#maybe i've just done my time

[quaranmine]

Do you know the write speed of your work laptops hard drive? Because that could be part of the reason it's slower than your personal.

So I can look at write speed in task manager and it fluctuates all the time, but they look like they're fluctuating within the same range. Like it goes 0 kb/s > 70-80 kb/s > 120 - 135 kb/s > 200/300/400 kb/s > 1.4 mb/s and then repeats. Actually my personal laptop seems to hit 600-700 kb/s more often than the work laptop. You may be able to tell from this answer that this means nothing to me cause idk what write speed means LOL

Let me just list my specs lmao

Personal Laptop

Dell Inspiron 14 5410 (i'm never buying dell again i have had nothing but bad experiences in the last 3 years with multiple laptops lol)

Processor: 11th Gen Intel(R) Core(TM) i7-11370H @ 3.30GHz 3.00 GHz

Installed RAM: 16 GB

OS: Windows 11 Home (had the issue on Win 10 as well, clean installs were performed, did not fix)

Network Adapter: Intel(R) Wi-Fi 6 AX201 160MHz

Wifi protocol: Wi-Fi 5 (802.11ac)

Link speed: 58/30 Mbps

Network band and network channel: 5 GHz / 44

Work Laptop

Dell Latitude 5320 (dont let this post fool you this laptop sucks too, i know like a dozen people at work including myself who had to have our "brand new" laptops replaced within a year)

Processor: 11th Gen Intel(R) Core(TM) i7-1185G7 @ 3.00 GHz 1.80 GHz

Installed RAM: 16 GB

OS: Windows 11 Enterprise

Network Adapter: Intel(R) Wi-Fi 6 AX201 160MHz

Wifi protocol: Wi-Fi 5 (802.11ac)

Link speed: 1560/1560 mbps (this is the only major difference I can see between the two of them? why is it so much higher?)

Network band and network channel: 5 GHz / 44

It also has a much higher signlat strength in general when I look at it.

---

help a girlie out i did environmental science not IT and i've been barely able to play games or be in discord calls for like two years now and it's painful 😭😭😭😭

A note: I do not have an ethernet connection and currently no way to put one in. I understand that wireless connections are inherently slower but it should be THIS slow if our internet package has up to 300 mbps (iirc)? I am in a room far from the router, but as aforementioned, it's pretty slow even by the router and I would assume all devices would struggle if it was Only the distance that was the problem. I had multiple Dell support people stumped with this laptop before and the wifi card was replaced once already.

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

[insert poetic title here]

fun fact: this did not start out as isat fanart

(rambling in tags)

[lazylittledragon]

so uhhhhhhhh. not to be cryptic and bitchy on main but congratulations to everyone in my messages for like 5 months on being right i guess

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

everywhen you look: rosquez [g], part 1

1997-2025

“You really aren’t going to tell me anything.” Valentino flicks his leg irritably, kicks up a wave.

The man brushes the chlorine from his face and snorts. His name is Marc, he’d said, among other incredibly useless trivia facts such as, this is Madrid, it’s March of 2025—which sounds like a fake, sci fi year—and i Nerazzurri are leading Serie A by one point.

“Eh, it’s for the best.”

Valentino mutters under his breath, eh, it’s for the best, in a mockery of that Spanish accent. Marc only looks up at him bemusedly from the water, through his wet lashes. He’s being very evasive.

It would have been considerably more annoying if he weren't quite so handsome.

If he hadn’t been stuck at home, with snow coming down in buckets—too much to ride, too much to sneak out for a little while. The baby had been crying—crying, crying, crying. Luca is usually a very good kid, not fussy, but he’d been angry. Neither he nor Stefania could calm him down. Stefania said he might be colicky.

Valentino had felt a little like Graziano, sitting on the couch, watching her try to make Luca stop howling for five minutes, please baby, we’ve got you.

So here is better. No snow. The pool is nice, very rich people, perfectly warm. A little further away, the house seems odd, a sharp, gray block, but he supposes nothing there costs less than a hundred lire.

And Marc is interesting.

“But you know me,” Valentino tries again, a different approach.

Marc’s expression of vague delight doesn’t flicker. He keeps staring at him with unblinking intensity. Someone should tell him it’s kind of creepy when he does that, but also—Valentino’s hands spasm at the edge of the pool, and he has to look away first. Heat prickles under his skin. He wants to keep bullshitting to see how far he can take it, how much Marc can figure out.

“Well, obviously. I thought we had gone over that already.”

It’d been the first thing he’d said when he emerged from the deep end. Valentino? A quiet, overwrought noise, a bit like he’d been slapped, suddenly looking very young. No matter how much he tries, Marc refuses to slip like that again.

He’d guessed the year it should’ve been for him on the first try, too.

“From racing,” Valentino suggests.

“It’s 97 for you, no?” Marc raises a pointed eyebrow. Valentino runs a hand over his hair just as pointedly—dry, creaking and bleached. “You know you’re a good rider.”

“Good as in a couple of lower-class titles or good like Mick?”

Marc swallows, wastes a moment too many just staring at some point over his shoulder before sighing. Valentino might’ve found a way to twist the knife resting between them—the one Marc is studiously squirreling from naming—by accident. There’s no triumph to it, the way he imagined there’d, just that uncomfortable feeling of being wrist deep in a cadaver.

It’d have been incredibly helpful to know what is wrong, exactly, to only make it hurt if he wants to make it hurt.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to enjoy your career,” Marc says, his voice low and cryptic.

Valentino’s eyes narrow. “You’re fucking with me.”

Marc just leans back, his grin stretching wider, an edge more infuriating. What are you going to do about it? in no words at all.

He doesn’t mean to, but frustration spills out in groan. Valentino thrusts his foot out, jabbing it toward Marc. “I’m already asking vague questions,” he mutters, scrambling against himself to not sound sullen. “You could at least give me something.”

Marc opens his broad mouth and cackles. Valentino can see inside it, his large, pink tongue and the white straightness of his teeth. It’s an ugly, honking noise that comes out, quite shameless. In Tavullia, or in the lower classes, Valentino would’ve made fun of him for it. Too loud, too weird, too much, but Marc—handsome, and difficult, and probably thirty—doesn’t look like he’d care.

Might go cute, Vale, the way Norick does, sometimes.

Which—

This nameless disquiet tugs in his stomach, red-hot, unwanted. He presses his lips together, drums his fingers on the floor. Restlessness makes him fidget, a little mean with nowhere to put it.

Marc grabs Valentino’s ankle as he tries to poke him again. His hands are leather-thick, rough like sandpaper. Strong, he notes, swallowing an embarrassing, reedy hiss when he tries to haul his leg in and Marc squeezes his ankle, keeps him pinned in place. He makes it hard to stay bothered.

“You’re going to—ah, I don’t know, get in trouble. Might fuck your timeline up.”

A splutter churns in his mouth, half offended, half playing it up, right until Marc lets go of his leg and gets up, hauls himself half out of the pool to stand braced against the edge, the skin of his arm brushing against Valentino’s jeans, getting it wet.

He’s got nicer tits than a good half of the girls he’s fucked. Fat enough that he thinks he could push them together and put his dick between them, like he’s seen guys do in porn.

“Who? Me?” Valentino goes wide-eyed, puts a hand over his heart. Pretends to not have been staring.

Marc shakes his head. “See what I mean?” But the corners of his lips twitch up, stubborn. Fond, mostly despite himself—Valentino is familiar with the look.

Like this, he’s close enough to count the few moles scattered on his collar. Catch the seesawing jerkiness of his shoulder and the raised, pink lines on his arm. Either he let them scar badly, jaded, ugly edges, or they were bad injuries.

Valentino sweeps his eyes over him again—Marc, waxed smooth, meticulously posed, built like an anatomy study given life. Bad injury it is.

“Well?” Marc’s hand slides over to Valentino’s knee, fingers digging in lightly.

Valentino’s leg jerks, a reflex, but Marc’s too close now, his breath searing against his skin. The sudden proximity catches him off guard, heat rising in his chest. Annoyance slices through him, a dull, serrated cut at the chuckle Marc lets out. This squirming thing gnaws at his ribs, pries open his mouth before Valentino can plan his next move.

“You’re a racer too,” he says, clumsily, too quickly.

“Am I?” Marc tilts his head to the side, widens his eyes until he looks ridiculously coy.

A begrudging amusement tugs inside his guts like a fishhook. He’s being talked in circles, the way Uccio tells him the press likes, politely, inoffensively. If he hadn’t been paying so much attention, he would’ve been swept along, would’ve been happy with it. And Marc finds this whole dance hilarious. Easy.

Or he’s an excellent liar, which Valentino knows he is.

 “Yeah, duh,” he huffs, looks down at Marc, at the tanned, broad shape of his back glinting under the sun, flexing. “But are you a good one?”

Marc preens under his gaze, smirks—very well pleased. If he’s going to show off, Valentino is going to stare. “You could say so,” he hums, chin tilted lazily.

Valentino scowls. “What does that even mean? Are you one of those guys who thinks, hey, I got to the 500cc, it’s basically like being a world champion?”

“Are you going to be very disappointed if I am?”

His stomach churns. Yes, sort of. He hadn’t expected Marc to be boring. Had hoped, maybe—that he wouldn’t be a movie star in that gray block of a house who shows up to the track from time to time and expects to be pampered. Or one of those fancy Spanish kids that come around, sons of racers’ sons, just enjoying the ride and fucking around.

“For all I know, you’re a bad rider.” The words slip out before Valentino can stop them, soap-like, oily.

It might make him angry. Might wrangle another laugh out of him. Either way, it’s going to give him an in. He wants to crack Marc open against the ground, see if anything interesting spills out. People don’t usually give him this much trouble. As a rule, any audience is simple—fold or break, charmed or about to be.

Marc’s lashes flutter slowly, casting a shadow over his eyes. It’s a minute flicker—a tiny, tiny shift in his expression. Valentino feels sized up, dissected. Like Marc knows an important secret he doesn’t. There’s a deliberateness in that stare, an inside joke Marc’s forgotten to share.

“You would say that,” Marc mumbles.

He’s smiling, still. Valentino doesn’t trust it one bit.

[veinsfullofstars]

⭐ Protectors of Popstar ⭐

(ID: Kirby series DTIYS piece based on this post by @das-a-kirby-blog. Thoughts in the tags and more detailed description in Alt Text. END ID.)

Started 11/26/24, finished 12/09/24.

[johnnyshrine]

★ 100 // “The Holy Bible”

[sheepoftheseus]

top 10 animals that are wizards

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!

[crimeronan]

ultimately i think the appeal of daniel and armand to me is that it's very much a typical dark romance storyline where the heroine is kidnapped and tortured by an evil monster but using her wits she manages to seduce him and make him emotionally vulnerable to her, because she is More Special and More Clever than all of his other victims, and because of this she enjoys a level of dangerous favor and protection from him, except in This version of the dark romance it's two toxic old men who both have the worst fucking personalities imaginable. who truly just fucking suck beyond measure. like no pun intended, they are Garbage, one is the actual literal immortal devil and the other is just kind of a deadbeat with no moral compass, neither of them is willing to work on himself and neither of them has ANY reason to want to rail the other as bad as they do.

and yet. There They Are,

[sergle]

something weird going on right now vis a vis the depression, the suicidal ideation, and the heartbreak-- I can actually feel that I'm vaulting some of this stuff. like, my mind all but refusing to touch it. it's being put in the vault? I'm going numb a little bit

[mrs-gauche]

I beat Veilguard.

It's 4am. I'm a mess. I'm in tears.

[ducks-love-peas]

yeah, erm, spelling - not their strong point.

[corvid-language-library]

I think I probably need to limit my tumblr time a little bit over the next month or so. I feel like I'm wasting a lot of time sat here scrolling and it feeds into the downward spiral of "do nothing productive -> hate myself for not doing anything -> hating myself is draining so I have no energy to do anything -> do nothing productive -> ..."

It's not like I've been posting anything of any quality lately; just occasionally shouting to the void. I'm sure after a little break I'll feel much more up to being a functional langblr again

[serenhob]

I could be sleeping but this is what I choose to do instead

[irenespring]

Maybe House has made me more in-tune to the secret unhinged side of my favorite characters but I'm watching SVU and Alex Cabot is a menace. (/pos)

"I have to enforce the law, and the law is not always about justice" except random times when she disagrees and will fully become the lawyer for an opposing party in full defiance of her bosses.

"Your honor I simply do not vibe with the law" and will say so in court to the point where she once got held in contempt.

Started her legendary string of "Go After The Large Company Instead of the Obvious Target" cases just because Liv asked.

She will actually do literally anything that Olivia asks...sometimes when she does something especially unhinged I go to check the scene before and 90% of the time she's doing whatever it is to appease some vague whim of Liv's.

Ride or die for the SVU squad as a whole after working with them for less than a year and knowing that they have cost her like all her political capital (something that was very important to her...she says so in her introductory scene).

Exactly predicted fetal personhood legal issues 25 years before the Supreme Court overturned Roe.

Wanted to execute a woman for the first time in NY history for feminism reasons.

Spends like 80% of all work meetings, with other people in the room who are often actively talking to her, just staring at Olivia.

Always down for a Crazy Scheme (especially when she gets to deceive others).

She has a lot of moments of understanding the law as a weapon (ie how to I use it to my own ends as opposed to viewing it as a holy ideal) that is only now actually becoming a common philosophy in law school circles.

WAY more loose-cannon moments in general than I remembered.

Also I feel the need to reiterate just how many bridges she will burn and loops she will jump through for the slightest hint of approval from Olivia. Just...so gay.

Seriously just like how in House a casual viewer may get distracted by Wilson's "Definitely a Normal Person" disguise and miss how he is just as crazy as House, Alex is just as batshit as known exhibitionist-asphyxiation-in-the-middle-of-the-courtroom fan Rafael. And I love her dearly.

[mahkinarya]

working on a small zine about my ocs - most of my illustrations are viewable on my social media for free, so to sweeten the deal i've included my own personal notes about them! they'll be available on my kofi shop for 3 USD.