#Performance data comparison

[digitalmagnate]

How To Compare Search Queries In Google Search Console ||Google Search Console ||Digital Magnate

#Google_Search_Console, #Search_query_comparison,

[overtake]

red bull: daniel’s bad habits from mclaren are fixed, he did well in the sim, and his tire test was so good that we immediately knew he was ready to be in a car.

alpha tauri & yuki: daniel’s feedback on the car has been instrumental, and he performed so well in difficult race conditions even though he didn’t have any upgrades and had some bad luck.

rando twitter user who doesn’t have the data, didn’t know liam lawson’s name three weeks ago, and constantly insults the way red bull quickly drops drivers who don’t perform: they’re only letting him drive for pr even though he’s a washed up failure.

[topnotchquark]

Behind F1's Velvet Curtain

This article by Kate Wagner on her INEOS sponsored trip to the Austin GP at COTA last year was commissioned by Road and Track magazine and then taken down. Presumably because Kate has was pretty staunch in her opinions about what was essentially a paid trip.

It is exactly the kind of thing I have wanted to read about the felt experience of the money business of F1. It doesn't get into technicalities and does not produce any spreadsheets for reference. It's just, her experience of the presence of wealth in the sport.

She starts off by talking about how she has been covering cycling and NASCAR for a while now and both of those, in comparison, are scrappier sports with smaller sponsors and cheaper tickets.

What I also especially loved was how fascinated she was with the cars themselves, and how they seem like a true marvel of human engineering. She almost described the cars like these alien beasts that came into this dimension out of nowhere and were being constantly monitored and dueled with to furnish wins and glory (and shareholder value for sponsors).

I think I always had an understanding of the weird myth making surrounding F1 and the kind of media attention it attracts, but someone like Kate (who I have loved reading for a while now) putting it into perspective really made it click for me. This sport thrives off of the kind of cocoon it has built around it and understands exactly the certain exclusiveness it needs to maintain to keep the story alive.

Anyway, give it a read, especially because Road and Track is trying to bury it to not piss off sponsors.

[innova7ions]

YouTube Success Secrets: Why vid IQ Reigns Supreme

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#YouTubeDominance

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[apas-95]

the more well-known the agency confronting you is, the less trouble you're usually in. like if it's the cops at your door, it could just be a noise complaint. FBI might just be there for tweets. obviously, still bad, but... here, a comparison. if you have a run in with the CIA you're probably in trouble, but if you have a run in with the Office of Naval Intelligence then you've definitely fucked up. did you know the USPS has its own investigative force? and you might be thinking like, oh, as in some dudes in baby blue button-ups who search for missing mail - but no, these are uniformed, armed federal agents with all the authority that entails. they've got squad cars and such. and, like, these guys are serious. back in the late '80s to the early '90s, when electronic mail sorting first started to be rolled out, there were consistent issues with the machines having trouble scanning letters. it wasn't a super common problem, but it happened a lot, in multiple states. anyway, the USPS eventually realised two things - first, that the problems persisted even after the machines themselves were replaced (at great expense); and second, that they were really limited to michigan and some surrounding states, with only rare occurrences elsewhere which might be unrelated. anyway, that was enough to get the United States Postal Inspection Service to take interest. if somebody was sending dangerous materials though the mail which were messing with the scanning machines, it was probably endangering postal workers too. this was pre-9/11, so the idea it was terrorism wasn't taken too seriously, and the investigation didn't get much support. anyway, it takes months of waiting for machines to break down, cataloguing the mail they'd been handling, cross-referencing it, etc, to narrow down the source of the mail to somewhere south of detroit. kinda goes cold for a while, since the mail's scanned in big batches and finding the common link takes a *lot* of data and work. anyway it's like october '91 now and they think they've finally got it. they've found a specific batch that's tripping the machines up, and they're going over it with a fine-tooth comb when an agent's pager starts freaking out. after experimenting, they realise that whatever's fucked with the scanning machines has also fucked with the pager, and they realise it might be putting out radiation. biiig 'oh shit' moment. they isolate the whole batch and get a big medical checkup, but they're alright. geiger counter picks up nothing. what they *do* find, however, is that there are like 60 letters in there that are each putting out small amounts of non-ionising EM radiation. so, basically safe to handle, but together they're enough to flip some bits in the janky '80s tech they've got and cause occasional scanning errors. and, get this, they're all from the same address. they track this place down, and it's this guy running a sort of bird sanctuary in his backyard. he's australian, and sells like, courses for avoiding getting attacked by birds - and he spends a lot of time hanging around these birds, right? so they take the guy in for questioning, and they literally can't even have recording equipment on the table with him without it glitching, he's almost cooking popcorn here. they question him, and he tells them about his business, how he like, teaches people specific hand gestures to scare away birds and whatever, and they start grilling him on whether he's been exposed to any chemicals or anything, because of the letters. and the guy, when he hears about the letters, suddenly goes like 'ohhh', and explains. cus he gives people grades on their performance and sends them a handmade certificate after they complete the course, right? so they're like 'why the fuck are your letters irradiated' and he just tells them 'Thats My Crow Wave Gradiation'

[bsaka7]

always a good day to revisit "how tracy austin broke my heart"

Here is a theory. Top athletes are compelling because they em body the comparison-based achievement we Americans revere — fastest, strongest — and because they do so in a totally unambiguous way. Questions of the best plumber or best managerial accountant are impossible even to define, whereas the best relief pitcher, free-throw shooter, or female tennis player is, at any given time, a matter of public statistical record. Top athletes fascinate us by appealing to our twin compulsions with competitive superiority and hard data.

Plus they’re beautiful: Jordan hanging in midair like a Chagall bride, Sampras laying down a touch volley at an angle that defies Euclid. And they’re inspiring. There is about world-class athletes carving out exemptions from physical laws a transcendent beauty that makes manifest God in man. So actually more than one theory, then. Great athletes are profundity in motion. They enable abstractions like power and grace and control to become not only incarnate but televisable. To be a top athlete, performing, is to be that exquisite hybrid of animal and angel that we average unbeautiful watchers have such a hard time seeing in ourselves.

So we want to know them, these gifted, driven physical achievers. We too, as audience, are driven: watching the performance is not enough. We want to get intimate with all that profundity. We want inside them; we want the Story. We want to hear about humble roots, privation, precocity, grim resolve, discouragement, persistence, team spirit, sacrifice, killer instinct, liniment and pain. We want to know how they did it. How many hours a night did the child Bird spend in his driveway hitting jumpers under home strung floodlights? What ungodly time did Bjorn get up for practice every morning? What exact makes of cars did the Butkus boys work out by pushing up and down Chicago streets? What did Palmer and Brett and Payton and Evert have to give up? And of course, too, we want to know how it feels, inside, to be both beautiful and best (“How did it feel to win the big one?”). What combination of blankness and concentration is required to sink a putt or a free-throw for thousands of dollars in front of millions of unblinking eyes? What goes through their minds? Are these athletes real people? Are they even remotely like us? Is their Agony of Defeat anything like our little agonies of daily frustration? And of course what about the Thrill of Victory — what might it feel like to hold up that #1 finger and be able to actually mean it?

[charles-leclerc-official]

hii I'm fairly new into f1 and really into data so any directions to where to find it would be really appreciated thank youu

Hi! Yes I got you.

F1 tempo - for telemetry, lap times, tyres, DRS, throttle, brakes, and lap deltas. Allows you to compare laps and full race performance. Extremely useful website. This is the main telemetry resource.

F1 race visualizer - for the order of a race, live race replay, to see who was behind who for how long when overtakes occurred etc

Pitwall - for lap times and lap time comparison. I like this better than F1 tempo specifically for lap times, it's easier to use for that.

These are the 3 main resources I use. After that it's about looking at the numbers etc.

Have fun!

[ms-demeanor]

If Firefox is ~so good~ then why does it eat half my CPU when all I have installed is an adblocker everyone says to install (Ublock or Adblock Plus) and run like shit

IDK if it's taking half your CPU maybe your OS is bad at distributing resources and you should try running linux.

Okay that was the shitty/snarky answer because anon's bad attitude warranted it.

Real answers:

Possibly your computer really does need an upgrade of some kind; Firefox works great on my computer with an i5-11th gen processor and 20GB of RAM, but it (and let's be real probably everything else) is going to run like shit on a computer with a Core 2 Duo and 4GB of RAM. If your computer is old or underpowered and *everything* is slow, legitimately installing a lightweight linux distro might seriously improve your computing experience. And if you're attempting to run any Windows or Mac OS released in the last 5 years 8GB is going to be the absolute minimum RAM you need to comfortably use the internet, so if you're using a 10-year old computer with 4GB in it, consider adding RAM.

It depends on what you're doing. If you look at comparisons of various browsers some have better performance in some tests than in others, and there's no 100% consensus on what is the fastest. Besides, the people yelling about firefox tend to be yelling about privacy and tracking MUCH more than they are yelling about performance, but you're the only one who can determine whether privacy or performance matters more to you. However, be aware that there's no clear winner between the two in terms of speed. Every other review you click on will have a different answer and different outcomes on speed tests, which indicates that their performance is probably pretty similar (notably, Edge can be faster than both, but you probably don't want to use Edge, right? Like does it actually matter if it's faster if it's not customizable and force-feeds you ads while sending data to Microsoft?).

Your performance might be significantly improved with an extension. Plenty of people complain that if it only works with extensions that it doesn't actually work, but those people are ignoring the fact that people like having control over their internet experience. You brought up Adblock Plus and Ublock Origin - I have a very strong preference for Ublock Origin over Adblock Plus and if Adblock Plus came with a browser but prevented me from using Ublock Origin I wouldn't want to use that browser. So I think that having and testing a variety of extensions to find what works for you is probably the best way of approaching any browser. If Firefox is eating all your CPU (weird; that is not the resource it tends to consume) or RAM (which is the resource it tends to consume) I'd say to try either OneTab, which saves your tabs as a list so you don't have ton of tabs open consuming resources, or try Auto Tab Discard, which sleeps tabs on a schedule that you set and makes exceptions for active media or unfilled forms as you choose.

You might have a bad install - it happens! Sometimes things are fucky and you're having problems and uninstalling then reinstalling the browser will fix it.

But Firefox works, and works well, for millions of people. It's really odd to decide that all of those people are making shit up (for some reason) and that firefox is bad actually instead of doing some troubleshooting with your environment to figure out what's going on - especially when there are *so many* resources out there to help you figure out where the problem might be.

[qqueenofhades]

I’m thinking it’s more likely this was a legit attempt, but in comparison to the last attempt I think the evidence for it being staged is way stronger. It was on Trump’s own property aka a way more easily controlled environment, the guy was much further away than Crooks was and he never actually got any shots off so no one even got hurt, he survived long enough to be taken into police custody, and this is all happening less than a week after a very bad debate performance and an endorsement from a woman so influential we have the data to name an Effect after her. Like again I think it’s more likely a legit attempt but either way it’s still a nothing burger.

I mean, didn't Trump and Vance just tell us to "get over" gun violence and that it was a "fact of life" in between their busy schedule of inciting racist mobs on Springfield, Ohio?

Did something change between now and then when the MAGAs are suddenly so concerned with preventing white Republicans from having access to guns?

Weird.

[yuritopiaofdeath]

The Perks of Training a Combat Doll

‘There we are. Welcome back’ 

 The automaton found its digital vision returned to it. In its primary focus was a woman sitting directly in front of the combat doll. Her large glasses rested on the tip of her nose, her hair was messy and her shoulders were broad. She reached with one hand to adjust her eyewear and the doll took note of the woman’s hands, smeared with dark sepia stains. 

 Though she never met another one besides its mistress, the doll recognized a witch when it saw one. ‘You’ve rebuilt me.’ The doll spoke. Only a witch could rebuild a doll. And if its memory banks were to be believed; she required rebuilding. ‘Aye. I did.’ The witch responded. ‘I found your body discarded. I brought you here and rebuilt you with no small effort. So that you may serve me now.’ The doll wanted to protest but knew better. It owed its continued existence to this witch. The doll's life,such as it was, was now in the witch's possession. ‘What of my old master?’The doll questioned.

 ‘Dead, I expected.’ The witch replied coldly. 

 Impossible! The doll thought to herself. She knew her lady’s power was too great. She could not be slain. ‘I cannot believe that.’ The doll answered. ‘Do not talk back to me!’ The witch cut her off. Her voice sharp.’You best believe her dead. Unless you can offer an explanation as to why you were found in a scrapheap. No magic animating you.’ ‘ The doll could offer no explanation. Her master was either slain or survived and did not see it fit to return for her possession. The doll could not help but view the former as the kinder outcome. It meant not having to come to terms with its failure. Failure of protecting her witch.

 ‘Drop down and give me twenty.’ A command from the witch brought the mechanical drone back to its senses. ‘Pardon?’ The doll replied, puzzled. ‘Push ups. Twenty. Now.’ The witch was firm in her command. ‘You know what a push up is, do you not?’

 The doll strained its computing to understand the order. In all of its vast circuitry she could not see the logic of making a robot perform exercise. ‘Yes, My Lady. I know what a push up is, My Lady.’ ‘Twenty’ The witch repeated the order in a way that made it clear she would not repeat it again. Unsatisfied but unwilling to anger her new master any further, the mechanical guard in the guise of a girl dropped down to the messy metal flooring of the workshop. Task was done in under ten seconds. Afterwhich the doll stood back up. Her newly reconstructed body,  at the very least, was fully operational. The doll wondered if this had been the true purpose of this task; Or perhaps just a way to humiliate it. A test of obedience. 

 ‘Good. You will follow me.’ The witch commanded.

 In a short time  they made way to a large open room. The floor was soft and padded, organic training equipment hung from the walls. The doll followed the witch wordlessly. Taking note of the map of her benefactors mansion. Soon as they arrived the witch stepped into a large rectangular arena separated by cables. She let her large black cloak slide down her shoulders, leaving her pale back exposed. Though the doll only met one other, the combat drone figured the witch's appearance to be atypical of a witch. Her nobility and otherworldly beauty typical of her kind was undeniable. Yet from the dolls data a witch led a life of the study of the arcane which left little room for physical training. The power of a witch was her iron will. A witch enjoyed quiet hobbies such as an afternoon tea. This witch, however, was in peak physical condition for an organic.  Pale skin, cross stitched with scars, clung tightly to the muscles underneath. Her small and lean frame tensed, like a cat stretching its body. A cat was nimble, quick, and deceptively strong. And apt comparison to the creature before the doll. ‘Get in the ring.’ The witch commanded. ‘You and I will spar.’

 Once again the doll strained its processing. It would seem this would be routine in its new assignment. 

 ‘I cannot harm you, My Lady.’ The doll answered ‘Twenty’ The reply came before the doll could even finish speaking. This time it knew better than to argue. It gave her mistress her twenty, as ordered. ‘Get in the ring.’ No praise this time. Simply the repeated order. ‘I will come at you. You will defend yourself to the best of your abilities. Understood?’ The doll nodded in confirmation. Soon as the gesture was complete, the witch was upon her. A flurry of blows followed, the witch opened with a series of punches and kicks typical to various organic martial arts. All of which were recorded in the dolls harddrives. Easily countered. The pattern of the witch was flawless. An ordinary organic opponent would no doubt be overwhelmed. She deployed feints and misdirects in order to disguise her more powerful attacks and throw her opponent off base. Alas the drone was programmed to counter such tactics. There would be little point in a combat doll if it could be thrown off by organic trickery. A digitized brain could calculate the position of a hit, and the best way to counter, in about half the time it would take for the hit to connect. The doll found itself frustrated. The witch displayed clear signs of fatigue. Was this to be her new role? Assist in the physical training of her master? A waste of the dolls skill. An exercise in vanity for the witch. An intelligent witch employed combat units precisely because they were above in skill to an organic combatant. An organic defeating a combat doll is as an ant defeating a lion. Even now the doll was holding back so as to not harm the witch. The doll wished to show this logic to its fledgeling owner. The metal fist stopped just short of the witch's handsome face. The message clear. This exercise is pointless. The doll found its body suddenly flung into the air. With a loud crash its body came down hard against the padded floor, causing it to dent. The ropes of cable that surrounded the ring were torn when the dolls body slammed into them. For a moment the doll simply laid motionless, calculating what had just happened. It would appear that the witch used this moment of hesitation from the doll to lift the dolls body and toss it across the arena. Though the drone was aware of martial arts that relied on shifting the weight of the enemy, tossing a steel doll the weight of an automobile above ones shoulder and flinging it several meters across was quite a feat from one the size of the witch. Indeed having caught a doll unaware like that was not something it thought an organic being capable of. The doll lifted itself back up. Experiencing yet another humiliation. 

 ‘Good.’ A praise from the new mistress. ‘Now it is your turn. You will come at me. Hold nothing back. If you hesitate again you will be destroyed. I believe I shown capable of rebuilding your body. I am not above destroying it again.’ A clear threat. One not without merit. The witch was capable of rebuilding the doll. Would she use magic? Would she delight in destroying and rebuilding the doll? Knowing that hesitation meant possible destruction, the doll hesitated, before charging in. This time the dolls fist made clear impact against the witch. The figure struck by the doll suddenly dissipated into smoke. Magic. Of course the witch used magic.   

 It was suddenly clear to the doll just how an organic managed to keep up with a doll. A witch was no ordinary mortal being. A witch was a master of the sorcerous and the arcane. Indeed a witch's magic was the very thing animating a doll. It only made sense that a doll would be helpless against such arts.

 Suddenly the witch appeared to be everywhere all at once. Behind and in front of the doll. Iron fists swatted the air but found nothing but smoke. Till the witch was on top of the doll. Bound its arms with a magical circle and rested her knee on the doll's neck joint. ‘A pathetic performance.’ The witch chastised its servant. ‘Have you never faced a witch before? Have you faced real combat? Or am I to take your first encounter to be the one that left you in the sorry state I found you in?’ The dolls' sensors overflowed with rage. Yet there was nothing it could do to resist. The drone resolved to simply allow this humiliation to continue. Perhaps the reason behind its inaction was not, as logic would dictate, the power the witch had over it, but rather the power her words held over the doll. From the moment it awoke it could not accept the reality that it was unsuccessful in protecting its master. The failure was plainly displayed in the records kept in the dolls memory banks. Its body crumbling into a pile of scrap, gears and cables, before some unknown assailant. Never before had it faced such opposition. The doll was either victorious against a lesser opponent or decimated by a superior force. Such was a life of an artificial lifeform designed to perform a singular task. ‘Did you not expect I would use magic?’ The witch retorted ‘I am a witch. My magic is my weapon. Much like your steel body and mechanical mind are yours. I would be a fool not to use it.’ 

 The witch lifted her knee from the doll and with a wave of her hand undone the binds holding her doll. ‘You are a foolish doll. You believe yourself powerless against my spells. I blame your previous master for not instilling the benefits of training onto you.’ The witch lectured as she stood over the defeated doll. ‘How are you meant to resist magic when you never fought against it? Your data does not contain within it ways to counter a witch. There are indeed precious few dolls in this universe with the knowledge on how to kill a witch. Most witches deem such knowledge to be nothing short of blasphemous. What is to stop a doll from rebelling against a witch if it knows ways to counter her spells?’ The doll got up to its feet. It was a head and a half taller than the witch and had to look down to make eye contact. ‘You will train with me daily. And you will be instructed in ways to counter magic. Such that as I need not have to repair your body again. And that you may defend me adequately in battle against any and all opposition.’ The witch made her demands clear. A realization struck a doll, that this witch is indeed a good witch. That in her odd ways she intends not to shame the doll but to hone its edge. That the witch did not wish to train with the doll out of stupidity or vanity, but out of a desire to bring out the best in her tool. And thus a bond was created between them, one the doll did not feel towards its former mistress. 

 ‘Willingly, My Lady.’ The doll answered. 

[digitalmagnate]

How To Compare Search Queries In Google Search Console ||Google Search Console ||Digital Magnate

Hey everyone, welcome to my channel. In today's video, I'm going to show you how to compare search queries in Google Search Console. This is a great way to see what people are searching for when they find your website, and it can help you improve your SEO strategy. 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗼𝘀 Click here ➜https://www.youtube.com/c/Digitalmagnate/videos?sub_confirmation=1

Let’s get started!"Step 1: Open Google Search Console First, you need to open Google Search Console. If you don't have an account, you can create one for free.

Step 2: Click on the "Search Queries" report Once you're logged in, click on the "Search Queries" report in the left-hand menu.

Step 3: Select the date range you want to compare Next, select the date range you want to compare. You can compare any two date ranges, as long as they're within the past 90 days.

Step 4: Click on the "Compare" button Once you've selected your date range, click on the "Compare" button.

Step 5: Analyze the results Now, you'll be able to see a comparison of the search queries that people used to find your website in the two date ranges you selected. Conclusion That's how you compare search queries in Google Search Console. I hope this video was helpful. If you have any questions, please leave them in the comments below. Happy Google Search Console, and see you next time!"

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[worriedvision]

Moving on - Dan Heng

Gender neutral reader, reader is considered the "doctor" of the trailblazers in this fic. When they confess to Dan Heng, it doesn't go well. After the trio go off for Jarilo-VI, you decide to go down the moment you know Dan would be asleep so you can make the planet your forever home.

--

You were a brilliant doctor, the express crew agreed. You would perform regular checks on the crew, even Pom-Pom at times, and there were times you were part of the expedition. While you got on with the crew, you developed a sizeable crush on one Dan Heng. He had been on your radar for a good while, especially after he had showed signs of returning the feelings.

When you confessed to him one night, he stopped you quickly.

"I'm sorry, but it wouldn't work." Dan Heng explains plainly. He thinks to himself before deciding to knuckle down with this rejection of his. "I'm surprised you haven't realised I don't return these feelings of yours. Surely you've seen how often I stay away from you, in comparison to our peers."

"I thought you liked me back, I picked up the glances you took." You explain, grounding yourself.

"I glance at everyone. You aren't special."

God it hurt him to see you flinch at his cold words, but this was his only way of keeping you from him. Before he could retreat and apologise for lying to you, he merely walks back to his room.

When Dan Heng, March and the newcomer had left the ship, you emerged from your office to approach Welt with your notes.

"Good evening, doctor." Welt hums, glancing at the pile of notes you had waiting for him. "Oh, what's this about?"

"I've decided to disembark this ship. Before I go, I wanted to train someone to take my place and you were the person that came to mind." You explain.

Welt knew something must have happened between you and Dan Heng, but he decides not to pry in. He could tell by your look that you were past the point of convincing to stay.

"As long as you can talk me through your works." Welt responds, you nodding as you go to the first page.

It, thankfully, didn't take too long. Your notes were comprehensive, and Welt knew all the terms. He requested to take photos of your notes, which you agree to, before you gather your notes up and leave, selecting Boulder Town as your data showed that this point was the most recent spot and, chances were, Dan Heng was fast asleep.

"Look after your heart, kiddo." Welt recommended, you nodding before leaving.

--

After asking around, the locals point you to Natasha. While you had no official training, Natasha took a look at your notes before deciding to give you a chance to work alongside her. She decides not to pry into your past, opting to keep an eye on you in the case that you were not suitable to work in this sector.

Natasha has been able to get some more sleep thanks to your presence, you looking after patients and calling for her when you knew you needed a spare pair of hands instead of the patient having to do so.

The times you heard Dan Heng, March 7th or 'unnamed' were due to come along for a meeting, you would busy yourself in the community while they were there. You couldn't fathom the embarrassment of seeing him again, knowing you were fraternising by entertaining the idea of a romantic relationship with him.

--

When the rest of the crew were back, Dan Heng does his usual 'I need to get my check-up' excuse to see you. He goes along to your office, only to see no trace of you. You must just need a few more days by yourself, he thinks, returning to his room.

He wakes up, the next destination has been hopped to, and when he returns to the main room he's concerned when Welt is carrying out the check-ups you'd be doing.

"Where's _?" Dan Heng asks, everyone turning to see him there. "Respectfully, I trust them more with medical concerns."

"... You really don't know?" March hesitates, the awkwardness settling in. "They left. They're now working with Natasha permanently, did they not tell you?"

"If your concerns are regarding my lack of training, rest assured I have added their notes to your data bank." Welt states, Dan Heng not feeling the least bit assured.

By pushing you away for your 'safety' from his past, Dan Heng failed to consider the possibility that you would leave the astral express permanently just to get away from the embarrassment of a rejection.

Even when he tries to send you messages, sending you pictures of bruises and wounds in an effort to get some response, he doesn't hear back from you. It's at that moment that he realises that actually, there was no benefit to rejecting you. Both of you had been hurt by it, and the astral express lost a good doctor.

[notafragilething]

Buck/Tommy Late Night Ramblings: The Data

It's around the 8 hour mark from the time the official Instagram posted the Buck/Tommy kiss and coming out scene. I ran the data again and my mind is actually blown because these numbers are ridiculously good in regards to social media engagement. So I'm going to share the numbers, my feelings about the vibes in the comments and final thoughts.

Right now there are 110 videos posted on the Instagram and the average views is 379k. The Buck/Tommy kiss video, as of the time of I'm writing this, has a view count of 526k (half a million) after roughly 8 hours. That means it has already reached the point of being the 22nd most watched reel of those 110, most of which have been posted for weeks or even months. It very likely will be entering the top 15 most viewed by the 24 hour point and I'll make a post about this topic. It also has 1.5k in comments and almost 56k in likes.

To give you a comparison, the clip of Buck coming out to Eddie that was posted roughly 3 full weeks ago currently has 760k views and is the 11th most viewed reel with 1.2k in comments and 70k in likes.

So what does this tell me?

It tells me that, after three full episodes of this arc, the general audience is having a very positive reaction to the pairing. I brought up the coming out scene because that performed really well but the new video of their kiss and Buck coming out to everyone is massively outperforming it and will likely pass it in views and likes at some point in the future. Which likely means support for bi Buck and this pairing is growing.

There also remains a HUGE shift in the comments and how they're responding to that scene. Well there definitely are some upset shippers and homophobic people complaining in the comments they're not a significant portion of the comments. They are also not getting many likes and engagement is pretty low. They're mostly just talking back and forth amongst themselves. The majority of the comments are talking about how they love this pairing, asking for Tommy/Lou to stay and responding really positively to them.

I think this is a pretty good sign of how the general audience is feeling about Buck and Tommy as a couple and very likely is indicating to ABC that this is a marketable couple. People like them, they like to see them, content of them brings in some pretty significant engagement.

I think it's about to get really interesting in how they market these two more towards the end of the season when Tommy returns for the last episode or 2.

Also I kinda like these late night ramble posts. Should I keep making them?

Edit: Extra Late Night Update. I just re-checked and the video is currently at 569k for views, 59k for likes and 1.6k for comments. It's now in 17th place for most views at the 9 hour point. My new prediction is it will enter the top 10 sometime tomorrow,

[slutforpringles]

Daniel Yuki 2024 Qualifying Pace Comparison

After seeing The Race's Driver Pairing Qualifying comparison data make the rounds on F1 reddit/twitter, I was interested to break down the Daniel/Yuki qualifying gaps race by race.

I was fairly sure The Race was excluding Daniel's deleted lap from Q1 in Aus (thus using his unrepresentative first push lap), which while being valid does skew the data when comparing outright quali pace (yes, the lap deletion was Daniel's fault and I have no issues with that, I just don't think the much slower unrepresentative lap should count towards pace analyses). As I was going through I realised that Miami Sprint Quali data also unfairly reflects Daniel, as Yuki's single laptime in SQ2 was deleted, so despite him being seventh tenths off Daniel, The Race would have used SQ1 data, in which Yuki was slightly faster. Because of these reasons I have noted both Miami SQ and Aus as outliers, although interestingly they don't overly impact the averages wither way.

Daniel's quali gap is actually very similar to what it was last season and is the third closest on the grid.

The point of this isn't to take anything away from Yuki. I think he's driving incredibly well this season, particularly in quali, and has clearly taken a big step forward performance-wise. Nor am I claiming Daniel is performing 'well' or meeting expectations - he himself has been very clear that he's not happy with his current results, particularly in quali. I just think it highlights how some of the reactions to Daniel's early season results are completely out of line with reality, and misinformed or intentionally biased presenters/journalists/twitter experts have only made the situation worse.

[cruyffista]

Here is a theory. Top athletes are compelling because they embody the comparison-based achievement we Americans revere—fastest, strongest—and because they do so in a totally unambiguous way. Questions of the best plumber or best managerial accountant are impossible even to define, whereas the best relief pitcher, free-throw shooter, or female tennis player is, at any given time, a matter of public statistical record. Top athletes fascinate us by appealing to our twin compulsions with competitive superiority and hard data. Plus they're beautiful: Jordan hanging in midair like a Chagall bride, Sampras laying down a touch volley at an angle that defies Euclid. And they're inspiring. There is about world-class athletes carving out exemptions from physical laws a transcendent beauty that makes manifest God in man. So actually more than one theory, then. Great athletes are profundity in motion. They enable abstractions like power and grace and control to become not only incarnate but televisable. To be a top athlete, performing, is to be that exquisite hybrid of animal and angel that we average unbeautiful watchers have such a hard time seeing in ourselves. So we want to know them, these gifted, driven physical achievers. We too, as audience, are driven: watching the performance is not enough. We want to get intimate with all that profundity. We want inside them; we want the Story. We want to hear about humble roots, privation, precocity, grim resolve, discouragement, persistence, team spirit, sacrifice, killer instinct, liniment and pain. We want to know how they did it. (...) And of course, too, we want to know how it feels, inside, to be both beautiful and best ("How did it feel to win the big one?"). What combination of blankness and concentration is required to sink a putt or a free-throw for thousands of dollars in front of millions of unblinking eyes? What goes through their minds? Are these athletes real people? Are they even remotely like us? Is their Agony of Defeat anything like our little agonies of daily frustration? And of course what about the Thrill of Victory—what might it feel like to hold up that #1 finger and be able to actually mean it?

David Foster Wallace, How Tracey Austin Broke My Heart

[hotmessmaxpress]

helloo i absolutely love your abo au and i am obsessed with the marcmarc dynamic

i was wondering would you ever write pecco/marcmarc something like pecco being sad/upset over something and the omegas just comforting him, it could be just cuddles or it could be something a little more i think it would be interesting to see how marc and pecco’s relationship is like without vale there (we know marco and pecco already get along so well) also i think pecco deserves to get spoiled by two omegas

Rosquez a/b/o au, part ???

I think that marc and pecco deal with disappointment/mistakes similarly (internalize, internalize, internalize) so it would simultaneously be easy for marc to understand him and also difficult for him to deal with. He would definitely feel more comfortable having bez around to help!

Thank you for the ask. 🤍

Pecco is no stranger to criticism. He’s grown up in an environment entirely based around competition, and he’s used to looking at statistics and numbers and comparisons. Faster, faster, how to be faster.

No matter how much criticism he deals with, though, Pecco is always his own biggest critic. He is the one to put the most pressure on himself, even when his parents and sister and pack tell him to take a step back and calm down. It’s common for his mood to be affected by his performance, and when Marc joins the pack it’s one of the things he notices immediately. Even at the ranch, which Marc had thought was fun for the boys, Pecco can sometimes come away in a sharp mood. 

Marc also notices that Bez is the one most adept at handling Pecco’s big feelings. He takes all of Pecco’s sharpness and jagged edges that would cut someone else and files him down until he’s smooth like a river stone. It’s one of the many things that Marc admires about Bez as a fellow omega. It doesn’t even seem like Bez realizes he’s doing it. 

The race goes terribly. Pecco goes down hard, and while thankfully nothing is broken, he’s sore all over. He’s stewing in his anger as the rest of the pack wrap up their media duties and finish up for the day. The alphas check in with him, but it becomes apparent very quickly that Pecco has no desire to deal with any of them. 

It’s Carola that happens to grab Marc’s arm as he’s heading toward the pack trailer. 

“Marc!” she greets.

She sounds happy, which is still odd to Marc. He’s getting used to being liked by faces that he was too used to avoiding. He always assumed that Carola had a distaste for him, but she seems pleased that he’s joined the same pack as her brother. Marc almost feels guilty for assuming that she didn’t like him. 

“Carola,” he greets, kissing her on both cheeks. 

“Are you going to your pack?”

Marc nods, cheeks flushing. He doesn’t think it will ever get old, acknowledging his pack. 

“Can you stop at Pecco’s motorhome first? He won’t come out on his own and he should be with you all, not alone and wallowing. I am trying to find Bez but I think he will come with you, too.”

Marc blanches for a moment, stunned by the faith that she has in him to support the alphas of his pack. He doesn’t have time to tell her no, though, because she’s off with a toss of her hair. 

Marc does as he asks and goes to Pecco’s trailer, knocking first and then letting himself in. 

Pecco is sitting on the couch, head in his hands while he stares down at a tablet that Marc can only assume contains data from the race. 

“My pace was enough to win,” Pecco complains, immediately, without even looking up to Marc.

Marc knows this is a tenuous situation, and he hopes that Carola sends Bez his way soon. He has a distinct feeling that he might be out of his depth on this one. 

“Yes, it was,” Marc agrees, knowing that Pecco probably won’t respond to platitudes from him of all people. “You were fast.”

Pecco looks up at him angrily, and Marc curves his shoulders and tilts his head so he’s looking at Pecco through his eyelashes. Marc may not be offering platitudes, but looking cute and nonthreatening can’t hurt. 

Pecco huffs, and Marc takes his lack of comment as an invitation to move toward the other man and settle down on the couch next to him. He takes the tablet out of Pecco’s hands, having to pry his fingers a little bit, and then tosses it behind him. 

Pecco growls, but there’s no heat to it. It’s just a warning, and Marc has never been one to heed warnings the first time. He reaches out and offers his wrist to Pecco, who brings it to his nose. Marc’s scent seems to pacify him a little, so Marc takes Pecco’s hand with his free hand. 

“Let’s go to the pack room. Carola is looking for Bez and we might find him on the way.”

Pecco still looks annoyed, and Marc has to smother a smile at the stormy look on his face when they step out of the trailer and set out across the paddock. Marc smiles and waves and greets people as they walk by, a stark contrast to the silent and cranky alpha following him. 

They run into Bez right outside the pack motorhome, and Bez immediately relaxes when he sees the two of them. 

“Marc! Franci! Good. I’m glad you managed to drag him here.”

Bez climbs the stairs first, and Marc pulls Pecco along. Once they’re inside, Marc sets about making a nest for the three of us while Bez has quiet words with Pecco. Bez is laughing, which at first seems to make Pecco angrier but then succeeds in getting a small smile from him. 

The nest takes no time at all, and Marc happily tugs Pecco into the center of it. Bez slots himself against Pecco’s other side, and they’re all silent for a moment. 

“I was fast,” Pecco complains, petulantly and without the same heat and frustration from earlier. 

Bez makes eye contact with Marc and rolls his eyes, and Marc has to hold his breath for a moment to avoid giggling.

Pecco frowns and looks between the two of them. 

“You two are terrible.”

Bez and Marc shake their heads at once.

“Maybe we are,” Marc teases. “We have a sad alpha in between us and we haven’t spoiled him even a little bit.”

He reaches up and tangles a hand in Pecco’s hair, scratching at his scalp. He gives Pecco a gentle tug, and bares his throat to him so he can tuck his face against him and scent him. He scents Marc first and then Bez finally gives up on the teasing and bares his own neck. Pecco turns to press a kiss to the base of Bez’s throat and Bez purrs happily. 

“It was a good race, Franci.”

“Until I crashed,” he complains bitterly. 

“Until you crashed,” Marc agrees. “But you won’t next time.”

Pecco huffs, and Marc wraps himself tighter around the alpha. 

“It was the back wheel,” Pecco explains.

He launches into a pouty debrief, and Bez and Marc both relax. When Pecco starts to debrief, it’s the beginning of the end of his bad mood. He always needs to stew in his frustration, then analyze, then he can move on. 

Marc only half listens as Pecco rants about the race, and instead distracts himself by playing with Pecco’s fingers and making faces at Bez. By the time Pecco has run out of steam, he is much more relaxed between the two of them, and Bez and Marc basically lay themselves on top of him. Their legs all tangle together, and the smell in the room finally loses its sharp edge. 

Marc rests his head in the crook of Pecco’s neck, and he smiles against his collarbone as he hears Bez press a kiss to Pecco’s lips. 

“Love you,” Bez says sweetly.

Marc can practically hear the roll in Pecco’s eyes as he returns the expression of love. 

The three of them lay there together, relaxed and calm, until Marc is nearly asleep and remembers he needs to text Vale, who is back in Italy on business. 

Vale: good race ❤️ 

Vale: how is pecco?

Marc smiles, happy that Vale is checking in on their pack as always. 

Marc opens the camera and holds it out, snapping a picture of the three of them before Pecco can protest. 

He sends it immediately, and only moments later Vale responds with a row of hearts. 

Vale: I am proud of him. Love you.

Marc shows Pecco and Bez the message, and his heart swells with happiness at the relaxed smile on Pecco’s face.