#Mass SMS Service

[tanlakarix]

What is the best time to send SMS marketing messages?

According to conventional marketing knowledge, the optimal time to send an SMS is when your target audience is most likely to notice it. Fortunately, it is virtually always the case with SMS. People always carry their cell phones with them, day, and night.

Because an SMS message pings their phone immediately, individuals are considerably more likely to view a text message than an email. That is the strength of SMS marketing. There is, however, one caveat: just because you can text at any moment does not mean you should. The distinction between effective communication and simply sending a text message into the vacuum is determined by timing.

Conventional marketing thinking holds that the optimal time to send text campaigns is when your receivers are most likely to respond to them. And it is not the same as simply looking at a message and disregarding it. When you’re in a hurry or busy, you might open an SMS merely to clear the notice and then forget about it. Ideally, you want the message to make an impression and prompt action.

Effective business text messaging is as much about the message’s timing as it is about its content. And the two are connected in your message’s overall purpose, but what is the optimal timing?

The answer is that the best time to send marketing SMS depends on the message’s purpose and target demographic. However, there are some general rules and SMS marketing best practices that will increase the likelihood of your message being received and engaged with, rather than simply being shown.

The Best Time to Send an SMS

The short answer is yes, during ordinary business hours. Most people and businesses consider this to be between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m.

Some people work between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m., while others work between 10 a.m. and 7 p.m. But let’s go with 10 to 7 to cover a wide range while also avoiding the dreaded early morning notification. People are awake and going about their business currently.

Remember that SMS systems allow you to schedule your messages ahead of time. Even if none of these times work for you, you can easily automate your campaigns for the best time. Let’s take it all apart.

Early morning texts are bad unless necessary.

Avoid texting in the early morning unless it’s an SMS reminder for an appointment in an hour. Aside from the risk of disturbing someone, early morning messages are less successful because individuals are rushing to get ready or traveling to work. You might be lucky enough to catch someone on a monotonous commute on a bus or tube.

However, unless you know your recipient’s daily routine and habits down to their mode of transportation, it’s a safer choice to avoid this period entirely.

Late-night texts are even worse and rarely necessary.

Nobody loves being awakened in the middle of the night by a text message unless there’s an emergency or a fire (no, not a fire sale). Nothing is more likely to damage a client connection than an ill-timed text message that provokes displeasure or rage. Your municipal regulations may even have required quiet hours during which businesses are not permitted to make phone calls or send text messages.

Lunchtime is a good time.

Another ideal period for SMS marketing is during lunch and early afternoon — usually between 12 and 3 p.m. People are less likely to be in meetings or engaged in hard work and more likely to be browsing their phones, with time to read and respond to texts.

Time-sensitive messages are an exception.

Send your SMS now if your message is time sensitive. This could signify that someone has an item that needs to be picked up before a specific time, that something is about to be delivered and must be received by a person, or that there is a payment deadline. If you need to remind someone of an upcoming appointment, send a message the day before and again an hour or so before.

Furthermore, you send scheduled SMS to deliver timely messages, such as an hour or two before someone’s appointment.

An appointment reminder service is useful for automatically reminding clients about subscription renewals or other scenarios that would cost your company money if missed. Similarly, an SMS alerts service can be set up to send out automated weather updates, traffic updates, and other time-sensitive information.

Consider time zones when mass texting.

You may have recipients all over the country or perhaps the world, and time zones can throw your precise timing off. Fortunately, bulk SMS service providers can assist you in sending these out at the appropriate time according to the recipient’s time zone.

For example, you can configure your sending so that all receivers, regardless of time zone, receive the message at 5 p.m. This is especially beneficial when mass-texting a list that is geographically dispersed.

The Best Days of the Week to Send SMS Marketing Texts

The best days to send SMS marketing texts are weekdays, but not all days are created equal.

Mondays are just that: Mondays. Nobody likes them, and even fewer enjoy being bombarded by more unwanted messages during them. Many people will be catching up on tasks, attending meetings, and communicating about work-related issues during this time. If you’re committed to sending on Mondays, try injecting some humor into your messages.

Fridays, on the other hand, are hit-or-miss. Yes, it’s Friday, and everyone is thrilled. They are, however, making plans for the weekend, anticipating the evening, and mentally checking out. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are ideal for SMS since they provide a decent balance.

The weekend becomes more difficult. This is when many people like to unwind and spend time on personal matters. However, it is also a time when many people will be shopping, lounging, and scrolling on their phones. It’s a time for friends and family, and many people don’t even check their email.

Because texting is a private medium reserved for those closest to us, your SMS messages will be delivered even on a Saturday or Sunday. Use this privilege carefully and in moderation.

What Time of the Month to Send an SMS

If you’re selling something, you should let buyers know when they’ll have money to spend, which is usually after payday. People are more likely to spend when they have a pay check in the bank but haven’t spent it all. Aim for the first third of the month and avoid the last third, when money may be tight for some people.

These are broad recommendations and should not be interpreted as hard and fast rules. Finally, it is determined by your specific situation and target audience. Experiment with various times to determine what works best for your SMS campaign.

You may segment your audience and test to determine which times of day generate the most interaction and conversions. This will help you to engage with your audience on their terms, but you must first understand your target.

Know Your Audience

Personalized SMS marketing entails not only tailoring the content of your message to each receiver but also the timing. And the best time to send a text message depends on your target demographics.

Learn about your target audience and their behaviors. Are they high-powered executives or stay-at-home parents? What are their attitudes and expectations towards you? Are you their doctor or just their favorite apparel brand?

You may not know everything there is to know about each receiver, but you should have a basic idea of who your targets are and when they are most receptive to your messaging.

Top Examples of SMS Marketing Timings

In general, the best time to send SMS marketing texts depends on what you’re communicating and what you want to accomplish.

Upcoming Sale or Promotion

If your sale begins tomorrow, publicize it today. Or a few days earlier, but not so far ahead of time that people have forgotten about it by the time it begins. In that situation, you’ll need to send another reminder closer to the event.

Ending Sale or Promotion

On the other hand, your sale or campaign is concluding, and you’d like to send a promotional SMS to your contact list. Repeat the process outlined above a few days ahead of time, and possibly again on the final day.

Lunchtime Specials or Dinner Deals

If this is the situation with your company, send an SMS an hour or more in advance to stay top of mind. Karix offers a comprehensive suite of SMS solutions for the restaurant and beverage industry, including reservation reminders, order delivery notifications, and weekly discounts.

New Subscription to Your Texting List

Set that SMS to be delivered instantly whenever a customer signs up for your texting list. Introduce yourself, thank them for joining up, and explain what they may expect. As a courtesy, include a special deal or discount code.

Back-in-Stock Item

Follow the best practices indicated above for this case. You may have received the goods late at night, but you must wait until morning to alert everyone.

Text message marketing is a potent instrument that should be utilized with caution. You are in the enviable position of being able to reach your customers at any time, at a moment’s notice — the time it takes someone to look at their phone after a beep.

That is, your audience believes you will not misuse it and will keep business time for business and personal time for personal life. If you time it well, you’ll keep your consumers pleased while also making yourself happy.

For More Info: https://www.karix.com/products/sms-solutions/

[blushhbambi]

† REPULSION ་࿐

── ˙ ̟ ೕ !! ꣑୧ rafe cameron x preachersdaughter!reader mdniᝰ.ᐟ dark!rafe, inexperienced!reader, religious themes / guilt, implied childhood friends, fingering, tit sucking, dub con, references to cannibalism, a little blood at the end... . ༉‧₊˚. word count;³`⁵k a/n ૮꒰˶  - ˕ -꒱ა ahh I love this gif sm, listened to ethel the whole time writing ! wanted to give rafe an isaiah vibe kindaaa... can u guys tell ? planning a part two !!

"you poor thing. sweet mourning lamb."— ptolemea, ethel cain

rafe cameron was not religious.

but god you made him feel like he had to repent. you, the perfect preachers' daughter, homeschooled and sweet, foreign to the kook-pogue bullshit going on in the outer banks. he'd only caught glances of you lately, so different from the endless, humid summer nights of previous years, you'd grown, you'd changed. he wondered if you even remembered it, both of you being so careless and so much younger.

in church you'd always sit right up front, in your sunday best under your father's watchful eye, draped in white lace or thin cotton. your hair would frame your face so perfectly and the way you tapped your little heels into the dark wood beneath the pews, even the cross that hung around your neck delicately, snug between the swell of your chest made rafe dizzy with desire.

you were like a dream in the dusty, old church, a break in the underlying smell of rot and mildew that traced the corners of the small wooden hall. you still held that naive look in your eye from your youth.

still so clean, so pure— sinless.

all of it made rafes stomach turn, he felt sick, perverted, disgusting and hungry.

so hungry.

all while he stood tense and brooding beside his father, in the back of the service with his head full of filth, imagining you spread before him whining out his name like a prayer. he wanted to feel your skin under his teeth while he broke through your soft, supple flesh and hear that satisfying cry of pain fall out from your lips.

wanting to taint you, adulterate you to his own putrescence. he could have any girl on the island, but he wanted you.

that sickness in him seemed to spread, twisting into almost obsession over the years, as he found himself lurking after mass more and more often. throwing you lazy smirks and attempted conversations before you were inevitably tugged away by your father. god knows what provoked him, maybe the blasphemous desperation in his head, as he strode forward.

he held that usual smug quirk in his lip as he approached you, small, quiet you, with his typical unwavering confidence in the dim, close to empty hall. you were sorting out donations, busying yourself, trying to be helpful before you perk up at that all too familiar coo of your name.

“hey.”

you blink up suddenly, all smiling and friendly, “rafe—”.

he stares at the curve of your lips, his head feeling light as you sound his name, letting it leave your lips so gracefully, before glancing back up to your eyes as you tilt your head.

“it's been a while, I haven't seen you for the recent services.”, your voice was delicate and cherubic, just like the rest of you, so quiet the church mice would fill with envy. you turned properly, staring up at him. giving him the whole of your attention as you always did.

“I've had better things to do,” he nods, drawing out his words heavily, almost boasting, watching you practically beam up at him under his gaze. you always found him funny even when he was mean or borderline offensive, he liked that. suddenly his brow furrows as he leans closer. a tick in his lazy smile and he's all serious, staring you down. he lets his hand reach out to your small frame, tracing the skin of your shoulder with two long fingers, leaving trails of a burning sensation. you hold back a shiver as you shift on your feet.

“and I think you do too.”

a laugh bubbles from between your soft lips, shaking your head, half nervous half curious, but you know what he's doing. he always did this. cooing and coaxing you away from what was important. you're about to object when he interrupts.

“nah, nah— none of that shit, angel”, he huffs quickly, shaking his head right back at you, almost humoured by your attempt to brush him off, his dark hair tossing across his forehead.

“c’mon—”

the next thing you know you're being tugged away right under your father's nose just like you remember in your half formed, honey-sweet memories of childhood, stained by bible studies and sunlight.

suddenly you're sitting quietly and brimming with nerves in the passenger seat of his expensive truck parked out in the empty fields behind the church. he's sipping at a beer lazily watching you. the top buttons of his shirt undone revealing a slither of his tanned, summer skin. you know this was wrong, so wrong, but you couldn't help but want a taste of the sickeningly sweet temptation that was rafe cameron. was that so wrong ?

“your daddy's been keeping you away from me, huh?”, he smiles toothy and playful, hiding a simmering frustration and suddenly you don't know what to say. it was true, rafe grew up rough and mean and eventually, those hazy childhood afternoons were stripped away from you.

he gulps down the rest of his drink and you find your eyes dragging down to the bob of his throat and following the outline of his adams apple. you swallow back your need and adjust the length of your skirt, subtly pressing your thighs together.

“s'not like that's my fault,”, you mutter softly, all shy and awkward tugging at a loose string of your dress. he couldn't help but let his eyes drift to the skin of your thighs then again over the chain that dipped under the curve of your chest. a subtle reminder of what you were, as the little crucifix glinted in the dimming sunlight.

“never said it was.”

“but you said it like it was—”

“y'know you really piss me off sometimes.”, he raised his voice above yours in the small of his truck abruptly, making your head whip up, blinking up at his dark eyes boring through your skin. a beat passes as you stare at each other before he rolls his jaw and tosses his beer bottle out into the brambles that hid you two from roaming eyes.

“d’you even know what you do to me?”

you shake your head softly before trying to get words to bubble up through your suddenly dry throat, his tone firm and serious. your mouth opens to speak but you only manage a little murmur.

"rafe— i— i dunno what your talking ‘bout…”

your lip catches between your teeth as you force your eyes down, keeping them to yourself.

a soft sigh leaves your lips as you tense, clasping your hands together tightly in your lap, you knew this wouldn't go over well. he's still staring you down, you can feel it. how burdensome his gaze was as he watched you swallow down your discomfort.

rafe lets his tongue wet his lips before he lets out your name.

“look at me.”, his command sits heavy in the air and almost on instinct you do as told, batting your lashes all pretty up at the taller man.

he hums in approval.

“now c'mere.”, he pats his thigh lightly, not breaking eye contact with you. your stomach flips.

“I cant—”

“yes you fucking can.”, he huffs out steady and assertive. his unfaltering resolute sent a throb between your legs. you couldn't help but shift, moving over the centre console with trembling limbs. crawling over him, clumsily falling into his lap. he stayed quiet a moment fixing your position with big, sturdy hands, pulling your thighs around him and getting you close.

warm palms rubbed over the soft skin of your thighs as he held you in place. his face leant forward, your foreheads pressed together. you could feel his steady breath and the loose wisps of his hair brushing against the sides of your face. you're still tense as ever but he doesn't seem to realise, too busy taking you in. making sure you're real.

you look like a vision and he's almost second guessing himself, his hands squeeze at your flesh and flick at the hem of your dress. he feels his tongue grow heavy with want, needing to satiate it with your taste.

“missed you,” he murmurs lowly, “missed this— us—”

you furrow your brows unsure of what to say, you weren't familiar with this rafe. he was changed and capricious with a wild and rabid glint to his eye. it made you nervous not knowing his next move but you nodded quietly anyway.

he lets his fingers dip under your skirt, smirking when your breath hitches and you fist at the bottom of his shirt.

“nervous?”

“rafe— I just think—”, you huff a little overwhelmed and excited but the pit in your stomach was telling you this was all wrong.

“I don't think I can do this…”, your eyes glance down at your necklace, the cool metal of the cross pressed against your chest. you suddenly feel icky, on the edge of sacrilege.

“well I think you can.”, he's unusually calm, almost smug as he brushes his lips with yours, it's unnerving and makes you want to sink away into nothing.

you're both close now, the air's heavy and tense, he palms around you, massaging at your waist.

“rafe—”, you breathe out against his lips.

“I'll be slow, soft— I swear”, he nods, desperate and lustful, eyes half lidded as he takes you in, all flush and sun kissed.

“but that's not the point—”

he kisses you anyway, it's sudden and startling, making you gasp. at first, it's soft. it's nice, sweet enough for you to like it. just his lips against yours while you squeezed your eyes shut tight.

until one firm hand trailed up your back to clasp at the nape of your neck. you let out a little noise against him, before pushing back abruptly to allow yourself a lung full of breath but he's pulling you back in all too fast, letting his teeth nip sharply at your bottom lip. a little pained whine escapes your throat and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

you gasp his name around the hot muscle feeling your thighs tightening around him as he tilts his head, it's messy and gross, teeth clashing together as he licks into your mouth desperately. rafe wants more of you. all of you in your entirety, to consume, to devour.

his hands palm over your little dress, clasping at the soft fabric that covered your skin groping over your waist, tummy and eventually the fat of your tits.

“please—”, you whine softly, not even knowing what you were asking for but whatever it was you wanted it bad. he's too busy moving his mouth lower to hear your plead, biting down hard at the supple skin of your neck making you cry out and back up into the steering wheel with a jump.

he blinks up at you with blown out pupils, panting out like a starved man.

“let me have you.”, he nods, clasping onto you.

you try shaking your head, but he's already pulled down the top of your dress to begin tugging at the lace of your bra making you arch. you couldn't say no. not now, not with all the need blooming between your legs and soaking through the thin, white cotton of your panties.

you watch him, half in awe half in horror, groping at you.

that seed of disgust in the pit of your stomach growing, branching out and taking over all feeling, twisting into want.

rafe groaned, you could feel his hard cock beneath the fabric of his pants pressed up against the wet of your clothed cunt. he leant his head down to your chest muttering in a haze.

“so pretty— so fucking soft—”

he covered your tits in rough bruising kisses, cupping them in both hands and letting his tongue drag over your perked nipples. you shudder into him, holding him tight.

“bet you fuckin’ love this—”

his mouth focused on the sensitive nubs feeling them harden under the weight of his tongue as he began to suck hard, letting his rough hands knead at the rest of you.

“you've never done anything like this huh?”, rafe draws out lazily leaving a trail of spit over you, kissing softer now, over his marks and then over the cross that lay against you flush skin.

you swallow in shame “n—no…”, you whisper out.

he watches you carefully, like prey, like you could jump away at any moment but he knows you won't, because your pliant like that, docile and meek. that's what he adored about you.

a humoured laugh is let out against your chest as he still kneads your tits, his chin balanced perfectly in the dip between them.

“shit I could cum just like this—”, he smiles proudly as you flush.

one of his hands move to cup your cheek, stroking softly as if to calm you.

“you can feel how hard you got me right?”

you nod shyly at his whisper.

“that's right—”

he takes your hand pulling it down to his thick, hard length, making you palm over it sending a jolt through your soaked pussy.

“mhm— all that— just for you angel…”, he whispers lowly nipping at the skin of your chest again.

“you want it?”

“please—”, is all you can get out.

he laughs a little louder.

“that's all you do huh?”, rafe lets go of your hand squeeze at your thigh, pushing up the fabric of your skirt revealing your soaked through, now sheer panties, plastered to your throbbing cunt.

he lets out a groan at the sight, a calloused hand hovering over your sensitive folds.

“just beggin’, always begging— not everything's a prayer angel.”

you twitch with a gasp, humping up into his hand as he lets one finger trace over the slick fabric.

“don't need to beg me for anything,”

your little panties are pushed aside, letting him run a long finger through your folds, collecting the wetness from your heat as your face twists quietly in pleasure. you're holding onto his arms tight, like he's your only life line, only connection to reality as your head spins.

“not when I'm gonna give it to you anyway, whether you like it or not sweetness your mine now—”

he hums with a little smile bringing his finger to you face, staring at the glistening tip. at this point he's talking to himself, your mouths too heavy to reply, too heavy to curse him or push him back.

you glance at it shyly, almost ashamed.

“that's all you angel.”

his smile tugs wider at your obvious discomfort, the grimace on your face almost making him giddy. he smears the slick across your lips before pressing into your mouth.

“rafe, no—”

“uh uh, none of that—”

you taste yourself, your sweet slick, hesitantly letting your tongue lap over it, swapping it for your spit.

he nods, drawing out a hum of awe. it was like you knew exactly what to do, how to please him. he presses another finger between your lips as his cock twitches in need confined against his pants, but he knows to be patient. he watches you babble and drool over the two fingers, spit bubbling around them.

the truck is hot and brimming with perverse desire, the steering wheel digging into your lower back now as he shifts you to get a better view of your pussy. he stares at it a moment before once again tugging the drenched cotton to the side and pressing his spit covered fingers to your clit. he swears he can feel the bundle of nerves twitch under the pressure. you let out a sinful moan and he's tracing your soft, glistening folds forcing out a louder one.

“so fucking pretty—”

your nails dig into whatever you can grab of him as his free hand moves to kneed at your tit, pinching and pulling it's little overwhelmed bud that stood up firm and flushed.

long fingers dip between your folds, making your brain turn to mush. he's taking his time exploring you, spreading you apart and taking in your needy hole, clenching around nothing and the twitch of your pretty clit, he traces everything as if he were studying you like scripture.

suddenly he plunged his fingers into your cunt, and you moan out his name louder, louder then any prayer that's left your lips.

one slow, aching thrust, then another and another until he's found his rhythm, pumping through you and working you down. his name leaves your throat in desperate, chanting cries and tears prick the edges of your eyes. he lets his thumb press against your clit hard, feeling you squeeze around his fingers.

he's so rapt he's forgotten about his own heavy, leaking cock straining against your thigh. he doesn't slow down, even as your eyes begin to flutter back with each gasping, lewd breath of yours or whine of his name. you grow closer and closer to release the knot in your stomach only getting tighter as you felt yourself falling further from reality.

his fingers stretch out your tight cunt, curling sweetly into that soft spot that makes your breath hitch. you feel light and endless and so, so close.

you're getting desperate. eyes screwing shut. you crave release carnally, it's a sweltering hot need in the pit of your stomach. another curl of his long, teasing fingers, leaves your cunt gaping and letting out lewd squelches, you feel yourself twitch, thighs spasming lightly.

you're right there and suddenly it's all gone, he's paused, you whine blinking up at him, panting with need as your little hands squeezed at his sides.

“rafe—”, you cry out tearily as he pulls out his fingers now drenched in your sweet slick, already sucking up the taste of it while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

he holds back a mocking smile, he loved seeing you like this, tainted by his efforts.

“rafe please— I need it, need it so bad—”, it's like your falling over yourself, your discipline crumbling as you fall deeper into temptation.

“I know angel,”, he mutters, pulling his now clean fingers from his mouth, still calm as ever, enjoying the show your putting on for him. his hand reached down to his pants, undoing them just enough to pull out his aching cock, it stood flush against his stomach, the tip pink and angry, beading with pearly white pre cum.

your panting and desirous, staring at the scene before you as he pulls closer to your heat.

“rafe, we cant—”

“you really don't fuckin’ trust me huh?”, he smirks lazily giving himself a few tight pumps.

“we're not doing shit sweetness—”

you believe him for half a second before he's rubbing the slit of his fat cock head against your clit, you cry out arching into him.

“holy shit—”, he groans. “youre so fuckin' wet angel— already soaking my dick—”

rafe runs the heavy tip through your folds, careful as not to drag into your cunt.

“pussy’s fucking crying for me— shit.”

“rafe— just don't—”

“I won't put it in, m’not stupid—”, he pants out already knowing what you were thinking as he rubs your clit faster with his cock head, he's squeezing the base tight and he swears he sees stars.

you feel yourself getting close again, your release building up to its peak, making you feel light headed, divine even. this is the closest to heaven you'll ever get on earth.

you cum fast. your mind goes white hot and blank for a second as you cry out, feeling your toes curl. he holds you close needing to feel you, to smell you, to taste you. your little shaking arms wrap around his shoulders as he draws out the rest of your orgasm staring down at your creaming cunt. you arch sharply and he watches your tits bounce slightly with every shock of your peak, convulsing around him as he milks out every last drop of your ecstasy, like it's a godsend.

it's transcendent.

and it doesn't take rafe long to follow, when he cums he bites— hard. enough to leave little pricks of red on your skin and that sweet, metallic taste on his tongue. the taste of you was heavenly and all consuming, now that he had it he only wanted more.

he cums over your quivering pussy, his filth dirtying you, tainting you in his sacrilege. a small huff of satisfaction leaves him as he watched the thick cum drip down your folds in hot spurts.

you're both spent, leaning against eachother. you don't even feel the sting of broken flesh with your head so dizzy in the after math of your orgasm. rafe stays in place, lapping over the bite soothingly with his tongue. your blood tastes thick and syrupy sweet in his mouth, making him let out a quiet moan.

rafe cameron was not religious.

but the taste of you made him feel like god.

© written by bambiblushh— do not steal or claim as ur own ᝰ.ᐟ

[criminalyapping]

pull you in, it's alright

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: melissa king x f!reader

a/n: her <3 wuh luh wuh time and happy pride

this might come as a surprise but i think dr king is my favorite pitt character. i love her sm

inspired by/title from sofia by clairo

warnings: talking about pittfest, talking about the ramifications of working in healthcare

"Call your loved ones now if you need to," Dr. Robby says to the group of hospital personnel, "I can guarantee you cell service will soon be overwhelmed."

Mel feels a mix of fear and anxiety wash over her. On her first day in the ED, and she gets a mass casualty event; just her luck.

Taking her attendings' advice to heart, she quickly pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials the number of Becca's day center. She speaks quickly arranging a later pick-up time, and assures Becca that she will be there to get her when she's done.

She hangs up with a sigh, seeing the others around her still on the phone.

Before she can think too much more about it, she dials your number as well.

"Hi, Mel!" you greet as you pick up the phone.

"Hi," she greets.

"What's up, how is your first shift going? Are you done already?" you ask, checking the time.

"Um-" Mel says into the phone. She pauses, clearing her throat. "Yeah, it's going good. I just, we're going into emergency protocols for a mass shooter and, they gave us time to- call people, and I," she pauses.

You stay silent, waiting for her to finish her thought.

"I called Becca's center but I wanted to talk to you, too." she says.

"I'm glad you did," you say into the phone. "Are you going to be okay?" you ask her.

"Yeah, yeah," Mel assures, picking at the skin around her thumb. "Listen, I um, I have to go, but, thank you."

"Any time," you say warmly, "Will you call me later? When you and Becca get home?" you ask.

"Yeah," Mel agrees, "I don't know what time, though." she warns.

"I'll stay up," you implore, "please?"

"Yeah, I'll call you." Mel agrees.

"Okay. You've got this, Mel." you tell her.

"Thanks," she smiles, looking up and seeing the hospital staff congregating once again. "Talk to you later," she bids goodbye.

"Talk to you later." you agree, hanging up the phone.

You turn on your ringer and place the phone on your kitchen counter, already waiting for her call.

You had met Mel during her time at the VA, when you came to visit your grandfather. Mel joined in on a few Uno games with you and him during his admission, and as he was discharged, you asked if she would ever want to do something together.

You weren't explicitly flirting, moreso testing the waters and seeing how she would react to it. You weren't blind, Mel is stunning, but you had seen her care for your grandfather, her earnestness in which she approached life, and you knew that you wanted her in your life; in whatever way she would have you.

Mel had stuttered, eyes glancing around the room as she battled between wanting to know you and feeling restricted by her professionalism.

"Yeah, yeah," she had finally said, throwing a smile your way and entering her phone number into your contacts.

You and Mel had formed a fast friendship, based on mutual interest in the others' lives and a genuine desire to spend time together.

You think that Mel might be the best person you've ever known. Not in a loud, watch-me-be-good way, something much softer. Mel is selfless, determined, kind - nice without strings, and sincere in each and every interaction with others.

You're in a very special spot in your friendship with Mel. Those precious moments between friendship and love. You're not in a rush to change anything, but you can feel the simmering tension in the small moments you share with her.

You feel it when she rests her head on your shoulder, hair down after work and tickling your arm. You feel it when she laughs, loud and unabashed before covering her mouth with a hand. You feel it when your hugs linger just a bit too long, and when she pulls back and looks at your face as if to memorize your features.

Knowing that she thought of you when prompted to call her people gave you a warm feeling.

You go about your Friday night business, eating dinner and relaxing, all while unable to stop thinking about how Mel is doing.

You get a call at about 9:45, while invested on your latest read on the couch.

"Hey," you greet after scrambling to pick up the phone.

"Hi," Mel sighs into the phone.

"How are you?" you ask her.

"Good, yeah," she tells you. "I'm about to go pick up Becca. What are the odds she still wants to get dinner?" she jokes.

"Ohh, I think it's pretty high," you laugh.

Mel chuckles into the phone, but doesn't say anything else.

"How did tonight go?" you ask her gently.

"Fine," Mel says, her voice cracking around the word. "I'm, um, I'm not sure I want to talk about it."

"Okay," you agree softly. "What can I do for you?" you ask.

"Just this," she breathes into the phone.

"So easy to please," you tease, pulling a laugh out of Mel.

Mel bids you goodbye as she approaches Becca's center, promising to see you in a few days when she has some off days.

Mel comes over on Wednesday after you get home from work, being her first day off since she started on Friday.

You open the door, smiling as you give her room to step into your apartment.

As soon as her shoes are toed off, you throw your arms around her in a big hug. She stumbles back a step, laughing as she returns your embrace.

"Hi," you greet, pulling back slightly to see her, "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she says in her low tone. "Did you finish your book?" she asks.

"Nooooo," you admit, "I still have a few chapters left."

Mel smiles, moving further into your space and leaning against your kitchen counter.

"How has the emergency room been?" you ask her.

"Do you want to take a walk?" she asks,

That is Mel-speak for she wants to talk, but she wants something else to do simultaneously.

"Yeah," you agree, moving to put your shoes on as Mel does the same.

You're both silent as you step out of your door and take off towards the park a few blocks away from your apartment.

"It's been good," she starts. "I really like the people, and I've already gotten to do a bunch of stuff I've never done."

You glance over at her, the evening sun filtering through her hair and illuminating her profile.

"That's awesome," you tell her, "It sounds like you're gonna become an even better doctor."

"Yeah, it's awesome," she agrees, although her tone betrays that she doesn't believe it.

You stay silent, walking beside her as you let her piece together her thoughts.

"It's just, it's been hard." she finally says, voice cracking.

"There's, um, there's a lot of people. And I can't stop thinking about them?" she says with her tone indicating a question, as if she was asking you if that was odd. "It's the worst day of their lives, for some of them, and I see," she pauses, still walking, and takes a deep breath. "I see a lot of them. A lot of people having the worst day of their lives. It's very, uh, different from the VA."

"It is," you agree. "You're feeling out of your depth." you reflect.

"Kind of?" she agrees.

"Do you want to hear what I think?" you ask.

"Yeah," she says, shooting you a smile.

"I think that having someone like you there on the worst day of my life would help." you tell her genuinely. "It's obvious that you care a lot, Mel, and having someone who cares probably helps more than you know."

Mel smiles, quickly wiping away a tear that had fallen from her eye.

"Thank you," she says quietly. Mel looks like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "I think you might be biased, though," she laughs.

"What do you mean?" you giggle.

"I mean," she blushes, "of course you would want me there."

You cackle out a laugh at her statement.

"What, am I wrong?" she asks, returning your laugh.

"No, no, you're not wrong." you tell her. "You're very special to me." you say.

"Yeah?" Mel asks.

"Yeah," you tell her earnestly.

Mel smiles again, but her expression is tinged with a hint of confusion.

You continue walking, both bathed in the evening sunlight. You breathe in the fresh smell of the park and feel the warmth of the sun on you skin.

Mel steps in front of you, making you screech to a hault suddenly.

"Am I..." she starts, looking nervous. "What's, um, what's happening?" she asks. "Am I reading all of this wrong?" she asks.

"No, Mel, not at all." you tell her with a gentle smile.

Mel gently shakes her head, a disbelieving smile and expression taking over her face.

"What," she starts, clearing her throat, "what are we... doing?" she asks haltingly.

You think for a moment. Before responding, you reach down and take Mel's hand in your own, lacing your fingers together.

"I don't know," you say thoughtfully, "I just want you." you tell her simply.

Mel's wide eyes dart around the surroundings, never quite stopping on your face.

She surges forward, catching you off guard as she presses her lips to yours in a clumsy kiss.

Just as fast as she was there, she had pulled away.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized.

Instead of responding to her - frankly very silly - apology, you kiss her again. Her hands cup either side of your neck, her thumbs brushing against your jaw.

You kiss, just a soft press of her lips to yours, until the grins taking over your faces stop you.

Neither of you say anything as the kiss ends. You don't have to.

[hellsburners]

scream his name

summary: forgive me for not being an actual priest pairing: matt murdock x male reader word count: 1.7k warnings: 18+ warning, sacrilege, sm/u/t, bjs and s3x a/n: i swear im writing for other characters i just had to put this out

masterlist | more matt murdock

He entered the confessional and rested his cane in the corner of the room. It was a small wooden box actually, a small crooked seat and a maroon curtain. It smelled like old wood and incense, Matt settled down and waited for the voice. 

On the other side of the booth a young seminarian was finishing up with wiping the wooden seats, making sure that the cubicle was nice and tidy. Before you could go out you heard someone enter the opposite booth. Your eyes widened, you weren't supposed to be administering confessions, those were reserved to ordained priests. 

“Father Cathal,” the voice said. It was a familiar voice, soft but deep, you always noted that he would enunciate every word perfectly. Father Cathal has been meeting with this man ever since Father Lantom passed a few years ago. They would often chat and administer confessions for the man. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Murdock but Father Cathal has been feeling ill lately, confessions are moved after mass this saturday,” you said, your voice shaking. You heard him mutter an oh. “And I’m afraid I’m not qualified to administer confessions, but if you want to I can offer some counsel. If anything worries you.” 

“You must be the seminarian Father Cathal is mentoring?” he said. 

“Yes, sorry if I was quick to call on your name it’s just that you frequent the church a lot.”

“I was raised catholic, the church has been my second home,” he uttered. His deep voice soothed you, any sense of panic was gone. You often wondered about him, how he worked as a defense attorney, and has been donating so much for the church. 

“So what bothers you Mr. Murdock?,” you felt your clerical collar tighten around your neck. 

“I’m a sinner.”

“I’m afraid we’re all sinners. From the beginning, man’s life has always been riddled with sin, just ask Adam,” you laughed. “That's why we are able to repent from our sins through this sacrament,” he laughs as well. 

At the other side of the booth Matt Murdock had loosened his tie, the top button already undone. He could hear his heart pounding. The reason why he frequents the church was not because of Father Cathal, or the sisters, not even the youth group he often helps around. He comes by the church everyday because of you. 

A smile would show in his face every time he heard your sweet voice. Calm and collected, soft and inviting. You were always near Father Cathal, Matt would notice the smell of your perfume mixed with church incense. He loved hearing you talk, offering service to the nuns and the other church staff. 

“Does God punish us by letting us meet people we aren't meant to meet?” he said. 

You loosened your collar. “What do you mean by that Mr. Murdock?”

“Matt, just call me Matt.”

“Matt,” you corrected. He heard your heartbeat quicken, your body temperature rising. 

“God gave me someone, to—to like. But I don’t think I’m meant to feel this way about them.”

“By feel do you mean love?” you said. Your palms were wet at this point. You wondered how anyone could refuse attention from him. He was a kind and attractive man. 

“Love, lust, adoration,” his voice hitched. “I am too deep in this, I want to worship them.”

“Worship is a strong word Matt, God compels us to only worship him. To worship someone like a false god is against His word.”

“Pardon my language, but I yearn for them,” he said. “My body—it aches for him. I need your help brother.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Sweat drips down your nape, you could hear the guilt shouting at your head, but heat rises through your body, an ache forms in between your legs. You clutched your clerical collar, the mere sign of your covenant with God. 

“How can I help?” you uttered. 

“Kneel.”

Your eyes widened. What? You could hear shuffling from the other booth. The rings that held the curtain slinked to the side. “Just kneel, please,” there was something in his voice now, it was lower and more seductive. Does God punish us by letting us meet people we aren't meant to meet? His voice echoed in your head.

Could the Lord have sent me the devil himself? 

You made the sign of the cross. Your thumb caressing your forehead, your stomach, your chest. The promise you made was wheying in, like a scale ready to fall on one side. You closed your eyes and knelt. 

You heard the booth door open. A looming shadow covering you. He had entered, his hand caressing your hair. His warm hand went to the side of your face down to your chin. He lifts your face up, your eyes open. The dim lights of the booth made his face blurry. A dark shadow over his eyes but his red lips glistening, like forbidden fruit. 

He bends down to your face, his lips meeting yours. Your cheeks were so warm, almost feverish. His hands went to your neck, gripping lightly. His tongue entered your mouth, you let your tongue meet his into union. A sacrilegious moan left your mouth. 

He was wearing a worn out blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone. You take the buckle of his belt and unclasped it, opening the button of his trousers after. As if opening a present on christmas day you pulled on the silver zipper. A bulge forming on his black boxers. 

You pulled on the soft fabric, your knuckles hitting his bare skin. You brought your lips to the base pulling on the garter to unsheathe his hardness. You presented your mouth as if receiving the sacrament of the eucharist. Mouth open, tongue out, your eyes half lidded directly looking at him. 

The hardness grew to a decent length, cut and the head pink already wet with pleasure. He takes the tip to your tongue, you engulf the head  with your lips. He lets out a groan, his hand goes to your nape, pushing you into his cock. 

The head hits the back of your throat, coating it with your saliva. You cough as he pulls his cock out. He caresses your face. He gestures for you to stand. As you stand he pulls you back to a kiss, his wet hardness hitting your trousers. You pulled off your clerical collar and left it on the seat. 

He takes your waist and rotates you around. You looked at the black wooden wall. He was leaving wet kisses in your ear as he unbuttoned your shirt. His other hand was palming your erection already hard and aching. 

You help him pull down your pants as well as your underwear. Your bare ass, cold against the night air. He caressed your ass and gave it a slap. You moaned, you swore people could have heard it. He kneels on the wooden floor, practically looking up to your body. He takes his tongue against your rear. The wet muscles played around your hole, preparing it for his cock. He places wet fingers inside you to stretch you out, he curls them, pleasure striking your whole body, your knees buckle. 

Your moans filled the small booth, the sounds made louder from the room’s size. He stands up and takes a condom out of his wallet. He puts it on his cock. He takes the wrapper and makes you bite on it. “God knows I want to hear you moan for me, but you need to stay quiet. If this falls from your mouth I’m leaving you like this,” his hand snaking across your ass. 

He places the tip to the rim of your rear. He pressed on the muscle, somewhat rejecting the tightness. He perseveres, the hardness sheathes into your body. You were now united, like a soul to a body. Your eyes roll back from the pleasure, your jaw shaking from the pleasure. You could feel the condom wrapper slip. 

He thrusts into you, a hand to your neck. You moan through the wrapper, all muffled and croaking. His cock filled you so well tears started to form from your eyes. Before the seminary you had never been with a man. You always looked sinfully but never acted on it. But now, the devil in the form of a handsome man, devoured you in his flames. 

You recounted Dante’s version of the second circle, men and women devoured in strong tempest, blown around in circles. You could feel it now from his hips hitting into you. Like your body was in his control, swaying forward and back. Your hands gripped onto the wooden ledge on the booth, practically scratching. 

He grunts into your ear each thrust. Your teeth clench on the foil wrapper even harder, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth. His hands went under your shirt, toying with your nipples. Your hand went to your cock stroking it, it’s been so long since you’ve done it. You felt pleasure like never before. 

Fifteen minutes of continuous fucking ensued. Your jaw started to sore from the clenching, the same with your lower back and your knees. Matt’s lips were dripping with saliva and guttural moans, his cock on the brink of climax. 

He pulls out the wrapper from your mouth. He knew you were also near climax. “Let me hear it sweetheart, please let me hear it,” he groans to your ear. He twirls you around to carry you. Your arms and legs wrapped around his body. He pushed you into the wall, his cock continuosly fucking into you. Your lips met in a fevered kiss. 

He fucks a few more times into you until he cums, the two of your moaning into the kiss. Both your shirts were wet from your cum. Matt carries you as he sits down on the stool, your legs still straddling him. The two of you kiss even more, riding your high. 

“It’s you,” he said, as the two of you got dressed. “The person I was afraid to be with.” 

“I’ve committed a grave sin tonight,” you looked down to your feet. “But I’ve always felt like the mission was never truly meant to be,” he sat next to you, his hand caressing your back. “I actually planned on sending my letter of withdrawal tomorrow, so no harm done I guess.”

“Can I still ask you out?” the two of you chuckle, Matt pulling you in for a kiss.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[lonestarflight]

Apollo 4 Command and Service Module (CSM-017) being prepared for its A-type mission at the Manned Spacecraft Operations Building in Kennedy Space Center, Florida.

"The Apollo spacecraft for this mission was CSM-017. With a fully fueled launch mass of 30.4 metric tons, this would be the most massive manned spacecraft prototype ever flown. Although it was a Block I type Apollo which would not be employed in subsequent manned flights (a decision which predated the Apollo 1 accident), CSM-017 carried a number of modifications to flight test upgrades for the Block II series spacecraft proposed in the wake of the Apollo 1 accident. These included the umbilical running along the rim of the heat shield from the CM to SM and an outer panel which simulated the new quick-release, outward-opening CM hatch to test its flexible thermal seal in flight. The hatch window was replaced with an instrumented test panel carrying simulations of the seals and gaps between the hatch and the surrounding heat shield. The arrangement of antennas emulated that of the Block II design and the CM used the same type of protective thermal coating that would be employed by the Block II spacecraft.

Diagram showing the interior of CM-017 for the Apollo 4 mission with the electromechanical command controller.

Since there would be no crew, the interior of CM-017 did not carry astronaut couches as well as some flight controls and instrumentation displays just like the earlier unmanned Apollo test flights. Fitted inside of the cabin was a 163-kilogram electromechanical command controller unit that would execute a preprogrammed sequence of commands or respond to ground commands to put the Apollo spacecraft through its paces during independent flight. This design had been successfully used in the earlier AS-202 unmanned test flight."

Date: January 5, 1967

Photo and information from drewexmachina.com: link

[lemon-natalia]

Gideon the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 3

oooh bioluminiscent church lighting funky

why do they make all the poor skeletons attend church as well 😭😭 imagine literally being undead and u still have to go to mass

oh what the fuck

guess i was technically right about Harrow being an orphan, i just didn't think it was because she'd literally mummified her parents?! When she was 10!!

not even 3 full chapters into this book and it already has a talent for just lulling you into a false sense of security and then dropping an absolute bombshell of a line

'What she'd found, what she'd seen' seems to be some kind of mystery surrounding Harrow's parents deaths ... 🧐 Also 'if she'd been stuck being Harrow's parents she'd have done the same years ago' cold-hearted 😭, i love Gideon sm so far, she's hilarious

ok ~what the fuck~ the whole 'puppeting' thing wasn't even a metaphor she is literally making her dead mother's body move around! ok!!

ok this emperor dude is giving total cult vibes, even more so than the Ninth already does

not entirely certain why Ortus's mother is so upset about her son being the cavalier ... guessing there's a high chance of death involved but still?

'"Because I completely fucking hate you," said Harrowhark, "no offence."' i can understand the other way around, Gideon is literally an indentured servant of course she doesn't like Harrow, but i feel like there's gotta be another reason why Harrow dislikes Gideon quite so intensely, other than just rivalry & her being pretty mean??

this chapter makes me wonder about the nature of necromancy in this world, and the extent 'resurrected' dead bodies are, yknow, really 'resurrected'? like are they simply going through the motions like dolls with no actual conciousness, or do they know on some level who they used to be... if they're totally no conciousness, then what is the point of making them go to a religious service, but if they're not then the whole using skeletons as labour thing is horrifying on a totally different level

[hyukalyptus]

finnick!yeonjun who knows its probably best to cater towards the fan service.. pretend to be single and all that for the capitol. especially while he’s fighting for his life in the games. but he can’t help the small submission towards you. his eyes growing wide with love, and anything his mentor taught him about how to win the games gets overshadowed by the love he has towards you. forget the sponsors, forget the attention, forget any sense of selfish-ness needed to stay alive. all that matters to him is as long as you win.

omfg,....

victor!yeonjun from district 4, a great swimmer, super attractive and lusted after by capitol citizens and a victor!reader from district 8 who loves fashion. growing up, her parents would risk taking home fabric scraps for her to design with every once in a while.

both of them serve as mentors for several games, always meeting together during the games, sneaking into each other's rooms, just trying to get through reliving them together.

talks of district8!reader's dreams of being a stylist in the games while simultaneously knowing how corrupt the games are, but she's always wanted to work in fashion. and not just mass producing the same garment over and over like her family used to do before they moved into the victor's village.

then when they're reaped for the 75th quarter quell, they're the last person they want to see when they get to the capitol

-

aaaaahhh omfg i love this sm, i'd love to write it ehehehe. would definitely have to think about how reader won since district 8 victors are so rare. maybe her arena was in a city?? idk!!!! so fun!!

and ooooh the complexities of him most likely being a career and volunteering while she was almost definitely reaped in each of their original games, that'd be so fun to explore. maybe she resents him deep down for buying into the system but also knows he was probably brainwashed into believing it was a great thing, just like most people from districts 1, 2, and 4. but still. she hates and everyone that ever bought into it..how could they have been so ignorant? AAAAAHHH

@mapofthemazeinthemirror what do ya think???

[fancyllamasublime]

[savvydissent]

Introducing SavvyDissent

Friends, it's time (I'm sorry to say) to bring back the chain e-mail, the reply all, and the mass text. Security and safe use of the internet just became critical.

I hope you will (securely) spread it through your social circles in person, or by secured email or text.

We're all in shock from the election, and we're all wishing we could do something. Protests and resistance will increase over the next years. My hope, and my advice, is that we take the threat seriously. You (and I) are not overreacting; they tell us their plans. Trump promised at the beginning of this campaign way back in 2023 to overhaul the federal government into his personal bureaucracy. He specified that will include surveillance departments.

This is real, and it's critical to understand the the US is not immune to fascism and authoritarianism. American exceptionalism is a dangerous lie. With the technology we have now, the rise of fascism will look radically different that our historical imaginations conjure, and the administration will be very different than his 2016-2020 presidency.

The 2016 Trump was chaotic and vague, and even then he left destruction in his wake. Now, the far-right have had years to organize for a second Trump regime.

They have concrete plans they didn't have before. Trump is less coherent now, but he's surrounded by people with purpose and competence that in he didn't have in his first administration. His health is declining fast, and JD Vance is potentially even worse ideologically. The Trump administration will likely involve RFK, Jr. and Elon Musk, both of whom are extremely dangerous.

Audaciously, the richest man in the world has warned us to expect austerity. He's in a position to become Trump's propagandist (and has played the role already.)

The Heritage Foundation, an extreme Chisto-fascist organization, are the architects of this coming regime. Their agenda in Project 2025 should terrify us. One of my only sources of hope is that it seems Trump/MAGA are telling us their plans. That advantage is lost when we don't believe them.

We need to accept some harsh truths, and one of these is that social media is not the place for a resistance movement.

It is not our friend or ally; it is demonstrably dangerous. Learning this is part of the mission inherent in the popular phrase, "Don't obey in advance." Don't hand them your information. The CEOs of the major sites are collaborators--they helped manifest this outcome, and they've already demonstrated their willingness to help quell dissent (your photos are used in face-recognition software to identify protesters) and aid the police in hunting down and arresting abortion patients.

We have to rethink organizing, and we have to do it securely.

I must stress that Trump has included leftists (by which he means even moderate liberals and democrats) in his speech about "the enemy within." Even if we are white, Christian, cisgender, straight, and able-bodied, he has declared us the enemy.

Each of us has a decision to make. We either become publicly dissident--risking personal safety to a degree we can't know--or we wage our opposition in the safest way possible.

Social media? They're cops. If we are going to have any hope of staying safe and organizing, we must accept this truth.

We must assess the risk of posting our affiliations and circulate petitions and direct actions on the public web. Most of us are easily identified where data miners and AI can detect this information. For the most part, that's out there, permanently. When you delete an account, the company retains copies of your data.

I am not a security expert, but I have some beginner tips for safer communication.

● Download an end-to-end encrypted messenger app and stop using SMS texting and social media DMs. I recommend Signal or Discord, but would not trust WhatsApp, as it's owned by Meta.

● Look in to data removal services like DeleteMe or Incogni; these will help your reclaim as much of your data.

● Turn off your phone's location tracking.

● Install a VPN and sign up for a secured email. Proton Mail and storage are good; Gmail and Google Drive are the enemy. A VPN (virtual private network) hides your IP address that would otherwise out your location and other info.

● There are cheap anf free options for VPNs and you can find secure email free.

● Install TOR or other secured browsers. Chrome especially is a security nightmare. Incognito or private browsing on your regular browsers is not a safe option.

● Reject site cookies and use best practices for password security.

● Don't make plans online. Circulate information directly using these secure practices. If you volunteer or join protests or see calls to action on public social media, talk with the organizer to urge a move off social media.

● If you attend a protest, read into Black Bloc tactics for anonymity and health/safety, or at least wear a face-obscuring mask. Police have already used face-matching software to arrest protesters in the US.

● Speaking of masking, follow Covid protocols. Our health system will be gutted soon and any measures to prevent communicable disease are going to be on us. (Vaccines could be banned; the CDC eroded even further.) There are dangerous flu strains as well- please take precautions.

● Disable face recognition or thumbprint logins on your phone. Currently the cops are allowed to use these to access your phone, but they can't force you to give them the PIN or pattern drawing. Be aware that could change.

● If you are trans, discuss privacy concerns with your doctor.

● Along that vein, if you're seeking an autism diagnosis *and your level of support needs can be met without it* rethink having your neurodivergence documented. The fate of disabled folks is precarious, and authoritarian/fascist movements are dangerous for us. I'm not sure if ADHD or other neurotypes are at risk, but there is historical precedence for autistics and other divergent people to be targeted.

● Protect each other: Do not out trans, queer, racialized, or any other vulnerable people in your friends groups. Note that includes any pregnant person--Whether you're excited your best friend is having another baby or your kid sister is late for her period, keep that offline. (For the love of all that's holy delete your period trackers.)

● If you know travel plans for someone to travel or move to a safer blue state, you shut the fuck up about it.

If you have further knowledge about privacy and security, add it when you forward this to friends.

I'm planning for this to become an anonymous zine/newsletter where we can distribute info under-the-radar communications network. To opt in to occasional newsletter posts,

email "add me" to savvydissent@proton.me, visit tumblr.com/savvydissent message via Discord or Telegram @savvydissent

Print & distribute on paper.

Share this with your contacts, and circulate it safely. Please message me to share any direct actions, mutual aid organizing, or any relevant info you want to spread. Please take good care of yourself.

[fishmech]

it's funny seeing people call twitter, facebook, tumblr as "first gen social media"

like no they aren't lol! they were all founded after the real first gen of social media! stuff like friendster and classmates and (kinda) myspace but myspace you could also make arguments for being a second gen service, one founded specifically in reaction to how friendster in particular was already making a large amount of money.

really depending on how you look at things you could call twitter and tumblr and instagram third gen social media - twitter being designed and intended for mass on-the-go usage via its original conception as a service you could text and receive texts from so as to allow social media interaction from people who merely had phones that handled SMS, no need for the more expensive ones with data plans! and tumblr of course only launches after twitter and originally tried to aim for a higher end "you have a phone with an ok browser so we don't need an app or carrier store support" market for its on-the-go usage. and instagram of course being primarily an app from the get-go.

[smsprovider]

Bulk SMS Provider in UAE

Bulk SMS Provider in UAE

UAE Bulk SMS Provider Forwardvaluesms.com With the ever-increasing competition in the business world, it is more important than ever to invest in area marketing systems that give you an advantage. In the meantime, the rise of the mobile age and the expansion of the media transmission industry have made it possible for nearly everyone in your target segment to own a cell phone. Because of these factors, it is now extremely reasonable and essential for marketing strategies to incorporate selecting mass SMS services. Utilizing a robust Mass SMS framework, developing a product, or outsourcing these services all play a significant role in expanding your business. Reaching Out to Specific Groups of People:

1. The fundamental benefit of realizing a Mass SMS application is preparing to be to unendingly attract with productive clients and snare them back to your thing or organization line.

2. The probabilities of successfully correspondence your message is a significant measure use, by virtue of choosing mass SMS plans, basically considering the way that the gatherer will without a doubt go through it later whether or not his versatile is switched off at the time of passing on the message. Cost-effective and productive: 1. In addition to being more cost-effective than calling each person on your database individually, sending a mass SMS is also more effective. 2. Additionally, because the framework is electronic, it is a cost-effective method for contacting global audiences.

3. By integrating mass SMS benefits with your company website, you can further reduce costs. This project also does not require any upkeep.

Relevance in Reaching Advertising Objectives:

1. Compared to mass emails, which are more likely to end up in the recipient's spam folder, SMS messages have a much higher degree of credibility.

2. Organizations often find that mass informing makes it simple to spread information about new advertising campaigns, limited-time offers, and even invitations to special events.

Ineffectiveness in General Correspondence and Execution:

1. Mass SMS services are just as useful for internal communication as they are for outside correspondence, particularly with representatives who are typically out in the field.

2. You can effectively maintain contact databases for future correspondences by investing in a mass information framework.

3. Mass SMS arrangements are easier to put into action than you might think. All you need is a good internet connection. You wouldn't need to hire any specialized staff because this is a mechanized programming program that is incredibly simple to use.

Basically doling out the ability to a current specialists part is good. In a matter of minutes, you can immediately convey each of your messages. Investing in this strategy is a great way to ensure customer satisfaction and keeps target audiences fully informed with relevant information.

It is basic to check that your expert center for conveying your mass compositions is strong and not a fake. This is to moreover ensure that your data sets are not abused and the legitimacy of your correspondence is kept up. Use these services wisely to grow your business and implement an effective mass SMS advertising strategy!

[orassian]

/ FOREIGN SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED / / ATTEMPTING REMOTE SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL / / REMOTE SHUTDOWN FAILED: ERROR CODE SSE-RO/0 / / ATTEMPTING STUTDOWN OF RURAL PSI-NETWORKS / / SHUTDOWN FAILED: REASON UNKNOWN - ERROR SM/201 / / TRIANGULATING ORIGIN OF TRANSMISSION / / > Returned Transmission Vector: / > - SB01AL, Orassian Order of Templars / > - R1PDN9, Unclaimed Sector / > - V07KNA, Unclaimed Sector / > - RYN7A4, Alari Interstellar Commonwealth / > - BN264L, Raxing Oligarchy / > - RPWN16, Interstellar Union of Combine Colonies / ORIGIN POINT UNCLEAR / / SHUTTING DOWN CENTRAL PSI-VISION NETWORKS / / PARTIAL SHUTDOWN SUCCESSFUL: THE CAPITOL / / HOMING ONTO THE INCOMING TRANSMISSION /

Checking reception... One... Two... Three...

Reception appears to be great. It seems as though our dear people at the Matriarchy tried to trace the origin of our transmission. Luckily, our friends managed to counter their attempts by scrambling our transmission vector to a bunch of unrelated galactic states.

Let's turn on the live feed.

Good afternoon, Orassian nation. Erhrdra D'Kara here on behalf of 'People's News Republic'. Our sacred mission is to bring you unbiased coverage and deep-dives into the authoritarianism and lies propagated by the regular state media.

On today's agenda are the mass protests happening in almost every major city on Prophet's Promise: Gharêph, Shêsyŋ, Atasaŋ, Yellidzõkh, Êshõkh, Yeŋabh, and most definitely the capitol city of Atêraghr.

The Enforcer clones of the Matron Council are rounding up any person they could find even remotely related to the protests into unmarked vehicles with no registration numbers. The abundant CCTV coverage installed since the Matriarch came to power certainly plays into their paws with tracking any dissidents. Where the people are being taken is still unclear.

Underground groups, such as the recently popular 'Orassian Liberation Front' and the 'Insurgent Priesthood Organization' vow to locate the kidnapped civilians and give them freedom they have been deprived. The mood among the people is nothing short of outrage, however all relevant groups understand they must remain composed and ready.

For the purposes of protecting the intelligence services of involved groups, we will publish any recent information within two standard days. We encourage all civilians interested in the safety of themselves and their relatives to do the same and report all relevant information on the Enforcers' movements to the OLF or the IPO.

Stay vigilant and watchful for the next few days, and do not panic. It is what the Matriarchy wants of us: a fearful and submissive flock. Let us not give into fear and false information.

That is all for today. There will be more exclusive coverage coming next, so stay tuned. This has been 'People's News Republic'.

Truth to the people.

May it guide us away from the darkness.

/ TRANSMISSION END /

[dailyanarchistposts]

The Billionaire versus the Anarchists

Imagine that you do not believe that Elon Musk deserves to have more power over what occurs on Twitter than the roughly 238 million people who use it today. For the purposes of this thought experiment, imagine that you believe that no one deserves to have such disproportionate power over the means via which human beings communicate with each other. In other words, imagine that you are an anarchist.

What can you do to ensure that people can control the technologies that connect us? Can you establish new platforms that answer directly to those who use them? More importantly, can you popularize those, drawing users away from the closed playpens of corporate social media? Can you draw people together in other forums, spaces that can’t be bought and controlled by billionaires?

Effectively, Musk’s acquisition of Twitter returns us to the 1980s, when the chief communications media were entirely controlled by big corporations. The difference is that today’s technologies are participatory rather than unidirectional: rather than simply seeing newscasters and celebrities, we see representations of each other, carefully curated by those who run the platforms. If anything, this makes the pretensions of social media to represent the wishes of society as a whole more insidiously persuasive than the spectacles of network television could ever be.

Twitter itself is likely a lost cause, but we should not hastily cede any territory via which we might communicate and organize against our oppressors. In a globally networked world, our adversaries in governments, corporations, and reactionary movements will continue to take advantage of digital technology to act with speed and coordination. We can’t afford not to do the same, even if in the long run we seek much richer forms of connection than anything that digital technology can provide.

It’s you against the billionaires. At their disposal, they have all the wealth and power of the most formidable empire in the history of the solar system. All you have going for you is your own ingenuity, the solidarity of your comrades, and the desperation of millions like you. The billionaires succeed by concentrating power in their own hands at everyone else’s expense. For you to succeed, you must demonstrate ways that everyone can become more powerful. Two principles confront each other in this contest: on one side, individual aggrandizement at the expense of all living things; on the other, the potential of the individual to increase the self-determination of all human beings, all living creatures.

The good news is that their narrative about where innovation comes from is a lie. Anarchists had more to do with the origins of Twitter than plutocrats like Musk. We can create new platforms, new points of departure for connection, new strategies for changing the world. We have to.

Further Reading

Deserting the Digital Utopia

Surviving the Social Media Crackdown

From Indymedia to Tahrir Square —The Revolutionary Origins of Status Updates on Twitter

From TXTMob to Twitter

TXTmob and Twitter

Plantery.social

[1] We could go back even further to the protests at the summit of the European Union in Gothenburg, June 14-16, 2001, during which some participants organized a “communicationcentral” using a crude program to mass-distribute SMS messages. Everyone could subscribe to the service, but the infrastructure was not decentralized, which made it vulnerable. The police carried out a raid and eight people served a year or more apiece behind bars. Similar raids followed during protests at the 2008 Republican National Convention in St. Paul and the 2009 G20 summit in Pittsburgh before the authorities shifted from trying to prosecute those providing information to the general public during protests to targeting those who inadvertently gave away too much information about themselves via social media.

[2] According to an account by Evan Henshaw-Plath and Harry Halpin, “Although Twitter received early favorable coverage from venture capital magazines such as TechCrunch and an outburst of usage around the San Francisco earthquake in August 2006, it still only had 5000 users—the same as TxtMob—by September 2006.” It didn’t take off until the 2007 SXSW conference.