#Prepaid Smartphone

[venacoeurva]

Good lord at this rate you're better off just buying a cheap phone to use as an mp3 player and just not activate it than even bother with a touch screen mp3 player unless you're ready to drop like $1000 because everything else is immensely questionable

[sillimancer]

just want everyone to know that I'm having to shop for a new mobile phone and plan for the first time in over a decade and it's hellish

[goodguygadgets]

Smart launches ZTE Blade A75 5G at an affordable price

Smart offers ZTE Blade A75 5G, the most affordable 5G smartphone in its lineup, on Prepaid Bundle or Postpaid Plan+ 999 packed with exciting perks and offers. #Smart5GPhoneforAll #ZTEBladeA75 #Smart5G

Smart Communications Inc., the mobile services arm of PLDT, has partnered with ZTE to introduce the Smart ZTE Blade A75 5G, the most affordable 5G smartphone in their lineup, priced at just ₱5,450 (SRP). Smart offers ZTE Blade A75 5G, the most affordable 5G smartphone in its lineup, on Prepaid Bundle or Postpaid Plan+ The Smart ZTE Blade A75 5G boasts impressive features, including a 50MP AI…

[adampage]

mine was this little bastard

Pls reblog if u vote :)

[lycanetheland]

[tokidokitokyo]

Phones in Japanese

Some vocabulary for phones in Japanese.

携帯電話 けいたいでんわ mobile phone, cell phone

携帯 けいたい mobile phone, cell phone (abbreviated)

スマートフォン smartphone

スマホ smartphone (abbreviated)

電話番号 でんわばんごう phone number

シムカード・SIMカード SIM card

(携帯) メール (けいたい) メール text message (usually just メール)

通話 つうわ phone call

データプラン data plan

契約 けいやく contract

適法契約 てきほうけいやく legal contract

保証期間 ほしょうきかん warranty period

分割払い ぶんかつばらい installment payment plan

プリペイド式携帯電話 プリペイドしきけいたいでんわ prepaid mobile phone

データ量上限 データりょうじょうげん data cap

ローミング roaming

モバイルネットワーク事業者 モバイルネットワークじぎょうしゃ mobile network operator

ネットワーク受信エリア ネットワークじゅしんエリア network coverage area

サービス状況 サービスじょうきょう service status

サービス停止 サービスていし service outage

セルラーネットワーク cellular network

ワイヤレスブロードバンド wireless broadband

ワイファイ Wi-Fi (usually written as Wi-Fi)

[suzukiblu]

Day sixteen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

TTK does, apparently, protect Kon from callouses, which Tim learns the hard way as Kon laces their fingers together and rubs his thumb across the back of Tim’s hand. His skin is so much softer than it should be, Tim thinks accusingly. Couldn't he at least have the decency to have chapped hands? Sweaty palms or something, even? 

Unfortunately, what Kon has is soft, warm, strong hands whose fingers lace easily through Tim's own, and Tim just has to deal with that somehow, apparently. Apparently that's just his problem now. 

Bastard. 

Tim needs to not melt into an incoherent pile of mush, so he just acts like this is fine and normal and normal and fine and walks into the store with Kon and leads him over to the phones. Kon seems smugly pleased. Tim pretends to not be an incoherent pile of mush. 

It doesn't particularly work, but he at least puts in the effort. 

“Any preferences?” he asks, tugging Kon towards the closest display.

“For a phone?” Kon says. “Not really. I mean, whatever works.” 

Tim is going to take full advantage of that “whatever”, he immediately promises himself. Full and total and complete. 

“Okay,” he agrees, then starts looking at the high-end models. No point in going cheap, though he's definitely going to make sure to pick a durable brand with the least possible degree of planned obsolescence involved. If it comes to it, he'll either upgrade one or build Kon something outright later, but for now the standard retail models are gonna have to do. 

“Uh,” Kon says, cocking his head with a bemused expression and then gesturing towards the wall with his half-empty smoothie cup. Tim is perfectly normal about the fact that they're still holding hands. All kinds of it. Completely and totally. “The burners are over there, man.” 

“Why would I get you a prepaid phone?” Tim asks, making a point of putting on a skeptical expression. “Most of those models don't even have a decent camera.” 

“That is a nine hundred dollar smartphone that you are currently looking at,” Kon says incredulously. 

“Given your powerset involves the ability to decide to make anything you're touching invulnerable, I'm not particularly concerned about you breaking it,” Tim replies reasonably. “Like, are you even capable of dropping things?” 

“Technically no, but I still fight supervillains on the daily, dude,” Kon says. 

“Then I'll spring for the accident insurance,” Tim replies reasonably. “I'd have to come back to buy you a new burner anyway, so it's just easier all around if you can duck in and pick up a replacement without needing to wait for me.” 

“It is nine hundred dollars,” Kon says. 

“There's an eight hundred dollar model, if you don't mind a little less memory,” Tim says. 

“The burners are like, twenty bucks,” Kon says. “And you don’t need to sign up for a plan or anything.” 

“Yes, but if you run out of minutes or break it, you’ll need me to come reload or replace it,” Tim says. “This way you can do it yourself and you can talk as much as you want.” 

“How much exactly are you expecting to want to talk to me, man?” Kon says with a self-deprecating little laugh. Tim thinks vicious thoughts, makes room for a few more spaces on his supervillain vengeance list, and then just shrugs. 

“Up to you,” he says. “I mean, I have school and extracurricular stuff, but that only fills up so much of the day, you know?” 

“You cannot possibly have researched me thoroughly enough to be that sure we’re gonna get along,” Kon says, frowning faintly at the phones. 

“You’re seriously underestimating my capacity for research,” Tim informs him, taking a sip of his smoothie. “Also I’m really just going on how well we’ve been getting along so far.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and his face flushes again. “Uh . . . okay.” 

“How about this one?” Tim suggests, tipping his head towards one of the mid-range models. Decent brand and sturdy build, but not quite as expensive. 

“That’s still five hundred bucks,” Kon says. 

“I am intending to spend a lot more than five hundred bucks on you today,” Tim says. “And anyway, five hundred bucks for both our conveniences is a small price to pay, don’t you think?” 

“I guess,” Kon says, glancing towards him for a moment before looking back to the phones. “Um . . . maybe, then. If you’re–sure.” 

“I’m sure,” Tim says firmly. “Seriously, I’m not texting you on your work phone, that’s a terrible idea.” 

“If you say so, man,” Kon says, ducking his head a little like he’s trying to hide his smile. It’d work better if he weren’t taller than him, probably. 

The bastard is still holding his hand, so it’s only fair, Tim figures. 

God, since when is Kon this cute, anyway? He's always annoyingly hot, obviously–leaning more strongly towards the “annoying”, for obvious reasons–but he isn't usually cute. Tim wasn't prepared for that. He hasn't had the time to build up the necessary defenses against it. 

“I say so,” Tim says. “What color do you want?” 

“You're a very weird dude, you know,” Kon says with a little laugh, shaking his head.

[momochanners]

Kind of a weird question, but have you ever considered printing out your FE3H comics in a book of sorts? Because I was reading through them again and really wishing I had a physical copy of all of them.

Not a weird question at all! I actually get asked this a lot.

I did consider making physical booklets out of my FE3H comics, like an anthology, but that was before the pandemic hit full force in 2020. Had to put the idea in the backburner as international shipping in my country grinded to a halt back then, and when it finally opened up again in 2022 the prices of a particular prepaid express shipping with tracking became way too high to justify dealing with physical items. So unfortunately, it's no longer in the cards for the foreseeable future.

The best I can provide are the PDF versions that are available for free at my Ko-Fi shop:

They're basically the same as the ones I post on Tumblr, just that they are compiled together into one file for easy reading on smartphones and tablets. The definitive editions with extra epilogue pages and author notes are for patrons over at my Pa+reon.

Hope this answers your question!

[stabbyfoxandrew]

This is the first time in like 2 months that your ask box is still open when I get up so now I can finally make a request for some arsonist neil/firefighter andrew! (hopefully you don’t have too many already)

WIP Wednesday (9/11) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 227)

"How's that?" Andrew asks at the same time as Neil's phone vibrates against his ear, rattling his skull. He grimaces and pulls it away from his head. He hates this stupid phone. He almost wishes he had one of those smartphones that can handle video calls— 

Huh, Neil supposes he could get one. It's not like it's hard to procure a cell phone nowadays. Not like it used to be. Hell, Walmart's even got a burner phone section now! (Ahem, he means a ‘prepaid, no-contract cell phone’ section.) Maybe he'll look into that sometime. It would have to be more convenient, right? Plus maybe he'd get to see Andrew more often if they could video call...

"Just a sec," Neil says, earning a groan from Andrew's end as he ends the call to go check his messages. Andrew has sent him a few photos this evening, but Neil is not prepared in the slightest for the image waiting for him. He sucks in a sharp breath and wishes his phone's screen was bigger than a postage stamp. He holds it as close to his face as possible without going cross-eyed and sighs appreciatively.

The photo, like the others, is of Andrew's reflection in the floor-length mirror in the corner of his bedroom. Andrew fills up almost the whole thing. He's all broad shoulders and green cashmere and soft blond hair and... Neil swallows thickly. What the fuck? How does he look so fucking good? He's not even posing! He's just standing there, head cocked to the side and one foot sticking out to show off his boots— black leather, stompy-looking things. They seem to add to Andrew's height. Neil wonders how much.

Neil curses his stupid phone for not being able to zoom in. He wants to see what expression Andrew's wearing. He can almost imagine looking into his eyes and the idea flusters him. Neil huffs and holds his phone away from him, sliding the keyboard out and in a few times before looking at it again. It's still the same! Andrew looks amazing and sharply soft, which isn't a thing, and fuck! Neil blinks and realizes he's been staring at this picture for six minutes without replying.

"Goddamn." He curses himself and downloads the photo to his phone's nearly full memory card before going back to his call log. He mashes the button on Andrew's name and impatiently waits for it to start ringing. When Andrew answers, he sounds weird.

"Was it that bad?"

"N-no. No, it's good. It's really, really good. Andrew, that's what you should wear." Neil sputters, sounding like a fucking simpleton. He clears his throat and shakes his head but it does nothing to dislodge the image seared into his brain. Fuck, he wants to burn something. He wants—

"You think so?"

"Yeah," Neil nods, though Andrew is miles away. "Yeah, wear that. And, um, send me a picture of your face."

Andrew is quiet for a minute. "Why?"

Neil hasn't got a reasonable answer. "I... Never mind. Um, have a good night."

"I doubt that will happen, but I appreciate the sentiment," Andrew sighs out. "Sort of wish you were going with me."

"Why? So I could burn the place down if things get awkward?"

Andrew snorts. "Maybe. That would at least liven things up. And I'd be in my element. Sort of. At least more in my element than..." He sighs again, clucks his tongue. "So, should I send you the address or...?"

Neil laughs. "No, definitely not."

"Fine." Andrew blows air. "Well, I gotta go. If we all survive this evening, I'll call you when I get home. Otherwise, I suppose you'll be seeing me on the news tomorrow."

"Andrew. Andrew, hey, hey. Repeat after me: no matter what, I will not kill anyone tonight," Neil says, waiting for Andrew's pledge. It takes a second, but he reluctantly says it back.

"Unless I really, really have to.” Andrew sneaks in. “Bye."

"Bye. Good luck." Neil says, then the line goes dead. He flops face first onto his bed and smashes his face against the mattress, then opens his messages with Andrew. Before he can open the picture to stare it at a little longer, a new one comes in.

A selfie.

[party-gilmore]

i’m so over this grossly inflated techbro smartphone circlejerk bullshit my holiday bonus is going to go to paying off this stupid fucking iphone and switching to t-mobile prepaid

PLUS, I HAVE JUST FOUND THE BEST FUCKING DUMBASS SMARTPHONE POSSIBLE (for me and my current personal preferences/needs)

FUCKING POCKET SIZED

MID 2000s STYLE COLORFUL TRANSLUCENT SHELL CASING

256 GIG STORAGE

A GODDAMN HEADPHONE JACK

NO FUCKING BUILT IN A.I.

[fanficsforfun]

Some random Ghost headcanons

He doesn’t have a smartphone nor does he use social media. He knows the risks and sticks to a old feature phone with a prepaid interface

With this man trust is built by actions, not by words. If you betray him, he will never trust you again

He doesn't care much about strangers, not in a personal level anyway, but if he accepts you into his inner circle, he's willing to go to great lengths to protect and take care of you

He always carries a weapon of some sort, like a pistol or a knife. He could easily defend himself with bare hands against ordinary people but a weapon is still a good idea to have, just in case

With one night stands he can be rough-handed but if he really likes you he’ll be gentle (unless you ask for something else). I mean, why on earth would he want to hurt you when you're in such a vulnerable position? He knows how horrible it is and doesn't want you to go trough anything like that

[syncopein3d]

Left Alone Part 9: Silencers 1

Tropes/content warnings: M for mature themes overall. vampire whumpee/caretaker, male whumpee/caretaker, non-binary whumpee/caretaker, general morbidity; this is a bit of a breather chapter before we get to the bitey shooty part in 2 and 3, so not a lot of relevant triggers. There will be a lot of play with, and discussion of, the concept of consent in this series, as it applies to many topics. There will be angst. Vampire biting can be painful, platonic, or NSFW and I'm not sure what direction that will take, but Tolly will definitely continue to fantasize about subtextually or literally sex-murdering Arden, as vampires often do.

If you would like to be added to, or removed from, the tag list of this series, please let me know!

Part 8: Faint

The kitchen had a back door facing out into the overgrown herb garden, an expanse of knee-high lawn, and the woods. He considered running the property barefoot, but he knew it was surrounded by forest. Only living wood was very dangerous to him. There was always the chance of stepping on a snag or a cut blackberry vine old enough to be woody, which would go through his foot like a hot knife through butter. Any real injury would use up too much of his pig’s blood to heal. He would wait for shoes.

He breathed in the night for as long as he dared, looking up at the stars – nothing important had changed in twenty years. It was one of the only things an immortal could depend on. The stars changed so slowly that they were always there. He could hear spring peepers in the distance from the creek beyond the lawns. A dizzying bouquet of scents burst over him, plant and human and animal and inanimate.

It was almost fearful, this sensation of his world expanding again. He hated the little room, had hated watching himself slowly shrivel and starve, but things inside it were very simple.

His time was limited. There was work to do. Tolly locked up again and went to collect the trash from downstairs and put it just inside the back door, so he could take it to the bin when his shoes arrived. He put the volume on Poe carefully back in its place on the library shelf.

With these preliminary matters accomplished, Tolly went to sit, ankles crossed, on the big stairway so that he could teach himself to use the phone. Moonlight glittered in the stained-glass skylight above the vestibule. It depicted the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone, very traditional for someone of Nicholas’ religion.

A current smartphone was a fascinating thing, so unlike the phones he remembered. The internet was mind-bogglingly fast, too. It amazed him. He couldn’t get the wifi password from the phone itself. He’d have to ask Arden later.

Tolly's ebay account still existed, and his bank had a web site now. He was able to register after some finagling with taking pictures of his face and talking on the phone to what turned out to be a machine with recorded human voice segments. At the end of a couple of hours he had linked his account with a few payment services, ordered new cards, and signed up for Amazon. The phone Arden had ordered him was a prepaid – he could see Arden’s Amazon, too – so he let that be for now. It was functionally disposable that way, and he could charge it with minutes and not invest in a plan he might not need. There was no point in spending so much on something that might so easily break, and the parasitic integration of Google accounts did have the advantage of convenience. Every phone could, from now on, be the same phone, as long as it was the same operating system to recover data from the cloud.

His stockbroker had a web site now. He signed up for that, too. His stocks had performed extremely well in his absence, as it turned out. He sent a message to the accounting service he had used for two generations of American identities, claiming he had been ill and undergoing treatment and asking if they would do business via email now. They were supposed to have kept up with his capital gains taxes, but it would be as well to assess the situation and pay any fines or back taxes he might owe.

His current identity was forty years old now. He should start establishing a younger one to “inherit” soon, so that when he got to seventy or eighty it would be ready. Obtaining a social security number fraudulently was probably harder now. Maybe this “dark web” thing would be of use. He should probably figure out what a “VPN” was first.

But that was a less urgent matter. He needed shoes. Hair and nail care kits went into the cart immediately, of course. But he had to mull over the issue of wardrobe. He couldn’t go back to tailored business clothing when Arden’s apparent preference was  casual, and besides, if he looked too  wealthy it would create friction. He wouldn’t be entirely convincing in young people’s clothes, either. At some point he would have human blood again, be strong again – the roots of his canines ached – but even glamour could only do so much.

Very well. Pacific Northwest casual. If they needed to do something more formal, he would need to clothe Arden anyway, so he could shop for himself if it came up then. He’d no idea what their incarnation of gender portended for dress clothing, and for now, it didn’t matter. He ordered straight-leg jeans and corduroys, tee shirts, flannels, a couple of tank tops, and a wool-lined leather overcoat. These were what he would consider inexpensive but durable brands. He would have spent more on footwear, but Arden’s shoes were of the $30-on-sale variety, so he settled for Florsheim’s sneakers and the cheapest available leather wallet for the payment cards he expected to receive by mail shortly. If things weren’t dramatic in appearance, and the brand name wasn’t obtrusive, most people wouldn’t know by sight how much they had cost.

Toiletries. Shaving wasn’t exactly necessary, because Basilia had made him shave himself before she initiated him, but it was important to keep up appearances. No wristwatch, people used phones for that now so it was an accessory of fashion he didn’t immediately need. He ordered a canvas duffel bag, too.

A lot of packages were going to appear in the next day or so. He’d rushed everything that could be rushed. It couldn’t be helped. He didn’t want Arden spending any more of their monetary cache on him. He debated wiring more money. Best not to overwhelm them. Their exhaustion and collapse indicated what Tolly instinctively thought of as a nervous disposition before he remembered that different phrasing was appropriate in a more modern era.

He wondered what version the DSM was on now. He checked. He also checked if Maulian Basal Retinoid Syndrome was still considered a valid disorder. It still was. He smiled for a second to see a Dr. Lauren Phibes, Junior, listed as the predominant expert on the disease. Lauren had gotten “old” enough to need to pass on his practice, finally. When the present crisis was over, Tolly resolved to get in touch again. Lauren was always good for an interesting evening.

He needed more time investigating the popular culture to update his mental vocabulary to his apparent age instead of twenty years “older” (he politely refrained from looking at the bookmark folder labeled “homework” – some habits apparently survived from Arden’s high school or college years) but the phone said it was already 4 a.m. and he had best deal with the matter of dawn approaching.

Tolly hurriedly logged out of everything and logged Arden back into Amazon and Gmail with his password from an app that only asked for the locking code again. He wrote a brief note in the study – the ghost of Nicholas remained in scent even after so long - and soft-footed it back upstairs to leave both note and phone on the nightstand.

Dear Arden:

I took the liberty of borrowing your phone to transact some business. I have attempted to leave it as I found it, but I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. I also apologize for all of the package deliveries. If you would do me the favor of bringing them inside, I will deal with them tomorrow night. I ask only because your weather app indicates rain is likely.

Your written orders will be obeyed, if you don’t want to wait up tomorrow evening.

I have also ordered another case of non-dairy protein shakes in the chocolate flavor, as it appears you are out. Please drink at least two.

Bartholomaeus

Then he shut the basement door behind him and smugly walked back downstairs, feet protected from even the dead wood of splinters by his thick if increasingly dirty socks. He read Dumas until his eyes began to grow dim and his limbs unwieldy. Then he crawled back into the sleeping bag. He left the socks laid out on the rug, to keep the inside of the bag clean.

“Tolly. Hey, Tolly. Wake up!”

A voice snapped him back to consciousness. Tolly unzipped the bag far enough to emerge, crawling backward on his hands and feet until he was out far enough to kneel. His hair was in worse case now. He could tell as he ran his talons through it. Arden stood outside the small room, pounding on the wall next to it with one fist. They stopped as they saw him emerge.

“Something weird happened today,” they said.

“What is it?” Tolly asked.

“I got a cash offer of five million dollars to buy the house and everything in it,” Arden said. “From some company. TriVenture LLC. Their lawyer called the lawyer who settled Uncle Nick’s estate.”

“What did you say?” Tolly asked, pulling on his socks before he turned to shake the sleeping bag and tightly roll it up.

“I said I needed to think about it. It’s weird, right? The whole property probably isn’t worth a million dollars, not out here in the County. Five is insane.”

“When Nicholas was killed, was a body found?”

“That might be hard to hear,” Arden said. “It was pretty awful.” It might be hard to say, said their tone.

“It may be important,” Tolly said.

“They found tiny bits of blood and hair where he was impaled on the steering column, because the airbag didn’t deploy when he hit a tree, but the car basically exploded. There was nothing left but metal and burning upholstery when somebody found it. And some animal teeth scattered around. That was weird. They investigated for mechanical faults, but there wasn’t enough left to tell.”

“Was the accident in daylight?” Tolly asked, stopping with the bag under his arm.

“Yeah, it was afternoon when they found it and it was still burning,” Arden said. “Why?”

Black Tolly was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “He died twice.”

“What?”

“He injected himself with my blood for years. One who has consumed undead blood does not remain dead. He died in the accident, and then when he changed, he died again in the fire and in the sun.”

“That’s fucking awful,” Arden said.

“I doubt it was an accident,” Tolly said. “Not when someone wants to buy his house and effects at a price so high. He said he was leading them away from the ring, didn’t he?”

Arden squinted unhappily. “So, who killed him, then?”

“I don’t know,” Tolly said. “He didn’t tell me who his enemies were. He vaguely hinted that he had some within his religion, but I was never sure if he meant it.” Arden was starting to look pale and sound thready again. It was time to introduce another topic. “Did my things arrive?”

“I stacked it all in the other guest room. Do you want to keep sleeping down here instead?” Arden asked uncertainly.

“If you are willing that I rest aboveground, the sleeping bag is adequate to protect me from the sun. I would just as soon never see this room again,” Tolly said.

“I don’t blame you,” Arden said. They looked at the ceiling. “Which is why I wonder how come you’re still here and not already in Seattle at the Fairmont Olympic or somewhere?” Tolly wondered if they had phrased it that way on purpose, so that he was not required to answer. It was hard to say.

“May we discuss this later? I would like to shower and cut my hair, with your permission.”

“Sure.”

“And perhaps you might consider going to bed.”

“If I say ‘fuck off’ will you interpret that as an order?”

“Not any more,” Tolly said cheerfully.

“Fuck riiiiight off, Tolly.”

“Adorable.” He ran his fingers through Arden’s hair on the way past. They saw it coming, but they didn’t try to avoid it. With a feeling of self-congratulation, he listened to their heart skip. They were turning red again, and they almost certainly would forget the question.

Black Tolly emerged from the guest bathroom in an hour with short hair and short, smooth nails. Someone looking closely could see they were growing from his fingers in an odd, embedded way, but that couldn’t be helped yet. He wore his new jeans, pre-faded blue tee shirt, jacket, socks, and the brown leather sneakers. His new wallet was in his pocket and the phone was in his hand. Everything else went into the duffel bag or the washer in the laundry downstairs. He absently poured detergent one-handed as he started logging into accounts with the other.

He took the pile of cardboard and trash from the packages outside to find the bins. He stood by them for a moment, listening to the night. It was cloudy, and it had rained, leaving the smell of petrichor still lingering in the air. There was a feeling of heavy possibility that he now knew probably meant a change in air pressure, so it was likely going to storm. Wet grass brushed his new jeans.

He had shoes now, Tolly thought. And he had not been outside in twenty years.

So Tolly ran.

He circled the grounds, peered through the thickets into the wood, listened to the sounds of small creatures. Once he caught a common poorwill hawking. It was a big-headed little-beaked bird with feathers patterned like gray leaf litter, fluttering from its perch to snap at moths and darting back. In the darkness its eyes reflected moonlight like twin mirrors, common in all creatures with real night vision. It ignored him, though it could see his own eyes reflect in turn. He wasn’t close enough to be dangerous. He watched it for several minutes before he resumed his run.

Sights and scents and sounds flowed over him, around him, but now he was sufficiently master of himself to absorb it without being overwhelmed by it. At least, for a while. It was still long before dawn and his lower pant legs were wet with dew when he slipped back in through the back door, weary in mind and attention though not yet in body. The leather sneakers had kept his feet dry. He was not in particular need of a shower otherwise. Sweating was one of several functions that had perished with the original life of his body.

Arden was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the ceiling. Tolly followed their gaze and found absolutely nothing except the industrial light fixture with the bare bulbs. They were shaking. “Arden?” Black Tolly said. His flickering glance found the Eye of Rule still on their finger.

“Something terrible is about to happen,” they said. @fleur-a-whump, @bitchaknso, @valravnthefrenchie, @thewhumpcaretaker

Part 10: Silencers 2 (Mature content)

[carbonateddelusion]

ASK

In the modern day with smart phones, what kinda apps are your guys using the most? Games? Delivery apps? Stores? Some other weird novelty app?

Are they even the type to USE smartphones at all? Or are they just getting smth cheap from Walmart lol?

Honestly, I think Andromeda and Edgar would have a lot of delivery apps for the same reason- they don't. really leave the house. I mean Andro does, but only for events for the public and such. Andromeda also uses social media apps very frequently, albeit under supervision and purely to maintain their stardom.

Maddie is definitely the kind of person to have apps that were deleted from the app store years ago like Flappy Bird. they don't use a smartphone either, they just have an iPod. they have all sorts of dumb novelty apps on there too

Red hates technology like an old man so he still uses a landline. Green wouldn't use tech much either, but it's less of a statement and more of him just not using it.

Rae would be an AVID phone gamer. level 1 million on candy crush.

Allister probably uses tor and other such backdoor websites and apps to keep in touch with other shady characters. see also: prepaid phones

Bubbles is an insta girlie </3

[alonelystargazer]

why are smartphones so impractical now?

I currently have a galaxy S10 that I've had for 3 years now and I'll probably keep at least for another year but just out of curiosity I checked out the new Galaxy S24 and there's no headphone jack so your forced to use Bluetooth headphones? (do they sell wired headphones with USB-C Jack instead of a 3.5 mm jack?) no SD card slot for expandable storage so you're either stuck with limited storage or forced to buy the higher storage option? there's like a million lenses on the back taking up space and are probably just placebos for people to believe they're using high quality cameras for their photos

the only features that are still available from my "outdated" phone model that matter to me are wired charging and water resistance

I personally do NOT need AI assistance or face ID or fingerprint scanning or anything else that requires my biometric data to be stored on the manufacturer's servers or whatever

thank goodness that phones are still available unlocked and can be used with prepaid wireless providers bc I would never want to be stuck in a contract with a phone provider and pay for a new phone over the course of 2 years, so you don't even technically own it but also by the time you've paid it off the phone is "outdated" so what's the point? if it's to build credit there's other ways of doing it

ugh don't mind me I'm just being grumpy bc I don't really like what tech companies are currently doing and what the future of tech looks like

not to mention that smartphones are just too damn expensive now, like even the base models of some phones are minimum $600 like that's rent money!!