#thumbdrive

[sucka99]

[pinballjizzard-official]

I know I removed the thumb drive before ejecting it safely, that's just how I role baby.

[edibleotaku-blog]

[rendyhimawan]

Karma USB Drives (2014)

Karma USB drive has an assistive indicator showing whether there is still space left inside the thumb drive, without having to plug it in to the computer. 

Press the button then an indicative light will show up, whether the drive still have space or not.

The USB drive could be used as keychain as well.

[time-woods]

Hey hey hey hey just wanted to let you know

OH MY DEAR LORD SĪDUS THE FALLEN STAR? I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT IS THE BEST NAME EVER AND I ABSOLUTELY ADORE HIS DESIGN AS WELL

Also Sīdus's outfit kinda reminds me of those little star children in Howl's moving castle (look it up if you don't know what I mean)

ok byeeee

thank you ! !

and hehe Sīdus does have some ghibli inspired themes 2 him, backstory wise

[for-quill-with-love]

[caretaker has left]

[twistedquill has joined the game]

I came back into being with a soft pop-- air displacing as my feet hit the ground and refused to hold me up.

My shoulder hit the edge of a fencepost, and I collapsed backwards into a dip in the ground.

It took a long moment for my jackrabbiting heart to calm, the taste of salt and the smell of flowers pulling me fully back to myself.

First thing first, I patted myself down for injuries. Luckily, I hadn't so much as twisted an ankle as I'd dropped into this world. That must've been a rough jump, if I had been running from--

Had I been running?

I was certainly not dressed like I would be if this had been planned. This dress was made of fine, delicate fabric that wouldn't last more than a day if I wasn't careful. I'd already tripped over the hem. And these slippers weren't suited for anything more strenuous then a walk in the park.

I couldn't remember why I wasn't in my normal adventuring gear.

I couldn't remember my normal adventuring gear.

I twisted about, taking in my surroundings. It was the mouth of a mineshaft, but unlike one I had ever seen before. Behind me was a darkness that had my hands itching for an axe. I needed to get out of the shadows before anything came after me.

I pulled myself up, stumbling out into the sunlight. Before me stretched an unfamiliar world, and a chest floating in the water below caught my eye.

Half-stumbling down the hill, I waded into the water to investigate.

All I found inside was a handful of wooden logs, some sticks and a couple apples. Oh, and some basic wooden tools. I was grateful I wouldn't need to hurt my hands by punching trees.

Where had this come from?

I had never set a starter chest up in any of the worlds I'd prepared for myself. I always thought it was cheating, in a way.

Had I stumbled into a world meant for someone else?

I reached for my communicator--

This wasn't mine.

I took everything the chest had to offer, before swimming back to the stony shore.

I shook the majority of the water off, pushing my hair out of my face. This wasn't my communicator. My fingers reached for buttons I was missing, and commands I couldn't remember. It was so plain.

I didn't know what my communicator looked like, but it sure as void and stars wasn't this.

And I couldn't leave-- that whole section of my comm was gone. There were no contacts in my messaging list, and no way to enter any either.

At least I could see I was the only one in the world at the moment.

My thoughts fuzzed. I had been expecting a name there, in both my contacts and in the world's occupants.

Enough of this. I was burning daylight, and unless I wanted to dig myself a hole to hide in until morning I needed to get moving.

I carved up enough stone to get me by until I found a spot to settle down. I found moss growing along the shore, and I practically pounced on it in my excitement to gather some. Moss was invaluable this early in a world.

What wasn't invaluable were these weird creatures crawling around.

I didn't dare get too close. I didn't know if they were hostile or not.

It looked like that mineshaft wasn't the only new thing about this world.

I'd known about worlds like this, once. Worlds on the outer edges of the universe, where the code got wonky and new creatures appeared and new contraptions were possible.

I'd always wanted to explore one, before--

The world was already starting to get dark.

I needed to find a place to spend the night.

[wannabe-cartoonist-blog]

channeling my 12 year old self and relearning how to make dvds so i can finally own knb on dvd forever

[nightseeye]

Rip to everyone who hates looking at their old art im built different tho

[ambersky0319]

So like

Genuinely

I want to move away from Google docs, not just bc of the AI but bc Google drive has deleted my files in the past (no joke - over 200 dog pics alone just gone. I also lost individual wip chapters + high school writing that I wish I could revisit)

And like. I have MS Office free bc I pay for it via my tuition

But is there any other programs that work on both desktop and android?

Because that's the draw of Google drive/docs for me. The cross-platform access. I wanna be able to quickly pull up a file on my phone just as quickly as I could pull it up on my computer

I could just use MS, and I do plan on transferring my stuff there at this point over time, I just... idk, I have never really liked using MS. Plus needing to download a bunch of other apps just to open certain files is annoying. Also, while I know I could probably just continue using my uni account after I graduated, I don't trust that I will 100% have access to it at that point

But as far as I have seen, the main recommendations away from MS and Google are either strictly desktop (like LibreOffice) or are desktop and IOS (NOT android - like scrivener, which I'd have to buy separately anyway)

Which sucks for me because, again, I'd like to be able to quickly pull up a doc on my phone. Or create a new doc and jot down spur of the moment ideas when I don't have access to my computer. And I don't have to retype everything on a separate doc

But hell, I'll take a decent, just android word processor as well. Bc I can just retype everything, if it came down to it. I would just prefer not to

Like idk. Any decent quick note apps for android people use? Bc even that would suffice, and I'd probably just transfer stuff over to something like scrivener or something later

[trillgutterbug]

guys........... the lad i've been ~*hanging out with*~ a) has a macbook b) uses chrome c) doesn't know what an adblocker is d) thinks datamining is a funny myth made up by paranoid luddites. but i learned all this about him bc he eagerly suggested watching black sails post-coitally, so like. what's my next move here.

[cuminthebackofmydragulaaa]

[okmcintyre]

[evenmorecrows]

i think its funny that if you play as a lasombra you can still tell jordan about feeling phantom notifications in your pocket when shes talking about the media blackout despite the fact its later revealed you've been a kindred for 50+ years. boy why are you lying youve Never been able to hold a smartphone

[euhemeria]

Time (Escapes Me) - Oneshot No.8

When she releases her stones into the ocean, that is what is most on her mind, the ways she has failed Fareeha in the past year, the ways she has failed herself, the pain she has caused both of them by promising that things will be different, but not actually making an effort to change.

Fandom: Overwatch Rating: G Characters: Angela Warnings: None A little thing for Rosh Hashanah (late for several reasons, not the least of which being that I don't have power right now), with Angela musing on how she hasn't always been the best partner to Fareeha. Also on ao3. This is Chapter 8 of a oneshot collection.

Novelty is exhilarating, for many people, is necessary, to stave off boredom, to be happy, to feel sane.  Angela has never been one of those people; the problem solving and excitement of her work has always been more than enough to keep her from feeling stultified in her everyday life.  In fact, she rather prefers that things not change, finds comfort in routine, in tradition, in repetition.

Religion is satisfying, in that way.  Yes, she appreciates it for providing a connection to her parents, an understanding of them and their values that time did not permit her to gain firsthand, and the ready community it provides when she moves from one place to another, yet again, but more than that there is continuity, an understanding that, no matter what came before, or what will come, some things will stay the same.  There is comfort in that, in knowing that she is one part of a larger whole, one moment in something that existed long before her and will persist long after, come what may, that there is nothing she can do to change that.

Few enough things in her life have felt so stable, and even those which have, like Overwatch, have evaporated in an instant.

Even Rosh Hashanah, which heralds the new year, is observed the same way every time.  Even when the place changes, the people, she knows what to expect with it, the same prayers, the same meal, the same wish for peace, for a good and sweet year to come, the same strange contrast between the somber service and the joy of children playing before dinner, not old enough, yet, to be burdened with guilt.  For all that they focus on the future, the promised return is only that—a return, life until the next new year.

She can appreciate that, appreciates, too, the seeking of forgiveness.  There is much she has to seek repentance for, at the end of another long year, much to cast off, even if she is not so good at the last part, at letting her failures go.  It is nice to have a period to devote to it, at least, nice to be able to tell herself, afterwards, that she has devoted appropriate time to it, to dwelling on the mistakes of the past, and can only do better now.  Otherwise, she might let it bog her down, the mistakes of the old days, of her past, all the things she did or said—and worse, the things she did not, words she spoke not.  After Yom Kippur, they will be truly behind her, and when that urge comes to ruminate, she can shake it off, can remind herself of what she has promised to do differently, the ways which she has sworn to change, and act on those, rather than sitting there in her misery, accomplishing nothing.

So there is change, too, yes, but in a way that feels safe, feels like continuity, like progress, like a choice, and always towards the same end: a better, sweeter future, a healed world.  That, she can accept, that, she will pursue.  With the same safe ritual, year over year, she can better herself, can feel safe in doing so because there is a guide for it, practical, a framework for understanding it.  Unlike so many other changes in her life, her repentance, the promises she makes during Tashlich, and will make through teshuvah on Yom Kippur, are ones she has chosen, are not the consequence of some event, sudden and catastrophic, are not forced upon her by her failures or the chaos of living, but are wholly in her control.

In this framework, that of choosing to right wrongs, to be a better person, doctor, friend, lover, it feels, if not quite safe, inevitable that certain things will need to change, to be done differently in the coming year.  It is still frightening, to imagine all the things she will have to do differently, to do right by Fareeha, to picture what it will look like to be more open about their commitment, and to be honest with herself about the fact that it is a commitment, that she has chosen Fareeha over the freedom to run, but it is freeing, too, to know that she has made a choice, to move past the uncertainty and to know what is going to happen.

(It will not make her any less nervous, the first time she introduces Fareeha as her partner, will not make her sound any more certain when she proposes, will not make it any less uncomfortable to be known by other people, to be recognized, when they are together, as a proper couple, but she will be braver in the face of those things, because she knows it is the right thing to do for Fareeha, the right way to treat her.  With that, with the idea that it is what she must do, that it is the better thing, she will be so much stronger than she would be otherwise.  There is much she can endure, if she knows that it is what she ought to do.)

For too long, she has told Fareeha just to wait until she is ready, until she is more certain.  For too long she has promised Fareeha that someday they will be able to be openly a couple, will be able to go out on proper dates and hold hands and make plans for the future.  For too long, she has asked Fareeha to take on faith that things will change, one day, but taken no steps to move towards that day.  It has hurt Fareeha, she knows it, even if she does not complain to Angela, most of the time, has decided that for now—if not forever—that what they have is enough for her. 

Angela does not want her commitment to be just enough for Fareeha to tolerate, she wants Fareeha to be truly happy, the way she is, wants, at least, to try and make good on her promises, wants to start moving towards the future.

(Fareeha is happy, of course, as things are.  The situation with Angela being closeted, yes, is one she tolerates, but the relationship itself is more than just acceptable, has made her happier and nourished her in much the same way it has Angela.  Still, Angela hates knowing that any part of their relationship is merely tolerable, hates the pain she causes Fareeha when she pulls away from holding hands in public, or stands just far enough away to keep people from getting the wrong—right—idea, hates knowing how avoidable it all is, and knows that she, too, would be happier, if they could do things differently.  Most of all, she hates knowing they could, if she were brave enough to make a change.)

So when she releases her stones into the ocean, that is what is most on her mind, the ways she has failed Fareeha in the past year, the ways she has failed herself, the pain she has caused both of them by promising that things will be different, but not actually making an effort to change. 

Next year, she tells herself, their relationship really will have changed.  They will be engaged, yes, if Fareeha accepts her proposal, but not just because of that; she will be more open about them, will be more able to say, in public my partner—or, by then my fiancée—will not shy away from what they are.  Next year, she will take Fareeha with her to Cima’s Rosh Hashanah dinner, will sit at the table beside her, will dip her challah into honey and then afterwards whisper to her love about the segulah for newlyweds, their challah dipped in honey every Friday for a year.  It is the sort of thing Fareeha might find charming, and so she imagines Fareeha talking her into it, despite her taking no stock in such superstitions.

(For Fareeha, there are many things she might do, might consider, which otherwise she would never.)

Next year, she will look to the future seated beside her love.  Next year, they will watch all the children at play and wonder—should they have one?  Next year, when no one is looking, she will dip another slice of apple into honey and press it to Fareeha’s lips, shocked at her own boldness.  Next year will be sweeter, if only she does what is right this year, if only she does what is good.

And she will.  She will.  It will not be easy, but she must do it, if she wants that sweeter future, and it will be easier, knowing it is not just for herself, knowing that it is what is right for Fareeha, will be possible, because she has promised before God that she will.

For Fareeha, for her happiness, she will do better.

[cicadabite]

got tagged by @adistortion to post my lockscreen + last song + last camera roll photo :•)

(lockscreen is by @/amysherrierart !! and yea thats a tiny frankenstein taking a hit lol)

i tag uhhhh @peechfuzzy @larksinging @judaskissed @monsterbi @coffintwink @rentmymorgue + any1 else who wants to 💌🪲

[gibbearish]

maybe its the mostly aro in me but i. cannot imagine giving a shit abt this