sits up straight and turns to her before taking a big swig of her beer and slams it onto the coffee table. Y/N gets irritated, shushes her friend with a nudge of her elbow. Liv is sleeping next door, and Donna usually knows that she has to be fucking quiet. 

“Oops,” Donna says with a shrug, and they both freeze to listen if Liv has woken up because of the noise. When they don’t hear a sound, they both breathe out in relief. Yeah, there’s no chance Donna will get another beer from her tonight. The blonde grins at her. A grin that spells mischief, “Have you ever thought that Dean Winchester, a guy who’s never been in love might not know how it feels to be in love? Have you ever thought that he might be so fucking gone on you and tries to identify his feelings but he can’t because he doesn’t fucking knows what it is?” 

God, Donna talks a mile a minute and Y/N’s brain is having trouble catching on and processing. 

Her friend pauses to wriggle her eyebrows at her but otherwise, Donna doesn’t say anything because she waits until it settles. 

Memories of the last day on the beach flashed in her mind. She recalls him asking her how she knows when you love someone and her answer was you just know. 

Could it be that he was struggling then already? He probably was but she was too deep in her own mind that she didn’t really notice.

“No,” She answers.

“No, what?” Donna asks.

“No, I have never thought that he doesn’t know how it feels to be in love. But I mean, he’s loved his mother, right? He loves Sam to a certain extent. He’s a grown ass man. He should know how he fucking feels.”

“My god, your skull is thicker than I thought.” Donna rolls her eyes dramatically. “Loving a parent is not the same as loving a partner, duh! And with Sam. There’s the bro thing, I guess? They love each other but it’s just all caveman-esque grunting and a lot of back-slapping involved. It’s how I love you,”

“You love me while you grunt and slap my back?” 

“Shut up!” Donna laughs, “Anyway, where was I...oh! Yes. Listen, Y/N, maybe you’ve been too harsh on him. I mean, yeah, of course, you have Liv to care about but don’t tell me that Liv was heartbroken when you brought her back to this place.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. When she snaps out of it, she tips her wine glass back and empties it in one go.

Her friend watches her, pauses to let the things she said sink in. God, she doesn’t know why Donna’s only talking about Dean now. It’s been what? Almost two months. Where was Donna when she needed that kinda talk at the beginning when she left Dean? Donna was always here, her mind says, you just didn’t want to burden anyone and you thought that you could manage everything on your own. 

“Fact is, Y/N. I’ve never seen him like this. He barely goes out, even if he’s invited to events. The gossip sites avoid him because he became a grump while picking up fights with photographers, and don’t even get me started on the last TV appearance where he only gave short, snappish answers, making the stupidly hot interviewer very uncomfortable. A couple of months ago, he would have charmed the woman and they probably would have fucked when the producer yelled cut.”

“How do you know they didn’t?” She asks, and she doesn’t even know why she asks because the thought of him hooking up and going back to being his old self does make her feel a little uncomfortable and admittedly, jealous.

“Honestly? Maybe because the interviewer told a tabloid that she refuses to interview Dean again because he’s a dick.” 

“Well, he is a dick, she’s right.” She says drily, and she’s standing behind her opinion, it’s just now that Donna has said all those things that it makes her really wonder if she’s been too harsh to Dean. Maybe he just needed more time to figure out what he was feeling. But again, it’s too late now, isn’t it?

Ch. 27

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[bluejayblueskies]

Sorry to keep spamming you with these but they make me so happy. What if Jon had trusted Tim (possibly been dating even) during season two?

send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons about it!

i did something similar to this here! but i'll give some more headcanons here as well (from the more shippy side of things)

1. i like 'jontim date during season one' aus, so: jon and tim date during season one and just... never stop. jon maybe still has a little suspicion of tim at first but spends so much time around him that he grows less suspicious because when would tim have time to do murderery things? and tim values open communication, and he knows something is bothering jon, so jon eventually confesses that he's worried about the gertrude thing and says, a bit guiltily, that he can't shake the paranoia that tim could have done it. tim says that if jon's feeling paranoid he should tell him and tim can do what he can to reassure him like giving him updates on what he did that day (yes i've read surrender and what of it) and their relationship doesn't fall apart!

2. the s2 lunch dates are jon, tim, and martin, and tim is slowly trying to convince jon that he can trust martin (and then the cv thing happens and jon's like '... fine i suppose i can trust martin a LITTLE'). tim knows that martin also likes jon (it's never been an issue between them) and as they keep going on lunch dates and jon warms up to martin more and more tim is like 'hey this is kinda nice actually. and if I like jon and martin and martin likes me and jon and if jon likes me and is starting to like martin... :O'

basically, why not jonmartim?

3. jon and martin relationship speedrun, they're all together mid-season two. they all sleep in one tiny full-sized bed that is not big enough for the three of them but jon squishes in between tim and martin and when they wake up in the morning jon is basically buried beneath both of them with just like... his head sticking out so he can breathe. the first time this happens martin freaks out and thinks he's crushing him and tim has to reassure him that no, this happens all the time when it's just him and jon and yes, jon likes it and isn't being suffocated or crushed

also:

jon, sitting on the couch with them ranting about something: and ANOTHER thing--

tim, without taking his eyes away from the television: *reaches over and scratches his fingernails lightly on the back of jon's neck*

jon, immediately falling silent with a surprised, pleased noise:

martin: hey what--

tim, still not looking away from the television: jon is a cat in all ways except physical, martin. remember that.

jon, in an 'i wish i could be angry about this' voice: i resent that

4. they like to cook together! the kitchen is definitely not big enough for the three of them but they try their best. tim and jon love spicy food and martin does not, and he's learned not to trust them when they say that something 'isn't that spicy.' jon will allow the pot to boil over ('you're distracting me!' he'll say, glaring at tim and martin) so he usually cuts vegetables and sautés them, martin watches the pot and makes sauces and such, and tim manages the recipe and gets ingredients (which jon maintains is not really cooking). martin is the baker of the house, and tim makes fantastic homemade drinks. cooking almost always ends up with at least one spill and a significant amount of near-misses as they navigate the cramped kitchen with hot pans and sharp knives, but they've never had to go to the hospital.

('yet!' tim says as jon nearly takes martin's head off with a pan he was trying to lift over him as martin bent down to check the oven. 'we haven't had to go to the hospital yet, jon! do not make that statement untrue today!'

'i'm being perfectly safe,' jon says with a scowl, then turns and nearly trips over martin's foot, just barely catching himself on the countertop with his free hand. at least three chunks of bell pepper are knocked to the floor. jon stares at them for a moment before saying, 'okay, that was martin's fault'

martin, who Did Not Move: 'hey!')

5. and then they figure out about not!sasha and don't smash the table and figure out another way to get rid of her and the rest of the events of the podcast are irrevocably altered and everyone gets a happy ending

[murtaghsbeard]

Season 5 Ep 11 - Journey cake

Claire is so excited about peanut butter. It’s meant to be cute and silly, but I GET IT. I feel that peanut butter has some power where you could choose not to eat it for months or years, but if it becomes suddenly unavailable to you, you just go crazy over it. I missed peanut butter like crazy when I lived in Japan and the only place you could get American style peanut butter was Japanese Costco and I would beg my coworker to buy 2lb jars of peanut better for me and I would eat it from a spoon every morning like a lunatic. Enough about me. While I’m reminiscing about peanut butter, the gang finds a burned cabin with lots of murder victims and one horribly burned girl who they must put out of her misery. 😬

Claire loses some Saran Wrap in the 1700s. Cant wait to discover the butterfly effect of that. Just kidding. That doesn’t exist in this show.

It’s bee time! The otter tooth man’s stone suddenly gets very hot and noisy for anyone from the future and little Jemmy. Conclusion: Jemmy can time travel but Jamie still can’t.

But.... Claire used to wear this stone like a necklace and it never burned her, so why now???

No time to work through this. Lots of riders are coming. The dudes we don’t like want more men to patrol for the cabin burning scourge. Jamie says no thanks, though it seems like something he should be interested in....

Hold the phone! Ian. has. some. questions! Thanks for holding on to these questions for several years! Is Claire a fairy, yes or no? Great question! Let’s go in this room to discuss. Wait, don’t close the door on us viewers, Jamie. I want to hear every dumb, insane and brilliant question that Ian’s brain can formulate about being a woman from the future. That is the entertainment I am here for! I would watch that for an entire 50 minutes.

Why must Ulysses live in the Murtagh-Jocasta sex stick palace? Why doesn’t Ulysses get freed for saving the life of his master? Somehow I think they allow that even if the deceased is white.

Oh snap! Ulysses was free this whole time

Roger and Brianna plan their exit strategy.

....Perhaps it’s worth planning a re-entry to 1970s strategy too? You’ve gotta assume property forfeiture, death certificates by now, no assets, perhaps even an unsolved mysteries episode. Roger, how are you going to explain this 3 year gap in your CV? You left your post at Oxford and did fuckall. Not a single publication.

John Grey! He sure loves to drop in.

Ian delights in his new status as secret keeper. He gets to talk about time travel by the river with the ladies now. What a dream! Ian wants to be a time traveler. Something about the lady shaped hole in his heart. The Fraser ladies tell him no. They have worked out some sort of theory about a genetic predisposition to time travel, which excludes Ian, based on really no evidence at all. Sorry, Ian!

John Grey must go back to England. He brings an updated portrait of William. He always brings really good gifts.

Claire has a special perfume she only puts on for sex. Perhaps an open second story window is not the best spot to perch for this sort of activity. The next morning, She makes Jamie look at his own sperm through a microscope. This confrontation with his own sperm inspires him evidently to tell Brianna about the other fruit of his loins-her half brother. They have a little heart to heart. He very sweetly hopes she will look him up in her history books.

Brianna makes her rounds saying her goodbyes. Lizzy is not taking it well. “I was with you in your darkest hour [glossing over when I had your husband beaten and sold into slavery] and your wedding” she cries.

Another sad story about bad man and abused wife.

Roger Mac gives Ian his land

Ulysses will pal around with John Grey until Ulysses decides to do something different. I like that for them. Though John extols that Brianna is impossible not to like, which is ehhh.... let’s leave it for now. John Grey has a love for all things Jamie and the rule is absolute.

They enjoy a family meal of pb&j

Bee time! Ian escorts Roger, Brianna, and Jemmy to the beehive stones of time travel. Ian is so sad to be left behind. My heart flutters a bit when they ask the small toddler to hold a near microscopic ruby in his baby sausage fingers and not to drop it. If you drop it you might be separated from mommy and daddy by 200 years! That is a lot of responsibility for someone with minimal dexterity. I would have put that ruby in the kid’s mitten.

Something goes wrong with the time travel. We don’t know what exactly, except it’s not the case that the magic stones are now housed in a Motel 6, which is what I expected. What do they think this part of New York looks like in the 20th Century? It’s got to be all built over.

Claire gets kidnapped by the bad men. Terrible. Claire is somewhat accustomed to this by now, but those bastards struck Marsali.

[usafphantom2]

Chinese J-35 poachers should be deployed on the Liaoning aircraft carrier

The model was observed on the aircraft carrier Liaoning, which notably lacks the catapult launch equipment with which the J-35 was expected to work.

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 02/24/2024 - 16:00 in Military

According to information published by the Global Times on February 19, 2024, China's first aircraft carrier, the Liaoning, is about to complete a significant update, with recent reports revealing the presence of a model of a new stealth fighter, identified as J-35, on its deck.

This development indicates that China's advanced aircraft carrier-based jet fighter will not only be deployed in the new Fujian aircraft carrier, equipped with a catapult, but also in the ramp-assisted Liaoning and Shandong aircraft carriers.

To expand: beyond obvious benefits of 5th gen sensors+VLO, if J-XY/35 can take off from STOBAR w/ near max internal fuel+full weapons bay (no externals, i.e. far below MTOW), that's a viable “HIC” CV loadout.

This measure indicates a strategic effort by China to fill the technological and operational gap between its naval aviation capabilities and those of the main naval powers, particularly the United States.

Despite the extensive work, the external changes in Liaoning seem minimal. The focus of the update has been on internal improvements, including support for new types of aircraft and advances in command and control systems.

This extensive maintenance period, which exceeds the typical duration, suggests a comprehensive update beyond regular maintenance. The tests of the J-35 and J-15 models on the Liaoning deck highlight a strategic diversification in the aircraft carrier's aircraft line.

The J-35 is prepared to take on functions that require aerial superiority and deep penetration into enemy defenses, while the J-15 continues to serve as a crucial component for anti-ship and attack missions due to its large payload capacity.

The J-35 stealth fighter features a single-pilot design and is 17.3 meters long. Its dimensions, including a wingspan of 11.5 meters and a height of 4.8 meters, are optimized for both aerodynamic efficiency and compatibility with aircraft carriers. The aircraft has a wing area of 50 square meters, increasing its lifting capacity and maneuverability.

It has a maximum take-off weight of 28,000 kg and is driven by two WS-13 post-combustion turbofan engines. Each engine provides a dry thrust of 56.75 kN, which increases to 87.2 kN with post-combustion, allowing the aircraft to reach speeds of up to Mach 1.8 at high altitudes and Mach 1.14 at sea level.

The operational range of the J-35 is 1,200 km with internal fuel, which extends up to 1,900 km with in-flight refueling, offering considerable versatility in mission planning. It can operate at altitudes of up to 16,000 meters, facilitating combat above most ground defense systems.

Equipped with six external hardpoints and an internal weapons compartment, the J-35 has the capacity to carry up to 8,000 kilograms of ammunition. Its payload includes a variety of medium-range air-to-air missiles, supersonic air-to-ground missiles and pumps.

The advanced set of aircraft avionics includes the KLJ-7A AESA radar, a distributed aperture system for situational awareness and an electro-optical aiming system, increasing its effectiveness in combat.

Tags: Military AviationLiaoning (CV-16)PLAN - People's Liberation Army Navy / People's Liberation Army Navyaircraft carrierShenyang J-35

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[aal-archaeology]

Ph.D. Applications for Anthropology/ Humanities/ Social Sciences (with examples from a success story)

Doing a Ph.D. is a really scary thought. Especially in humanities and social sciences. Especially in today’s job market.

Here I’m going to speak a little about my approach to Ph.D. applications, why I chose to do what I did, and how I put it all together including examples.

1. The Doubt

After coming out of my Master's degree, I already had a year of research set up, so I didn’t have to think about jobs like all of my friends I had made during that degree. I watched many of them struggle to find a job offer. Some were successful in attaining a job in Cultural Resource Management, a couple got smaller jobs in local museums, but for the most part it induced a lot of stress to have come out of a Master’s degree with no prospects.

How I imagined my future at that time: I knew I didn’t want to work in a museum, I knew I didn’t like Cultural Resource Management, I knew that after all this hard work I didn’t want to end up underpaid somewhere doing data entry.

A Ph.D. has always been something that I wanted. Ever since entering the Anthropology discipline, I imagined myself working towards becoming a Professor.

Here’s what I was told when I started to consider a Ph.D. Program:

“Don’t do it” (said by someone who already had her Ph.D.)

“I wish I had gone into something with more money, even after my Ph.D. its been difficult to find stable work”

“If you’re doing a Ph.D. in social sciences, ONLY go if you are fully funded, otherwise it is not worth the financial debt”

“Most people don’t get in their first try, that's why people apply to 10+ schools”

Coming up with a plan: After hearing this, I came up with a couple different options. Plan A: Apply to Ph.D. programs, if I get into one my first try and it's fully funded then I’ll do it. Plan B: Find a job in Environmental consulting, I could put my GIS experience to use, make some money, and then try again for a Ph.D. later down the road if I wanted. Plan C: Move to Japan and live out my weeb dreams (I’m part Japanese and have a lot of family there so this wasn’t as crazy as it sounds).

I was genuinely okay with any of these options. They all involve things that I enjoy, none of them are bad options, none of them would feel like “failure” if I ended up not getting into a program. I think this step is very important because it forces you to figure out what you care about, and allows you to be open to change if plan A doesn’t work out.

2. Choosing a Program to Apply to

I knew that I didn’t just want to apply anywhere. Getting a job outside of a PhD is already hard enough, and I wanted the school that I chose to reflect the work that I would put into it. As much as we want to think that name brands don’t matter when it comes to education, it sure as heck does help when it comes to opportunity and being selected amongst 100′s to 1000′s of applicants. Therefore, why not shoot for the stars? What’s the harm in trying. For this reason, I decided to only apply to schools that:

Had a prestigious name

Had a program that supported what I wanted to study and allowed for cross-disciplinary research (Digital Archaeology focused on SE Asia)

Had an advisor that had done research paralleled to mine (whether that included SE Asia or just Digital Archaeology in general).

I started research into programs with the Ivies and went down from there, also cross-comparing programs that had been ranked as best schools for studying Anthropology.

At the time of researching, the programs that stood out the most to me were:

Stanford (ideal because it was close-ish to home, fully funds their Phd students for 5 years, has opportunity for additional funding, had professor working with digital archaeology in Asia)

Harvard (had professor working in Digital Archaeology though it wasn’t in my preferred region, also has good funding, and its Harvard)

U Chicago (traditionally one of the top schools for Anthropology, however I had heard that a lot of this is because of “legacy” professors, and not much has come out of the department in recent years. Did not have someone specifically in my region of focus)

ASU (Also considered one of the top Anthropology schools, but funding is often fought for between students)

UC Berkeley (Had professors studying Asia, but it is a public school and also has limited guaranteed funding)

I sent e-mails to advisors that I thought I could support my research (this was probably around May, when applications are due Sep-Dec).

Hello Professor______,

My name is _______ and I am interested in applying to ________’s Doctoral program in Archaeology beginning in the fall of 2020. I would like to inquire whether you are accepting graduate students for this period, as my research interests align well with your research. I received my B.A. in __________ from _________ in 2017 and am currently _______. [Enter what you’re doing now, and any relevant experience that shows what you’re interested in researching]. [Enter something about their research, and why you’re interested in working with them/why you think you would work well with them]. I am eager to continue along this path and I feel as though your experience with _______could provide an interesting opportunity for future research. I would also be interested in working with [enter any other faculty that have similar interests, this shows that you’ve done some research into the program and the school in general] For your convenience, I have attached my CV here. If you have the time, I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you further about the program and future research.

Best,

Full name

I also researched the financial aid provided to incoming Ph.D. students. After doing this, the only schools that sounded good to me were Stanford and Harvard.

Yeah, I know, only applying to Stanford and Harvard was a “big risk,” but this is how I thought about it:

I don’t want to commit to a Phd program for 5+ years if it's not fully funded, doesn’t have a big name, and isn’t going to guarantee opportunity after graduating.

I wanted an environment where I knew I could be happy under immense amounts of pressure  (California by family, Boston by friends).

If I didn’t get in, I had back up options that honestly sounded really fun to me, so I was okay with pursuing those instead.

I didn’t want a Ph.D. just to have a Ph.D., I wanted a degree that would set me apart from others so that I could give myself the best chance for success afterward. I wanted one that, if pursued, could lead me to become a professor.

So I applied to 2 Schools.

I got scolded for this by many people... but whatever...I got in, so ha. Why spend money and time on an application for a school that you don’t really want to go to? :P

3. Applying to a Program

What an application looks like:

1. At least 3 recommendation letters:

Mine were:

Undergraduate Anthropology Advisor who has been helping me throughout the years with grant applications, etc. She knows me well, can speak well to my accomplishments. She is also a very well decorated anthropologist.

Undergraduate Professor of Geography who can speak to my GIS coursework. I’ve been updating him with my whereabouts and successes since graduating, so we have kept in touch regularly since taking his course.

My Master's dissertation advisor (he stressed me out submitting his letter 3 hours before the deadline >:| )

It’s good to have your recommendation letters come from people within the academic world. These people can write on your ability to achieve your research goals, your drive, etc. It’s okay to have maybe one letter from a workplace environment, however, it’s best to get as much street cred as you can from these letters, and this comes from Professors that know what they’re doing.

2. Curriculum Vitae (C.V.): This is important because it shows everything you’ve accomplished up to this point. This is how mine was set up:

Full Name, Current Position, Email, Phone Number

Education: University Name, City, Degree in ____

Publications: In Edited Volumes, Journal Articles, Manuscripts in Preparation

Conference and Workshop Participation: Papers, Presentations

Grants, Awards, and Fellowships:

Research Experience: Project Roles, Fieldwork

Teaching Experience

Additional Employment History

Leadership and Extracurriculars

Skills/Languages

A C.V. is a list of EVERYTHING you’ve done in your career, unlike a resume which is tailored to the specific job that you’re applying to. If you’d like a specific example, send me a DM. 

3. Personal Statement: This is where you tell them why you want to be there and what makes you qualified. Why should they consider you?

Personal Statement Example

      1st paragraph, introduce the program and your research interests: I am applying to _____ for admission to the Ph.D. program in Anthropology with a focus in Archaeology. My research interests are to explore [the consequences of ..... on the environment and human responses to environmental change] in [region of the world], and how these actions of the past can be visualized through the use of remote sensing and GIS applications to archaeology.

      2nd paragraph, why you’re interested in what you’re doing: I learned the value of digital applications in archaeology through my undergraduate and master’s degree. [Digital archaeology] is appealing to me because [.........]. I first became interested in [example of why you’re interested in the topic/what inspires you].  After witnessing this, I began to seek out opportunities to partake in similar research.

    3rd and 4th paragraph, what makes you qualified to pursue this degree?: I have many research experiences that qualify my pursuit of a Ph.D. dedicated to using digital methods in Anthropological research. [Talk about your undergrad experience, do some name-dropping of professors you’ve worked with], [why did these experiences inspire you to take the next step?], [how are you where you are now because of them?]

   5th paragraph, what are you doing now?

   6th paragraph, why this school in particular?: This is where you name drop the professor you are interested in working with, talk about how their research aligns well with yours by mentioning specific things that they’ve done such as theoretical approaches. What are you interested in doing that would fit well within this program? Are there any facilities on campus that you are particularly eager to work with? Show that you’ve done your research.

   7th paragraph, what do you plan to do after you get your Ph.D. from this institution?: With goals of continuing archaeological research in ________ and expanding off the networks that I have established in _______, ________’s doctoral program in Anthropology is the ideal match to further my career as a Digital/Landscape Archaeologist. The Ph.D. in Anthropology at _______ allows for _________[reasons why you like the program]. Ultimately, my postgraduate goals are to remain in academia by continuing research and gaining a university faculty position. My foundation in archaeology gained in my undergraduate, graduate, and ______experiences have equipped me with a unique set of abilities to offer to ______’s Anthropology graduate program, and I look forward to the opportunity to exchange ideas with faculty and students alike.

Have your resume and statement looked over by as many eyes as you possibly can. It took me a good 6-10 revisions before settling on something that I liked.

4. Let the professors that you’ve been in contact with know

This puts you at the front of their minds when application review comes around. They’ll be like “oh yeah, this person messaged me about this.” I hadn’t spoken to the professors that I reached out to since those first few exchanges back in May, so sending this message was very valuable to remind them of my existence.

This email can be as simple as: Hi Professor ____, I hope you have been well since we last spoke. I am writing to inform you that I have submitted my application to _______. Since our last chat I’ve been [whatever you’re up to now that's relevant]. I look forward to hearing from _____ soon. Best, Me.

5. Productive Waiting

Yay, you’ve submitted! That was hard, but you made it through. Time to start diving into those other plans you’ve been thinking about. What will you do if you get into your top school? What will you do if you don’t get into your top, but you do get into your 2nd or 3rd choice? What if you don't get into any of them?

Remember that none of these options are bad, and in this world, you have to be open to change and welcome it. A Ph.D. is a really long commitment, and it doesn’t have to happen right away.

If you get in, accept only if:

It has the research you’re looking for

It has an advisor that’s supportive of what you’re doing

It’s transparent about what it offers its students

The current students are happy with the culture of the program and quality of life

The location is something you're comfortable with (for me having family nearby was a very important factor)

The money you are offered is enough to live the lifestyle you need to maintain good mental health

There is an opportunity for networking and expansion of your research outside of the university

As always, feel free to reach out with any questions at @aal.archaeology on Instagram or DM here! I’m happy to share my documents with you.

Happy writing!

-Lyss

[adultswim2021]

Sealab 2021 #29: “Meet Beck Bristow” | December 14, 2003 - 11:15 PM | S03E09

They should’ve just not aired this. Hollywood Actor Beck Bristow (dot com) shows up to Sealab to do some research for a role. He acts the way an arrogant, self-absorbed movie star would act. Then he leaves. That’s basically it. Okay, there’s a little plot: the crew is sorta vying for a technical advisor position on his new project. But they don’t make that much of it. It’s a thin premise that allows them to make some not-very-original jokes about Hollywood-types.

The jokes about Hollywood are completely toothless. Compare this with “Tourist Season,” where alcoholics, the obese, children with learning disabilities, and all of middle-America in general are all treated with disdain. Ironic disdain? I can’t really tell, to be honest. In this episode the rich and powerful Hollywood actor is in Sealab’s satirical cross-hairs. And how do the rich and powerful Hollywood elite fare in this? Well, they basically get their hair mused up a bit and called “knucklehead” as though a parent were endearingly ribbing their kid for doing something mildly stupid.

Brian Bloom is the voice of Beck Bristow, which I’m not sure I ever bothered learning before. A dying Harry Goz is the voice of Captain Murphy, which makes this one of the most conceptually ghoulish episodes of the entire series. They inexplicably put a deep-sea diving helmet on Murphy just so that they could filter his voice as though it’s coming out of a com-link or something. You can really hear the not-wellness in Harry’s voice, and it’s a bummer. All to make tepid jokes about Hollywood guys.

This episode strives to have a point-of-view (could end sentence here) of someone who works closely with these Hollywood types and knows all too well what they’re all like. But it comes off like a teenager’s approximation of what Hollywood is like based on watching other movies and TV shows with similar “insider” jokes. The writers must’ve binge-watched “Action” staring Jay Mohr and thought “hey let’s do a tepid version of that”. Just like the theme goes, even a dog can shake hands/write an episode of Sealab.

This episode also had the pretensions of having a website made for it: hollywoodactorbeckbristow.com. You’ll have to visit archive.org to see it. Last year it actually re-directed to Sealab 2021′s landing page on Adult Swim’s website. Now it doesn’t even load. It seems like In it’s final years of existence it just re-directed to Sealab 2021′s landing page. Maybe it will again some day. The dream would be to snake it and have it re-direct to this write-up. Anyway, it’s mildly interesting to click around on it. There was a “blog” on there which updated sporadically until about early 2004 when it was completely abandoned. It’s insane to think anyone thought that this joke had legs beyond airing on TV once. But if you wanna make it in show business you gotta try out some wacky ideas like make a website for a fictional character or force an elderly cast-member to work from his death bed.

MAIL BAG

Kon writes:

It may seem like Adult Swim spared us a Seth Green Space Ghost, but in reality Space Ghost has inflicted more Seth Green on the public than Seth MacFarlane, Harry Elfont, and Deborah Kaplan combined; Seth Green pitched Robot Chicken during his Space Ghost interview and the rest as we say is history. This isn't irony or an own or me doing a disinformation presented as truth joke like I like to do, it is true. It's real.

Damn, I did not know this. Well, the difference between a Seth Green Space Ghost and Robot Chicken is that I’d feel compelled to watch a Seth Green Space Ghost by virtue of the fact that it’s Space Ghost. With Robot Chicken I can simply not watc--(realizes I am writing this on a blog where I promise to watch every Adult Swim original and this includes Robot Chicken) god fucking damnit.

James Corden's a nice bloke. Met him once at a CVS (that is the british equivalent of a Fred Meyer, your favorite store :rolleyes:)

Hey come on. First of all he can’t possibly be nice. Is CVS British?? They are here too you buttmunch. God, you are being too nasty for this. I am pissed off now.

I'm thinking of getting the new Popeye's chicken nuggets

Good for you. Do me a big favor and don’t send me your review of them okay pal

Crispy, crunchy, flavorful, you see they got that dense breading that their regular chicken has. They really aren't playing around. And the white meat is seasoned well and the dipping sauces are pretty good. Nothing stellar with the dipping sauces but they get the job done. The real star is the nuggets themselves and I'm giving them, The Popeyes Chicken Nuggets, Five Outlaw Stars these are pretty incredible you get 8 in a pack and they are quite tasty.

Shut up!

Without rewatching any of the episodes who is your favorite celebrity guest spot on Tim and Eric Awesome Show and/or Tom Goes?

This is remarkably difficult, because I tend to think not that favorably off the celebrity guests. Do I count comedy people that are sorta regulars? Will Forte is too frequent of a guest star, for example. John C. became very regular and shouldn’t count. I really, REALLY love that one joke in Fred Armisen’s Hobby Holes bit that’s nearly impossible to describe via text where he is quoting a letter he received and they mock up a graphic with just that one line followed the closing of the letter, even though there was more after that. Christ, I’ll find it on Youtube. Okay, it’s this. I guess that’s my answer.

[kbstories]

lo-fi beats to fall in love to

“Aizawa doesn’t need anyone aside from himself, Cat aka the feline queen of his cold, dead heart... Nemuri, yeah, fine, her too... Maybe his class, on those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days where teaching the next generation seems like the only useful thing he’s ever done with his existence...

...and the YouTube channel he pours every second of his free time into, these days. Damn you, Midnight.”

(Or: Eraserhead is a YouTuber. Present Mic is a TikToker. What could possibly go wrong?)

Tags: No Quirks, Influencer AU, Social Media Shenanigans, POV: Aizawa, Supporting Cast: Midnight, Cat (Aizawa’s cat).

>>Read on AO3!!

A bday present for @ppitte! Teaser under the cut.

Aizawa is fifteen minutes into his newest why-are-students-like-that rant when Nemuri slams her Daiquiri on the table for emphasis and slurs:

“Y’know what you should do?”

The cocktail glass is stained red from her lipstick and residue bits of strawberry. It takes its place next to three equally drained drinks.

Slamming his own glass down in solidarity, Aizawa grunts, “Hit me”, casually ignoring how his White Russian sloshes over his fingers.

“You”, Nemuri leans on her elbows and points right at him, “gotta make a YouTube channel for this stuff. Trust me, I know my shit.”

Ah, the five magical words that somehow convinced Aizawa a late-night gig at the local community college is his true calling. Trust me, Nemuri had said on a night just like this one, with them holed up in this exact booth at this exact bar, I know my shit. They’d gotten into updating Aizawa’s CV right there and then, buzzed on too much tequila and the half-forgotten dream of being teachers at the same school.

Five years and many a gray hair later, Aizawa regrets it – but, like, a moderate amount. He regrets having to pretend like he’s an actual, functional adult most hours of the day, including semi-decent language and, ugh, being approachable. Life could definitely be worse, though, shitty pay and twenty problem children aside.

...Not to get back into ranting but seriously, all his students are problem students. Every. Single. One.

There are two who are deadlocked in a rivalry that will probably permeate their lives in some form or another until the day they die (competitively, if their individual cause of death allows for it in any way); there’s one who discovered his passion for wearing masks during the global pandemic two years ago and just never stopped (which, good for him, but also what); another who can only speak up in class after three pep talks and a solemn promise that yes, he’s allowed to talk to the wall, and no, there will be no deductions of his overall grade for that; and oh, that one kid who’s just... obsessed with birds. Especially goth birds, especially crows and ravens and why does Aizawa have to know that Danzig Highflyers are definitely the most goth of pigeons? Where is the direct benefit of ranking birds from devoid of goth to gothiest?

Why is he doing this again?

Oh, right. Because Nemuri is never wrong when she utters those words. Still–

“YouTube. Me. On YouTube?” Aizawa snorts, takes a sip. “C’mon, Midnight, you can’t be serious.”

Nemuri grins and, oh no, she’s dead set on this one, isn’t she? “Yes, Eraserhead, you. On YouTube.”

This is gonna be one of those things he’ll be secretly glad about in a not-so-distant future, Aizawa can already tell.

>>Read on AO3!!

[gear-project]

Guilty Gear Strive Famitsu Article: Translation by: (You know who by now!)

"New Special moves have been added! Many will be brand new and different depending on the character. New Information: Ky's eye turns Red, and half his face becomes black, increasing his abilities as a special technique!

In terms of story, will this become a concern!?"

"Battle with other players online including other entertaining modes, is of course, included in this work.

The Lobby has also been updated from the Beta.

We got to test use of a character as an avatar, which are part of the new system.  Unlike past works, however, Rank Battle and Open Netplay battle selection systems have been abolished, and properly readjusted.

It's no longer a concern to worry about gaining or losing points.

I hope you'll all enjoy battle to your heart's content.

The purpose of the avatar is to be as diverse as possible, creating even more unique avatars, so it should not be overlooked that characters can be customized.

Please enjoy the advanced online battle system."

"Play as various characters, customize with an unlocked character's parts too.

Fishing for avatar parts was confirmed, but how many parts can you obtain?"

"Get the look you like!"

"While it looks retro, it's actually made in 3D.  This is the online lobby, from here, you can find a partner and face off, and communicate."

Ky Kiske: CV: Takeshi Kusao:

"Sol's rival, and manipulates the element of Lightning.  He was a Knight of the Sacred Order during the War and their leader, with quite the number of achievements.  Currently he works as the High King governing his own Kingdom."

Dr. Faust: CV: Takashi Kondou

"In this new work the dark doctor has gotten darker!  Be sure to study his new techniques, as they are key in battle!"

Millia Rage: CV: Yuko Sumitomo

"Former member of the Assassins, but seems to perhaps be working for a new organization.  A forbidden curse allows her to wield her hair in to any number of weapons."

Zato=ONE: CV: Takehito Koyasu

"Former leader of the Assassins and raised Millia.  Creatively attacks with his own shadow, a style for veterans."

Ramlethal: CV: Megumi Han

“Brought the world in to turmoil as one of two Valentines. Utilizes two massive swords, an aggressive character.”

Leo Whitefang: CV: Tetsu Inada

“The second King of a major Kingdom in the world. A character featuring a unique battle stance for attacking from a defensive position.”