#Best UPS for Data Centers
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bpee123 · 2 months ago
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Best UPS for Data Centers | BPE
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lycorid · 5 months ago
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It’s kind of wild looking at jobs near me.
They all require years of experience and expect you to have things that aren’t even used on the job (drivers license for a job that doesn’t require any form of driving) but they all pay like garbage.
The pay is low enough that you wouldn’t even be able to afford one of the low income housing apartments because they require you to make 3x the rent.
#its annoying i havent heard back either since my resume is good#i know one of them isnt a real opening and is just a business collecting resumes in case someone quits#which SHOULD be illegal but whatever#i know quitting my last job was a bad idea since my boss was actually really good#but my self harm was escalating rapidly from being there#i was at the point where i was using a key to cut myself whenever i went to the bathroom lmao#why is it so hard to find just stocking or warehouse jobs near me#something where i dont have to interact with the general public#instead its always#we need you to do cashiering truck cleaning phones delivery yada yada#also youre the only person on shift#i kind of miss being a tech at least the parts where i could actually be a tech instead of a call center operator#but i was the best there besides our data entry women (hired entirely to sit in the back and do data entry so we wouldnt fall behind)#so EVERYTHING was my issue because i could actually be trusted to deal with it and solve it#data entry and dealing with insurance was enjoyable and so was filling medications#literally never going 5 seconds (not exaggerating) without being interrupted was not#i grew to love old lady patients who would call because id just let them yap while i caught up on the computer since it rooted me to one#spot for awhile#my pharmacist trusted me so id get away with it lmao#all the cool people quit and went somewhere else though or they were in the back#so i basically only had myself to rely on when my main pharmacist had the day off#then wed get the worst fucking float pharmacist ever whod make my blood pressure skyrocket any time i worked with him#we could literally clear the queue the day before and then be several days behind the day after he worked#trust me it makes sense if you know how the queues work#rambling about phamarcy#how do people get good jobs…
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imageclassified · 11 months ago
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Best digital marketing course in Nangloi
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motorsportbarbie13 · 1 month ago
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A Package Deal
In which Lando befriends a single mom without even realizing it.
Warnings: single mom. talk of parental death (no death featured on page), lando being a judgey jerk at first, kinda? Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.4k words
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109 likes liked by yourdad, BFFsarah, McLaren, and others yourusername Work holiday party with my mini me! yourdad my two favorite girls! >>>yourusername thanks dad! <3
The fairy lights that stretched back and forth across the ceiling of the McLaren Technology Center sparkle down at you, a soft glow illuminating the spacious front lobby. Half a dozen 12 foot Christmas trees dot the cavernous room and tables decorated with rich red, green, and silver accents create intimate seating areas throughout. The only things indicating that the offices were home to McLaren's Formula 1 team were the seven or so F1 cars from past and present, all put on display for tonight's party.
The events team had certainly outdone themselves this year, that was for sure. If there was anything the McLaren events team went hard for every single time, it was the MTC's annual family holiday party. This year though, the entire team had extra reason to celebrate: earlier in the month, the team had brought home the Constructor's Championship for the first time in years.
"Momma, where's Aunt Sarah?" Your six year old daughter Stella asks softly, her little hand tucked securely in yours as she looks around, eyes wide in awe at all the decorations.
"I don't know, munchkin." You reply, grinning down at her. "Do you want to see if we can find her?"
Your best friend Sarah was surely already here as she was one of the heads of the events team. She'd been planning this party for months now, the added pressure from the championship win had nearly driven her mad. A quick text is answered even quicker and you lead Stella towards the massive ballroom that sits on the opposite side of the sleek modern building.
As you walk down the hall, the heels of your stilettos clicking softly, you're surprised to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. You'd been working for McLaren for almost two years now, after Sarah had given the head of product development your resume when you graduated uni with a degree in computer science and data analytics. Marshall, the man who ran the department, had offered you a job as a data analyst on the spot when you came into interview the following week. It had all felt like divine intervention, going from getting pregnant so young and having no other choice but to navigate parenthood alone to finding yourself employed within weeks of graduating. McLaren truly felt like your second home now.
"There's my Stelly Belly!" Sarah cries when she sees Stella and you walking towards her. Without a second thought, your daughter drops your hand and flings herself into the waiting arms of your best friend, one of the few adults the little girl trusts enough to open up to.
"Don't you look pretty tonight?" Sarah coos, nuzzling her head into Stella neck, eliciting a squeal and a cascade of giggles from your little girl. "And your mama looks stunning too!"
Rolling your eyes, you smooth down the front of the red satin dress you'd bought last week. "Are you sure it's not too much?"
Your brows knit together in uncertainty. Ever since having Stella at 19, your life had revolved around the little girl. Everything you did and every choice you made was made because of her and with her best interest in mind. Going to university when she was a newborn had been for her benefit and the time spent away from her while you studied and attended classes were paying off now with your secure job and hefty paycheck. But you weren't used to calling attention to yourself, totally content with working behind a computer screen in your quiet office tucked in the back of the MTC. You came to work, socialized very little, and went home to your daughter. This kind of event was very much out of your comfort zone.
"Stop that." Sarah scolds as she sets Stella down. "You look so good you're going have the mechanics breaking their necks all night long."
"Okay, that's enough." You huff.
"Momma, Sarah says there's holiday crafts over there!" Stella points vaguely towards the other side of the room. "Can we go? Please?"
"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."
"I'll take her!" Sarah volunteers, capturing Stella's little hand in hers before giving you a look. "Go get a drink or something. Have some fun. Stelly Belly and I will go make all the crafts!"
You watch after your best friend and the other half of your heart as they scamper away, Stella's red velvet dress fluttering behind her. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, a painful clenching feeling takes root. For the past six years, your entire universe has revolved around that little blonde headed girl. Even now, though you spent more time apart from Stella than you cared for because of school for her and work for you, whenever she was out of sight it felt like a bit of you was missing.
Once you see her settle at the table right next to Sarah and begin coloring something in front of her, you turn away and wander towards the open bar. If there was one thing McLaren did right at these kinds of parties, it was provide top tier food and drinks for the employees.
You order a glass of what smells like the most heavenly mulled wine you've ever encountered and find a spot away from the crowd, leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the room. You weren't used to being around so many people and while you were glad Stella seemed to be enjoying herself, you could feel your social battery already draining.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee." A smooth voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.
You blush into your glass of wine, knowing who it was sneaking up behind you before you even turned around. "I'm telling Oscar you said that."
Lando slips in beside you, caramel colored cashmere jumper brushing against your bare arm. "You wouldn't dare." He says, bumping your shoulder gently. You can hear the smile in his voice without even looking.
When you say you don't socialize much at work, there is always going to be one exception to that rule: Lando Norris. He had wandered into your office one day about six months ago looking for the legal department of all places. Lando had sheepishly admitted he may have accidentally signed a contract to be the spokesman for a bank in Singapore while drunk on holiday and needed to see what how mad everyone was going to be. You then had to admit you were, in fact, just a software engineer and not a solicitor and he was not, in fact, anywhere near the legal department.
An unlikely friendship had been born that day though because instead of turning around and scampering away out of sheer embarrassment, Lando had plopped himself down in the chair opposite your desk and spent nearly an hour and a half peppering you with questions about your job.
Lando liked those moments he got to slip away during his busy days at the MTC to see you. It seemed like lately, he would find himself carving out time during his day to make a special visit to your office no matter what else he had scheduled that day. He liked the way you talked to him like he was a normal person and how easily you laughed at his jokes. You never made him feel stupid or inferior for asking questions about whatever project you were working on that day and you never asked him about racing. Not once. You were also the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and he was embarrassingly addicted to making you smile.
"You look stunning tonight." Lando says in a hushed voice. "Red is your color."
Although he's next to you still, Lando manages to steal little looks at you out of the corner of his eye. The red dress you've got on tonight should be illegal and it's showing off every dip and curve of your body. You pride yourself on how well you dress at the office but tended to stick with neutral colors and classic, conservative shapes that weren't jarring and allowed you to fade into the noise of a busy office a bit. The red was totally out of character for you and Lando found himself wanting to buy you an entire closet full of colorful dresses.
Your cheeks go crimson and you're thankful for the dim lights that hide it. "Thank you."
The other thing you're not used to is attention from men. Like your social life, any semblance of a dating life had been put on the back burner when you became a single mom. You didn't much miss it, if you were bing quite honest. Spending time with Stella was better than wasting a night on a man that would only end up disappointing you.
So when someone like Lando complimented you on the dress you wore you don't quite know how to react.
"Momma! Momma, look what Auntie Sarah and I made!" Stella interrupts anything that's about to come out of Lando's mouth when she runs up brandishing what looks to be a fairy wand tied with dozens of glittery ribbons.
You crouch down, not missing the way Lando stiffens beside you, and take the plastic wand out of Stella's hand. "Is this a magic wand?" You ask, voice breathy with awe.
"Yeah! Aunt Sarah helped tie the ribbons on after I picked them. They're all glittery and match Elsa's ice queen dress."
You smile, Elsa had always been Stella's favorite Disney princess. "That is so special, Stelly Belly."
A few feet away, Sarah takes in how close you and Lando were before Stella interrupted and smirks. "Come on, Stella. I think I saw a cookie decorating contest starting over by the wands!"
You stand, eyeing your best friend. "I can take her, Sarah. I'm sure you want to mingle."
"Nope! Stay. Talk. Be merry!" Sarah's eyes bounce between you and Lando and your cheeks heat at the implication.
Beside you, Lando rubs at his jaw trying to process the information he's just learned. Momma? This girl, cute as a button, was calling you mom? He rifles through his memory, trying to think of any time you'd ever mentioned being a mom and he can't come up with a single thing. And he's pretty sure he remembers everything you've ever said to him.
"You have a daughter." Lando says it more as a statement than a question and you wince.
This was always the part where you tended to lose people. Being as young as you were, you were used to people being put off by the fact that you had a daughter. A lot of people your age weren't ready for kids yet and had a hard time figuring you out because you had such radically different priorities. Neither set of priorities was better than the other, just different.
"I do. Her name is Stella." You respond, leaning against the pillar once again. The cool marble sends shivers down your back as you prepare to lose someone who had made more of an impact on you than you realized.
"You never said anything about her." He observes, his tone unreadable.
"You never asked." You shrug, trying not to get defensive. "Her pictures are all over my office, Lan. I've never hid the fact that I have Stella."
Lando thinks back, recalling the office he's spent so much time in lately. You're right, of course. There are bits of Stella all over the place in the drawings on your desk to the school picture that sits near the spider plant close to the window. But somehow Lando had never noticed anything else other than you.
He rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I just assumed she was your niece or something."
"Nope. She's all mine."
"And her dad?" The moment the question slips from Lando's mouth, he regrets it. His eyes shutter closed but not before he catches a glimpse of the way you flinch.
He hates himself for thinking he deserves to be privy to this information. For being so bold as to ask for the sordid details of your life when all you are to each other is a casual work flirtation. He hates himself for implying that you'd ever flirt with him when there was someone else in the picture. Or worse, that you now have to relive a painful story behind why there wasn't.
"You don't have to answer that." God, he was so good at speaking before thinking, wasn't he? It had gotten him into so much hot water with the press this year during the championship run and here he was again, putting his foot in his mouth like an idiot.
"It's fine." You sigh, knowing that anyone who wants to be in your life is going to have to hear the story at some point. You just hadn't anticipated it happening with Lando, having been perfectly content with the safety of your innocent work flirtation.
"I had Stella when I was 19, her dad was killed in a car accident when she was eight months old. She turned six in September.”
The silence that stretches between you is heavy, clashing with the light and festive mood that swirls around you.
"Christ. I'm sorry, love."
You hate how painful that tugging sensation on your heart is when Lando calls you 'love'.
Shrugging, you hope you feign nonchalance well enough to fool him. You know it doesn’t.
“Listen, I should go check on Sarah and Stella, make sure Stella doesn't sweet talk Sarah into a puppy or something. Those two together is how I ended up with a kitten last year."
The brightness in your voice is all for show but Lando sees right through it.
You're gone before he can get a word in though.
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102 likes liked by BFFsarah, yourdad, yoursister, and others yourusername Quick trip into London for some last minute pressies! yourdad I'm a size Rolex in silver and gold please! >>>yourusername Ha Ha Ha, very funny father BFFsarah Brave brave girl! >>>yourusername brave or stupid, you decide!!!
"Come on, sweet girl, let's find your Papa a Christmas present so we can get out of this mad house."
You tug at Stella's hand, who was currently practically drooling over a display of sparkly gold and diamond jewelry in Harrods jewelry department. Around you, crowds swirl and people jostle each other as they all hustle to pick out their precious gifts before Santa's big night. Why you had chosen to come into London the weekend before Christmas was a mystery, but you were fully convinced that you had lost it when you had agreed to come to Harrods at Stella's request.
"But this necklace is so pretty, Momma!" Stella whines, eyes dragging over the diamond necklace on display in front of her.
"Yes, I know but I don't think your grandpa wants a diamond necklace for Christmas. Let's go up to the fifth floor where the kitchen gadgets are! You know how much he loves to cook!"
Stella rolls her eyes, which you choose to ignore. For all of her attitude today, Stella wasn't usually an ornery child. She was very well behaved and quite reserved so you gave her extra grace when it was crowded and loud like this. You knew she got overstimulated easily, just like you did.
"Fine." She sighs, casting one last longing look at the display. "Maybe Santa will bring me the necklace." She mutters and you have to tamp down a laugh.
You take Stella's hand in yours, despite her giving you another look of contempt. She was much too big of a girl to be holding her mother's hand, thank you very much. You ignored the glare and squeezed at your daughter's hand, knowing that she's not really angry at you.
Up on the fifth floor, the homewares section is significantly quieter than where you just were. Stella spots a display of colorful Kitchen Aid mixers that she scampers over to while you wander over to the espresso machines while reminding her to stick close. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep watch over her while debating the merits of different coffee machines.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee out in the wild." A velvety smooth voice sends familiar shivers down your spine.
"Favorite? You've been avoiding me since the holiday party." You quip without taking your eyes off the silver machine in front of you, knowing exactly who it is beside you without even looking.
Ever since the holiday party nearly two weeks ago, you hand't seen Lando at all despite knowing that he was at the MTC at least a few days. You hated that you knew that most of that time he had been out of the country, skiing in France then golfing in Spain. You also hated that you kept track of the amount of times you had known he was in Woking at the MTC and hadn't even bothered to stop in and say 'hi' to you.
Lando's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low, tinged with guilt.
"Listen, it's fine." You turn to face him for the first time and your traitorous heart thuds a little harder in your chest. That mullet you teased him about so much at first had really grown on you and boy did it look good today.
"It's not like we're friends, Lando." You don't work as hard as you probably should to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You don't owe me anything and it's the off season for you. I shouldn't have said anything."
Lando frowns at you, confusion knitting his brow together. "We...we aren’t friends?" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, tugging painfully at something in the pit of your stomach.
Your eyes shutter close at the look on his face. Lando might play the lovable goofball for the public and in the press but you knew better. You knew that he was a pretty big softie at heart and you immediately regretted your words, knowing that they would have struck him deep.
"What was I supposed to think, Lan? You seemed pretty put off when you found out about Stella and then you just..." You pause, unsure of where this anger was coming from. You hadn't really realized how hurt you had bene by his sudden ghosting until this very moment. "You just sort of disappeared. It's fine. I'm totally used to it."
The vulnerability in your voice makes Lando's heart clench painfully. He had been spooked initially about you having a daughter and he knew his reaction probably left a lot to be desired. He just had been so blindsided by the appearance of your little girl that night that he hadn't handled it well. Lando had been unwilling to admit before that night during the holiday party that he had been becoming more and more attached to you and he didn't know where Stella fell into place between you and him. It scared him, adding an entirely new layer to the budding friendship that you two had struck up. A friendship that he had been wanting to see if it could have progressed into more but now...now he didn't know.
"Momma, can we get Papa a mixer so he can make me more cakes next year?" Stella's small voice interrupts that awkward silence that had fallen between you and Lando.
You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips despite yourself. "Stella, I don't think that's a very good reason to gift someone something."
"I don't know, sounds like solid reasoning to me." Lando chimes in, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at Stella. "Hi, I'm Lando." He crouches down so he's eye level with your daughter.
"That's a funny name." Stella regards Lando with a suspicious look. Stella is a quiet little mouse of a child most of the time and doesn't easily trust adults. There are very few people she's comfortable which is why her comment catches you off guard.
"Stella!" You scold, face going crimson at the lack of filter on her.
To your relief, Lando just chuckles. "I guess you're right, it is kind of a funny name. But I think Stella is a funny name too."
Stella' narrows her eyes but then she seems to realize he's just teasing her and she smiles. "I like you." She declares simply, as if deciding to be Lando's friend is the easiest thing in the world.
A fact that you already know is true.
"I'm hungry. Can we go get dinner now?" Stella turns back to you now and you startle a bit when you realize what time it is.
"Let me take you two to dinner. There's a place down the street that has some of the best chicken nuggets in all of England." Lando's offer throws you off for a moment you're so surprised. "As an apology for making you question our friendship."
Stella gasps as if that is the most exciting suggestion she's ever heard in her life. Your stomach does a quick swoop at spending more time with the driver outside of the office. You are a bit hesitant, pride still stinging from when he ignored you after the holiday party, but Stella looks so excited you find yourself nodding.
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Twenty minutes and one espresso machine later, you have the giant package shipped off to your house before walking towards a cozy pub that Lando suggests. It's strange to you, walking down the crowded streets with Stella tucked between you and Lando, listening to her prattle away. Once in a while, Lando shoots you a look over the top of your daughter's head that is all amusement and happiness.
Meanwhile, you're reduced to silence, listening in awe to Stella's babbling. She has always been a reserved little girl, following in her mother's footsteps of being an introvert. She doesn't open up to just anyone and even when she does find an adult she likes, it takes her quite a bit of time to talk to them the way she's talking to Lando as he navigates the three of you towards your destination.
Around you, people bustle up and down the sidewalk, the streets of London an absolute hive of activity and it's a bit overwhelming. You're momentarily worried about Stella, knowing she doesn't do very good in crowds just like you but then something catches your eye that has your heart leaping into your throat. Captured in Lando's large hand is Stella's tiny one, a silent gesture of affection from your six-year-old. The way your chest squeezes at the sight has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.
Lando catches the look on your face, full of awe and something else he can't quite place, and when your gaze snags on his moments later he gives you a dazzling smile. When Stella had reached out to take Lando's hand a few blocks ago, he had panicked a bit. He wasn't too experienced with kids, his niece’s being much younger than Stella, but he felt something deep in his chest that told him when the little girl beside him reached for his hand, it was a sincere sign of trust from her.
"Here we are." Lando says once you're safely across the road. "I hope you're ready for the best chicken nuggets in all of London."
Dinner is a loud affair, Stella peppering questions left and right to Lando and Lando expertly fielding them. He even gets some questions in edgewise and has both you and Stella laughing the entire meal. It's the most relaxed Lando's seen you the entire time he's known you. Despite his initial reservations at spending time with someone who has a child, he finds himself not wanting the evening to end. He's never been so thankful for last minute gift requests in his entire life.
Your bellies are full when you spill out onto the sidewalk, the chilly London air biting at your cheeks. It was going to be a cold train ride home. You reach into your tote bag to pull out a scarf and hat, tugging both on Stella despite her yowls of displeasure.
"Stella." You sigh, finally getting her to leave her hat on her head after a tense few moments as Lando watched on, smile sitting at the edge of his lips. "Come on, it's cold tonight and you know the train isn't much better."
"Train?" Lando asks, frown appearing on his face.
"We took the train into the city today. Someone wanted an adventure." You look pointedly at your daughter, who just shrugs, totally unfazed by the chilly evening air.
"That's like, a forty-five minute trip! On the train? At night? Alone?"
Something twists in Lando's stomach at the thought of you and Stella all alone on the train at night. He knows the trains are, objectively, safe and you'd probably be fine but it just doesn't sit right with him knowing that he'd have to leave both of you at a train station unable to be with you in case something happened.
"I know." You breathe, knowing that the moment Stella sits down on the train she's going to be out like a light and you're going to have a very grumpy six-year-old on your hands on the other end of the line. "I don't have a choice, I'm not ordering an Uber home. It'll be fine, Lando. We do this all the time."
The thought of you navigating the crowded train alone with the tiny wisp of a girl that tucked her hand back into his as soon as she got close enough to him hurts a surprising amount. It's a jarring feeling, one that he's totally unprepared for. His memory darts back to the night he found out you had a daughter. He thought for sure the budding chemistry between you would fizzle out. He had thought that he wasn't interested in getting involved with someone who had a child because it complicated things to a degree he wasn't sure he was ready for. He still struggled with looking after himself successfully sometimes. Dating someone with a child? Up until this very moment, Lando thought that was completely off the table.
"You're not taking the train home. I'll drive you." Lando's voice has an edge of finality in it that tells you this is going to be a fight, one that you're not sure you're prepared to fight.
You blink up at him, unable to form a response for several moments. Beside you, Stella cheers. "Yes! No boring train!"
"Woah, slow down." You warn, shaking your head. "Lando, I appreciate the offer but we can't." Stella looks absolutely crestfallen next to you as she yanks her hand out of Lando's grasp and crosses her arms over her chest.
"Why not?" Lando's frown mirrors Stella's and you nearly laugh.
Beside the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of you on the train by yourself with Stella this late at night, Lando didn't really want the night to end. He had sat across from you at dinner and there were several moments while Stella chattered on that he caught your gaze and you had given him the most prettiest smile he'd ever seen.
"Well, for one, Stella needs a booster seat to ride in a car and I don't think those come standard in Ferrari's or McLaren's."
"For the record, I drove my Range Rover into the city." Lando retorts before glancing around the crowded city street. "Look! There's a Mamas & Papas across the street! That's where my brother got my niece’s carseat a few months ago. I'm sure they sell booster seats too."
You can't help but stare at Lando, a bit dumbfounded. When you had started getting to know the driver months ago, you had what you had thought was a pretty accurate idea of who he was off the track: young, sinfully good looking, deeply unserious, and only interested in partying and having a good time. But voluntarily spending an evening with you and your daughter? Offering to buy Stella a booster so he could drive you home? The way Lando surprised you in that moment had you swaying on your feet a bit.
"Can we, Momma? Please! I want to drive home with Lando!"
There are two sets of big puppy dog eyes turned on you and you find yourself tossing your hands up in the air in defeat. "That's not fair! You two can't team up against me!"
Lando looks down at Stella, mischievous grin overtaking his handsome face. "I think we won, Stelly Belly." He shout-whispers, eyes sliding over to you, giving you a wink.
"You two are going to be trouble together, aren't you?" Is the last thing you say before Lando grabs your hand and drags you towards the shop to buy your daughter a booster seat.
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dcxdpdabbles · 10 days ago
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For Angel Brat, could we have some more focus on Bruce and Danny? Maybe Dick and Danny as well?
Bruce looks over to where Danny and Dick are each filling up their frozen yogurt cups. Dick's, is a vanilla and chocolate mix topped with various candies.
It seemed he had taken the open bar toppings as a personal challenge to drop a scoop of everything laid out into his container. Honestly, Bruce sometimes wondered if all of Dick's spontaneous flips were just a means to stay in shape, so he could keep eating the way he did.
Danny, on the other hand, had chocolate topped with only peanuts. His blue eyes- the only difference between him and Damian physically wise- kept wandering over longingly to offered sweeties but he was on a strict diet for his health.
Bruce can't believe that for all they have been searching for ways to keep Danny; they had neglected developing research for his illnesses. It felt a bitter taste in his mouth that they still could not find a cure for his boy.
Bruce Wayne was able to travel through time but make sure his son could run long periods without his heart or his lungs breaking down? Turns out he truly is just a mortal, and that was one of the worst things to realize when his son confidently bragged about being able to do two entire laps of their yard without nearly passing out.
He mentally did some calculations before stepping closer and touching Danny's shoulder. "I think you can have some chocolate chips."
His boy's face brightened in joy before he rushed to the counter, scooping the chocolate goods into his yogurt. It's another thing he noticed about Danny.
Unlike Damian, his youngest didn't bother hiding his emotions. He wore them like a badge of honor, letting them bleed across his face as quickly as he allowed sunlight to rest on them.
Bruce isn't sure if this is due to their different personalities- like the night and day of those two- or if it was because Danny had gotten out of the League when he did. Damian had broken him out to prevent him from being killed for his execution, but Bruce could not figure out where Danny had grown up.
His son's phrases and slight accent indicated midwestern. Bruce had no idea where, and every time he tried searching for him, the only thing that popped up was the already small rumors. Was this an effect of the timeline resetting? But why were there some posts and data on him left behind if it was?
It gave Bruce a headache; even Wally had no idea what was causing it. Wally, having been trapped in the Speed Force for so long, was the expert on it. Bruce shuddered to think of the alternatives if he couldn't figure out what was happening.
Bart had assured everyone that Danny was officially an anchor to their timeline, but if Wally's grim warnings that time was slowly erasing him- thus the lack of proof of childhood- then nothing they could do would save their son.
The worst part was not knowing if he would even be able to properly mourn him. Would Daniel Wayne vanish one day if no one remembered he was supposed to be there?
"Dick, I'm taking a pottery class. I'm going to make you something for your desk." Danny says, snapping Bruce out of his dark thoughts. Then he realizes he was moving on auto-polite, and the cashier was handing back his change.
He takes it with an empty smile turning to his children as Dick beams down at the youngest. "I can't wait to see it, Danny! I bet it will be the best one in class."
"I'll be the only one in the class," Danny tells him sheepishly, but a hint of sadness leaks into his voice. "I'm too sick to go to the center. Dad hired me a private teacher to come to the manor instead."
Bruce's heart squeezes painfully, and one quick glance at Dick's face lets him know his son feels the same way. Of course, nothing sows on his eldest face, but Bruce has known Dick for so long he can tell by the slight tightening around his eyes and the way the pain is tucked in his eyes.
Before he can think better of it, Bruce hears himself say, "I've always been interested in pottery. I'll see if the instructor wouldn't mind a second student."
"Really?" Danny's eyes are practically shining , which prompts Bruce to smile and shrug a shoulder.
"Yes, in fact I'm sure all of your siblings would love to take a class or two. Why don't you send a message in the group chat to see if they like to sign up?" He makes a motion that has Dick pulling out his phone to send in a different group titled "Keep our Angel."
His phone dings just a few seconds before Danny's, which the more petite boy takes as his own message coming through. Bruce never the less checks it anyway, swiping over to Dick's to read what he wrote
Dick: You are all taking a pottery class this Saturday. No excuse. Danny wants us there. I will hurt you if you miss.
His lack of emojis is bone-chilling. Bruce highly doubts any of his children will miss the event. And just as he predicted, Danny's smile grows wider when more dings can be heard coming from his phone.
"Everyone can make it!" He cheers, scrolling through the messages, looking like the world had just been promised to him. "This is going to be so much fun! Do you think the teacher won't mind?"
"I'm sure she will be happy for the raise." And if she wasn't, Bruce would quickly find someone who would. Money, to him, was never an issue.
Danny grins so brightly that Bruce wonders if he should invest in some sunglasses, but his heart does soar. Even if Dick has to reach out to adjust Danny's heart pump wires after they get stuck on the chair.
Effortlessly, Dick moves the attention away from the machine with a simple question. "Besides my gift, what else are you hoping to make Danny?"
"I'm going to make a vase for Bernard. Damian will help me buy him flowers and ask him out." Danny's words are accompanied by a brilliant blush, but he seems almost proud of his newfound courage to ask a boy three years his senior.
Did Bruce just get shot? He feels like he's been shot.
Dick's little spoon crumbles in his hold as his very famous and dangerous rage bleeds into his blue eyes. "Wow. That's so brave of you. By the way, where does Bernard live again?"
Bruce will have to postpone his deep dive into finding out where Danny was raised because if he takes his attention off of Dick for even a second, his eldest will kill that boy.
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nasa · 11 months ago
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Black Scientists and Engineers Past and Present Enable NASA Space Telescope
The Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope is NASA’s next flagship astrophysics mission, set to launch by May 2027. We’re currently integrating parts of the spacecraft in the NASA Goddard Space Flight Center clean room.
Once Roman launches, it will allow astronomers to observe the universe like never before. In celebration of Black History Month, let’s get to know some Black scientists and engineers, past and present, whose contributions will allow Roman to make history.
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Dr. Beth Brown
The late Dr. Beth Brown worked at NASA Goddard as an astrophysicist. in 1998, Dr. Brown became the first Black American woman to earn a Ph.D. in astronomy at the University of Michigan. While at Goddard, Dr. Brown used data from two NASA X-ray missions – ROSAT (the ROentgen SATellite) and the Chandra X-ray Observatory – to study elliptical galaxies that she believed contained supermassive black holes.  
With Roman’s wide field of view and fast survey speeds, astronomers will be able to expand the search for black holes that wander the galaxy without anything nearby to clue us into their presence.
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Dr. Harvey Washington Banks 
In 1961, Dr. Harvey Washington Banks was the first Black American to graduate with a doctorate in astronomy. His research was on spectroscopy, the study of how light and matter interact, and his research helped advance our knowledge of the field. Roman will use spectroscopy to explore how dark energy is speeding up the universe's expansion.
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NOTE - Sensitive technical details have been digitally obscured in this photograph. 
Sheri Thorn 
Aerospace engineer Sheri Thorn is ensuring Roman’s primary mirror will be protected from the Sun so we can capture the best images of deep space. Thorn works on the Deployable Aperture Cover, a large, soft shade known as a space blanket. It will be mounted to the top of the telescope in the stowed position and then deployed after launch. Thorn helped in the design phase and is now working on building the flight hardware before it goes to environmental testing and is integrated to the spacecraft.
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Sanetra Bailey 
Roman will be orbiting a million miles away at the second Lagrange point, or L2. Staying updated on the telescope's status and health will be an integral part of keeping the mission running. Electronics engineer Sanetra Bailey is the person who is making sure that will happen. Bailey works on circuits that will act like the brains of the spacecraft, telling it how and where to move and relaying information about its status back down to Earth.  
 Learn more about Sanetra Bailey and her journey to NASA. 
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Dr. Gregory Mosby 
Roman’s field of view will be at least 100 times larger than the Hubble Space Telescope's, even though the primary mirrors are the same size. What gives Roman the larger field of view are its 18 detectors. Dr. Gregory Mosby is one of the detector scientists on the Roman mission who helped select the flight detectors that will be our “eyes” to the universe.
Dr. Beth Brown, Dr. Harvey Washington Banks, Sheri Thorn, Sanetra Bailey, and Dr. Greg Mosby are just some of the many Black scientists and engineers in astrophysics who have and continue to pave the way for others in the field. The Roman Space Telescope team promises to continue to highlight those who came before us and those who are here now to truly appreciate the amazing science to come. 
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To stay up to date on the mission, check out our website and follow Roman on X and Facebook.
Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!
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edenfenixblogs · 1 year ago
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Let’s put some numbers to Jewish fear right now.
In news that I’m sure will thrill all antisemites, it would take startlingly little effort to foment widespread violence against us and cause another genocide of the Jewish people.
I have had many fellow Jews express to me how overwhelming it is to see the rising antisemitism. I have seen many Jews express fear at being drowned out of public, online, and IRL spaces due to dangerously violent vitriol.
I have also seen people who claim to advocate for Palestine—especially western leftists—openly mock Jews who express this fear.
Finally, I and my fellow Jews have often expressed that, while we wholeheartedly support Palestinian freedom and self determination, it is exhausting to have to say so repeatedly, especially when we are trying to advocate for ourselves. This is not due to any latent or widespread hatred of Muslims, Arabs, or Palestinians. It is because we are an extremely maligned and marginalized minority that is fighting to be heard against strong, hostile forces that at best wish we’d shut up and at worst want us eradicated from the planet.
There is a disconnect about how much harm people can do to Jews by spreading antisemitism and refusing to dismantle their own internalized antisemitism—and everyone has internalized antisemitism. It is one of the oldest forms of prejudice in the world and is found in almost every single culture. It is as, if not more, pervasive than white privilege. Yes. You read that right. And if asked to elaborate, I will provide numbers on that to the best of my ability. For the purposes of this post, however, I want to focus on the global distribution of religious groups only.
Specifically, this disconnect is between Jews who are fully aware and feel the affects of this damage and goyim who simply do not comprehend our marginalization.
To help, let’s put some numbers to this. In this post, I’ll be using the Pew Research Center’s survey and findings on the Global Religious Landscape. This is the most recent data from a reputable source that I could find which surveyed every world religion at the same time. While the Jewish population has grown slightly in the intervening years, so have most (if not all) other religious populations around the globe. I wanted to use figures measured at the same time to avoid bias for or against any religious group.
For the purposes of this post, I will not be discussing folk religions or other religions. This is not because they are not important. This is because they are not a monolith and individual folk religions and other religions may have even fewer adherents per religion than Judaism. I am currently only focusing on religions and religious groups who have more adherents than Judaism.
In descending order of adherents, there number of people in the world belonging to these groups:
2,200,000,000 (2.2 Billion) Christians
1,600,000,000 (1.6 Billion) Muslims
1,100,000,000 (1.1 Billion) Religiously unaffiliated people
1,000,000,000 (1 Billion) Hindus
500,000,000 (500 Million) Buddhists
14,000,000 (14 Million) Jews
Reduced to the simplest fractions there are:
1100 Christians for every 7 Jews
800 Muslims for every 7 Jews
550 Religiously unaffiliated people for every 7 Jews
500 Hindus for every 7 Jews
250 Buddhists for every 7 Jews
Combined, there are 6,400,000,000 non-Jewish people in religions or religious groups (including religiously unaffiliated people).
This means that for every 7 Jews there are 3200 people in religious groups who outnumber us.
Jews are 0.2 % of the global population.
When we tell you that hate is dangerous, it is because…
It would only take 0.21% of 6.4 Billion people to hate us in order to completely overwhelm and outnumber every single Jewish person on the planet. In other words, only 67.2 out of every 3200 people.
And given how violent and aggressive people have become toward us in recent weeks, that doesn’t seem far off.
No, most Christians, Muslims, Atheists/Agnostics, Hindus, and Buddhists do NOT hate Jews.
But if even 0.21% of them do hate us, Jews are at a legitimate and terrifying risk of ethnic cleansing and genocide.
It is not possible for Jews alone to fight this rising tide of hate. There simply aren’t enough of us. And many of us are too scared to tell you the truth: if you don’t vocally and repeatedly stand up for Jews (and not just the ones you agree with) you will be complicit in the genocide that follows. Police your own communities.
Nobody acting in good faith is asking you to abandon Palestinians or their fight for self determination and equality in their homeland. All we are asking is for you to learn about antisemitism, deconstruct it in yourself, and loudly condemn it when it occurs in front of you. We are asking you to comfort us and not run away when we are scared or even angry at you. Because a lot of us are angry with you, because we are extremely scared right now and many of you are not helping us. Many of you are actively and carelessly spreading dogwhistles that further the global rise in hatred against us.
You can support Palestine AND avoid Islamophobia WITHOUT making antisemitism worse. But you can’t stop antisemitism by staying silent in the face of it. And if you don’t speak up, you will get us killed. Silence, in this case, is quite literally violence.
Many of us have armed guards posted at our synagogues and schools and community centers because of this. I certainly had times where my synagogue and school had to have armed security for our safety.
The only reason more of us haven’t died already is because we have millennia of experience in confronting this kind of hatred and guarding against it.
But in pure numbers, if you don’t speak up for us now, we don’t have a chance at survival without support.
So, what can you do, specifically?:
* Make a stand or public statement about condemning antisemitism without mentioning another group. Acknowledge Jewish fear, pain, and current danger without contextualizing it in someone else’s. It could literally be something as simple as “Antisemitism is bad. There’s never a reason for it. I won’t tolerate it in presence in real life or online.” If you cannot bring yourself to publicly make this statement, you should have a serious look at yourself to understand why you can’t.
* Learn about the six universal features of antisemitism and the many, various dog whistles affecting the global Jewish community
* Do not welcome people who espouse rhetoric that includes any features from the above bullet point in your community unless you are able to educate them and eliminate that behavior.
* Check in on your Jewish friends, regularly and repeatedly. Do not wait for them to reach out to you. They are scared of you. Even if you don’t have the emotional space to have conversations about antisemitism. Just send a message once in a while, unprompted, “Jfyi, antisemitism still sucks. I support you.”
* Redirect conversations about which “side” is “right” to how to attain peace. Do this by saying that this line of argument is not conducive to peace, and link to a well-respected organization not widely accused of either antisemitism or Islamophobia that is devoted to achieving a peaceful resolution, increasing education, or providing humanitarian aid to relevant affected groups—including Jews, Israelis, Palestinians, Muslims, and Arabs. You can find over 160 such organizations at the Alliance for Middle East Peace https://www.allmep.org/
* Look to support experienced groups without widespread and verifiable claims of prejudice against either Jews or Muslims or Arabs or Palestinians. Many of these organizations can also be found at the AllMEP link above. Avoid groups on the shit list as well as unproductive and harmful movements.
* Do not default to western methods of political demonstration. Specifically, protests are not useful in attaining peace in western nations at this time. Israelis and Palestinians can and should protest to the best of their abilities in Israel and Palestine so as to pressure their own governments. However, protests in western nations have proven to be poorly regulated and to further the spread of bigoted rhetoric and violence against Jews, Muslims, Arabs, and Palestinians. Furthermore, there are nearly as many Palestinians in the world as there are Jews. It is extremely easy and common for the voices of bad actors and bigots on all sides to completely drown out Jewish and Palestinian voices and concerns at these events.
* Spend more time listening and learning than speaking and acting. Anyone who tells you this conflict is simple is someone who is lying to you. Take the time to learn the ways in which your actions and words can get people hurt before joining the fray.
* Stop demonizing Zionism as a concept, even if you disagree with it. Understand that it is a philosophy with many different movements that often conflict with each other. The Zionism practiced by Netanyahu and the Likud party is NOT representative of most Zionists or interpretations of Zionism. It is an extremist form of Zionism known as Revisionist Zionism.
* Don’t deny Jewish indigeneity to the levant. It doesn’t help Palestine and hurts Jews by erasing our physical and cultural history as well as erasing the Jews who remained in Israel even through widespread diaspora.
* KEEP THE HOLOCAUST OUT OF YOUR MOUTH
Things That Are Always OK
* Denouncing Antisemitism loudly and publicly
* Denouncing Islamophobia loudly and publicly
* Telling your Jewish and Muslim and Arab friends you support them and won't abandon them
* Elevating the work of respected, widely accepted people and organizations devoted to attaining peace for all, rather than just one group of people.
* Develop media literacy
* Understand what aspects of the current western leftist movements Jews are criticizing, rather than assuming our criticisms are motivated by hatred for Palestine or Palestinians.
* Expressing sorrow for civilian deaths regardless of religion or nationality.
* When you are not Jewish and you share a post about antisemitism from a Jewish person, please say you’re a goy. This isn’t because you’re not welcome to share. This is because it is indescribably comforting to know we aren’t just talking amongst ourselves and screaming into the void. Let us know you are supportive of us. It doesn’t mean that you or we hate Palestine or Palestinians or that we oppose their full and equal rights in our shared homeland.
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archaeren · 7 months ago
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Hello!! I hope you're having a good day ^^ I came across your post about writing non-linearly on Notion and I'm excited to try it out because the advice resonated with me! Though, I'm really new to using the app and, if possible, need help with how to do this part: 'where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry.' ;v;
Hello! Thank you so much for messaging!!! Since that post about writing non-linearly (linked for context) blew up roughly ten thousand times as much as anything I've ever posted, I've been kind of meaning to make a followup post explaining more about how I use Notion for writing non-linearly, but, you know, ADHD, so I haven't done it yet. XD In the meantime, I'll post a couple screenshots of my current long fic with some explanations! I'd make this post shorter, but I'm unable to not be Chatty. XD (just ask my poor readers how long my author notes are...) (There is a phone app as well which syncs with the desktop/browser versions, but I work predominantly in the desktop app so that's what I'm gonna be showing)
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(the table keeps going off the right side of the image but it's a bunch of unimportant stuff tbh) So this is more complicated than what you'll probably start with because I'm Normal and add a bunch of details that you might not need depending on what you're doing. For example, my fic switches POVs so I have a column for tracking that, and my fic follows a canon timeline so I have a column for dates so I can keep track of them, and I also made columns for things like if a scene had spoilers or certain content readers may want to avoid, which they can access in my spoiler and content guide for the fic. (As I said, I'm Normal.) I also do some complicated stuff using Status and estimated wordcount stuff to get an idea of how long I predict the content to be, but again, not necessary. Anyway, you don't need any of that. For the purposes of this explanation, we're just gonna look at the columns I have called Name, Order, and Status. (And one called Part, but we'll get into that later) Columns in Notion have different types, such as Text, Numbers, Select, Date, etc, so make sure to use the type that works best for the purpose of each column! For example, here I'm using Select for Character POVs, Number for Order and WC (wordcount), and Text for the In-Game Date. Okay let's get into it! Name is a column that comes in a Notion table by default, and you can't get rid of it (which drives me up the wall for some purposes but works totally fine for what we're doing here). As you can see on the scene I've labeled 'roll call', if you hover over a Name entry, a little button called 'Open' appears, which you click on to open the document that's inside the table. That's all default, you don't have to set anything up for it. Here's a screenshot of what it looks like when I click the one titled 'I will be anything for you' (I've scrolled down in the screenshot so you can see the text, but all the data fields also appear at the top of the page)
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(This view is called 'side peek' meaning the document opens on one side and you can still see the table under it on the left, which is what mine defaults to. But you can set it to 'center peek' or 'full page' as well.) All my scenes have their own entry like this! Note that I've said scenes, not chapters. I decide the chapters later by combining the scenes in whatever combination feels right, which means I can often decide in advance where my chapter endings will be. This helps me consciously give most of my endings more impact than I was usually able to do when I tried to write linearly. So hopefully that gives you an idea of what I mean by writing inside the table and treating the table as a living outline. The 'Status' column is also pretty straightforward, and might require a little setup for whatever your needs are. This is another default column type Notion has which is similar to a Select but has a few more specialized features. This is how mine is set up:
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(I don't actually use 'Done', idk why I left it there. Probably I should replace it with 'Posted' and use that instead of the checkmark on the far left? whatever, don't let anyone tell you I'm organized. XDD)
Pretty straightforward, it just lets me see easily what's complete and what still needs work. (You'll notice there's no status for editing, because like I mentioned in my other post, I don't ever sit down to consciously edit, I just let it happen as I reread) Obviously tailor this to your own needs! The Order column is sneakily important, because this is what makes it easy for me to keep the scenes organized. I set the Sort on the table to use the Order to keep the scene ordered chronologically. When I make the initial list of scenes I know the fic will have, I give all of them a whole number to put them in order of events. Then as I write and come up with new scene ideas, the new scenes get a number with a decimal point to put them in the spot they fit in the timeline. (you can't see it here, but some of them have a decimal three or four digits deep, lol). Technically you can drag them to the correct spot manually, but if you ever create another View in your table (you can see I have eight Views in this one, they're right under the title) it won't keep your sorting in the new View and you'll hate yourself when it jumbles all your scenes. XD (And if you get more comfortable with Notion, you probably will at some point desire to make more Views) The Part column isn't necessary, but I found that as the fic grew longer, I was naturally separating the scenes into different points along the timeline by changes in status quo, etc. (ex. "this is before they go overseas" "this is after they speak for the first time", stuff like that) in my mind. To make it easier to decide where to place new scenes in the timeline, I formalized this into Parts, which initially I named with short summaries of the current status quo, and later changed to actual titles because I decided it would be cool to actually use them in the fic itself. Since it's not in the screenshots above, here's what the dropdown for it looks like:
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(I've blocked some of the titles out for spoiler reasons)
Basically I only mention the Parts thing because I found it was a useful organizational tool for me and I was naturally doing it in my head anyway. Anyway, I could keep talking about this for a really long time because I love Notion (don't get me started on how I use toggle blocks for hiding content I've edited out without deleting it) but that should be enough to get started and I should really, you know, not make this another insanely long post. XDD And if anybody is curious about how the final results look, the fic can be found here.
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feminist-space · 8 months ago
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"Artists have finally had enough with Meta’s predatory AI policies, but Meta’s loss is Cara’s gain. An artist-run, anti-AI social platform, Cara has grown from 40,000 to 650,000 users within the last week, catapulting it to the top of the App Store charts.
Instagram is a necessity for many artists, who use the platform to promote their work and solicit paying clients. But Meta is using public posts to train its generative AI systems, and only European users can opt out, since they’re protected by GDPR laws. Generative AI has become so front-and-center on Meta’s apps that artists reached their breaking point.
“When you put [AI] so much in their face, and then give them the option to opt out, but then increase the friction to opt out… I think that increases their anger level — like, okay now I’ve really had enough,” Jingna Zhang, a renowned photographer and founder of Cara, told TechCrunch.
Cara, which has both a web and mobile app, is like a combination of Instagram and X, but built specifically for artists. On your profile, you can host a portfolio of work, but you can also post updates to your feed like any other microblogging site.
Zhang is perfectly positioned to helm an artist-centric social network, where they can post without the risk of becoming part of a training dataset for AI. Zhang has fought on behalf of artists, recently winning an appeal in a Luxembourg court over a painter who copied one of her photographs, which she shot for Harper’s Bazaar Vietnam.
“Using a different medium was irrelevant. My work being ‘available online’ was irrelevant. Consent was necessary,” Zhang wrote on X.
Zhang and three other artists are also suing Google for allegedly using their copyrighted work to train Imagen, an AI image generator. She’s also a plaintiff in a similar lawsuit against Stability AI, Midjourney, DeviantArt and Runway AI.
“Words can’t describe how dehumanizing it is to see my name used 20,000+ times in MidJourney,” she wrote in an Instagram post. “My life’s work and who I am—reduced to meaningless fodder for a commercial image slot machine.”
Artists are so resistant to AI because the training data behind many of these image generators includes their work without their consent. These models amass such a large swath of artwork by scraping the internet for images, without regard for whether or not those images are copyrighted. It’s a slap in the face for artists – not only are their jobs endangered by AI, but that same AI is often powered by their work.
“When it comes to art, unfortunately, we just come from a fundamentally different perspective and point of view, because on the tech side, you have this strong history of open source, and people are just thinking like, well, you put it out there, so it’s for people to use,” Zhang said. “For artists, it’s a part of our selves and our identity. I would not want my best friend to make a manipulation of my work without asking me. There’s a nuance to how we see things, but I don’t think people understand that the art we do is not a product.”
This commitment to protecting artists from copyright infringement extends to Cara, which partners with the University of Chicago’s Glaze project. By using Glaze, artists who manually apply Glaze to their work on Cara have an added layer of protection against being scraped for AI.
Other projects have also stepped up to defend artists. Spawning AI, an artist-led company, has created an API that allows artists to remove their work from popular datasets. But that opt-out only works if the companies that use those datasets honor artists’ requests. So far, HuggingFace and Stability have agreed to respect Spawning’s Do Not Train registry, but artists’ work cannot be retroactively removed from models that have already been trained.
“I think there is this clash between backgrounds and expectations on what we put on the internet,” Zhang said. “For artists, we want to share our work with the world. We put it online, and we don’t charge people to view this piece of work, but it doesn’t mean that we give up our copyright, or any ownership of our work.”"
Read the rest of the article here:
https://techcrunch.com/2024/06/06/a-social-app-for-creatives-cara-grew-from-40k-to-650k-users-in-a-week-because-artists-are-fed-up-with-metas-ai-policies/
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clxja16 · 1 year ago
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Enough
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Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader
Genre: betrayal (?)
Warnings: I think there's some swearing, angst
Word Count: 5K+
Author's Note: Okay you guys voted for this one, and honestly I thought that the fake dating trope was going to win but I guess not. also I kind of need help with the genre, because its not really forbidden lovers. Like is there a genre of your parents betraying your trust in the name of protecting you??? but anyway lmk what you guys think. Actually please tell me what you think, because I'm scared I made this too dramatic. enjoy though <3
-----------------------
You lingered in one of the back halls before the start of qualifying.  It was the Austrian Grand Prix.  You looked around making sure that no one was in sight.  Charles started to giggle at your antics of keeping this under wraps.  You pulled at him, trying to push him right out the door. 
“Go back to your garage,” you say gently pushing Charles further out the back entry of the Mercedes garage. 
“After I get a good luck kiss?” Charles asks, as he holds his hands up in surrender.  
You shake your head at him, before saying, “quickly, before someone sees us,” pulling Charles into a kiss, by his race suit.  Charles grabs your face with both hands, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss further.  You pull away first, worried about who might catch you sneaking about the garage halls, “okay now go, I’ll see you tonight.” 
Charles doesn’t let go of your face, pulling you back in for a quick peck on the lips, “okay I’m going.”  Charles finally lets you go, and shoots you a quick wink before walking off.  
You turn back around to take your place in the garage next to your father, when you hear him calling out for you.  You look back to see Charles has walked just far enough away to be out of sight, as your father turns the corner to come face to face with you.  You let out a breath of relief that they missed each other.  “y/n,” your father calls to your attention, “let’s get settled, qualifying is about to start.” 
“Yes, daddy,” you answer, following after your father, to watch qualifying.  
You have just finished your degree, a Masters in Business Administration from HBS and a Masters of Science from Harvard John A. Paulson SEAS.  It took you nearly 5 and a half years to complete, but you did it regardless.  Now, you attend the races to better learn how to apply the knowledge learnt in school to running a formula one team.  This is all so that one day you will take over the formula one team from your father. 
As you watched George and Lewis set out to do their first few qualifying laps of the session, you longed for it to be you in those cars.  You really didn't dream of being behind the scenes, you dream of being up front and center, in the limelight, in the car.  You wanted to set the fastest lap, you wanted to be getting grand prix victories, you wanted to win championships.  However, you didn’t get a seat in formula 2, so your parents did the ‘reasonable’ thing and sent you off to school, instead of waiting around for the chance of a seat opening up.  
“Look here,” your father spoke to you, as he pointed at some data on one of the many monitors in front of him.  
“George is a tenth too early,” you say, trying your best to understand the data in front of you.  
“Yes, exactly, good,” your father praises, before speaking with a couple of the race engineers.  “Now we don’t want George to overly focus on what is going wrong, so we praise, advice and praise again.” You listen to the radio as the engineer, compliments George on his turn 3 and 4, critiques his turn 7, and compliments his turn 10 and 11.  “When you take over, you have to remember that you are going to have to manage the drivers' psyche as well as their driving.” 
“Father, I won’t be taking over for a long time, you’re gonna need to find someone in between you and me, to manage the team.” 
“No,” your father declares, like his decision is final, “I will retire late, and you will start early.” 
“Yes Father,” you say, no reason to start an argument now. 
-
“Congratulations on another podium,” you spoke sweetly to Charles at the end of the Austrian grand prix weekend. You and him were hiding out in his hotel room, trying your best to stay away from the cameras, from fans and most importantly from your father. 
“It’s only the second podium of the season,” Charles said as he dried his hair with the towel while walking out of the bathroom.  “We’re so far behind this season, it’s laughable.” 
“You could always make the move to Mercedes, Daddy would love to have you racing for him,” you say, as you wrap your arms around Charles, after he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.  
You can hear Charles chuckle a little, before turning around to face you. “Never,” he says with a smile, pushing you back down on the bed, kissing you deeply.  You can’t contain the laughter that spills from your lips.  
“We would make sure you win championships,” you argue, teasing Charles once again. 
“And who’s giving up a seat for me?” Charles asks, as he moves from your lips down your neck, spreading his kisses all around.  
“Lewis isn’t going to stay much longer,” you reveal.  
“What?” Charles asked, as he pulled away to look at you.  The seriousness setting in. 
“Don’t say anything to anyone,” you start off, as you sit up in the bed, looking at Charles deeply, “Daddy offered Lewis another four years, Lewis said he only wanted to sign on for two more right now.”  
“Why?” 
“I don’t know,” you say honestly, “believe it or not, Lewis does not reveal his intentions to me like you do.”  
Charles cracks a smile hearing you tease, “well, maybe I could do Mercedes silver,” he says as he goes back to kissing you. 
You and Charles spend the night together, as the two of you have done many times before.  The next morning, you try to sneak out early enough where no one notices your empty hotel room.  Charles makes your heart feel full, being around him makes you feel at peace, he wears your worries like his own.  He’s everything you ever wanted and needed, and more.  You know that there was no plausible way you could keep this a secret any longer.  You love him too much to pretend nothing is going on.  Although, you also know that your father would not be the happiest, he always said drivers weren’t the type of people you bring home.  However Charles is different, you know he’s what you need, you know that you can bring him home. 
When you did make it back to your own hotel room, you don’t think anyone checked in on the empty room.  You made quick work of packing up your belongings, your father was flying out of Vienna this afternoon, to get a jumpstart on Silverstone.  It being a home grand prix for both of your drivers, the entire week was packed with events.  All events in which you had to attend.  
-
After arriving in Silverstone, did you finally take a breather.  George and Lewis both went to visit their families for the first day.  This allowed you and your father to spend some time away from the race track.  Father instead just went to the factory, and spent some time in the office.  You on the other hand went out with Mamma, before she had to head down to Monza for the F1 Academy race.  
“Mamma,” you called out to Susie,  “do you think Daddy is serious about me taking over the team one day?” 
Your question was enough to stop Susie in her tracks, “yes, I do think he’s serious about it.”  She gave you a perplexed look.  Your father has been talking about you taking over the team since you went off to college.  He is determined that with his recommendation the board will approve for the team principal position. 
“I don’t know if that’s what I want to do though,” you say truthfully.  “I don’t know if I can handle being so close, but not being able to race.” As much as your mind was focused on being a team principal, your heart wanted to drive. 
Susie came up to you, pushing your hair behind your ear, holding your face. She had a gentle smile on her face, but there was a sadness behind her eyes that you couldn’t place.  “You are racing, if you take over the team, you are still a part of the race, but if you walk away, you will only be a spectator.” 
You sigh, you know she’s right, “you’re right, like you always are.” 
Susie laughs at your joke, “tell your Father because he never seems convinced that I’m always right.”  
You laugh, as you and Susie enter the restaurant for lunch.  “Mamma, can I ask you another question?” 
“Of course sweetheart,” Susie answers worryingly, you are not normally this ominous.  
“Would you be upset if I started seeing a driver?”  
Susie doesn’t hide the shock on her face, after your question, “who is it?”  She smirks at you, you weren’t the best at hiding your feelings from Susie.  She was the first to know about your first boyfriend in High school.  She was the first to know about the guy who cheated on you.  She was the first to know about the college boy you wanted to bring home.  And she was the first to know that none of them were enough to match you.  
“It’s no one, it's just a hypothetical, Mamma.” 
“Who, sweetheart?” 
You debate for a second about how to answer, but you know you can’t lie.  You gave away too much, and Susie knows you only use ‘hypothetical’ when it's real.  “Charles.” 
“Leclerc?”  Susie doesn’t mask her shock for a single second.  
“Mamma,” you whine at her reaction.  
“Sweetheart, your father is gonna have an aneurysm when he hears this.” 
“Mamma,” you whine again, this time more seriously, as you feel the water works coming on.  
“Sweetheart?” Susie questions, her face going from shock to stone cold serious as she sees how upset you are.  “This is serious.” 
You sigh, “I really like him, Mamma.  He makes me very happy.”  You look at Susie, and you don’t like the look she has even more.  
She looks very seriously at you, while also having the ‘its not good’ look.  “Your father is not going to like this,” she says honestly, “but,” you watch Susie as she begins to smile, “if you’re happy, that is what's important.” 
You begin to smile as well, “Daddy will get over it right?” 
“I hope so,” Susie says truthfully.  You were Toto’s oldest, nothing would ever be good enough for you.  You were his pride and joy, you were the first, and as the first, you are everything to your father.  Susie knows this, and she knows that no matter how much Charles tries, Toto still won’t think he’s good enough for you.  
-
Susie reminds you that the best way to handle this, is to inform your father sooner rather than later. You agree, but you want to make sure that you and Charles are on the same page as well.  Thursday night, once again you are hiding out in Charles' hotel room, instead of staying in your own room.  The two of you cuddle together on the bed as a movie plays on the TV. 
“Charles,” you start off softly, afraid to disturb the delicate peace that’s settled across the room, “where do you see this going?” 
“What do you mean by that?” Charles asked, as he glanced at you.  
“Us, our relationship, where do you see it going?”  You stared at Charles, while listening to his steady heartbeat. 
“I don’t know,” Charles answers, his answer holds a brutal truth that you don’t like, you sit up to look at Charles, “but, I hope it goes far and long.”  Charles continues to lay in bed while you stare at him, “ I hope that it gets out of hotel rooms, and garage halls, and private phone calls.  I hope it gets you into some red Ferrari gear,” you smile at Charles’ preposterous hope, “I hope that it gets further than this. I love you y/n.”
“I love you too,” you reassure.   
“Why do you ask me that ma chère?” 
“I’m going to tell my father about us,” you say, “and your plans to move to Mercedes.”  You just have to tease him a little bit.  
Charles laughs at you, “you mean your plans to be a Ferrari fan from now on.”  And he always knew how to handle your teasing. 
You laugh going to kiss Charles, “that’s so much work,” you say with another kiss, “you should just switch teams.” 
Charles laughs sarcastically, he loves the banter.  “y/n,” he calls.  It stops you, he never uses your name, “I really do love you.”  He’s probably told you this same sentiment over a thousand times, but each time, it still feels like the first time.  
Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling, “I love you too.”  Somehow these ‘I love you's' are different, they’re more significant, more meaningful, more genuine, more heartfelt, more profound.  They’re more serious, because they’re not just ‘I love you,’ they’re a promise, a commitment, a lifetime, together.  
-
“Daddy, please can you be rational about this?” You ask as you follow your father about the Monaco home.  Trying to get him to stop complaining about your choices in men.  
“Why couldn’t you date George, at least you would still be supporting Mercedes,” your Father says as the two of you make your way into the kitchen to see Mamma and Jack. 
“Mamma do you hear him?” You ask, indicating your father as ‘him.’ “George is very much in a relationship, Father” 
“And what’s wrong with Lewis?” Your father clearly is not thinking about the age difference between you and Lewis.  
You looked to Mamma to see if your father was serious, and even she was shocked with the suggestion, “you would be okay with me dating someone that is 14 years my senior?” you ask with a brow raised to your father, “you’ve convinced me Daddy, I will stop seeing Charles and start seeing Lewis.” 
Your father sighs, “that is not what I…” 
“Daddy, I invited Charles over for dinner, tomorrow night, that way you can properly meet him as my partner, instead of as a driver.” You tell your father, hoping that you're just imagining the steaming coming out of his ears, “one dinner, Daddy, that’s all.  He makes me really happy.” 
“Okay,” your Father says.  You don’t miss the slight eye roll he gives though.  
“Thank you Daddy,” you say, giving him a hug, before running off to your room like a teenage girl to call Charles and let him know about dinner tomorrow night.  
After your father hears your bedroom door shut, does he turn to his wife.  “Susie,” he calls out, still listening for you, to see if you were coming back out. “A word, privately.” 
“Okay,” Susie answers a bit confused about the request, she turns to Jack, “why don’t you go play for right now.”  Jack nods along excitedly, before running out the room.  “Toto, what is it?” 
“She can’t date Charles.” Toto says, turning his full attention to his wife. 
“What?” 
“Susie, I have seen the drivers in relationships.  They have their girlfriend one weekend, then they have a club girl the next weekend, and then some lucky fan the following weekend.  Charles is no different.” Toto doesn’t hold back in his recounting of the drivers stepping out on their partners, “y/n is gonna get hurt, and her entire image will be tainted by being cheated on by Charles.” 
“Toto don’t you think you’re being a little unfair.” Susie tries her best to defend Charles, but she knows Toto is telling the truth.  She’s seen it too, from a number of drivers amongst the ranks throughout the years.  
“Charles is a hell of a driver, but I'm not gonna allow him to ruin my daughter.”  Toto declares as final, “we need to find a way to stop them from seeing each other before the public catches wind of their relationship.” 
“Toto,” Susie takes a breath, if they do this, they would have to tread very carefully, or they could end more than just your relationship with Charles.  “If she ever finds out that we are interfering in her life like this, she won’t forgive us, she's not a kid anymore.” 
“She wasn’t a kid when we pulled her from racing,” Toto drags up a long forgotten and regretted moment, “we do what we have to, to protect our children, regardless of how it may look.” 
“We’ll need to play this close to the vest.” 
-
To say the evening was filled with tension and awkwardness would be an understatement.  Your father continuously gave Charles dirty looks throughout the night, and you wanted to slap him for being so childish.  Susie was pleasant throughout the evening.  Jack was just being Jack.  He probably talked the most, asking Charles about what it was like to be a real race car driver. 
“This is a very lovely meal,” Charles says to Susie.  You appreciate him trying his best to not ruffle your father’s feathers. 
“Thank you Charles,” Susie appreciates the compliments.  She doesn’t know what is best, because Toto is determined to stop you and Charles from seeing each other.  
“Charles, did you ever pee in the car?” Jack asks, as he shovels another pile of food in his mother.  
“Jack,” you say in a scolding manner, while Charles just laughs at the question.  
Charles has to take a sip of water before answering, “I try my best to make sure I use the bathroom before I get into the car.”  
“Enough questions Jack,” you say to your little brother, getting irritated with how much he was talking.  
“I just wanted to ask the racecar driver,” Jack pouts.  He makes that face with an exaggerated frown, that almost makes you feel guilty.  
“Jack, we’re all race car drivers.  Me, Mamma and Daddy have all raced cars before and you never ask us.” you argue back, you almost feel stupid that you have to argue with a five year old.  
“But you didn’t make it to formula 1,” Jack points out, and now you don’t feel guilty, you just feel sad that Jack had to point out one of your biggest regrets in life.  
“Jack,” Susie says, scolding your brother.  
“I didn’t know you raced,” Charles says, turning to look at you.  
You smile, thinking back to the time, “Yeah, I did karting for years, then I did formula renault, F4 and F3.” 
“Why did you stop?” Charles asks, wondering how you could give it up. 
“I didn’t get a seat in Formula two, and the agreement was if I could get a seat I could race, but I wouldn’t pass up opportunities to race. I got into college, so I gave up racing and went back to school.”  You reveal to Charles, he can hear the regret in your voice, but he chooses not to point it out.  You don’t see that look Susie and Toto exchange when they hear your retelling of events. 
“I see,” Charles says, “It’s a shame, I think you would’ve been a hell of a driver.” 
You chuckle at Charles, “I would definitely have more wins than you by now,” you tease.  
“Oh?” Charles smirks at you, “you would?” 
“Of course I would, because I would be driving for Mercedes, for sure.” You chuckle at your own joke.  
Charles shakes his head at you, his smile spreading far and wide.  Susie watches you and Charles, she's been watching you throughout the night and she knows Charles is enough for you.  She knows that this is your person, that they will never be another that will be able to compete with Charles.  It's him or nothing.  
-
You skip the Hungarian grand prix, especially as the media releases pictures of you and Charles, going back to the Monaco Grand Prix.  Your father thought it best that you stay home, he wasn’t sure how people would react to the relationship news.  You spent a few days before your father left for Hungary, arguing with him that it was unfair to bench you, because of the possibility that fans won’t like the news. 
Clearly, your father won that argument as you sat at home in Monaco, watching the sessions through the TV, instead of being there in person.  What Toto doesn’t tell you, is that he wants you home, so that he can meet with Fred without you getting suspicious. 
After the qualifying session, Toto asked Fred, the team principal of Ferrari, to join him for dinner.  As the two men met away from the paddock, away from the cameras, from the drivers, from the team.  They sat in a private dining room, in an elite restaurant.  Only here did Toto feel comfortable asking what he was about to ask.  
“What are we doing here Toto?” Fred asks, as he sips the beer he ordered.  Fred wouldn’t say it, betraying his French roots, but he always preferred a bottle of beer over a glass of wine.  
“Fred, I have a favor to ask,” Toto requests, he ignores his gut feeling telling him that this is wrong, and continues on, “I want you to delay Charles' contract signing.” 
“Why would I do that?” Fred asks, delaying a contract signing seems like it’s not a big deal, but there's many implications to what that could mean.  
“You would do it, because then I will be in debt to you,” Toto says, he's thought about this, he knows his way through a negotiation. 
“Okay,” Fred says, he has a reason to do so, but what is Toto’s reason for asking? “Now why do you need me to do this?”  
Toto sighs, “y/n.” 
“Your daughter, I saw the news about her Charles,” Fred pauses, taking another sip of the beer, “well actually Charles told me about the relationship back in Miami.” 
“Miami?” Toto questions, “she didn’t tell me until after silverstone.” 
“Charles said he wanted me to know before the public knew, would like to know what else he said?” 
“What?” Toto sighs, once more. 
“Charles said he wants to do this right, that he is serious about her,” Fred offers. 
“We’ve both heard drivers say one thing and do another,” Toto fixes his posture, sitting up in the chair, “I won’t allow my daughter’s image to be run through by Charles.” 
“So you want me to delay a contract signing, to do what?  So you can scare Charles into picking a seat over your daughter? And what happens when he picks your daughter over his seat?”  Fred sits up in his chair as well, looking Toto square in the eyes.  
“If he picks my daughter over his seat, then I know he’s serious about her,” Toto stands upm buttoning his jacket, “but we both know he won’t do that.”  Toto sticks out his hand for Fred to shake.  
Fred stands to shake Toto’s hand, “this doesn’t mean I agreed to anything.”  
“You will agree,” Toto smiles, a little amused at the situation, “we both know me in debt to you is too valuable to pass up.” 
-
Since the news of your relationship has been made public, you and Charles are seen together around the paddock during the Belgian Grand Prix a lot more.  Although you guys did try to keep it as professional as possible, there weren't any public displays of affection between the two of you.  However, that went straight out the window after the race podium celebration.  
Instead of watching the podium you stayed in the garage with your father, since there wasn’t a Mercedes on the podium.  As soon as Charles was done with the podium celebration, he ran straight into the Mercedes garage to collect a celebratory kiss from you.  His, sweaty, champagne-covered, sticky self, pulling you into a tight hug with a deep kiss.   He had one arm wrapped around your waist, while his other hand held onto his trophy.  You were taken aback by the initial kiss, but soon you cupped his cheek and held him close.  
Charles would’ve kissed you longer, but he could feel the cameras on the two of you.  When he finally did pull away, you were a giggling mess that you didn’t even notice the cameras at first.  “Let’s go,” Charles whispers to you, “let’s get out of here.” 
You wanted desperately to leave right then and there with Charles, “I can’t,” you say.  You watch his smile drop just a little, “I have work to finish,” you say while giving the side eye to where your father sat in the Mercedes garage, watching you and Charles.  “And you have a press conference.” 
“Okay, after that then.” Charles says, kissing you on the cheek this time.  
“After that.” 
-
That night, while you and Charles celebrated his podium finish, the picture of you and him making out in the Mercedes garage after his podium celebrations, hit social media. That photo is more talked about than Max’s 8th grand prix win in a row.  That photo is in all the group chats around the paddock.  That photo makes it to the official formula 1 social media pages.  And the biggest take away is your father’s face in the background of the photo.  Everytime you look at it, you laugh knowing that your father most likely made that face subconsciously.  
Since summer break has begun, you spend more time with Charles than at home with your family.  Today, you just so happen to need a few things from your closet, that you stopped in the Monaco home.  That is when you could overhear your parents talking in your father’s office.  
“We need to be more discreet about this now,” your father says to Mamma. 
“Toto, I don’t think this is right.  It’s not fair to y/n or Charles,” Susie says.  Normally you wouldn’t eavesdrop on your parents, but the mention of you and Charles caught your attention.  
“I am trying to protect our daughter,” Toto says, and you can’t help but think. What is your father trying to protect you from? 
“This isn’t protecting her, this is your fear about what could happen,” Susie says.  You can hear in your mamma voice, she’s getting defensive.  
“Like how your fear pulled her from racing,” Toto says in a raised voice.  You’re completely confused as to what your father could mean with that statement.  
There’s a pause.  It goes silent for a second, and you listen closer.  “I was saving her life, we weren’t sure what the FIA would do after Jules.”  There’s a pain in Susie’s voice.  
“Safety measures were put in place,” Toto argues.  
“After you pushed back on them.” 
“I have changed my position on the halo, you know that,” Toto says.  Even though the wood doors separate you from seeing your parents, you can clearly imagine what this fight is looking like. 
“After Lewis almost dies!”  Mamma never shouts, is your singular thought after hearing that statement.  “What if you had gotten your way and the halo was never placed?  What if it was our daughter in that car?  I pulled her from racing to save her life, because you sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.”  Susie pulls open the office door to see you standing on the other side.  You watch her face drop from anger to sadness quickly.  “Sweetheart…” 
“Mamma… you pulled me from racing?” You question as the tears begin to well in your eyes. 
“Sweetheart…” Susie repeats, shes at a complete loss for words.  
“You told me that I wasn’t picked up for a seat.” you take a breath before you start crying, “was that the truth?” 
“Darling,” Toto calls out to you.  
“Was it the truth?” You ask again, this time you make the hurt evident in your voice, “you told me a team didn’t want to pick me for F2, was that the truth?” 
“You weren’t anybody’s first choice,” Susie pauses, “but you were on the list.”  You feel your break, as you start to cry.  “We worked a few negotiations to ensure that you didn’t get picked.  We worked to pull you from racing.”  
You were a hyperventilating mess, you couldn’t stop the tears, the sobs, the heartbreak from happening. “You told me…You told me, if I earned my seat without you or daddy interfering I could keep racing.  You promised that you would let me race.” 
“We wanted to protect you, we didn’t want what happened to Jules.” 
“Don’t you dare,” you snap at Susie, “don’t use what happened to Jules as an excuse.”  You walked away, racing up the stairs.  Towards your bedroom, you could hear your parents rushed footsteps as they followed after you.  You began to shove clothes into a bag, as you tried to violently wipe away the tears.  
“Where are you going?” Your father asks in a calm voice.  
“I’m gonna stay with Charles for a while.”  When you mention Charles, you remembered the beginning of the conversation.  You stopped packing your clothes.  Slowly you turned to face your parents.  “What did you do?” 
“Excuse me?” your father questions. 
“What did you do to Charles?  Mamma said it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, whatever you were doing.  What did you do to Charles daddy?” You’re out of breath, you fear whatever your father has to say.   
You watch as your father sighs, he hangs his head.  “I asked Fred to delay his contract signing.  Ferrari wants to keep Charles, they’re going to give him whatever he wants.  I asked for Fred to just hold off on signing the contract.” 
You scoff at the revelation.  “Just long enough to scare Charles into picking a seat over me.  This is rich from the both of you.”  
“Sweetheart…” Susie calls out to you as she reaches to hold you.  
“Don’t touch me,” you snap once again.  You couldn’t tell if you were really angry or sad or shocked, but you did know you were just hurt.  Your parents had taken away your dreams, and they were trying to take away your love.  “You took away racing,” you take a breath, you strip away all the excess, you let them hear the hurt in your voice, “I won’t let you take Charles away too.”  
When you do make it Charles’ place.  When he opens the door for you, he sees you silently crying and shaking.  Your voice is hoarse already, that it’s only a whisper when you ask, “can I stay with you for a few days?” 
“Of course,” Charles says as he welcomes you inside.  When he finally closes the door, you drop your bag to the floor, and just hold onto Charles tightly.  He wraps his arms around you, providing you with the comfort you longed for.
-----------------------------
Part II
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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months ago
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Too big to care
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I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!
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Remember the first time you used Google search? It was like magic. After years of progressively worsening search quality from Altavista and Yahoo, Google was literally stunning, a gateway to the very best things on the internet.
Today, Google has a 90% search market-share. They got it the hard way: they cheated. Google spends tens of billions of dollars on payola in order to ensure that they are the default search engine behind every search box you encounter on every device, every service and every website:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics
Not coincidentally, Google's search is getting progressively, monotonically worse. It is a cesspool of botshit, spam, scams, and nonsense. Important resources that I never bothered to bookmark because I could find them with a quick Google search no longer show up in the first ten screens of results:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task
Even after all that payola, Google is still absurdly profitable. They have so much money, they were able to do a $80 billion stock buyback. Just a few months later, Google fired 12,000 skilled technical workers. Essentially, Google is saying that they don't need to spend money on quality, because we're all locked into using Google search. It's cheaper to buy the default search box everywhere in the world than it is to make a product that is so good that even if we tried another search engine, we'd still prefer Google.
This is enshittification. Google is shifting value away from end users (searchers) and business customers (advertisers, publishers and merchants) to itself:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith
And here's the thing: there are search engines out there that are so good that if you just try them, you'll get that same feeling you got the first time you tried Google.
When I was in Tucson last month on my book-tour for my new novel The Bezzle, I crashed with my pals Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. I've know them since I was a teenager (Patrick is my editor).
We were sitting in his living room on our laptops – just like old times! – and Patrick asked me if I'd tried Kagi, a new search-engine.
Teresa chimed in, extolling the advanced search features, the "lenses" that surfaced specific kinds of resources on the web.
I hadn't even heard of Kagi, but the Nielsen Haydens are among the most effective researchers I know – both in their professional editorial lives and in their many obsessive hobbies. If it was good enough for them…
I tried it. It was magic.
No, seriously. All those things Google couldn't find anymore? Top of the search pile. Queries that generated pages of spam in Google results? Fucking pristine on Kagi – the right answers, over and over again.
That was before I started playing with Kagi's lenses and other bells and whistles, which elevated the search experience from "magic" to sorcerous.
The catch is that Kagi costs money – after 100 queries, they want you to cough up $10/month ($14 for a couple or $20 for a family with up to six accounts, and some kid-specific features):
https://kagi.com/settings?p=billing_plan&plan=family
I immediately bought a family plan. I've been using it for a month. I've basically stopped using Google search altogether.
Kagi just let me get a lot more done, and I assumed that they were some kind of wildly capitalized startup that was running their own crawl and and their own data-centers. But this morning, I read Jason Koebler's 404 Media report on his own experiences using it:
https://www.404media.co/friendship-ended-with-google-now-kagi-is-my-best-friend/
Koebler's piece contained a key detail that I'd somehow missed:
When you search on Kagi, the service makes a series of “anonymized API calls to traditional search indexes like Google, Yandex, Mojeek, and Brave,” as well as a handful of other specialized search engines, Wikimedia Commons, Flickr, etc. Kagi then combines this with its own web index and news index (for news searches) to build the results pages that you see. So, essentially, you are getting some mix of Google search results combined with results from other indexes.
In other words: Kagi is a heavily customized, anonymized front-end to Google.
The implications of this are stunning. It means that Google's enshittified search-results are a choice. Those ad-strewn, sub-Altavista, spam-drowned search pages are a feature, not a bug. Google prefers those results to Kagi, because Google makes more money out of shit than they would out of delivering a good product:
https://www.theverge.com/2024/4/2/24117976/best-printer-2024-home-use-office-use-labels-school-homework
No wonder Google spends a whole-ass Twitter every year to make sure you never try a rival search engine. Bottom line: they ran the numbers and figured out their most profitable course of action is to enshittify their flagship product and bribe their "competitors" like Apple and Samsung so that you never try another search engine and have another one of those magic moments that sent all those Jeeves-askin' Yahooers to Google a quarter-century ago.
One of my favorite TV comedy bits is Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator; Tomlin would do these pitches for the Bell System and end every ad with "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company":
https://snltranscripts.jt.org/76/76aphonecompany.phtml
Speaking of TV comedy: this week saw FTC chair Lina Khan appear on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It was amazing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM
The coverage of Khan's appearance has focused on Stewart's revelation that when he was doing a show on Apple TV, the company prohibited him from interviewing her (presumably because of her hostility to tech monopolies):
https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/apple-got-caught-censoring-its-own
But for me, the big moment came when Khan described tech monopolists as "too big to care."
What a phrase!
Since the subprime crisis, we're all familiar with businesses being "too big to fail" and "too big to jail." But "too big to care?" Oof, that got me right in the feels.
Because that's what it feels like to use enshittified Google. That's what it feels like to discover that Kagi – the good search engine – is mostly Google with the weights adjusted to serve users, not shareholders.
Google used to care. They cared because they were worried about competitors and regulators. They cared because their workers made them care:
https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/2019/4/4/18295933/google-cancels-ai-ethics-board
Google doesn't care anymore. They don't have to. They're the search company.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi
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bpee123 · 5 months ago
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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago
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An astonishingly simple and comprehensive guide to avoiding airborne illness while traveling. Many of these tips work for trips to the pharmacy or grocery store too. Stay safe out there!
By Korin Miller
Whether you’re traveling domestically or heading abroad, feeling your best at your destination means you’ll get the most out of your trip. Unfortunately, COVID-19 is still out there, and cases are expected to climb again as we head into the winter months. By now you’re likely aware of basic COVID prevention strategies, but air travel presents unique challenges that can be tricky to navigate.
Luckily, you can take steps to lower the odds of picking up the illness on your next flight. To help you do just that, we asked doctors and health policy researchers how they lower their COVID risk while flying. Here’s what they recommend.
Wear a mask—before you’re even on the plane Many of us know this already, but it’s worth recalling: Research has found that wearing a well-fitting, high-quality mask like an N95 or KN95 lowers your chances of picking up COVID-19 by 83%, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. But when you wear a mask during your travels matters, says William Schaffner, MD, an infectious disease specialist and professor at the Vanderbilt University School of Medicine.
“You really want to use your mask consistently around others, whether you’re in the airport or on that plane,” he says. Thomas A. Russo, MD, professor and chief of the Division of Infectious Diseases at the University at Buffalo’s medical school, agrees. “Think about the whole process when you fly—going through the airport, checking in, boarding the plane, and being on the plane—you’re going to interact with people from all parts of the world… There’s a risk you might get COVID,” he says.
You can help protect yourself by always keeping your mask on—and wearing a relatively new one. Compared to a mask that’s gotten a lot of use, a fresh one will fit more snugly around the nose, cheeks, and chin and, in turn, catch particles more effectively.
Put the air vent to good use If you prefer not to wear a mask, you should take steps to protect yourself in other ways. For example, after you get to your seat, adjust the vent so the air blows over your face, suggests Sheldon H. Jacobson, PhD, a University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign professor and researcher whose work includes using data-driven risk assessments to inform public health policy.
Dr. Jacobson says most airplanes use high-efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filters that catch microbes. Plus, cabin air is refreshed every few minutes, and a good portion comes from outside the aircraft. As a result, what blows out of the vents is pretty fresh. This strategy also keeps the air around you moving faster, meaning there’s less time for you to inhale any possible germs in the cabin, according to Dr. Jacobson. Still, if the person sitting next to you is coughing and sneezing, it’s best to wear a mask if you have one, he says. The filtration system can only do so much in that instance—and it’s not always on before takeoff and after landing.
Be mindful about how you eat and drink If you can, Dr. Russo suggests eating before you get to the airport to lessen the number of times you’ll need to remove your mask when you’re around other people. If you need to dine at the airport, Dr. Schaffner recommends looking for seating away from crowded areas.
When masks were still required for air travel, the suggested strategy for eating and drinking on board was to wait until your fellow fliers finished their snacks and refreshments. But now, Dr. Russo points out, the people around you may not mask up at all. Instead, he suggests dropping your mask, taking a sip or bite, and immediately pulling it back up. This lowers the odds you’ll breathe in viral particles that may be floating around, he explains.
Plan your vaccine around your trip Dr. Schaffner and Dr. Russo recommend getting the updated COVID-19 vaccine about two weeks before your trip. “It’s a good strategy,” Dr. Russo says. It usually takes 14 days or so for your body to build up immunity to COVID after getting vaccinated, according to the World Health Organization. This means your body should be ready to fight the virus by the time you fly, Dr. Russo says. Immunity also fades over time, making the timing of your shot important, he says.
Wash your hands…a lot Experts say you’re more likely to get COVID-19 from breathing in infectious droplets and particles than from touching things. But there’s still a chance you could get sick if you happen to touch a contaminated surface and then your eyes, nose, or mouth.
“What we’ve learned is that transmission from this virus from inanimate objects is very low, but it’s not zero,” Dr. Russo says. That’s why he recommends good hand hygiene while flying. You should wash your hands with soap and water, making sure to scrub for at least 20 seconds, and do so often: before and after security, whenever you use the bathroom, and before eating or touching your face. Hand sanitizer is also a good option in a pinch, Dr. Russo says. But he stresses that keeping your hands clean shouldn’t replace masking up. “It’s much, much less helpful than wearing a mask,” he says.
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bellejolras · 1 year ago
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i don’t mean to go on a rant but I’ve been reading reviews of Poor Things bc i hate being happy and ohhhh my goddddd
spoilers under the cut but I have complaints about people’s (lack of) media literacy
Oh my god okay so first of all, if you haven’t seen a movie how are you going to comment on it. Reading summaries and other people’s reviews only is not sufficient to make an original point. you do not know what you’re talking about. just stop.
Second, the movie is. satirical. Which I thought was obvious from the absurd premise and surreal visuals? This is not supposed to be the real world. Nor is it advocating for all the stuff it shows. In fact, it’s even actively indicting some of what it shows. For example: fucked up power dynamics in sexual relationships exist in the movie, but the movie is not saying they are good, it’s criticizing them. Is this not getting through to people?
Third, and related, it’s not ! just ! about ! a sexy baby !! Partly because again, satire. But also partly because she rapidly goes through childhood & adolescent maturity. And it’s not meant to be, like, linear… the regular laws of empirical data and science do not apply to this world… so she is not in fact, like 6 when she’s having sex but more like 16. Which you could argue is still a minor, and im not disputing that, because again the movie is critical of this part and duncan is a total loser. But there’s a massive difference between the mental development of those two ages. ALSO there’s literally nothing inherently wrong with baby bella autonomously discovering masturbation. That’s extremely normal for little kids, often just as a way of self-soothing because it feels nice and not with any awareness of sexuality. And it’s fine if you thought that was a weird scene! but it’s hardly pedophilia to include in the film when the “baby” in question is in fact played by fully grown adult emma stone and I cannot believe that I’m seeing people accuse this movie of that
Fourth, if you claim your takeaway from this movie is “it wants me to believe that women’s power only exists through their sexuality” then I don’t believe you’ve seen the entire movie (see point 1). Narratively it’s only a means to an end for Bella, and when she gets tired of it, she stops! She gets bored of duncan and reads philosophy! She leaves her sex work career and becomes a medical professional! And, even in the sex scenes, while there are many, they center her and her experience, her pleasure. Yes, her tits are out a lot but the sex scenes are weird, intentionally grotesque without being violent. The montage with duncan is shot through a fisheye lens and literally pans away from the bed to focus on a bird landing in the room. Duncan can proclaim himself the best lover in the world, but he’s really not important to the scene ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
In conclusion, I know the people I’m complaining about aren’t going to read this, but just in case, I urge you to learn media literacy. And anyone else who read all of this, thanks lol!! accepting good faith discourse in the notes/replies
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ephemerensis · 7 months ago
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Cologne // Tim Drake x GN! Reader
hay guys! where Tim Drake and Red Robin (ur bodyguard for the time being) smell suspiciously the same— it’s like you can’t even tell the difference! no angst, this took me so long oh my goodness i’m gonna stick to writing what i know. stay tuned for hurt/angst i have a lot of grievances to spit out! not proofread.
Part 2
Gotham was the last place you’d expected to be sent off to, but it’s where you found yourself now. Despite being disgustingly crime ridden, it was the center of trade, commerce, business, and more importantly— information. Which is precisely what you’d been sent to offer.
Your family’s company recently made a ground breaking discovery in pharmaceuticals, creating a drug that could limit the spread of cancer cells without traditional side effects; YB-V they called it. However, the by-product of production was much more severe, resulting in a chemical compound capable of mutating all the cells in a person completely to become something other as if they belonged to a different entity. Given the right motivations and means, the cells could be manipulated by a third party, turning them into fully conscious puppets of some sort.
With data leaks and security concerns, and the serious nature of the consequences if your drug had fallen into the wrong hands, you were sent to deliver the research and development to the production team personally; placed in charge of overseeing production until launch.
Which all sounded good in theory, but as you found yourself twiddling your thumbs in a blacked out office space, getting briefed on the gravity of the situation by a police task force with some vigilante character hanging around behind you, you began to question what it was all worth.
“So let me get this straight, an email between Wayne Corp and ourselves was leaked and now a couple big shot villains want to steal it? What kind of bad guy reads emails?”
A burly officer with a thick white mustache and a pair of square set glasses cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s correct.”
“Some tech team,” you scoffed. “I’m the only one that can access any of the files, it’s all biometrically locked. While this certainly puts a damper on my day, we should be able to proceed normally.”
“They have your identity too,” the figure in the back voiced. Red Robin, you’d been informed, one of Gotham’s crime fighters in spandex (allegedly.) Up until now he hadn’t spoken a word, loitering while the police explained everything to you.
“Which is why we brought you here,” the commissioner pipped, reaching for his coffee mug as he spoke. “Red Robin has agreed to watch over your activities for the duration of your time in Gotham. For your safety, and ours.”
Have this guy tail you? As if. You were occupied enough without having a stranger watch your every move. A vigilante at that, it’s not like you could look at his resume and review his history.
“While that is a gracious offer, I have my own bodyguards. They’re well trained and—“
“Not for Gotham, you don’t.” Red Robin stepped out from the corner he’d situated himself in, arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face. “And unless you want to stay in a bunker for three months, I’m your best bet.”
Silence fell as you stared at the masked man, contemplating your options. The underground bunker was out of the question. On top of running production, you had a company to run and a reputation to upkeep; meetings, galas, charity events to attend. And as much as you hated to admit it, they had to be right. Gotham knows Gotham, and with the crises you’d witnessed on screen it was clear their criminals were on a polarly different level.
Pressing your hands to the table, you stood up and turned around, “I see. And you being around won’t make me more of a target?”
“Not even you would know I’m there.”
Closing the distance between the two of you in a few paces, you stuck your hand out to him, “In that case, I look forward to working with you Red Robin.”
Standing near him, the faint smell of lavender was imminent and something deeper lingered under it, an amber of some sort. It was pleasant; Red Robin had good taste in cologne. And that is all you needed to trust him.
It took a second for him to shake your outstretched hand. In your palm, his grip was firm, rough gloves pressing into your satin skin. Secure, you’d decided, secure and reliable.
And just as he’d promised, you hardly noticed him. On the contrary, you were also never attacked; not in the days following the abrupt meeting, nor the week after that, nor the month after that. There was the occasional mention of trouble, or something that went bump in the night— but whether it concerned you or not it didn’t matter. Nothing ever happened.
When he was tucked away it felt like he was really gone, not even the eerie feeling that followed being watched lingered. The only thing that drew you back into the reality was when you’d catch the scent of lavender lingering or in the few cases where he’d appear before you. In his absence you felt almost lonely, despite your work occupying it all. So you soon found yourself leaving notes.
“Bought coffee for the office.”
And he began to write back.
“Just black next time, thanks.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Cornflower blue.”
“That’s a dumb name. Your costume is red, I think you got out branded by Nightwing.”
“In my defense, I didn’t design it.”
He didn’t say much in them, nothing that you could glean in depth anyway. But you found yourself oddly pleased with his nothing. It’s not like you cared so desperately for his identity, that was his to keep of course. You did care for his presence. Something about it was magnetizing, and because he hardly appeared before you, these were the tidbits you found yourself drawn to.
Not that you’d kept them, he would see. Despite knowing the situation you were in, it still felt like a strange game— where he knew every detail about you, and you knew nothing of him. Your feelings, at the least, these you could keep on your own.
“Do you need lab access? I know you follow me in, but if there’s an emergency or something…” Production and distribution for YB-V was run by Wayne Corp and like all things related to your project it was kept secure in an underground bunker while you worked to transfer the information your company developed.
While the scientists and developers were mainly in charge of carrying out the project, none of it could move forward without you. The security system had been meticulously set up so that you, and only you, could access the files with the research and instructions. And beyond even your capabilities, every stage written into the plan had to be completed before the next could be unlocked. So you had to be there, supervise and guide them during the entirety of the process.
Archaic, you’d decided. But necessary according to the rest of the world.
Red Robin accompanied you on these trips. Being underground and all, it was one of the few moments he went with you rather than watching from afar.
“No, I’ll find a way in if I need a way in.”
You looked back at him questioningly. You didn’t doubt his capabilities of course, but he said it with such ease, “Is it that easy to break into? I should increase security.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s secure. I’m the issue.”
You turned back around shaking your head with a snort. He was growing on you, sass and all. Stopping by a display of notes and charts, you looked them over to ensure they aligned with protocol.
“I have to attend a gala next week, by the way.”
He hummed in response, a couple steps behind you like he usually was when you visited the lab.
“It’s at Wayne Manor… and I can get you an invite. Security is stricter than it is here, I’ve been told. It’d be troublesome to sneak around.” Ruffling through the papers, you extracted the one you needed, holding it up to your face.
“And I don’t have a date,” you added.
“…are you asking me out?” You could hear a hint of a smile in his voice, making your face burn red at the accusation.
You set the paper down, abruptly whipping around with the most serious expression you could muster, “Strictly for my safety! I don’t know how credible everyone attending is and—“
The smile on his face shut you up. Embarrassed and slightly dejected you looked around the room for something else to lock eyes on, clearing your throat.
“I would’ve loved to, but I won’t be there. Something came up that I need to take care of. But like you said, security is strict, you’ll be safe,” he interjected before you could say anymore. Honestly you couldn’t even be mad, he let you down so sincerely you had to believe it. The small smile plastered on his face and the gentle tone he used in opposition to his usual curt one melted you down far more than you would’ve liked it to.
“Right.” It took you a second to cough anything out, like you were thirteen and starstruck again by any character that tossed you a bone, “so much for you or the bunker, I could’ve hired the Waynes’ security.”
But you were disappointed, and his answer did surprise you. Busy? He hadn’t left your side your entire stay as far as you were aware, granted you couldn’t see him 95% of the time, but in principle.
He must’ve picked up on your downtrodden state because he leaned in teasingly, that familiar lavender scent washing over you, “You have your own bodyguards though, right? They’re well trained.”
You wondered what color his eyes were behind the mask, a warm brown or a melancholy blue. Either way you’d decided you were done for, his were the type of eyes you could drown in; “Not for Gotham, I don’t.”
The night of the gala you didn’t expect much. You were supposed to represent your company of course, as their Gotham socialite, and you were to meet with your business partner. Up until now everything had been transactional, taken care of on invisible ends. Which was fine, but to maintain business relations you had to show up to these things.
And so it was about as dry as you’d thought it to be. Most of everyone was twice your age, many were so stuck in their desire for affluence it radiated off of them like maggots in a burn pile. Supposedly it was a charity gala, in reality it was an egoistic echo chamber and you were in no position to defy it.
Flitting around you sipped your champagne and made conversation and promises that didn’t matter until a hand graced your shoulder with the lightest touch, it felt almost invisible. Turning around you saw a boy with raven hair and the tamest of blue eyes. And he looked to be around your age, a moment of respite at last.
“Hi,” he breathed the word into a smile that was dazzlingly honest and strikingly warm in juxtaposition with the mood of the room.
“Hi,” you shook the hand he offered to you. His hands were rougher than you’d imagine an aristocrat’s to be, littered with callouses you attributed with a dedication to some sport, “I’m Y/N, I don’t think we’ve met before?”
“Sort of, I’m Tim.” In your correspondence with Wayne Corp, Tim had been your main contact; at least for big ticket decisions. In other words, he was your collaborator and your business’ partner. In your head you recalled all the times you poked fun at the archaic way he wrote his emails, like he was 52 and balding— in reality he was just the opposite.
“Oh! It’s nice to finally meet you! Thank you for working with us, we couldn’t have progressed this far without Wayne Corp.”
“On the contrary, thank you for trusting us. This project’s been a huge safety concern for you I’ve heard.”
You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all! I have one of the best vigilantes in the city.” But this, he should’ve already known. Red Robin had to be cleared for access to certain things, and you’d corresponded as much through your emails. “I must say though, I was disappointed it wasn’t Nightwing at first, he used to be my favorite.”
Tim blinked at you for a spell and you couldn’t read his expression. Pleasant and cordial with some twinge of underlying distaste was the best way to describe it, something in the way his eyes glinted with a malice behind his smile. “Has that changed?”
He must love Red Robin.
“I suppose,” growing on you was an understatement. It was a strange ordeal because he wasn’t real. No name or title you could address, but everything you learned about Red Robin made you want to know more about Red Robin. He was magnetizing. “Have you met them? Is it a normal Gotham thing?”
“No,”his response came swiftly, “they’re usually in other parts of the city and I’m never out at night. Married to the office.”
“I see.” That would explain the emails.
“Do you… want to dance?” He extended his hand to you graciously, but with a gentle hesitance that made him seem softer than he was. In a way you felt like you were betraying your vigilante delusionship, but he hadn’t agreed to go with you and Tim was charming enough. Besides, business relations.
“Of course.” Placing your flute of champagne on a nearby table, you took his arm as he led you to the floor. He smiled in a demure sort of way that made your heart flutter like the excitement you’d felt interacting with Red Robin. Maybe you just liked the attention that much, that must be the correlation between the two.
“Do you know how to waltz?” Typically galas didn’t have much dancing at all, let alone organized ballroom dancing, but leave it to the Waynes to find a way to stun the crowd with their class and extravagance.
“Sort of, I’ve taken rudimentary classes.” Like when you were five.
“Perfect,” he grinned. He placed his hand faintly on the small of your waist while the other found purchase in your opposing palm, “I’ll lead. Just follow along, you’ll be fine.”
Miraculously you were fine. You started out with your eyes glued to the floor, following after him and avoiding his toes. But once you’d gotten into a rhythm, it all felt like floating.
“You haven’t stepped on my toes once,” he joked. Up close and under the mesmerizing ballroom light he looked angelic, the way the light caught in his lashes and the reflected off the blue of his eyes—like little golden flecks glimmering under supple flowing rivers.
“I’ve been trying not to!” you laughed.
“You look beautiful,” as if his eyes could get any more mesmerizing, they softened somehow with his words, “outfit and all.”
“Thank you,” at this you averted your gaze, and prayed the lighting didn’t highlight the flush of your cheeks. Out of being flustered or embarrassment, you didn’t know. On the one hand, a rich, beautiful, respectful man was complimenting you. On the other, you were wearing cornflower blue because it was someone else’s favorite color. Like you were twelve again and going to some middle school dance where you wanted to impress your hallway crush.
“Your Getty pictures don’t do you justice,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t seen one bad photo, but you always look so serious and intimidating.”
It never occurred to you he’d Googled you before, it made sense now how he was able to single you out in the crowd. Maybe the thought was so foreign because you’d never paid him any mind, but now you were thinking you should’ve. At the very least because it’s polite and helpful to know the bare minimum, but if you were honest with yourself it’s because he struck a curiosity in you that needed to be sated—too breathtaking to be real and all you’d known was his face and arresting demeanor.
“Because I am serious and intimidating, I’m very good at my job you know. You’re not the only one married to an office,” you boasted. In reality you hated work, but worse still was posing for pictures. Especially at crowded social functions your parents ushered you to where you didn’t know a soul, you simply didn’t know what to do with yourself in front of a camera—that was your excuse anyway.
“That explains the dancing,” he quipped with a sideward smile.
Your eyes widened slightly in shock as your mouth fell open to scoff. “Hey! I thought I was doing pretty good!”
He burst into a contagious laughter that hypnotically made you follow suit. But you wouldn’t settle for that after all your efforts to keep up. With a look to the wayside, you pretended to lose touch of the tandem between your steps and lurch forward, consequently stepping on his polished brown loafers. And then it was his turn to be shocked.
“Woah! So much for trying,”Tim teased. Not that he lost his footing, he was as stable as ever. In his eyes you swore there was a glint of mockery, as if he knew and anticipated it.
“Oh did I hurt you,” you feigned concern before slipping into the most innocent smile you could muster. “I’m a terrible dancer, I can’t help it.”
“Aren’t you petty?”
“You have no idea.”
“Petty and pretty, how dangerous.”
Before you could fire some witty retort you noticed your steps slowing to a halt with the swoon of the music. He’d brought his hand above you to spin you once, slowly. The other on your waist moved to your lower back to support you as he pulled you into a dip and all you could do was follow. Something about the atmosphere had your heart palpitating. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like you were an art piece on display, overhead light illuminating behind him as he stared down at you like an angel emerging from the heavens.
Sundering you to the earth, you couldn’t fixate your eyes on anything else, and though it was only for a moment it felt like eternity. You were close enough now for the scent of his cologne to waft over you faintly amongst the throng of strongly powdered people in the room. Lavender. A familiar lavender with all the base notes that’d been lingering around you for the past few weeks. Your look of awe faded to confusion.
Red Robin’s.
“Is that—“
But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead you followed his gaze down to your chest, eyes widening as you saw the little red laser mark hovering over your heart. Before you could react, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs as Tim shoved you away. The sound of the gun firing pierced cleanly through the noise of the glitz and glamour, and something burned across the skin of the side of your arm.
You couldn’t tell if it was broken glass that cut you or something else, you couldn’t feel much of anything with the adrenaline flooding your body. Scared and discombobulated, you scrambled backwards as panic set into the crowd.
In the midst of the onset of gunshots and people scattering towards exits, Tim had rushed over to you. Kneeling beside you, he gave you a quick look over and gently pulled you up by your uninjured arm. As soon as you were up he rushedly dragged you away from it all, winding through the hallways of the manor wordlessly. Though it was probably for the better, because you didn’t have an ounce of air left in your lungs trying to keep up with his pace or a thought in your head after what you’d just witnessed.
The further you trudged along, the heavier your limbs felt and the harder it was to pry your eyes open after blinking. Which was strange, you hadn’t lost so much blood, but it must’ve been the confusion of it all or something you ate. A couple halls and turns later you arrived at a room. He ushered you inside, seating you on the bed before rummaging through the drawers.
“Are you alright? Does it hurt badly?” from the drawer he procured a bandage. He sat himself next to you, promptly wrapping the cloth tightly around your arm.
“No, it’s not bad,” truthfully it felt numb, which you couldn’t decide was a good or bad thing. You couldn’t think much of anything, focused on keeping your eyes from fluttering shut.
“I should’ve known they’d do something,” he’d muttered. As he finished, pushing himself off the bed, your head suddenly felt too heavy to hold up and your eyes too tired to function.
“Hey… are you okay? You don’t look so good.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling nothing abnormal and deepening his concern. But you couldn’t process what he was saying. With a lilt, you fell to your side, feeling the injunctive relief of not having to hold yourself upright.
He undid your bandages to look at the wound again before scowling as it dawned on him, “Tranquilizers.”
After rewrapping your arm, he hurriedly stalked towards the door, “You’ll be safe here, I’ll send someone.”
With whatever consciousness you had left you managed to slur a sentence, “Where are you going?”
“To find my brother.”
If he said anything after you didn’t hear it, because the moment your eyes fluttered shut, they stayed shut.
You didn’t know how long you were out. Not terribly so. When you’d awoken, it was still dark out. Tim must’ve flicked the light off when he’d left too, the only light that flooded in was from the streetlamp out the window. The drugs hadn’t cleared your system yet if the pounding in your head and brain fog you were experiencing was any indicator. And they didn’t even hit you directly, who knows where you’d be if they did.
In the streets you could hear the panic of people and the wail of police sirens, which would’ve settled your stomach if not for the fact that it clearly wasn’t over and the police weren’t entering.
You jerked your head towards the door as a loud thud sounded just outside of it. Looking around the room for a place to hide, there was none. And if there was one, you couldn’t see it with the lights out. Some commotion followed before what sounded like a body hit the floor.
Not knowing what else to do, you wrapped yourself in the bedding, pulling it to the floor behind the bed and huddling there. At the very least, no one knew you were in there but Tim, and surely he’d locked the door.
Nope.
The sound of the knob turning made your blood run cold. You drew the blankets tightly around yourself, hoping you’d amalgamate into the cloths if you’d clutched them tightly enough.
With the bed obscuring your view, you couldn’t see the perpetrator and you didn’t want to. You screwed your eyes shut as footsteps creaked on the wood pacing towards you. Against your will, you hands couldn’t cease trembling and you wondered if the other person in the room could hear your heart beating out of your chest.
This was it. If someone wanted to swoop in, now would be great.
The footsteps halted on the opposite side of the bed. You considered jumping out at them, throwing the blanket and bolting for it, but your limbs felt like they were filled with lead. And in any case, if they were armed you were done for anyway. So you held your breath and willed them away instead.
To your horror they’d started again in your direction. Silence. And then a hand touched the blanket and you couldn’t help it, you shrieked and covered your head with your arms.
But instead of force or a bludgeoning, they’d knelt in front of you, gently grabbing your arms as you thrashed. A familiar voice called your name out a couple times before you recognized it and opened your eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me! You’re okay,” in the dark you couldn’t really see his face but it was Tim’s voice that called to you. Delirious and reeling, the relief flooded your body so intensely, the tears didn’t even have time to well before they were streaming down your cheeks.
Throwing your arms around him, you sobbed for all you were worth, “I was so scared, why’d you just leave me!”
You felt him stiffen beneath you at the sudden intrusion before softening and patting the back of your head with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
And it felt so safe there, in his arms, secure but soft all at once. The familiar lavender mixed with the champagney smell from the gala soothed you in a way you’d never thought you’d needed.
“I thought they were gonna get me,” you choked out between sobs. This was in no way attractive, “and then I’d get kidnapped, and everyone would turn into puppets!”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Not mocking or laughing at you like your more awake self would’ve expected, he was mellow about the whole thing. Sorry and really sorry for it—and it wasn’t even his fault.
When you calmed down enough to sound coherent, he pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“Let me see that,” he nodded towards your bandaged arm. You stretched it out for him and he undid the gauze, “This doesn’t look too bad. Shouldn’t scar.”
Procuring new dressings, he took his time with it this time, applying a salve before wrapping it around you again.
“Tim?” you said his name just to say his name, because you liked the way it felt to say and you wanted to hear him speak. Instead he paused before resuming his work, “I’m Red Robin.”
“Oh.” That’s embarrassing. You were so certain of it too, but he did say he would send someone and he was probably with his family or waiting outside for things to settle. So instead you got the infinitely intangible Red Robin, “I thought you were busy.”
“Plans changed.” He was never this curt with you, not after knowing you anyway. He had to maintain secrecy, you knew this, but he’d find ways to say more anyway.
You flinched as he constricted your arm with the bandage, “You’re pulling it a little tight.”
This made him pause again, letting go of the wrap altogether this time as the circulation breathed back into your marrow.
Exhaling, he ran a hand through his raven hair, “I’m sorry.”
You blinked at him, still fighting to keep your eyelids open but worried nonetheless. This was unlike him, “Red?”
“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I should’ve known, I could’ve prevented this,” shaking his head, it was if he made up his mind, “Everything is transferred now, the project can wrap up without you. We’ll get you on the next flight back tomorrow.”
Somewhere in you an inkling of anger stirred, as if you were an object that could be sent as needed. But the strain in his voice was evident, how could hold a grudge against that? “I don’t want to leave yet.”
“You’re going.”
You huffed, “I’m not. And you don’t have to watch me anymore if it’s too much, I never expected that from you! You’re here now, you didn’t have to be, but you are— that’s more than my useless bodyguards or Wayne security have done and they’re paid for it. You put up with me and nothing has happened to me. I’m sorry for being so vulnerable, that’s my fault. Don’t you dare berate yourself, you haven’t done one wrong thing!”
He said nothing, just stared at you with something like curiosity. Under the pale moonlight and with his face obstructed you could only speculate.
You stuck out your injured arm to him again, urging him to take it, “Hurry and finish, I’m still sleepy.”
Wordlessly he finished binding your arm. As soon as he was done you fell on his shoulder, closing your eyes.
“Tim—“
“I’m not Tim,” he reiterated. There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place; annoyance?
“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling sleep creep up on you again, “you smell the same... I think I like him.” Surely it’s fine to confess this much, or that’s what you told yourself as you started to drift off, words slurring and thoughts blurring, “you should meet him, he’s a big fan.”
i have a final in 5 hours please with me luck (it’s 2am)
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nasa · 1 year ago
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A Geminid meteor streaks across the sky as the Soyuz TMA-19M spacecraft is rolled out by train to the launch pad at the Baikonur Cosmodrome on Sunday, Dec. 13, 2015, in Kazakhstan. Credit: NASA/Joel Kowsky
Make a Wish! How to See the Geminid Meteor Shower
Every December, we have a chance to see one of our favorite meteor showers – the Geminids. To help you prepare, we’ve answered some of your most commonly asked questions. Happy viewing, stargazers!
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These radar images of near-Earth object 3200 Phaethon were generated by astronomers at the National Science Foundation's Arecibo Observatory on Dec. 17, 2017. Observations of Phaethon were conducted at Arecibo from Dec. 15 through 19, 2017. At time of closest approach on Dec. 16 at 3 p.m. PST (6 p.m. EST, 2300 UTC), the asteroid was about 6.4 million miles (10.3 million kilometers) away, or about 27 times the distance from Earth to the Moon. Credit: Arecibo Observatory/NASA/NSF
What are the Geminids?
The Geminids are caused by debris from a celestial object known as 3200 Phaethon striking Earth’s atmosphere. Phaethon’s origin is the subject of some debate. Some astronomers consider it to be an extinct comet, based on observations showing some small amount of material leaving its surface. Others argue that it has to be an asteroid because of its orbit and its similarity to the main-belt asteroid Pallas.
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All meteors appear to come from the same place in the sky, which is called the radiant. The Geminids appear to radiate from a point in the constellation Gemini, hence the name “Geminids.” The graphic shows the radiants of 388 meteors with speeds of 35 km/s observed by the NASA Fireball Network in December 2020. All the radiants are in Gemini, which means they belong to the Geminid shower. Credit: NASA
Why are they called the Geminids?
All meteors associated with a shower have similar orbits, and they all appear to come from the same place in the sky, which is called the radiant. The Geminids appear to radiate from a point in the constellation Gemini, hence the name “Geminids.”
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A Geminid streaks across the sky in this photo from December 2019. Credit: NASA
When is the best time to view them?
The Geminid meteor shower is active for much of December, but the peak will occur during the night of Dec. 13 into the morning of Dec. 14, 2023. Meteor rates in rural areas can be upwards of one per minute this year with minimal moonlight to interfere.
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What do I need to see them?
As with all meteor showers, all you need is a clear sky, darkness, a bit of patience, and perhaps warm outerwear and blankets for this one. You don’t need to look in any particular direction, as meteors can generally be seen all over the sky. If you want to take photographs, check out these helpful tips.
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An infographic based on 2019’s meteor camera data for the Geminids. Credit: NASA
Do you have any advice to help me see the Geminids better?
Find the darkest place you can and give your eyes about 30 minutes to adapt to the dark. Avoid looking at your cell phone, as it will disrupt your night vision. Lie flat on your back and look straight up, taking in as much sky as possible.
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A Geminid streaks across the sky in this photo from December 2011. Credit: NASA
What will the meteors look like?
According to Bill Cooke, lead for the Meteoroid Environment Office at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, “Most meteors appear to be colorless or white, however the Geminids appear with a greenish hue. They’re pretty meteors!” Depending on the meteor’s chemical composition, the meteor will emit different colors when burned in the Earth’s atmosphere. Oxygen, magnesium, and nickel usually produce green.
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