Tumgik
#i get that it's an industry-wide thing
death2normalcy · 2 years
Text
You know something I just really hate?
(I talk about photos and editing and whitewashing, etc. when it comes to Stray Kids and their selfies. This started off with me being frustrated at a Minsung photo from a magazine and it devolved in to a rant, as it usually does.)
Tumblr media
This would have been a really cute photo of these two.
But it’s so heavily edited and whitewashed, that Han barely even looks like himself.
I just hate how edited everything is all the time, even their selfies. I notice it a lot with Han’s selfies in particular, like
Tumblr media
but they all do it, to some extent. Editing, filters, etc. It’s so much.
And it’s 100% not necessary, because every single one of them is absolutely stunning.
And honestly, there are ways to be edited, but to still look mostly like themselves, like
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
And just to clarify, I’m not saying Han is the only one who heavily edits his selfies (or if someone does it for him, I don’t know for sure, but considering there is always a differing level of editing, I’d imagine they have a hand in uploading them). In fact, I’m not a fan of some of Minho’s either. But as I said, they all do it, to varying degrees.
Sometimes, they post nice selfies, like the ones above, or
Tumblr media Tumblr media
and other times, it’s like this
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And as I’ve mentioned before, I’m simply not the person to talk about beauty standards in Korea, that’s not my place and I also don’t have a ton of knowledge on the subject.
But I still get frustrated at this. I don’t necessarily blame the boys for their selfies being this edited, I get it, but it doesn’t make me hate it any less.
1 note · View note
peachdoxie · 7 months
Text
Your resume should include any relevant work experience and skills you have and it's good to include your volunteer work and internships (ideally four of them) as well as your multiple graduate degrees and the certifications you've earned during the process, and also your resume can only be one page in a font that's easy to read. This field is hard to break into because we have a lot of applicants for not a lot of openings and we'll keep them open for years until we find the perfect candidate. A great way to distinguish yourself is by taking any adjacent job you can find even if it means you have to work two or three part time jobs to make ends meet until a new opening is made. It's also good to tailor your resume to the companies and jobs you're applying for so that they know you researched the role and didn't send out mass applications, and oh, I highly, highly recommend that you keep your resume updated and a digital copy on hand so that you can email it to people at a moment's notice because it's good to keep an eye out for opportunities as they come up. Everyone around you has a master's degree and it's basically the new bachelor's and a PhD is the new master's and we really like seeing several years of work experience because there's a lot of stuff you can't learn in a classroom setting. It's a great field and I love working in it and you should pursue it if you're passionate about it!
332 notes · View notes
awkward-teabag · 5 months
Text
Love (cannot emphasis how much sarcasm there is in that word) that an official Canadian government response to high cellphone rates is to switch carriers.
Switch it to what? We basically have three companies since one was allowed to eat the forth (with the government saying it wasn't anti-competition and the company eating the other pinky promising they wouldn't jack rates up). Even the smaller companies have to rent infrastructure from the Big Three so there's only so much they can do if that rent costs an arm and a leg.
And that's not touching on how many "small companies" are actually just subsidiaries of the Big Three. You may save $5 but you're still with Telus/Rogers/Bell.
Or that the actual small companies tend to have shit coverage because they don't have the infrastructure available to them and are prevented from getting it. Or their traffic is throttled in favour of the Big Three's customers. Or both.
Or that they're extremely regional thus aren't an option for a huge chunk of Canada's population.
We have no true options and the government has shown time and again that they're fine with monopolies, in multiple industries, and don't care when said monopolies jack up prices to make shareholders and the c-suite more money at the expense of everyone else. At most there will be a verbal slap on the wrist and a giftcard for $25 that people have to register for, for a decade and a half of price gouging.
It's not talked a whole lot about outside the country from what I've seen and heard but Canada is a country of monopolies. A handful of companies own nearly everything, every province has a family or two that owns a hell of a lot (Nova Scotia is basically owned by one family at this point), and our government ignores it. Even the branch that is supposed to be against monopolies is fine with mergers and takeovers in most cases.
Because, you know, the company said it totally wouldn't use consumers' lack of options to increase prices.
#canada#so much of our infrastructure and critical construction such as housing#has been pawned off for decades to private companies#and i forgot to mention one (1) family owns the bridge that is a major international corridor between canada and the us#which is apparently fine even though they fought tooth and nail to stop a bridge they don't own from being built#like our housing crisis can be traced back to the government deciding to stop building public housing in the 90s#because they figured private developers would pick up the slack#affordable apartments don't bring in much money so we got decades of cheap-ass 'luxury condos' instead#and once airbnb became a thing we got entire buildings with units <300sqft#and of course when the party in charge rotates between conservatives and neolibs nothing changes and that can gets kicked down the road#and keeps getting kicked until something collapses and they see the chance to fully privatize an industry#something similar is happening to our healthcare system too#it has been left to languish for years/decades with funding freezes and cuts#and private companies are quick to jump in and get the government stamp of approval to do [thing] that the public system clearly can't do#when [thing] would absolutely be possible if it was actually funded and/or staffed#so many communities were cut off when greyhound closed up shop because there's no government inter-city transportation#we lost internet/banking/cell service/etc nation-wide because one of the big three decided to push an update to live without redundancies#and it bugged and took the entire company's network down#even the government agency that demands major companies have a backup on a different network was taken down because they ignored that#and they got a deal if they kept their backup with rogers while their main network was also rogers#so they couldn't even make an emergency statement or anything about it#half my province also lost all digital infrastructure because it's a private company and making a redundancy line would mean smaller bonuse#it's just so bad#joke all you want about how canada is nice and friendly#but you are wrong and it's hell if you actually live here#the only reason canada is seen as nice is because it's hard to not seem like the better option when the us is your neighbour#and because of decades of pr work to make canada seem friendly and nice and not at all problematic#in some countries you actually have to try to hide you're canadian because of how much we colonize and the damage we do to other countries#yes these tags have derailed from the post but ugh#i take major issue with people who insist canada is nice and has never done anything wrong
62 notes · View notes
dkettchen · 3 days
Text
me, procrastinating on one project with another one: it's fine they're both for content I do this for the people and the people will receive SOMETHING sooner by me working on either one 😤
7 notes · View notes
oetter · 8 months
Text
the “can a hockey player be a twink” discourse is reminding me of the time somebody on stan twt called wonho a twink. WONHO? THIS wonho?????
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
par-slayyy · 1 year
Text
Burning hill but it's my relationship to my passions and burn out
#mitski#i love taking 'you' and 'him' in mitski songs as personified versions of concepts and experiences in her life#happy is personification of joy#burning hill (as i interpreted) is about her passion for music and also disassociation (im watching myself burn but i cant stop or step in)#remember my name is lonliness despite bearing your soul and the discrepancy btwn being a celebrity and a human#pearl diver is reaching within to find a 'pearl.' for something more. but in doing so youre straining and hurting yourself for it#shouldve been me (to me) is masking and realizing you gave people a version of you but they want to see the real you#afraid to be truly vulnerable without an ironic front is a challenge and the regret that comes from it#i think it's interesting she mainly ever addreses 'you' 'him' and 'me' and to have that third person be a man in a relationship with her#fireworks is literally depression when youre at the lowest point but youre still feeling everything. so youre hoping things will either get#magically better or they become worse and you finally dont have to feel anymore#but also once youre there; theres a desire to *feel* something. youre in so much pain you cant cry anymore but it's getting too much#cry cry cry almost as a plea; begging yourself#francis forever is about her music and desire to be seen/validated by fans/industry but needs to prove herself by constantly creating#a lot of her music is about her music and self destructive tendencies she has with it#giving her all. feeling isolated and lonely. not being enough. fighting with herself. list and horniness. loving herself. feeling at the top#the loss of control over your life and feeling aimless despite needing to continue#the idea of being used to fulfill your sense of purpose. to have a reason to do something#it's a wide range of emotions of grief and relief. a sour orange you cant stop sucking on#laurel hell really summarizes the whole journey tbh#im still wondering who/what her 'husband' is
3 notes · View notes
aidenwaites · 1 year
Text
The thing about the Horse Place job (job I've complained about the most, and also the job I've kept the longest) is that it's ALSO the only job where I have actually pretty much enjoyed most days of it- especially the live productions, despite those potentially equalling out to like 16 hour days. Which tells me that I DO really love doing this work, but also the thing I love (and can tolerate the most as a career) also happens to be the most hellish and demanding industry on the planet
2 notes · View notes
chrismcshell · 2 years
Text
theres a provincial election happening in ontario right now & there’s this new “New Blue” party & the house right across from mine - visible from my bedroom window - has a couple of New Blue lawn signs.
i finally looked up what exactly the New Blue party is, & apparently they’re a Socially Conservative party that was created because the existing Conservative party was too left-of-centre for them (fact check: the ontario “Progressive Conservative” party is very much centre-right, NOT centre-left). Doug Ford isnt right-wing enough for them. they want ontario to be MORE right-wing. they want to stop covid lockdowns & vaccine mandates. they want to stop “woke culture”; they want to stop “critical race theory” & “gender identity theory” being taught in schools.
and my neighbours support them. very cool i definitely feel safe here haha :-)
5 notes · View notes
astrellium · 2 months
Text
Hexweave Cloth in WoW is probably meant to refer to hexes like spells, but I can't help but imagine it all as being triaxially woven so that the pattern of the weave forms hexagons rather than squares, and I'm in danger of giving myself more projects to try and figure out how to do it at that scale
0 notes
ceejaytwoyoshi · 11 months
Text
“urghrguhrg gaming isn’t fun anymore” stfu
"oh boy i do remember when gaming was driven by passion, not monetary gain, and devs that wanted to make good games" I say as I wax nostalgic over a yearly release sports game for the playstation 1 
0 notes
phantomrose96 · 3 months
Text
The conversation around AI is going to get away from us quickly because people lack the language to distinguish types of AI--and it's not their fault. Companies love to slap "AI" on anything they believe can pass for something "intelligent" a computer program is doing. And this muddies the waters when people want to talk about AI when the exact same word covers a wide umbrella and they themselves don't know how to qualify the distinctions within.
I'm a software engineer and not a data scientist, so I'm not exactly at the level of domain expert. But I work with data scientists, and I have at least rudimentary college-level knowledge of machine learning and linear algebra from my CS degree. So I want to give some quick guidance.
What is AI? And what is not AI?
So what's the difference between just a computer program, and an "AI" program? Computers can do a lot of smart things, and companies love the idea of calling anything that seems smart enough "AI", but industry-wise the question of "how smart" a program is has nothing to do with whether it is AI.
A regular, non-AI computer program is procedural, and rigidly defined. I could "program" traffic light behavior that essentially goes { if(light === green) { go(); } else { stop();} }. I've told it in simple and rigid terms what condition to check, and how to behave based on that check. (A better program would have a lot more to check for, like signs and road conditions and pedestrians in the street, and those things will still need to be spelled out.)
An AI traffic light behavior is generated by machine-learning, which simplistically is a huge cranking machine of linear algebra which you feed training data into and it "learns" from. By "learning" I mean it's developing a complex and opaque model of parameters to fit the training data (but not over-fit). In this case the training data probably includes thousands of videos of car behavior at traffic intersections. Through parameter tweaking and model adjustment, data scientists will turn this crank over and over adjusting it to create something which, in very opaque terms, has developed a model that will guess the right behavioral output for any future scenario.
A well-trained model would be fed a green light and know to go, and a red light and know to stop, and 'green but there's a kid in the road' and know to stop. A very very well-trained model can probably do this better than my program above, because it has the capacity to be more adaptive than my rigidly-defined thing if the rigidly-defined program is missing some considerations. But if the AI model makes a wrong choice, it is significantly harder to trace down why exactly it did that.
Because again, the reason it's making this decision may be very opaque. It's like engineering a very specific plinko machine which gets tweaked to be very good at taking a road input and giving the right output. But like if that plinko machine contained millions of pegs and none of them necessarily correlated to anything to do with the road. There's possibly no "if green, go, else stop" to look for. (Maybe there is, for traffic light specifically as that is intentionally very simplistic. But a model trained to recognize written numbers for example likely contains no parameters at all that you could map to ideas a human has like "look for a rigid line in the number". The parameters may be all, to humans, meaningless.)
So, that's basics. Here are some categories of things which get called AI:
"AI" which is just genuinely not AI
There's plenty of software that follows a normal, procedural program defined rigidly, with no linear algebra model training, that companies would love to brand as "AI" because it sounds cool.
Something like motion detection/tracking might be sold as artificially intelligent. But under the covers that can be done as simply as "if some range of pixels changes color by a certain amount, flag as motion"
2. AI which IS genuinely AI, but is not the kind of AI everyone is talking about right now
"AI", by which I mean machine learning using linear algebra, is very good at being fed a lot of training data, and then coming up with an ability to go and categorize real information.
The AI technology that looks at cells and determines whether they're cancer or not, that is using this technology. OCR (Optical Character Recognition) is the technology that can take an image of hand-written text and transcribe it. Again, it's using linear algebra, so yes it's AI.
Many other such examples exist, and have been around for quite a good number of years. They share the genre of technology, which is machine learning models, but these are not the Large Language Model Generative AI that is all over the media. Criticizing these would be like criticizing airplanes when you're actually mad at military drones. It's the same "makes fly in the air" technology but their impact is very different.
3. The AI we ARE talking about. "Chat-gpt" type of Generative AI which uses LLMs ("Large Language Models")
If there was one word I wish people would know in all this, it's LLM (Large Language Model). This describes the KIND of machine learning model that Chat-GPT/midjourney/stablediffusion are fueled by. They're so extremely powerfully trained on human language that they can take an input of conversational language and create a predictive output that is human coherent. (I am less certain what additional technology fuels art-creation, specifically, but considering the AI art generation has risen hand-in-hand with the advent of powerful LLM, I'm at least confident in saying it is still corely LLM).
This technology isn't exactly brand new (predictive text has been using it, but more like the mostly innocent and much less successful older sibling of some celebrity, who no one really thinks about.) But the scale and power of LLM-based AI technology is what is new with Chat-GPT.
This is the generative AI, and even better, the large language model generative AI.
(Data scientists, feel free to add on or correct anything.)
3K notes · View notes
imfromsixam · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Addons for The Sims 4 For Rent
Here's another list of add-ons Windenbro has put out, and I couldn't say no. Honestly, I like doing this kind of thing to get out of my routine, and I learn new things about CC that way.
Hope you like this!
List of items, almost everything requieres For Rent EP:
Window with closed shutter tall (3 sizes)
Wall-Mounted mailbox "Industrial Cluster Mailbox"
Wall-Mounted mailbox "Rural Cluster Mailbox"
Wall-Mounted mailbox "Lonely Cluster Mailbox"
Smaller Wall-Mounted AC
StrangerVille Old Industrial AC Debug
StrangerVille Decorative AC (Requieres StrangerVille GP)
White Lily Vanity Table (now with mirror functionality)
Tranquil Bathroom Cabinet (now with mirror functionality)
From window to arch "Stained Glass Tomarani Shutters - Open Wide" (2 sizes)
Separated clutter - Plant (BGC)
Separated clutter - Plates (BGC)
FREE DOWNLOAD HERE
2K notes · View notes
punisheddonjuan · 19 days
Text
In honour of his passing, posting Steve Albini's legendary polemic against the music industry.
Whenever I talk to a band who are about to sign with a major label, I always end up thinking of them in a particular context. I imagine a trench, about four feet wide and five feet deep, maybe sixty yards long, filled with runny, decaying shit. I imagine these people, some of them good friends, some of them barely acquaintances, at one end of this trench. I also imagine a faceless industry lackey at the other end, holding a fountain pen and a contract waiting to be signed. Nobody can see what’s printed on the contract. It’s too far away, and besides, the shit stench is making everybody’s eyes water. The lackey shouts to everybody that the first one to swim the trench gets to sign the contract. Everybody dives in the trench and they struggle furiously to get to the other end. Two people arrive simultaneously and begin wrestling furiously, clawing each other and dunking each other under the shit. Eventually, one of them capitulates, and there’s only one contestant left. He reaches for the pen, but the Lackey says, “Actually, I think you need a little more development. Swim it again, please. Backstroke.” And he does, of course.
[...]
THE BALANCE SHEET This is how much each player got paid at the end of the game. Record company: $710,000 Producer: $90,000 Manager: $51,000 Studio: $52,500 Previous label: $50,000 Agent: $7,500 Lawyer: $12,000 Band member net income each: $4,031.25 The band is now 1/4 of the way through its contract, has made the music industry more than 3 million dollars richer, but is in the hole $14,000 on royalties. The band members have each earned about 1/3 as much as they would working at a 7-11, but they got to ride in a tour bus for a month. The next album will be about the same, except that the record company will insist they spend more time and money on it. Since the previous one never “recouped,” the band will have no leverage, and will oblige. The next tour will be about the same, except the merchandising advance will have already been paid, and the band, strangely enough, won’t have earned any royalties from their t-shirts yet. Maybe the t-shirt guys have figured out how to count money like record company guys. Some of your friends are probably already this fucked.
The worst thing is, as bad as it was back in 1993, it's a thousand times worse for musicians in 2024. 1993 was before "Pay-to-Play" venues were as ubiquitous, and before some venues started taking a cut of the merchandise sales. 1993 was before CD sales collapsed, before file sharing, before Spotify ruined things further with its dismal royalty payments, its algorithmically driven discovery mechanism which is biased against the experimental, the daring, and the difficult (and women for that matter), and its proliferation of fake artists. It is not a good time to be a musician.
1K notes · View notes
thatbadadvice · 3 months
Text
Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!
Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:
I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me. I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to. (I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.) The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss. She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview. A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger. I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else. I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea. What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?
Sir,
You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.
Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.
But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it. I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.
2K notes · View notes
scuderiahoney · 5 months
Text
Sweet Like Grenadine
Daniel Ricciardo x Reader
Tumblr media
Masterlist
Summary: You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.
Word Count: 5.6k
a/n: thought of this concept and couldn’t get Danny out of my head. He’s soooo guy you flirt with at a wedding and will probably never see again coded
Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content (heavy makeout? idrk how to tag this stuff), one (1) shitty boyfriend
The table in front of you is draped with a heavy white tablecloth. At the center is a large bouquet of flowers, the number 19 stuck haphazardly in the middle of it. Not last, but certainly low on the list. You can’t blame them- you barely know the bride and groom.
You’re only here because your boyfriend is a groomsman. A plus one. You love weddings, so of course you’d agreed, but you hadn’t really considered how lonely an event like this could be. The only person you really know has been busy all day. You can’t complain, won’t complain, you know that’s why he’s here, but…
You’re sitting at a table full of strangers. It’s not exactly fun. There’s still hours left of this. Dinner hasn’t even been served, there’s still speeches and cake and dancing and honestly, you’re already exhausted. You need a drink, but the bar isn’t open yet. You need to take off your heels, but you’re pretty sure that would be frowned upon. You need to talk to your boyfriend.
He’s busy, though. He told you as much when you found him between the ceremony and the reception. There’s a pang in your chest still at the way he brushed you off, the way he told you he didn’t have time to chat. You get it, you really do. You’re not going to get upset about it.
The seat to your left has been empty since you sat down, but someone collapses into it, letting out a heavy sigh. You turn to look, hoping for some sort of familiar face or at least a friendly one, and you’re met with-
“Hi. ‘M Daniel,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake yours.
The thing is, Daniel is a familiar face, but not for any of the reasons you’d hoped for. You know Daniel because your boyfriend is obsessed with Formula 1. You try to keep up so you can take part in his conversations, but it’s never really been your thing. But you know enough to know Daniel Ricciardo.
“Yeah, I… I know,” you say, before you slap your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I’m sorry. That’s weird. S’just- my boyfriend’s a huge fan-“
You swear his face drops slightly, but he plasters that grin right back on before he says, “and you’re not a fan?”
“I’m not not a fan,” you say. “He’s just the bigger fan. Of the two of us.”
Daniel nods. You finally shake his hand. He never stops looking at you, never stops smiling. You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you, his accented version making you smile.
“Well, is he here? I’d love to meet the bigger of the two fans,” he says. “We talking, like, box fan, industrial blower, air boat fan? How big?”
You laugh, his hand squeezing yours as you lean over the table. He’s laughing, too, then, before he lets go of your hand. You want to crawl out of your skin, want to run and hide in the bathroom, because you’re definitely making a fool of yourself, but-
“Oh, he’s busy,” you say, waving your hand in the air dismissively. “He’s one of the groomsmen, got a lot on his plate. I don’t wanna bug him. He’s the one with the sunglasses on,” you say, pointing at him at the head table.
Daniel looks where you point and quirks his brow. “Guy like that has a girl like you and you’re the one worried about bugging him?”
You stare at him with wide eyes. He collapses into a fit of laughter again, and you follow suit. You don’t know what else to do. Then he nudges your knee with his, under the table, and juts his chin towards the bar.
“D’you want a drink?” He asks.
“The bar isn’t open yet,” you say.
“So?”
“So, how are you going to get a drink?”
He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you just watch and learn. What’re you having?”
You shrug. “A soda, I guess. I’m the designated driver for at least three of the groomsmen.”
Daniel sighs heavily. “You poor thing. You keep making me feel worse and worse for you. Alright, I’ll get you something.”
He strides his way up to the bar, which has a very obvious “Closed” sign on the countertop. There’s a single bartender behind it, and he’s cleaning glasses. You watch with entertainment as Daniel leans on the counter, exuding confidence and charm. The bartender shakes his head. Daniel counters. The man behind the bar shrugs and nods. Then he steps through a door for just a moment. When he returns, he has two drinks in his hands- one that’s obviously a beer, and one that’s bright pink. Daniel smiles, thanks the man, and walks the cups back to you.
He sets it down in front of you with a flourish before he takes a seat.
“I told you, I’m DD,” you remind him.
He nods, taking a sip of his beer before he says, “Shirley Temple.”
“Oh my god,” you say, a grin washing over your face. You pick up the cup and take a sip, sighing at the sweet taste of ginger ale and grenadine. “How did you know?”
“Everyone loves a good Shirley,” he says, elbowing you lightly. “And you can’t drink just plain soda at a wedding.”
They announce dinner shortly after that, and the waiters start bringing plates out. You’re starving, having been up early to help with last minute wedding things at your boyfriend’s request. You hadn’t had time to eat lunch. You chat with Daniel through the meal. The two of you talk about the food, about the wedding, about the decor. There are other people at the table, but they’re all incredibly boring in comparison. Daniel, on the other hand, could hold your attention forever, probably.
You sneak glances at your boyfriend, surrounded by his friends at the head table. He’d promised to sneak away as soon as he got a chance. He hasn’t even looked your way. You're trying to ignore the hurt deep in your chest. Daniel is sneaking glances at you sneaking glances at the bridal party. You’re trying to ignore that, too.
“How long have you two been dating?” Daniel asks.
“About 6 months,” you say with a smile.
It feels forced. Frankly, the last thing you want to talk about right now is your boyfriend. They’re clearing the last plates. He’s at his table, three beers in by your count, not a care in the world. He promised. Daniel opens his mouth, likely to ask another question about your boyfriend, but you speak first.
“So wait, are you here for the bride or the groom?” You ask.
“The bride,” Daniel says , a soft smile on his face. “An old family friend. I’m representing the Ricciardos.”
You smile. “That’s sweet.”
Before he can say anything in response, someone is tapping on a microphone. It’s time for the speeches. You know your boyfriend isn’t making one, which is good. He’s not exactly the best public speaker, especially when he’s been drinking. You and Daniel settle in to listen.
He sneaks away between the maid of honor and the best man, patting the back of your hand and whispering about being right back. He returns a few moments later, another beer and a Shirley Temple in his hands. You smile gratefully at him, and he waves you off. Then the next speech is starting, and you’re rolling your eyes at the way the best man talks about marriage like it’s some awful idea.
“He knows this is a wedding, yeah?” Daniel asks out of the side of his mouth, leaning towards you.
You shrug. “That one started drinking at 9am. I’m not sure he even knows what year it is right now.”
Daniel starts laughing, then. Luckily, the rest of the crowd does too- apparently, the best man has just made an extremely funny joke. Daniel is only looking at you, though, and you can’t help but laugh just because of the look on his face.
When the first dances are over and the music starts, you sink low into your seat. Your boyfriend has still not made an appearance. He definitely knows where you’re sitting, he had told you so earlier. You’re sure he’s busy, but you’d looked away for too long, talking to Daniel, and now he’s disappeared from the head table. You scan the crowd, hoping to see his face. All the while, you can feel Daniel watching you.
“We could go dance,” he suggests.
You sink lower in your seat. “I don’t really like dancing.”
That’s a lie. You love dancing, especially at weddings. You love the cheesy songs they always play, you love the atmosphere, you love watching the bride and groom have fun and getting to be a part of it. But you know how it would look if you went out on the dance floor with Daniel, and your boyfriend definitely won’t be joining you. As frustrated as you may be with your him, you don’t want to cause drama at someone else’s best day of their lives.
“I think I might try and find him,” you say, picking up your drink.
Daniel nods. “Want me to come with you?”
You look around at the rest of the table and find it empty. You shake your head and lean towards him, close enough that you almost knock your foreheads. Nobody’s watching the two of you or trying to listen anyways, but it’s more fun this way.
“He promised he’d find me before dinner,” you whisper conspiratorially. “That obviously didn’t happen. So I’m not bringing you to him as a reward for bad behavior.”
Daniel sits back in his chair and smiles at you, one brow raised. “Atta girl!”
You stand up from your chair and hope he can’t tell that your face has grown hot from that comment alone.
Even if you can’t find your boyfriend, it’s probably best that you get some space from Daniel. Through the last hour or so of your conversation, you’ve been catching yourself leaning towards him and then reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend. It’s just that he’s being so nice, and that you’re feeling so down about the whole thing. He’s comforting, which is fine. But it can’t be more than that.
You find your boyfriend at one of the bars, leaning on the counter and talking loudly with one of the other groomsmen. He’s drunk already- he should really slow down if he wants to last the night. You walk over to him, forcing a soft smile onto your face. You can’t confront him now, not in front of his friend and all the people waiting for drinks.
“Hey, babe,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly as you walk up.
He turns. You wait for him to smile at you, but it never comes. Your stomach sinks.
“Hey,” he says, nonchalantly. “D’you need something?”
Your palms feel clammy. “Oh, no, I’m good! Just… wanted to say hi. S’been a bit.”
He nods. “Yeah. I told you I’d be busy tonight.”
His friend just stands there and listens. Your skin feels hot, and your eyes begin to sting.
“I know,” you say. “I’m not trying to bug you, I just- I was just walking by. Just. Yeah. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.”
“I’ll come find you in a bit, baby,” he promises.
You don’t bother believing him this time.
Daniel doesn’t comment on your red eyes or the tear tracks on your cheeks when you return to the table. He just squeezes your arm and disappears for a moment, then comes back with yet another Shirley Temple. You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so you just take a sip of the drink instead.
“You don’t have to sit here with me,” you say to Daniel. “I’m definitely pulling down the mood.”
“Are you joking?” He says. “You’re the best thing at this party.”
You laugh, then, because the statement is so ridiculous that you can’t help it. He sounds so serious, and when you turn to look at him there’s no hint of teasing on his face. He just elbows your arm lightly again.
“Come on, we don’t have to dance but we’re not sitting here all night,” he says. “Let’s go wander.”
He stands from the table and tugs at your chair. You give in and stand up too, taking your drink from the table. You follow him as he weaves through the throngs of people. You like wandering. Wandering is a perfectly sensible thing to do with the guy you just met. At the wedding your boyfriend is a groomsman at. What else are you supposed to do, anyways?
He leads you past the dance floor, which you try not to look at forlornly. There are large glass doors at the back of the hall. He swings one open, holding it for you, waving you through with a flourish of his hand. Outside, it’s lit up with string lights. There’s a wide rolling lawn of grass, with fire pits and chairs spread out everywhere. There are lawn games, too- beanbags and horseshoes and a giant version of Jenga.
You can burn a lot of time out here. You barely even notice when Daniel slips his hand around your wrist to gently pull you with him. You should feel guilty about it. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside. But that same boyfriend has also been ignoring you all night. Daniel is just being friendly. You follow him to one of the fire pits with a smile on your face.
You and Daniel are nearly two hours into wandering when someone calls your name. You look up from where you’ve been staring at the beanbag board, trying to line up your throw just right. You’d been on the verge of winning for the first time. For an Australian, Daniel is surprisingly good at American lawn games. Frustratingly good, even.
It’s your boyfriend, calling you from the doorway of the reception hall. You sigh and drop the beanbag onto the ground near your feet. Two of the other groomsmen are hanging off of him, looking worse for the wear. One of them has something down the front of his shirt- you pray it’s not vomit.
“I think that’s my cue,” you say, nodding towards the building.
“You could always put them in a cab and hope they figure it out on their own.” Daniel says. You give him a skeptical look. “Kidding, kidding.”
“It’s tempting,” you admit.
Daniel bends over and picks up your heels from where they lay in the grass. You’d kicked them off as soon as you stepped into the soft grass outside. You slip the shoes back on and wince. Then you stick your hand out to him, palm open.
“Well, it was lovely to meet you,” you say, as he shakes your hand once more. “Thanks for not leaving me all alone.”
Daniel laughs. “I will be your ‘I-know-nobody-at-this-event-‘ partner anytime you want, sweetheart. Just give me a call. I’ll be there.”
You know what he’s trying to do. The opportunity is right there in front of you. He’s telling you to give him a call- this is where you ask for his number. But you have a boyfriend. You can justify hanging out with him, especially considering you had nothing else to do, but asking for his number feels a step too far.
You smile softly and drop his hand. “Goodnight, Daniel.”
You turn and make your way towards your boyfriend. He’s already complaining before you’re even within ten feet of him, about how he’s tired and he looked everywhere for you and how could you disappear like that? You apologize, just to quiet him down. You usher the three men inside before you turn to look at Daniel one more time.
He’s standing there, watching you, a sad smile on his face.
“Who was that guy?” Your boyfriend asks later, from the passenger seat of the car.
You look at him, at his eyes. The light is gone- he’s blacked out, there’s no way he’ll remember this tomorrow.
“Daniel Ricciardo,” you say.
It’s a testament to how drunk he is that he doesn’t even react.
You get all three guys into bed, including your boyfriend. You lay down next to him, as much as you don’t want to. There’s not really anywhere else to sleep in the little hotel room, and you’re not sleeping on the floor. When you close your eyes, you can’t fall asleep, plagued by thoughts of if you’d made the right choice, unable to erase Daniel’s sad smile from your memory.
…..
You love weddings. You remind yourself of that over and over again as you pin a dress in place for the hundredth time that day. Your best friend Natalie is a bridesmaid, it’s her sister who’s getting married, and you’re here to help in any way you can. So far, that’s included safety pinning, making a run for alcohol, checking on the floral delivery, checking to make sure the groomsmen are where they’re supposed to be, and comforting a bridesmaid who was crying in the bathroom. Her boyfriend had broken up with her the night before.
“Men are shit,” you’d told her in commiseration.
By the time the ceremony rolls around, you’re relieved to have a chance to sit down. You check on the bridesmaids one last time and head into the church. The pews are packed with people, so you find a spot near the back and sit down. You sigh in relief.
The music starts playing, and you finally take a chance to look around. The pews are decorated with flowers, there’s bright light streaming through the large windows. The groom waits up front, eyes already watering. You love weddings. You say it like a mantra in your head.
As the procession starts, you scan the crowd. You know more people at this wedding, having been friends with the family for a while. You’ll at least have some company at your table. You spot a couple friends from high school, a cousin you’ve met a few times, some mutual friends who you’ll definitely have to catch up with later. And then, in the third row on the groom’s side, you see dark curly hair that looks terrifyingly familiar.
It can’t be him. That would be absolutely insane. There’s absolutely no way Daniel Ricciardo is attending a second wedding in the US, for a couple who are no more famous than the previous wedding you’d seen him at. It would make absolutely no sense. And yet, you can’t stop staring at the back of this man’s head, the slope of his shoulders beneath his dark suit. You remember that wedding, months ago, resting your hand on his shoulder for balance as you took off your heels. He’d joked about having to cut you off, holding your Shirley Temple in his hand.
When the bridal procession begins playing, everyone stands. You keep your eyes on him. He turns, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s Daniel. It’s impossible, it’s irrational, but it is him. You’d recognize him anywhere.
You force yourself to look away, to turn towards the bride. She looks beautiful, perfect, the picture of elegance. The flowers in her hands, the ones you’d checked on that morning, are perfect too. You breathe a sigh of relief. She really should’ve hired a wedding coordinator. Maybe you should be a wedding coordinator.
When you go to sit back down, you sneak a glance at Daniel. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, eyes wide. You meet his gaze and your cheeks feel hot. That wide, bright grin breaks out across his face. You grin right back.
When the ceremony is over, and they’re officially Mr and Mrs, the whole wedding disperses out onto the lawn of the church. There are shuttles to take you to the reception, but everyone seems content to mingle outside in the fresh air. You’re one of the first ones out, but you’re quickly swept up in the crowd. You search for Daniel in every face that passes. You find Natalie first, though.
“Nat,” you say frantically. “Does your sister know Daniel Ricciardo?”
Her brow furrowed for a second. “What?”
“Danny Ricciardo,” you repeat, keeping your voice low. “The F1 driver. He’s here.”
“Oh,” Natalie says, brows raising. “Yeah, he’s like, friends with her fiancé- oh, her husband! Shit, I forgot that you watch that stuff- or, you… did? I can probably try and introduce you-“
“No, we- we’ve met.” You admit. She’s the first person you’re telling about this. “At that wedding like 6 months ago.”
She tilts her head at you. Her eyes go wide. She says your name in a bewildered tone.
“Are you telling me that the mystery wedding man, who you definitely should’ve dumped your boyfriend for, was fucking Danny Ricciardo?”
“Keep it down!” You shush her.
“Oh my god,” she says, a conspiratorial smirk crossing over her face. “And he’s here.”
Someone calls your name. You know that voice- it’s haunted you since you left that wedding. You turn over your shoulder as Natalie grabs your wrist and lets out a squeak.
“Danny,” you breathe, like a sigh of relief. “Hi.”
He strides up to you, handsome as ever, grinning so widely it looks like it hurts. “This is fucking insane.”
An elderly aunt glares at him. He makes an apologetic face before turning back to you and shrugging. He steps into your space, so close you can smell his cologne. He’s staring down at you through his lashes. The look in his eyes is so soft and warm that you think you’re melting.
“The bride is my best friend’s sister,” you explain, gesturing at Natalie. “This is Natalie.”
“I’m friends with the groom,” he says, reaches his hand out and shakes Natalie’s hand. “I’m Danny, nice to meet you.”
She nods, and suddenly you’re very afraid. Natalie doesn’t have much of a filter, especially in high pressure situations. Especially when she’s been forced to be prim and proper all morning.
“You must really like American weddings,” she says, and you wince. “I hear this is your second one in 6 months.”
Daniel smirks, raises his eyebrows at you. “Huh. Wonder what else you’ve heard about me.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but you shove her shoulder. “Nat, aren’t you supposed to be taking family pictures?”
She’s so busy staring at Daniel she almost doesn’t hear you. Then her eyes go wide. She swears loudly, earning a glare from the same aunt. Then she drops your wrist and takes off through the crowd.
You turn towards Daniel. “Sorry about her.”
He shakes his head. “No need. She seems sweet.”
You smile. “She is.”
“Makes sense, since she’s friends with you,” he says. “The sweetest of them all.”
You laugh, shove at his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”
Behind him, people are starting to get on the shuttles. He’s leaning towards you, eyes still lit up.
“I honestly can’t believe this,” he says.
“Neither can I,” you admit. “It’s.. it’s really good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you,” he echoes. “Feels like a sign, doesn’t it?”
You open your mouth to agree, to tell him what you’ve been thinking the past 6 months, but Natalie is calling your name. You and Daniel both turn to look at her, and the look on her face tells you she’s so sorry. You sigh and shrug.
“I have to go,” you tell him. “That bridal party is a mess.”
“Worse than the last one?” He asks.
“No,” you say. “And I don’t have to drive any of them home, so that’s a bonus. But I think I’ll be billing them for wedding coordinator expenses after this. Or at the very least, drinking enough at the open bar to make up for it.”
Daniel laughs. “Atta girl. Should I save you a seat on the shuttle?”
You let out a puff of air. “I’m riding over with the bridal party.”
His face falls in disappointment. “Okay. Find me when you get there, yeah? I’ll have a Shirley Temple waiting for you.”
You nod. “Make it a Dirty Shirley, would you?”
He nods eagerly and squeezes your arm.
You don’t actually make it into the reception until nearly an hour later. There’s an emergency with a groomsman’s tux, and the girl who was broken up with the night before is crying again. Nothing that can’t be fixed with safety pins and tequila, but it still takes time. You check your name on the seating chart, sigh at the sight of the name next to yours, the seat that will stay empty. You find Daniel’s seat, too, a few tables over from yours. You head there first.
Daniel is sitting, a beer in hand and a very watery Shirley Temple on the table in front of him. He’s chatting with the man sitting next to him, who looks a bit starstruck. He perks up when he sees you, reaching for your drink. You take it happily and have a sip, tasting ginger ale, grenadine, and vodka, too.
“The ice is a bit melted,” he says with a sigh. “But good news! Ian here has offered to switch seats with you.”
Ian is looking between you and Daniel, eyes wide. You’re sure he did offer, likely after Daniel had told him the whole crazy story, or at least enough to convince him. You watched him charm bartenders at the last wedding- he has a way with words. Ian starts to stand up.
“That’s really not necessary.” You say, and Daniel’s face falls. “There’s an empty seat at my table.”
He lifts his brows, grinning again. His brown eyes stare deep into your own. He stands up without waiting another moment, handing you your drink and holding his own.
“Ian, nice meeting you,” he says. “I’ll still get you those paddock passes,” he promises, and you bite back a laugh. “See ya ‘round, mate.”
He follows you to your table. There’s a setting with your name on a little card, and the empty setting next to it with another name on it. You grab that card and crumple it in your hand, shoving it into your purse. He quirks a brow but sits down anyways as you greet the others at your table- cousins of the bride and friends who you’ve met a few times.
“So. How’ve things been?” You ask, and he launches into a story that has you listening with every bone in your body.
Somehow, the two of you make it all the way through dinner and speeches and the first dance before the subject of your boyfriend even comes up. You wonder if he’s been waiting to broach it. You’ve been waiting for the right moment.
He nods towards the dance floor. “You have to promise me you’ll dance to at least one song tonight.”
You blink and shrug. “Easy. I love dancing.”
He stares at you. There’s the beginnings of another wide grin on his face.
“That is not what you said last time.”
“I lied,” you admit. “Because my boyfriend hated dancing.”
Daniel nods. “Hated. Past tense?”
“He’s not dead,” you deadpan, making him laugh. “But he’s also not my boyfriend anymore.”
Daniel’s foot nudges against yours under the table. “No?”
“No,” you say with a shrug.
Daniel nods. “Pretty girl like you, you must’ve moved on pretty quick,” he says.
His tone is light, teasing. He’s testing the waters. You shake your head and pretend you don’t see the way his shoulders sag in relief.
“I’ve sworn off dating,” you tell him. Your tone is teasing, too. “After he left me on my own at a wedding, I decided men are shit.”
You’re taunting him now. The conversation has gone from feeling each other out, from digging for information, to circling each other like sharks in the water. Your heart is beating steady in your chest. His eyes are locked on yours.
“You poor thing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Let me prove you wrong?”
The tension crackles in the air. His knee nudges against yours and you swear you’re going to combust. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and reach for his suit jacket. You run your finger down the lapel, then back up, adjusting his collar.
“I swore off men,” you repeat, leaning forwards, keeping your voice low. “But this feels like a sign, doesn’t it? Like the universe sent me back to you.”
He nods. He reaches up, captures your wrist in his hand and holds it against his chest.
“So maybe you should go get me another drink,” you suggest. “And I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
You lean even closer, then, close enough to press your lips to his cheek. Then you stand up and walk away towards where people are beginning to gather, to where the music is loudest. You don’t turn back to see if he’s watching. You already know he is.
…..
You have a fleeting thought, later, that maybe you should’ve switched to a drink with less sugar in it at some point in the night. The grenadine feels like it’s stuck to your tongue. Danny doesn’t seem to mind the taste, though.
He’s got you up against the wall in a back hallway of the reception venue. You back is pressed to the cool surface, your arms around his neck, his hands on your hips. His lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you deeply, like he’ll never get enough. You’re feeling the same.
His knee slots between your legs, and you’re a goner. His hand slips from your hip and cups your ass, hauling you closer with ease, tilting your hips away from the wall and into his. You break away for air, gasping for it, and he moves his lips to your neck. It feels heavenly, trapped between him and the wall, his hands all over you, his lips trailing lower and lower. He reaches up and brushes the thin strap of your dress off one of your shoulders. You shove your hands under his suit jacket and press them against his toned abdomen through his shirt. He lets out a groan, the noise vibrating against your neck. You throw your head back and laugh between gasps.
You wonder if he’d have his way with you right there. You wonder if you’d let him.
There are footsteps, then, clicking their way down the hall. You scramble to push him away as someone rounds the corner, but you know it’s painfully obvious. You turn your head, already feeling mortified, and come face to face with Natalie.
“Oh, thank god,” both you and your best friend say at the same time.
Daniel pulls away and looks between the two of you. You can’t look at him for more than a few seconds. His lips are red and puffy, his eyes half lidded. You distantly wonder if there’s beard burn on your face, if your lips are just as red. Then you start to wonder how his scruff might feel on other parts of you.
“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Natalie says, laughing. “I heard noises, I thought…”
“I’m fine,” you tell her, and she nods in agreement.
“I’ll say,” she teases.
“Nat!” You hiss.
“You’d better take good care of her, Ricciardo,” he says, and your face grows hot all over again. “I don’t care how famous you are, I’ll fuck you up anyways.”
“Nat!” You hiss again.
“I will,” Danny promises, squeezing your hip and nodding. “I’m on a mission. Trying to prove not all men are shit.”
“Good luck,” Natalie says drily. But when she walks away, she’s smiling.
He turns back to you, and this time he places both his hands on the wall on either side of your head. You look up at him, licking your lips. You still taste the Shirley Temple, and you can taste him, too, now. He groans softly and closes his eyes. It’s nice to know you’re having an effect on him, too, nice to know you’re not the only one feeling worked up. You reach up and tug on the lapels of his jacket. You brush your lips against his jaw.
“We should have one more drink,” you tell him, humming happily. “And then you should take me to your hotel.”
He swallows. You press a kiss to the center of his throat.
“I’ve never heard a better plan in my whole life.” He says.
…..
At every wedding you go to afterwards, you order the same drink. Well, really, Danny orders them for you. You’ve thought a couple times about asking for wine or seltzer or even beer. You think it might break his heart, though. It’s a tradition now, and the pink sugary concoction will always taste like that very first night. Like bare feet in the grass, the thud of beanbags against wooden boards. Like Daniel’s laugh in the middle of the best man’s speech. Like you, alone at a table, and Daniel collapsing into the seat next to you, his hand extended to shake yours.
The same hand that’s wrapped up with yours now, resting on his knee. You never want to let go. You’re pretty sure he’d be okay with that.
Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams
2K notes · View notes
reasonsforhope · 10 months
Note
hey, how do you cope with people saying we only have a small amount of time left to stop the worst effects of climate change? no matter how hopeful and ok i am, that always sends me back into a spiral :(
A few different ways
1. The biggest one is that I do math. Because renewable energy is growing exponentially
Up until basically 2021 to now, all of the climate change models were based on the idea that our ability to handle climate change will grow linearly. But that's wrong: it's growing exponentially, most of all in the green energy sector. And we're finally starting to see proof of this - and that it's going to keep going.
And many types of climate change mitigation serve as multipliers for other types. Like building a big combo in a video game.
Change has been rapidly accelerating and I genuinely believe that it's going to happen much faster than anyone is currently predicting
2. A lot of the most exciting and groundbreaking things happening around climate change are happening in developing nations, so they're not on most people's radars.
But they will expand, as developing nations are widely undergoing a massive boom in infrastructure, development, and quality of life - and as they collaborate and communicate with each other in doing so
3. Every country, state, city, province, town, nonprofit, community, and movement is basically its own test case
We're going to figure out the best ways to handle things in a remarkably quick amount of time, because everyone is trying out solutions at once. Instead of doing 100 different studies on solutions in order, we get try out 100 (more like 10,000) different versions of different solutions simultaneously, and then figure out which ones worked best and why. The spread of solutions becomes infinitely faster, especially as more and more of the world gets access to the internet and other key infrastructure
4. There's a very real chance that many of the impacts of climate change will be reversible
Yeah, you read that right.
Will it take a while? Yes. But we're mostly talking a few decades to a few centuries, which is NOTHING in geological history terms.
We have more proof than ever of just how resilient nature is. Major rivers are being restored from dried up or dead to thriving ecosystems in under a decade. Life bounces back so fast when we let it.
I know there's a lot of skepticism about carbon capture and carbon removal. That's reasonable, some of those projects are definitely bs (mostly the ones run by gas companies, involving carbon credits, and/or trying to pump CO2 thousands of feet underground)
But there's very real potential for carbon removal through restoring ecosystems and regenerative agriculture
The research into carbon removal has also just exploded in the past three years, so there are almost certainly more and better technologies to come
There's also some promising developments in industrial carbon removal, especially this process of harvesting atmospheric CO2 and other air pollution to make baking soda and other industrially useful chemicals
As we take carbon out of the air in larger amounts, less heat will be trapped in the atmosphere
If less heat is trapped in the atmosphere, then the planet will start to cool down
If the planet starts to cool down, a lot of things will stabilize again. And they'll probably start to stabilize pretty quickly
5K notes · View notes