#yale model

[portfolioanalysistool]

Institutional Investing Redefined: The Power of Diversification

The investment strategies used by institutional investors have evolved significantly, with one model standing out for its innovative approach. Developed by David Swensen, the Yale Model has transformed portfolio management by emphasizing alternative investments alongside traditional stocks and bonds. But why does this strategy favor alternatives, and how do they contribute to long-term financial growth?

Understanding Alternative Investments

Alternative investments go beyond conventional asset classes like stocks, bonds, and cash. They include private equity, hedge funds, real estate, venture capital, commodities, and natural resources. These assets typically exhibit lower liquidity, longer investment horizons, and distinct risk-return characteristics compared to traditional investments.

Why the Yale Model Prioritizes Alternatives

1. Enhanced Returns – Traditional assets, particularly bonds, tend to yield lower returns over time. By incorporating private equity and venture capital, investors gain exposure to high-growth companies and emerging markets, significantly increasing potential returns.

2. Diversification and Risk Reduction – One of the core principles of the Yale Model is diversification. Alternative investments introduce asset classes that don’t always move in sync with the stock market. This reduces overall portfolio volatility and enhances risk-adjusted returns.

3. Access to Exclusive Investment Opportunities – Institutional investors using this model benefit from private deals, hedge funds, and specialized investment vehicles that are not easily accessible to individual investors. These exclusive opportunities allow for capitalizing on market inefficiencies.

4. Inflation Protection – Real assets such as real estate and commodities provide a natural hedge against inflation. As the cost of goods and services rises, these investments often appreciate, safeguarding the portfolio’s purchasing power.

Alternative Investments in Action

Private Equity & Venture Capital: A substantial portion of the portfolio is allocated to these sectors, investing in startups and growth-stage businesses that have historically delivered strong long-term gains.

Hedge Funds: By leveraging advanced strategies like long-short equity and global macro investing, hedge funds generate returns that remain largely independent of market fluctuations.

Real Estate: Investments in commercial and residential properties generate rental income and capital appreciation, contributing to long-term wealth accumulation.

Natural Resources & Commodities: Holdings in timber, oil, and agricultural assets help mitigate risks associated with economic downturns and inflationary pressures.

While firms like AlternativeSoft provide tools to optimize alternative investment strategies, these assets require thorough due diligence, long-term commitment, and expert management. Given their illiquid nature, investors must be prepared for extended holding periods.

Conclusion

The principles behind the Yale Model highlight the power of alternative investments in building resilient and high-performing portfolios. By strategically allocating capital to private equity, hedge funds, real estate, and other alternatives, institutional investors can achieve superior returns and long-term stability. As financial markets evolve, this model continues to offer a compelling blueprint for sustained investment success.

[wavennus]

i might’ve not gotten into my dream school, but guess what? i’m going to go get a college education and utilize the FUCK out of it.

[rank-sentimentalist]

(from the opening of the article)

I spent the January fires in Los Angeles arguing with my mother in a hotel room. She was shell-shocked, astonished at the scale of destruction in the neighborhood where she raised myself and my siblings. I was surprised at her surprise: as a lifelong Angelena and climate-literate member of generation Z, my question had not been whether the Palisades would burn but when. As I chatted with adults in the hotel where we’d gone to escape the smoke, though, I found my position to be an uncommon one: people spoke of how long rebuilding would take, how much it would cost, and how tragically odd the whole situation had been. The crisis was acute, a burst of bad luck. It had come from a combination of high winds and low rains – what, my little brother asked, did global warming have to do with the speed of the wind? Outside, people wandered, faces covered by N95s. “This feels like COVID,” said one wild-eyed woman clutching two leashed Yorkies. “We’re all in masks.” 

I offered her a handful of extras – masks, not dogs – feeling that, in a way, she was right: the structural dimension of the climate crisis, “like COVID,” will soon become impossible for even society’s most insulated to ignore. Hopefully, most of us understand the climate crisis better than my little brother – we know, for instance, that it’s existential and accelerating, meaning the danger to places like LA will only increase as the planet heats1,2. And we know that it’s anthropogenic, driven by unsustainable consumption patterns concentrated among the wealthiest citizens of the wealthiest countries, all of which have already subjected most of this country and the world to deadly temperatures, fire-flood cycles, rising seas, and dying crops3. But our bewildered response to crises like the LA fires tell us we may still be accustomed to addressing the climate crisis like the COVID-19 pandemic: as a question of how fast we can get back around to pretending like the problem is gone.

After all, the promised end to the pandemic has been more a matter of public relations than public health.

(essay continues.)

[liberalsarecool]

Here's Trump's next target — according to the tyrant's playbook | by Robert Reich

Trump is following Putin’s, Xi’s, and Orban’s playbook. First, take over military and intelligence operations by purging career officers and substituting ones personally loyal to you.

Next, subdue the courts by ignoring or threatening to ignore court rulings you disagree with.

Intimidate legislators by warning that if they don’t bend to your wishes, you’ll run loyalists against them. (Make sure they also worry about what your violent supporters could do to them and their families.)

Then focus on independent sources of information: the media and the universities. Sue media that publish critical stories and block their access to news conferences and interviews.

Then go after the universities.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Last week, Trump threatened in a social media post to punish any university that permits “illegal” protests. On Friday he cancelled hundreds of millions in grants and contracts with Columbia University.

This is an extension of Republican tactics before Trump’s second term. Prior to Trump appointing her ambassador to the United Nations, former Representative Elise Stefanik (Harvard class of 2006) browbeat presidents of elite universities over their responses to student protests against Israel’s bombardment of Gaza, leading to several presidents being fired.

Senator Josh Hawley (Stanford class of 2002 and Yale Law class of 2006) called the student demonstrations signs of “moral rot” at the universities.

But antisemitism was just a pretext.

JD Vance (Yale Law 2013) has termed university professors “the enemy” and suggested using Victor Orban’s method for ending “left-wing domination of universities.”

I think his way has to be the model for us: not to eliminate universities, but to give them a choice between survival or taking a much less biased approach to teaching. [The government should be] aggressively reforming institutions … in a way to where they’re much more open to conservative ideas.”

Trump is also targeting diversity, equity, and inclusion programs on university campuses.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

But of all Trump’s and Republicans’ moves against higher education, the most destructive is the cancelation of research grants and contracts. The destruction is hardly confined to Columbia and other suspected left-wing bastions.

Research universities depend on funding from the National Science Foundation and the National Institutes of Health.

Trump reportedly aims to slash the budget of the National Science Foundation by up to two-thirds. And he’s instructed the National Institutes of Health to no longer honor negotiated rates for “indirect costs” on grants that it administers — money that universities use for laboratory space and research equipment.

In defiance of court orders, Trump has largely maintained a freeze on NIH funding.

As a result, many of America’s great research universities have stopped hiring and are cutting Ph.D. programs — in some cases rescinding offers to accepted students.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Trump’s moves are consistent with the tyrant’s playbook, but they’re also jeopardizing America’s national security and competitiveness.

Trump speaks of putting America First, but his attack on the nation’s great research universities is ensuring that the U.S. comes in second — to China.

Although America has long been the global leader in scientific output, China is now surging ahead. Even before Trump’s cuts in research funding, China was projected to match U.S. research spending within five years.

China has already surpassed the U.S. as the top producer of highly cited papers and international patent applications. It now awards more science and engineering Ph.D.s than the U.S.

Tyrants close universities. Fascists burn books. Trump is destroying America’s most important asset — its innovative mind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Robert Reich is a professor of public policy at Berkeley and former secretary of labor. His writings can be found at https://robertreich.substack.com/.

[creatingblackcharacters]

I have positive news about animation and 3D modeling that I'm not sure if you've heard of yet!

But there is a group of yale computer scientists who are working on making an engine for accurate physics on Black hair types!

https://peopleofcolorintech.com/articles/new-tech-makes-coiled-hair-realistic-in-animation/

It allows for switchbacks, phase locking, and period skipping! So the actual algorithm the rendering engine uses accounts for the physics behind the hair in order to show it off properly!

This has been submitted, yes! It's still exciting news!

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 19. attention seeker

welcome to the second act. warnings for this chapter include depictions of alcoholism and family issues

'BEING AN INFLUENCER WAS A REAL JOB THAT REQUIRED A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF WORK.'

Yeah, right.

Shin Yuna heard phrases along those lines all the time. Whenever she watched other people's content, a good majority of the influencers would rant about how difficult their life was, or how stressful their workload was when it came to recording and editing.

Sure, it took some effort to edit and upload new content. Yuna allocated several hours a week to do so, but all she had to do was set up a livestream for the cash to start rolling in. Wear something skimpy. Bat her lashes at the camera. Pout a little. Play up the damsel in distress act. It was simply too easy.

princessval***: omg girl pls stop drinking 😭 onlyyuna03: she's so messy i love her luvyuna***: you're back already? i thought you were taking a break onlyyuna03: @luvyuna*** you must be new LOL she always does this

But this—the flood of comments that poisoned her screen—was the curse of putting herself on the internet.

It wasn't like this during her first year of streaming. Back in high school, Yuna's parents were fighting every day, and since she didn't have any friends to talk to, she turned to the internet. She would stay up all night in random Discord servers, chatting with strangers and confiding in them about her family issues.

Naturally, these chats turned into voice calls, which later turned into video calls. Initiated by her, of course. No one else had their cameras on, though; Yuna quickly grew comfortable being in the spotlight, basking in the glow of praise from strangers. Comments like 'you're so gorgeous' and 'you should be a model' made her forget all about her family issues for a split second. Like that, it became like a drug for her.

Yuna, who was starved of attention, relished in the validation she got from online strangers. Strangers who wouldn't even share any personal information about themselves, going by fake names and hiding how old they were.

Soon after, she made her own Discord server, inviting everyone who wanted to see her get in front of her camera and talk about her day. She knew how to play her angles well, acting as if she was everyone's girlfriend while using them to satisfy her need for attention. It was a classic marketing strategy: Yuna knew her asset was her beauty, so she used it to her advantage.

All she had to do was send a picture of herself or talk in a cute voice, and everyone would fawn over her in seconds. In a life where Yuna's own parents neglected her, she found people who cared. Maybe their intentions weren't in the right place, but they were present and ready to listen to whatever she had to say.

She got ambitious, deciding to start live-streaming to a wider audience. Yuna started on Twitch, playing various games like Overwatch and League of Legends. She didn't have to be very good as long as people liked her face and stayed for her reactions.

As she grew a following, she moved to YouTube and TikTok, doubling her follower count in only months. Before, she would be talking to an audience of around 20 people, but now she was racking in thousands as soon as she went live.

Of course, there came drama, too. And Yuna found it exhilarating.

If someone called her out on something, all she had to do was come up with some sob story about how she didn't deserve to hear that, and everyone would come with pitchforks to defend her. She was very calculative in that way, knowing exactly when and how to turn the tide if it wasn't in her favor.

For some reason, that never seemed to work with her parents.

"You're a disappointment," her father spat at her the day she showed him her Yale acceptance letter. She had sparkles in her eyes and a bright smile all day, only for her to feel completely crushed. She couldn't understand why; it was her father's dream for her to get into Yale, after all. "This is the only acceptance letter you've got, huh?"

Yuna hesitated. The competition for all of the Ivy League schools was rough this year; she had been getting rejections left and right, but she thought her family would be satisfied with Yale. After all, it was her father's alma mater.

"Yeah," she answered in a small voice. She looked down at her acrylic-damaged nails, neglected from years of biting the skin until they bled. "I thought you'd be happy with Yale."

"Happy?" Mr. Shin barked out a laugh. "You didn't actually get into Yale on your own, you know that, right?" He scoffed when Yuna gave him a confused look. Then, Mr. Shin slammed his phone against the dinner table, causing his wife and daughter to flinch. "Five hundred thousand. I paid five hundred thousand to get you in. Mr. Nakamura only paid two to get Kazuha in, but I had to pay five. That's how useless you are."

"Sunoo? You know my old boss's son?" he would provoke her for the rest of dinner. "He got in all by himself. You know Hyejin's son—Anton—he got into Yale and Brown on his own, too."

"You need to work hard, Yuna," Mrs. Shin said before stabbing at her salad. "Your dad could only get you in as an undeclared major. You need to get into pre-med on your own."

Tears prickled her eyes, but she stayed silent. Even her college acceptance was a fraud; she had done nothing out of her own hard work.

Except her skyrocketing career as an influencer.

The high of her fame only lasted a short while, though. During the summer before her freshman year of college, Yuna's parents discovered what she had been getting up to on the internet.

Shameful, they called it, as if Yuna was committing a crime.

Yuna's parents were surgeons, and rather good ones at that. They both got their undergraduate degrees at Stanford, and then their doctorates at Harvard. The two of them became neurosurgeons after their residency and board exams, and then transferred to Mercy Health where Mr. Shin became the Chair of Neurological Surgery, which set the bar a little high for Yuna.

She was never spectacular. She was always more interested in makeup and clothes instead of science and medicine. Yuna would've rather worked toward a career as a fashion designer, often dreaming about fashion shows she could design for. She knew she would make it far, too—even Donatella Versace told her backstage during Paris Fashion Week that she had an eye for fashion, and that she could go far.

The few times she visited your house, she remembered meeting your mom, a well-known fashion designer herself, and showing off her sketches. Yuna distinctly recalled her words of approval, and she had to bite her tongue whenever your mom would offer to take Yuna on a tour of her studio, only for her parents to turn down the offer.

Her parents were so adamant about Yuna following their path to becoming a surgeon that they threw away all of her sketchbooks and colored pencils when she showed them her work. Even when she got the opportunity of a lifetime to be taken under Vivienne Westwood's wing, her parents crushed her dreams under their heels.

From a young age, she knew that hard work was only determined by her parents. Her true efforts were simply considered a waste of time.

Naturally, Yuna let out all her emotions when she live-streamed. It just so happened that her parents found out through the families of people who knew her. First, she would be grounded. When that wouldn't work, she would get all of her devices taken away. When she found a loophole around that, she would have to endure her father's rage.

Halfway through her first year at Yale, her parents disowned her.

She was on academic probation after her first semester. While she was trying to file a restraining order against someone who was stalking her (who claimed to be a fan), her grades managed to slip until she failed most of her classes. The worst part was, she had been expecting her parents to worry about the stalking incident, but they only cared about her GPA. Casting Yuna away was just protecting the Shin family's shiny status.

Everything was gone. Yuna was no longer part of the world you and Sunoo lived in. All her connections to the medical field, all her connections to the fashion industry—all out of her grasp. Still, maybe it was her flickering hope to somehow please her parents that kept her on the path to become a doctor. Not that it something she was genuinely interested in, but she knew it was the only way her parents would take her back.

Now she had to keep up her influencer career to support herself financially. There was no way she would be able to pay off tuition, even if Sunoo had generously paid the deposit for her small apartment. She had to keep up with bills, rent, and utilities all at once, and it was all too much for an eighteen-year-old to handle.

She got used to accepting help because of that. You helped foot some of her bills, Sunoo helped with tuition, Anton helped make sure she was eating, and the money she got from streaming and posting videos was enough to cover the rest of her expenses.

Even with an outlet to express her concerns to her fans, though, Yuna was struggling with barely making friends. You, Sunoo, and Anton were the only ones who lent a shoulder and an ear for her to dump all her pain and worries to. But she still had to hold them at arm's length. After all, all of their upper-crust families were in close contact with each other.

And then there was Lee Heeseung.

He was a new face in the socialite scene. No one had heard of him or his family before. Heeseung was probably Yuna's ideal type—handsome, intelligent, popular, and someone who hadn't been sucked into her world yet. Although he was alledgedly close to you and Park Sunghoon, no one else had any idea of what his family did.

Over the years, Yuna was terrified that she had built a reputation among the rich families that were in her circle. She could feel the disdain in their eyes when she was at social events, steering clear of every adult that looked as though they wanted to probe her for information about her college admissions.

Heeseung, however, was like a breath of fresh air. There was no judgment in his eyes when Yuna spoke to him, and that might have been the very moment she fell for him.

He was different. He didn't have any expectations of her nor did he feel uncomfortable when he found out she was a streamer. She liked that he came from a humble background, and he never judged her from where she came from. Even when Yuna confessed that she had been disowned, Heeseung never looked at her with pity in his eyes. He simply told her that he would be there if she ever needed him, and he left it at that.

She tried her best to get close to him, but the closer Yuna got, the more she saw under the surface—the more she realized she was heading toward heartbreak. It was clear as day that Heeseung was deeply in love with you, and it seemed as though he had no intention of considering any other woman. Even Yuna could tell he would give up everything in a heartbeat for your sake.

Yuna did her best to avoid conversations about Heeseung with you. She figured that if they never brought him up, then you wouldn't start to feel differently about him.

To her relief, you started dating Park Sunghoon.

Yuna used Heeseung's vulnerability to her advantage. As much as she liked him, he was a coward when it came to his own feelings; Heeseung could only bring himself to come clean about how he felt for you after you started dating another man. Of course, he was turned down—ignored, even. In your mind, you just wanted to keep up the fantasy of having a close childhood friend to the point where you had Heeseung bottle up everything he felt.

Yuna thought you were cruel back then, but she was even more so.

She knew that Heeseung couldn't do anything about his feelings no matter how much it ate at him, so Yuna pretended she wanted to listen to him go on and on about how miserable he was. It was all because of you, and, for a period of time, Yuna despised you for it.

Months rolled by, and Yuna found herself going over to Heeseung's dorm room nearly every day. They talked about anything and everything, and then the conversation would eventually shift to you. Yuna felt something chip at her heart every time he mentioned your name, but she braved through it all.

"Thanks for coming over," Heeseung murmured, running a hand through his already-messy hair. Yuna could smell the alcohol on his breath when she sat down next to him on the floor. Heeseung laughed. "One-month anniversary. Y/N always told me she found those stupid."

Yuna pressed her lips into a thin line. She remembered walking to class with you last week and hearing you gush about everything you bought Sunghoon for your one-month anniversary as a couple. She thought it was sweet back then, but hearing it come from Heeseung made Yuna feel sick.

"You don't have to thank me," she said, hugging her knees to her chest. "I just wanted to be here for you."

The first time she tried to kiss Heeseung was that night.

The first time Heeseung rejected her was right after he stopped her.

"I can't," he said at the time, drawing away from her. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"You're not over Y/N," she finished for him with a twinge of bitterness.

He shook his head, saying nothing. Yuna felt a surge of misdirected anger.

Yuna knew from the moment she met you that people like you were the shiny gold coins that everyone wanted to have, and people like her were rusted-over pennies on the sidewalk to be stepped on and forgotten. She was a fool to think that Heeseung would see past that.

"I know that." Her tone was sharp as she got to her feet, and Heeseung followed suit right after. "But I suggest you get over her soon because it's not gonna happen."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Y/N would never go out with you. She already turned you down, anyway."

"Is that so?"

When Yuna turned around to look at Heeseung, his expression was like stone. Something ugly was twisting its way around her heart, squeezing out every semblance of affection she ever had for you.

"Yeah," she replied with a simpering smile, "because she's just too nice to choose the guy who broke her friend's heart."

"Broke—?"

"And," she said louder, cutting him off, "Sunghoon doesn't know, does he? Wouldn't he feel really betrayed if he found out?"

Heeseung kept his face impassive, but Yuna could tell he was seething. She cornered him quite well.

She kept that farce up for years. It was easy keeping Heeseung in line when you only had eyes for Sunghoon, and Heeseung was just so easily discouraged by Yuna's words. It was almost like he had no hope that you would take his word over hers, and that sent Yuna on some sort of power trip.

Her relationship with you was strange. Maybe it was at that moment when she realized that she was someone important to you, and that made her feel invincible somehow. She could do anything as long as you were on her side.

She liked drinking. Not because she particularly liked the taste of alcohol, but she loved the feeling of forgetting all her responsibilities. Every rotten memory of her parents would bury itself under the sand for the time being, and all she could feel was adrenaline pumping through her blood.

But she was never exactly in control. It only took a year to slip up in front of her friend group (thankfully when you weren't around), so she begged Karina, Yeonjun, and Giselle to keep quiet about her crush on Heeseung. They weren't even extremely close at the time, but they knew better than to tread on a situation between you and Sunghoon, whose parents were far more influential than theirs.

"It's only gonna cause more problems if she finds out," Yuna told them through choked sobs. "If Y/N finds out, things will never be the same between us, and Sunghoon doesn't even know that Heeseung has feelings for Y/N." As Giselle stroked her hair gently, Yuna said, "I can get over him on my own. Just please keep this from Y/N."

Karina and Yeonjun exchanged nervous looks before they reluctantly agreed. She had always been wary about Karina. Giselle was overly-empathetic to her situation, Yeonjun was a good listener because he thrived off of drama, but Karina had always seemed more skeptical.

And, as Heeseung knew, Yuna always found a way to silence people who she felt she couldn't trust, so she played dumb when she outed Karina on live.

It was a stupid move on her part, to be fair. Yuna deeply regretted it as soon as she realized what she said. Karina iced her out for months, and everyone else was on the colder side—even Sunoo, who had been her close friend for so long. She always felt strangely jealous of Sunoo, who got the approval of her father when she couldn't, but seeing him give her the cold shoulder nearly sent her over the edge.

"I apologized so many times!" she cried to him. Sunoo kept his guard up, but he always heard her out when she needed him. "I just don't know what else to do. I keep fucking up."

Sunoo frowned. "Do you even feel bad about what you did, or do you feel bad because you were caught?"

Yuna didn't respond to his question, but she knew exactly what the answer was. Was she pathetic? Probably.

She ruined everything. She always ruined everything.

Maybe it was just easier that way. Yuna knew that if she tried her best to please everyone, it would still never be enough. Hurting them before she cared too much was just a defense mechanism, as selfish as it sounded. If you chopped down the tree before it grew too tall, it wouldn't hinder the plants under its shade from growing.

The thing was, Yuna received blow after blow all her life without any acts of mercy. She was struck over and over again, and no one delivered the final coup de grâce.

Naturally, Karina came around and forgave her. Another missed blow. It was like Yuna was drunk off the drama itself because if she kept acting out and causing all these problems, then she could keep everyone's attention on her.

And then she wouldn't have to be so alone.

But the cycle went on and on, so when Yuna found herself texting Jay and Sunghoon in her drunken stupor, she hardly considered the consequences when she mentioned the long-kept secret of Heeseung's first love. You trusted her to keep your conversation with Jay about breaking up with Sunghoon to herself, but she violated that as soon as she could, too. She wasn't sure what it was, but whenever she looked in the mirror, all she saw was that she was as bad as her parents.

Yuna was fated to fall into the same destructive cycle over and over again until it stabbed her in the back for good. Until she bled out, though, everything was fair game.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct

[jesswriteswrongs]

After School Special

Fandom: Shameless USA

Characters: Lip Gallagher x Female Northside!Reader

Summary: Reader and Lip return to her house after school, but Reader’s mom comes home early and has a lot to say

Warnings: body shaming, discussion of food, discussion of exercise, discussion of weight

A/N: Readers mom reads like Emily Gilmore because I’ve been binge watching Gilmore Girls

It was mid-October and you had no idea how Lip survived without a coat, when you were dreading pulling your hand out of your pocket to unlock the door. Once you were both inside the warmth of your house you lead Lip upstairs to your room. “Wanna help me with my literature homework?” You asked him, putting your backpack on the floor and hanging up your coat.

“I do love you in that uniform…” he replied, sitting on your bed. You never thought that the kilt, sweater vest, blazer and saddle shoes were particularly attractive, but Lip always seemed to think so.

“Really?” You asked, straddling his lap.

“Mmm…” He replied, pushing your blazer off your shoulders “Southside bad boy corrupts private school girl? It’s like something from a romance novel.” You let your blazer fall to the floor. “Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do-“ You interrupted Lip’s recitation of Shakespeare by clapping your hand over his mouth, hearing the front door open and close.

“Shit! My mom’s home early.” You whispered.

“Y/N!” Your mom shouted. You put your finger to your lips to signal Lip to be quiet, and climbed off his lap. You headed downstairs to see what she wanted.

“Hi Mom.” You said nonchalantly.

“Y/N! How long have you been home?” She asked, looking you up and down. You squirmed under her gaze.

“Just a few minutes, I was just about to start my homework.” She frowned.

“Hm… well, remember your sister is coming home from Yale this weekend.”

“Yes, Mom.” You replied monotonously.

“How’s your application to Princeton going?”

“I don't need to apply until next year.”

“Yes, darling, but Princeton will look closely at your junior year. Extracurriculars are important.” She placed her handbag on the bureau, paying more attention to the wood grain than to you.

“Mom, I’m already president of the Model United Nations and VP of the astronomical society.”

“Yes, but you’ll need more. Your sister was captain of the swim team, president of the key club, class president and valedictorian.”

“Mom, I’m not Laura.” You sighed, playing with your sleeve cuffs

“Don’t I know it.” Your mother retorted. She looked you up and down once more. “You’re looking fat. I’ll tell Maria to skip the after school snack, you can wait until dinner, and you’ll be taking salad for lunch for the rest of the week. Your father and I pay for the gym, you should use it.”

“Yes, Mom.” You said once more. “Can I go back to my homework now?” Your mother literally looked down her nose at you before she spoke.

“Fine. But I expect you to be exercising after dinner.” You nodded, fisting your hands inside your sleeves and wiling the tears not to fall. You quickly turned and ran back up the stairs, shutting yourself in your bedroom, back against the door, before you let the tears fall. You had completely forgotten Lip was waiting for you in there.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly.

“How much of that did you hear?” Your voice was low and quiet, almost trembling.

“Enough.” Lip replied. He opened his arms. “Everything she said is total bullshit. You’re not anywhere near fat, and you’re going to get into Princeton.” You allowed yourself to be hugged and comforted by Lip, tears falling on to the blue shirt you loved on him. “And if your mom really wants you to get some exercise I can think of an exercise regiment that she’ll hate.” You laughed wetly, before wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

“This is why I prefer your house.” You said quietly.

“What, too loud to think with the police turning up anytime they want?” Lip chuckled. You rested your temple against his shoulder.

“Yeah but it’s family. You may not have much but you love each other, and most of the time you even like each other.” Lip laughed at that. “You’re not competing against each other or trying to outdo each other’s achievements. Everything Laura does I have to be the same or better, whether I want to or not.” Lip seemed to think about that for a moment.

“I guess you’re right.” He said after a moment of silence. “We’re dysfunctional, sure, but I’d do anything for my family. Our achievements are what they are. Shit, I’ll be the first Gallagher to finish high school. Plus, Fiona likes you a lot more than she’s liked my other girlfriends.” You ran your thumb over his shirt collar.

“It’s refreshing. Fiona thinks it’s great when I get a C, Debbie likes when I bring my art homework, it feels safe.” You said quietly.

“Even with Carl running around?” Lip asked

“Even with Carl running around.” You laughed, and kissed him. “I’m totally serious though, my literature homework is due tomorrow.”

“Hmmm, can I be your reward afterwards?” Lip asked.

“Can we go to your house tomorrow?” Lip smiled and nodded. You smiled back and climbed off his lap, grabbing your book and sitting back on his lap.

“What are you doing, Y/N? I thought you were doing homework?” You grinned wickedly at Lip.

“You really want to wait until after?”

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Take On Me

Summary: What happens when the love of Bob’s life finally makes a move…the night before he deploys? Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd/F!Reader (No Y/N) Word Count: 4k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED A/N: This is an entry for the 80’s Rocktober Challenge hosted by @roosterforme - I picked a-ha’s song “Take On Me.” I hope y’all enjoy! This is Bob’s side story from my Jake series, Invisible Smoke. But you don’t need to read that to read this. Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, unprotected sex, cockwarming (?)/unrealistic post-sex activities, angst (with a happy ending), being bad at feelings

Bob didn’t particularly like nights before deployment. There were the obvious reasons—being shipped out and stuck on a carrier for weeks on end wasn’t exactly the best part of his job—but the pageantry of the night before, the dress whites, the careful goodbyes, that was what he really hated.

Natasha had dragged him to the Hard Deck so he could at least say goodbye to a few friends in person since he had already video called his family. He watched Natasha pull Bradshaw out onto the deck for a quieter moment alone. It was about time they got together. Bob had been one of the few who knew about her feelings for their fellow aviator and he had accidentally discovered that they were reciprocated a few days after the Uranium Mission. It really had been kind of ridiculous watching them dance around each other for months.

He was happy they were finally together. Really. Who wouldn’t be happy to see two of his closest friends be happy? But it really just twisted the dull knife behind his ribs that always came when Bob realized how alone he was. He didn’t have someone to say goodbye to like that.

Penny gave him another ginger ale with her usual sweet smile before he started back toward the table in the corner where he’d left his hat. He pushed through the crowd, earning a few slaps to his back and claps to his shoulders by other patrons who knew what awaited him in the morning, and settled back into his seat with a sigh. He scanned the crowd, seeing Harvard and Yale chat up two women on what looked like a bachelorette trip and then Payback and Mickey dancing with their wives near the jukebox. Payback’s wife, a stunning woman named Sidney, pulled back just enough to wipe tears from her cheeks. Payback gently knocked her hand away and finished for her before kissing her forehead. Bob turned away, feeling like he was intruding with a persistent tightness in his chest.

And his traitorous mind conjured your smiling face, bright and happy.

What Bob had with you was…nice. It was quiet and gentle and strictly platonic, right now. Bob would never understand how Hangman was the one to introduce you to him.

“Trust me, Baby on Board, you’ll love her. She’s perfect for you.”

Bob had been fully prepared to grit his teeth and bear whomever Seresin had deemed ‘perfect,’ and expected to meet an Instagram model or a gym buddy of his—not that there was anything wrong with them, they were usually lovely but just a little intense. But then you walked in.

You with your thick-rimmed glasses and soft smile and softer laugh.

While Jake bragged on your behalf, stating that you were the best CPA in the city, the only person he’d trust with his taxes, andthat Penny trusted you with the Hard Deck’s books, you fiddled nervously with the bendy straw Penny had given you in your little cup of pop.

It was Jake’s fiancée—a good friend of Bob’s who deserved the world, if anyone asked him—who quieted the man’s well-meaning rant with a hand on his arm. “I think he gets it. She is amazing.” The other woman winked and earned a soft smile from you before turning back toward her fiancé. “But you still owe me a game of pool, yeah?”

As the couple walked away, leaving you and Bob alone, your (beautiful) eyes tracked up to meet his gaze. Your smile was small and soft and you drummed your manicured nails against the plastic cup in your grip. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And that was it, really. You had asked Bob if he knew how to play pool and then he offered to teach you. That led to soft giggles and missed trick shots and then quiet conversations about your lives and phone numbers exchanged before you parted ways for the night.

It was…good. Really. Even if it always teetered on the edge of becoming something more but never did.

Bob liked your good morning texts and the way you insisted on paying for brunch every time you invited him to try a new restaurant that just opened up. He liked that you didn’t mind helping him get the rest of the Daggers home from the Hard Deck if they had one drink too many. He liked that the people he trusted with his life liked you.

He…liked you. And he knew it was getting dangerously close to a different L word and that just had his mind circling back to how much he hated nights before deployments. You weren’t here. Bob didn’t blame you, of course. One of your more “difficult” clients had needed your attention immediately and had flown you out to Los Angeles about a week ago and Bob hadn’t wanted to disturb you with the news of the deployment. He’d asked Jake’s fiancée to tell you when you got back into town and he had an email queued up to be sent to you, too, crossing his fingers that he’d be able to still talk with you when you both had a moment to spare.

His gaze once again roamed around the bustling bar and unintentionally picked out all the couples. Dammit. Maybe, he just needed to get some sleep. He needed to be on the carrier early tomorrow morning anyway and wallowing in self pity wasn’t really a good waste of time. He finished his soda and waved to Penny and then placed a few bills on the bar to cover his tab before setting off toward the door.

This was good. He could get back to base and get some sleep before getting to the carrier just after dawn. But, as he moved around a rambunctious pair of lieutenants jockeying over their stances for darts, he nearly collided with a solid, soft body.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

Familiar hands pressed at his chest in a bid to stay upright and the scent of rose and amber immediately flooded his senses. And Bob knew immediately it was you.

Bob set his hands on your hips with a growing smile and watched the realization dawn on your face. “Bob!” A smile he could see in his dreams broke across your lips before you wrapped your arms over his shoulders in a tight hug. “I’m so happy I caught you. I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”

It took Bob a moment to shake himself free of the shock of your arrival and gave you a smile of his own. Some higher power was laughing at him right now (or maybe it was just Seresin) because Bob thought you’d never looked more beautiful in your short dress with buttons all the way down the front and strappy heels. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Your smile widened the slightest bit and you glanced at something over his shoulder, raising one hand to wave at someone. Bob turned in time to see Jake and his fiancée both raising their glasses in his direction. They knew. They had planned this.

But, when one of your hands swept over his shoulder to rest over his happily thrumming heart, all the embarrassment and gratitude he could have expressed at that moment crumbled away. He could deal with them later (and by ‘deal with them,’ Bob meant probably buy them a round and say thank you).

“Want to get out of here?” You asked, fingers brushing over the carefully arranged pins on his chest before thumbing at one of the ornate buttons of his jacket.

Bob knew you didn’t mean it like that, despite your wandering fingers, but he still had to suck in a quick breath to steady his thoughts before smiling. “Yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

You were quick to drop one of your hands to his, tugging him toward the door with a soft laugh he knew so well. The night air was tinged with salt water and the barest hint of spilled beer as soon as you stepped outside and down the handful of steps onto the parking lot. You gave him another smile over your shoulder as you started, “I hope you don’t mind-”

Bob fought the urge to say something that had been on the tip of his tongue for months and instead settled for, “you have to know that I never mind.”

You laughed again and shook your head but the noise quickly stalled when your foot connected when one of the concrete parking dividers and you nearly toppled for the second time that night. Bob tightened his grip on your hand and kept you upright with a quick tug that had you stumbling forward until you collided with his chest with a soft ‘oof’ and you laughed as you tucked your face into his jacket for a moment. You had a habit of doing that, hiding your smiles in the safety of Bob’s body. His neck, his chest, his shoulders, his arms. All of them had been places for you to squish your face. He never did mind, happily accepting any sort of physical affection you would bestow. Knowing you trusted him enough to keep you safe when you felt vulnerable.

Again, Bob knew he was dangerously close to that other word.

“I swear I haven’t had a drink at all. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.” Your voice shook and Bob tried not to read too much into that either as you looked down and groaned. “Oh, maybe that’s why. My shoe’s come undone.”

Bob didn’t even blink before kneeling on the pavement and grasping at the delicate straps. He could feel the heat of your skin as he carefully threaded the strap through the buckle again and as he tugged it closed again, the pads of his fingers brushed against your ankle and you were just as soft as he imagined.

What he had not imagined was the shiver his simple touch would elicit from you. You let out a strange, stuttering breath as Bob looked up at you. Oh.

Maybe it was the growing adrenaline from the impending deployment, or maybe the way the low lights were reflecting in your eyes, or maybe it was a dawning realization that you could maybe feel the same as he did. His fingers trailed up your leg as he took his time standing, almost smirking when he felt how goosebumps raced across your skin.

Your next breath stuttered and Bob felt it against his neck as he finally stood straight and once again settled his hands on your hips.

“I um…” Your throat bobbed. “Th-thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

His position and training as a WSO had Bob picking up on minute details, but he’d always been that way. He was the kid who was delighted with a ladybug landing on his jeans when the rest of his family watched booming fireworks on the Fourth of July. So, he noticed when your eyes flickered down to his lips. You moved closer and your lips puckered.

You were going to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him.

But Bob didn’t move forward to close the distance, no matter how much he wanted to and he watched your face crumple.

“Bob?” Your voice was weak as he took a small step back; Bob didn’t let you go far and kept his hands firmly planted on your hips. He wouldn’t let you go. Not yet. “Did I do something wrong? I…I’m sorry. I thought-”

But he just shook his head, ducking his chin the slightest bit toward his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. I just want to make sure this is what you actually want and not because I’m shipping out in a few hours. Deployments make people think-”

You moved to grasp his face, trying to tilt his chin just enough to make him look at you again. There was a desperation in your gaze that let him know that you needed him to hear you, make him understand. “Bob, I can’t lie and tell you that this deployment has nothing to do with it, all right? But this is the first time you’re being sent away from me. I know these things can be dangerous. I know that. I’ve heard horror stories about…” You couldn’t even finish the thought and shook it away. Your thumbs pressed gentle arcs into his cheeks before you dropped your hold. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? We can pretend none of this happened and just go get ice cream and sit and silence and watch the water until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get sick of you,” Bob said, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could even think of how that would sound to you.

An unsteady smile pushed at your mouth as you took a step backward and then another and another until you were leading him toward your car—Bob quickly redirected you toward his trusty GMC and opened the door for you with a smile of his own. The air in the truck’s cab was tense for a slow song or two, just long enough for you to squirm in your seat until Bob reached over and grabbed your hand.

He didn’t want to upset you—it wasn’t an outright rejection, not at all—he just wanted to be sure that you wanted him like he wanted you.

Bob didn’t do this. He didn’t spend the entire night talking, laughing, pretending he didn’t have to disappear for a few weeks. But with you it felt right. It felt like he should have been doing this with you for months. Years.

Ice cream was purchased at a small roadside shop and Bob pulled onto an overlook and shut off the truck, letting the dim moonlight fill the cab as you both quietly ate your sweet treat—strawberry for Bob, pistachio for you. It was calm and peaceful, a far cry from the noise of the Hard Deck, but he could feel when you started to get nervous again, curling your hands into the skirt of your dress for a moment before starting to fiddle with the cloth-covered buttons on the front.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the deployment?” You asked, and Bob could hear the trepidation in your voice. You turned in your seat to face him and Bob was quick to do the same and you both scooted a little closer to each other on the bench seat, legs awkwardly skirting around the stick shift. “I would have come home sooner.”

But Bob just shook his head and felt his nose scrunch as he tried to pick his words carefully. He didn’t stop until he felt you trail your finger across his brow, wordlessly telling him to relax. Bob couldn’t even remember when you had started doing it, but he had savored it every time and felt his shoulders slump while he finally found the words. He carefully reached up and grasped your hand, linking your fingers together for a moment. “I don’t think I knew how to say goodbye to you.”

You searched Bob’s face and he tried not to hope too much with the look in your eyes. “Bob, I… you don’t have to have anything special to say to me. But please just say something.”

Bob didn’t even realize he was moving until his lips were firm against yours, almost unyielding. Your glasses clicked together as his hand anchored itself on the back of your neck and tilted your face just so but neither of you seemed to mind. He could feel your smile against his mouth.

Your fingers sunk into his hair as his tongue slid against the seam of your lips. He’d give you anything anything anything, and this was no different. All his thoughts about the deployment, about what waited for him in the morning, flew out the window as he hauled you closer, pulling you onto his lap. The warmth of you immediately sank through the heavy fabric of his trousers and he groaned. The noise earned him a breathy sigh against his mouth and your hips sinking and rocking against his again.

“I wanted to do this right. I wanted to do this right with you,” Bob murmured against your mouth as his fingers swiftly undid the buttons down the front of your dress.

“You are,” you said, tone breathy and bordering on needy. “I promise you are. This feels right. Everything feels right with you.”

Bob’s fingers stalled and his bright blue eyes moved up your face until they were boring into yours. “Sweetheart…”

“I mean it,” you said. “Everything feels right with you.”

It might have been less of a shock for Bob if someone had hit him in the chest with a baseball bat. Something whispered at the back of his mind to tell you, to tell you now and make sure you were saying what he thought and hoped you were saying. But he didn’t. Because wouldn’t that be cruel? To draw that out of you before leaving for weeks at a time with no firm promise to return to you? So, instead he kissed you again and tried to press into his mind the way you felt against his mouth as he pushed your dress from your shoulders. He moved to press you down across the bench seat and licked at the thrumming pulse in your neck as he peeled the little scrap of lace down your legs and then shoved them into his pocket.

He would keep those.

Bob moved, knee knocking into the steering wheel for a moment, shoving himself between your thighs after shrugging off his jacket. He pressed a kiss to your ankle, your knee, your thigh, before nosing at your perfect hip bones.

“Bob,” you whined. “Bob, please.”

The salty tang of you was immediately addicting and Bob wrapped his arms over your thighs and dragged you closer closer closer with each flick and twist of his tongue. He could do this forever. He shouldn’t have waited this long.

Your fingers curling through his hair knocked any other thought right out of his head and all that was left was you you you and how your thighs clamped over his ears as you came.

When your legs stopped shaking enough, you hooked your hands behind his head and hauled him up, pressing a rushed, sloppy, perfect kiss against his mouth. Bob’s hands skimmed over the soft skin of your thighs as he settled between them, feeling your wet heat soak his skin.

“Please,” you whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

Bob’s knee hit the horn when he went to shove his trousers and briefs down and he was embarrassed only for a moment but laughed along with you as you dragged him back into your hold, kissing him sweetly as you helped him move back into the cradle of your thighs. You felt divine. Warm, wet, and tight…and perfect. And every movement felt even better. You were clawing at his back as Bob mouthed at the swells of your breasts. You were everywhere, he was everywhere, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whimpered when he raised his head again to lick into your mouth.

Faster and faster, Bob drove into you until you were shaking in his grip, sighing against his spit-slick lips and Bob was quick to follow, collapsing over you and hips rutting into yours lazily in a mindless haze until you whined against his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured as he maneuvered just enough to press up onto his forearms on either side of your head. Bob didn’t move to pull out, not just yet, enjoying your warmth for a little longer. Just a little longer.

You were beautiful. Sweaty and makeup smudged, you were gorgeous. Bob trailed a finger across your cheek, catching a tear as it slid from your eye.

“Sweetheart?” Did he hurt you? Did something happen-

“Stay with me?” Your eyes were wide and pleading as your grip tightened on his shoulders just a fraction. “Just… Can we just stay like this a little longer?”

Something in Bob’s chest twisted, almost uncomfortable, almost too close to that other word. But still, he said, “of course, sweetheart. Of course.”

The conversation that followed was soft and quiet, filled with everything and nothing, and Bob’s eyes slowly closed with the sound of your heart and the waves outside lulling him to sleep.

A noise woke Bob up some time later. It could have been a passing car or the waves against the shore, it didn’t matter, really. It was still before dawn, the sky an inky shade of blue. He turned to the side, his back protesting the slightest bit, and saw you beside him. Your mouth was parted with sleep, soft breaths escaping in deep, even intervals.

You were beautiful.

And he had to let you go.

**

You hardly remembered waking up and getting dressed again. But you remembered leaning out of the truck to straighten Bob’s hat atop his head. Last night had been perfect and tinged with some sort of unspoken melancholy. Why had you waited so long? “Can I…can I come with you to the carrier? Wave you off?” It was a selfish ask, but you wanted more time, just a little more to cling to before your heart leapt out from between your ribs to try to follow him out to sea. For one of the few times in your life, you knew it wasn’t better to be safe than sorry. You had to take a chance.

Bob’s unfairly pretty blue eyes nearly sparkled in the low light of dawn as he smiled at you. “Of course, sweetheart.”

The ride out to the carrier was quiet aside from Bob asking if you could drop his truck off with Bradshaw. You readily agreed and hated how your stomach twisted when he parked. The imposing behemoth of a ship loomed on the horizon and you walked beside Bob, his duffel in hand, as you weaved through the early morning crowd. He slowed to a stop a few paces away from the carrier’s ramp and turned back to you.

You watched his jaw flex, tight and wanting, and you wanted to tell him how you felt, how you had felt for months, and you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue but they crumbled to nothing when the carrier blared its horn, calling everyone in and pulling Bob’s attention for a moment.

Tears started to build at the backs of your eyes as the carrier blared its horn for a second time. You had to let him go. You just learned what it was like to have him, and you had to let him go.

Bob turned back to you and you recognized the determined set of his jaw as he reached for you after dropping his bag at his feet. His hands smoothed up your arms and hooked at the back of your neck, thumb pressing an incessant pressure at the hinge of your jaw. You could have melted then, you were puddy in his hold and it almost made it worse. “I shouldn’t ask you this. It’s selfish and cruel-”

“Ask me anyway,” you said, the syllables cracking in your throat.

“Will you be here when I get back? Will you wait for me? I know it is a lot to ask, to take me on and-”

Those damn tears came back and you surged forward to press your lips to his again. The kiss was unhurried and uncoordinated but you couldn’t pull away. Not just yet. Not until your lungs burned and your cheeks felt cold. “I’ve been waiting for you for months. What’s a few weeks more?”

Bob’s smile was small but you knew you’d remember it for the rest of your life. He kissed you, soft and breathless, before scooping up his duffel again and walking backward toward the ramp. He was keeping his eyes on you. And you wouldn’t look away. Not now.

In eight weeks’ time, you’d be back here, ready and waiting. And you knew he’d come home. To you.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

[blueaprondelight]

hey! did you know that duolingo is turning into an ai-driven company? here's what that means: per the USA Today article posted yesterday on this: "Duolingo is going to be "AI-first", the educational technology company announced, adding that it is replacing contract workers with artificial intelligence."

now yes. duolingo has used ai in the past. in 2024, the Duolingo Guides page reported that their AI uses user data to improve models. however, this did not literally replace human beings in the process.

according to their CEO, they believe this is going to be an example of how "generative AI can directly benefit our learners". despite the fact this doesn't benefit the human contractors you're replacing in place of robots.

here's why supporting AI is problematic: not only does it take away from human beings, but it also is bad for the environment. studies have shown that particularly during the training of complex models, the infrastructure needed to do this training results in high energy consumption.

this also leads to increased greenhouse gas emissions and puts a strain on water resources that are used for cooling data censors. as well, studies show that the manufacturing and disposal of AI hardware contribute to electronic waste and resource depletion.

so, below the cut, there's a list below of language learning apps that do what duolingo does but aren't driven by robots! (and no, you do not have to stop using duolingo. these other apps are simply ones that provide the same services while taking care of both the environment and - as far as i know - human employees.)

Mango Languages (4.8 stars on the Apple App Store) - this app has had really great reviews from people, citing that you can get free access by using your library card (so it supports libraries!) and teaches actual pronunciation whereas duo has been reported for not being accurate with its teachings.

Babbel (4.7 stars on the Apple App Store) - people have rated this app as being easy to use and convenient! they also report that they are backed by researchers at Yale University and Michigan State University, with MSU reporting that after 10 hours, researchers found that 96% of users saw better test scores and 73% became better speakers!

Lingvist (4.6 stars on the Apple App Store) - reviews cite this as a practical app, with one person saying it focuses on repetition and frequently spoken words instead of nouns and verbs you'd rarely use.

any other suggestions in my inbox will be included in this list. stop supporting "AI-first" companies, support human beings.

[raptorregalia]

🦕Anyone say Walking with Dinosaurs?🦖

Presenting my very first project, honoring my absolute favorite Dinosaur!

✨Deinonychus pants!✨

Featuring the Tibia and Foot as presented in the original description of Deinonychus in 1969 by John Ostrom :D

The feet are embroidery, the rest of the bones are bleached on directly

Sources ⬇️

Femur:

Bishop, P. J. (2019). Testing the function of dromaeosaurid (Dinosauria, Theropoda) ‘sickle claws’ through musculoskeletal modelling and optimization. PeerJ, 7, e7577. https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.7577

Tibia & Foot:

Ostrom, J. (1969). Osteology of Deinonychus antirrhopus,  an Unusual Theropod from the  Lower Cretaceous of Montana. Peabody Museum of Natural History  and Department of Geology and  Geophysics, Yale University.

[childrenofcain-if]

What are M and W's extra-curricular activities for the semester?

I assume C's will be Chess (can't wait to watch them play, hopefully). D's has to be music because of the band, and we know V's.

M feels like they'll be partaking in Manners and Protocol. W... I'm stumped. A part of me thinks they'll follow whatever MC is doing which is going to be so bad lmao

M used to be a prominent member in yale’s model united nations team, but they quit last year after a certain incident 👀

W is in the photography club with senne (D’s friend whom you meet at the party) since the equipment there would help them a lot with a short film they’re planning to make soon 🤭

[vague-humanoid]

President Donald Trump’s “big, beautiful bill” now before the Senate could result in over 51,000 preventable deaths each year in the United States. That’s according to public health experts at Yale and the University of Pennsylvania, who sent a letter warning about the bill’s impact to the Senate Finance Committee. An estimated 16 million people stand to lose their health coverage as a result of the changes in the bill, which “imposes onerous paperwork and fails to safeguard healthcare tax credits,” says Alison Galvani, director of the Center for Infectious Disease Modeling at Yale and one of the signatories to the letter. She also notes universal healthcare would have the opposite effect and save tens of thousands of lives each year. “There are a lot of ways we can improve how expensive our healthcare is, but taking healthcare away from people is not how to do it,” says Galvani.

@startorrent02

[cottoncandytrafficcones]

10 Cool Jewish Women from Modern Day! Part 1

Raquel Montoya-Lewis, an American attorney and jurist on the Washington Supreme Court. Born to a father descended from the Pueblo of Laguna, she is a member of the Pueblo of Isleta. Her mother, born in Australia, is Jewish. She was also a professor at Fairhaven College, and was a judge for indigenous courts including the Upper Skagit Indian Tribe and the Nooksack Indian Tribe. She is the second Native American person to sit on a state supreme court, and the first enrolled tribal member!

Dana International, an Israeli pop singer. Born in Tel Aviv to a family of Yemenite descent, she identified as female from a very young age, and was inspired by Ofra Haza to become a singer. Dana was chosen to represent Israel in Eurovision 1998 with the song "Diva," and won the contest with 172 points. She represented Israel again in 2011.

Liora Itzhak, an Israeli singer from the Bene Israel Indian community. She moved to India at the age of 16, returning to Israel eight years later. While in India, she sang with Kumar Sanu and Udit Narayan, and performed in the Bollywood film Dil Ka Doctor. Her music has gained recognition in both Israel and India. During the Indian Prime Minister's visit to Israel in 2017, she sang the national anthems of Israel and India.

Carol Man, a Hong Kong artist born into a traditional Chinese family. She converted to Judaism, and often combines Jewish and Chinese elements into her work, which includes a step-by-step guide to Chinese-Hebrew calligraphy. Featured in the Jewish Renaissance magazine and the Jewish Art magazine, she often gives workshops on her style of art.

Qian Julie Wang, a Chinese American writer and civil rights lawyer. Her father was a professor of English and critic of the government, which led to her family having to flee China. She graduated from Swarthmore College with a BA in English Lit, and earned her JD from Yale Law. She converted to Judaism, and founded a Jews of Color group at Manhattan Central Synagogue.

Sarah Avraham, an Indian born Israeli Muay Thai kickboxer. She was born in Mumbai to a formerly Hindu father and a Christian mother. Her family was close friends with Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg, who were killed in the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attacks. A year after the attack, her family converted to Judaism and moved to Israel. She volunteers as a firefighter, and is considering studying medicine. In 2012, she won the Israeli national women's Thai boxing championship in her weight class; in 2014, she won the Women's World Thai-Boxing Championship in Bangkok in her weight class.

Leza Lowitz, an American writer born in San Francisco who has written, edited, and co-translated over twenty books. She is an internationally renown yoga and mindfulness teacher. She has often written on the topic of expatriate women. She is married to a writer and translator, and has one son. Her work is archived in the Chicago U library's special collection of poetry from Japan.

Ellie Goldstein, a British model born in Ilford, Essez. She has been modeling since she was fifteen, and has worked on campaigns for Nike, Vodafone, and Superdrug. She is the first model with a disability (Down syndrome) to represent Gucci and model their beauty products.

Ashager Araro, an Ethiopian-Israeli activist. Born while her parents were traveling during Operation Solomon. She studied government, diplomacy, and strategy at the IDC Herzliya. She is a feminist who has spoken out about racism and police brutality. In early 2020, she opened a cultural center in Tel Aviv dedicated to Ethiopian Israel culture called Battae.

Sarah Aroeste, an American singer, composer, and author of Northern Macedonian descent. Her music often referred to as "feminist Ladino rock." Born in Princeton, her family emigrated to America from Monastir/Bitola during the Balkan Wars. In the late 1990s, she noted the lack of a revival for Sephardic music despite the revival of klezmer, and started her own Ladino rock band in 2001. One of her albums is named after Gracia Mendes Nasi. In 2015, she represented the US in the International Sephardic Music Festival in Cordoba. She has written several books, including children's books, with Sephardic themes. (Fun fact, I met her at the Greek Jewish Festival in New York!)

[preraphaelitepaintings]

Grace Charlotte Rose (née Snow), Lady Rose

Artist: Frederick Sandys (British, 1829-1904)

Date: 1866

Medium: Oil on panel

Collection: Yale Center for British Art, New Haven, CT, United States

Description

Lady Grace Charlotte Rose was the daughter of Captain Winterton Snow of the Madras Army and the wife of Sir William Anderson Rose, whose portrait Frederick Sandys also painted, along with several other members of the family. The armorial shield and crest in the top right of this picture carries the Rose family motto: “Constant and true.” Sandys was associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and in this portrait, he bypassed the British portrait tradition exemplified by Joshua Reynolds and Thomas Gainsborough to draw on early Netherlandish and German paintings. Eclectic influences inform the details, from her gold jewelry and the jar in the foreground, which are modeled on antiquarian designs, to the traditional Japanese figures that appear on the screen behind her. These appropriations reflect Sandys’s sympathies with both Pre-Raphaelitism and aestheticism, including James McNeill Whistler and Albert Moore, who were similarly invested in strongly decorative effects and Eastern motifs.

[clove-pinks]

I just bought a Gavarni illustration in antique bookshop but can't Identify the subjects, could you help me?

Le Charivari N°44 - 9ème année. Costumes d'Humann - Chapeaux de Desprey, par Gavarni.

Hello and congrats on the purchase!! This appears to be a fashion plate/advertisement for the Parisian clothier Humann [first name unknown], who loved working with Gavarni in the late 1830s-1840s. This blog has a number of examples of Gavarni drawing for Humann.

Will I ever find more information about Humann, besides his business address at No. 83 rue Neuve des Petis-Champs? Signs point to no, but he was name-dropped by Octave Uzanne in his biography of Gavarni:

The great tailor of the period, Humann, acknowledged [Gavarni's] masterly skill in the difficult art of clothing his figures in the long redingote with enormous of lapels, the high collar, the multitudinous folds of the cravat, the long pleated skirts spreading out gradually over a figure extraordinarily graceful and well-knit.

I tried to find more information about the tailor Humann (who is not noteworthy enough to make French Wikipedia), and found another reference to his work with Gavarni in the 2018 book Graphic Culture: Illustration and Artistic Enterprise in Paris, 1830-1848 by Jillian Lerner:

Perhaps better known are the many explicitly promotional plates Gavarni made for the sought-after Parisian tailor Humann, rue Neuve-des-Petits Champs; there were at least thirty published in Le Charivari between January 1839 and November 1842. Gavarni delineates stylish gentlemen in sleek coats, trousers, and dressing gowns attributed to Humann, alongside chemises, hats, and furnishings credited to other purveyors. However, it is interesting to note that these promotional plates were not necessarily drawn from physical models or drawings provided by the tailor. More likely, the arrangement involved Gavarni drawing the dapper, rakish, well-tailored figures he was known for in his work as a sketcher of Parisian types, and later simply adding the tailor's name to the plate. In this way viewers would be encouraged to associate Gavarni's elegant graphic style with the tailor's fine made-to-measure garments.

This print looks like your recent acquisition—Yale University Art Gallery dates it 1840.

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

Magdaléna Rasalas zi'il Rauz

my mc for one of my favorite IFs: @childrenofcain-if

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: Maggié, Apple (by Elias), Daléna (by Elias' Mother)

𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Old Money (Lifestyle) + Vintage (Decor) + 90s with a Hint of Y2K (Fashion)

𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥: Sunkissed Tan Skin + Long Luxurious Dark Red Loosely Curly Hair + Supermodel Kaleidoscopic Hazel Eyes + Average Tall Height

𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲: ¼ Spanish, ¼ Dutch, and ½ Egyptiote

𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫: Astronomy + Classics at Yale University (Also Loves to Study Film & Media)

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬: Violin, Voice Lessons, Classical Contemporary Dance, Debate Society, and Computer Programming (along with Model UN in High School & Innovatech Initiative/Indie-Alt Band Singer for The Vignettes at University)

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬: Latin, English, Dutch, Spanish, Arabic, Greek, Italian

𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭: a custom blend of oud, lavender, and a hint of cardamom

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐰/𝐇𝐮𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬: Overreach—your ambitions have always been sky-high. From the hours spent during your extracurriculars to the number of AP courses you tackled, you’ve set goals that sometimes felt beyond your grasp. Is your drive to achieve greatness pushing you too far, risking everything to the desire of wanting more?

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭(𝐬): Cédric Armand Lacroix (Unrequited Love), Maxwell Edmund Whitlock-Singh (Endgame)

A star from the moment of conception. The center of her own solar system. She encompasses every planet, her magnetic presence akin to rays of sunlight against your skin. Everyone sees her for who she is, a myriad of constellations.

But do they know her?

A loving ferocity. A thinly veiled chaos. An inevitable supernova. Wherever she is, she glows intently. A warmth indicative of her fierce and unforgiving nature. Drowned in a fiery sea of grief, of something darker that is irresistibly drawn to corrupt her light. An undeniable aura that goes far beyond a mere craving, trapping you in her orbit.

A relentless drive that can only lead one to madness.

But these are all statements. Ones that indicate how the wealthy heiress is more of an unattainable ideal. A pillar of celestial brilliance. A chaos tenderly woven by divinity for a higher purpose unbeknownst to her. It is difficult to ascertain whether she is superficial, or if her heart worth its weight in blood and gold.

Whatever she is, be careful, you can only get so close before you get burned.