#like they will take you out of the app to a browser page to see the post and have a 'log in to see more' at the bottom

[yourlocalbreadenthusiast]

Kindly take a break from scrolling to read this, it's important.

Take your time to grieve and come to terms with the election results, but once you've done that, it's time to get to work. We have two months. And a lot to do in that time. We have to prepare, to be ready.

Be careful about what you post or say online. Anything potentially incriminating should be avoided. Threatening language, even if clearly a joke, can be used against you.

Know someone who's trans? Someone who's had an abortion? Someone who's LGBTQIA+? Someone who's an immigrant? Someone who attends protests? Someone who's disabled? Someone who might in any way be at risk due to laws being put into place? No you don't.

Move away from social media platforms and browsers that require you to use your real identity or input a large amount of personal information. Now's a good time to find alternate means of communicating online. Tails, Element, Tor, Mastodon, Firefox, and Lemmy are all decent options.

Find a community. Someone you can talk to, either online or in real life, that you'll have reliable contact with. We need to try and create a network, but one that's as anonymous as possible.

Start scrubbing your trail as much as possible. Get rid of old accounts that can still be traced to you but are no longer used, delete personal data off the internet. There are websites out there that will freely remove your data from the internet, but be careful about which one you use, make sure it's safe and legitimate first.

Change any usernames that you can that contain any personal information. Names, birthdays, anything.

Plan B has a four year shelf life. Stock up, but don't take more than you you'll need. We don't want a COVID repeat where everyone buys an excessive amount of things and leaves none for everybody else.

There are doctors that will sterilize you, if that's the way you want to go.

Stop using online period trackers right now. Delete all data from it if possible first, then delete the app itself. If you must, write it down, but in a subtle manner and on something you keep at home. Don't label it, just put the dates. If you're really worried, discard older records and only keep the most recent few, and label the dates as other random events, like "go to mall" or "chicken salad for dinner this night"

Get your vaccines now.

Save money.

Archive. We have to start collecting records, media, data, books, and articles now. On racism, on fascism, on homophobia, on gender, on self-reliance, on survival, on safe travels routes, on equality, on justice, on anything that may be useful and/or censored soon. We can't let them erase it.

Collect those online resources. Bookmark them, copy files into your storage, Screenshot pages. Create a decentralized library where everyone is working to be part of a whole, storing what they can individually and sharing it between one another. Again, be careful about doing this.

Second-hand bookstores are your best friend. Books are usually very cheap in them, and they often have a decent stock. See what you can find.

When buying ANYTHING I have mentioned above, or anything else that maybe put you in danger, try to use cash to reduce your spending trail.

Check your car information online, many newer models can be remotely tracked.

Turn your phone completely off if you may be at risk due to your location and current activities. Turning off your GPS also helps.

Take note of where you are. Who are your friends? Who's a safe person? Where can you go besides your own home that you know you'll be safe? Establish these connections now.

Who around you is not safe? Who and where do you need to avoid? Do you need to move? If you cannot afford moving but need to, there are fundraisers that can help you. If even that is not an option, at least try to make sure your home is secure. Have someone who can help you. Have a fallback safe place.

And finally, I want anyone with resources to put them in the replies. Flood it with useful links, information, tips, anything. We're in this together. Do not panic. Organize.

EDIT: Please be civil in the replies.

[vaadazen-codes]

How To Get Started Making Visual Novels

Wanna make a visual novel? Or maybe you've seen games like Our Life, Blooming Panic, Doki Doki Literature Club, etc. and wanna make something like that? Good news, here's a very basic beginners guide on how to get started in renpy and what you need to know going in! Before you start, I highly recommend looking at my last post about writing a script for renpy just to make it easier on you!

LONG POST AHEAD

Obviously, our first step is downloading it from their website

thankfully, its right on the home page of their site. Follow basica program installation steps and run the program. I highly recommend pinning it to your task bar to make it easier to access.

From there, you're met with the renpy app, it's a little daunting at first but let's talk about what all these buttons are for.

Projects

This part is simple, it just lists the current projects in the chosen directory. You probably won't have any in there of your own. You should still see Tutorial and The Question!

Both of those default projects are super helpful in their own ways, i highly recommend testing out the tutorial and playing around with it just to get comfortable with some of the basics.

Create New Project

The first step to actually making your game into a game!

You'll be met with a prompt letting you know that the project is being made in English and that you can change it. You can click Continue.

From here, you'll be asked to input a project name! Put in your games title, or even a placeholder title since this Information can be changed later! (this is also the title the folder will be in your file browser, be sure to name it something you won't overlook)

Now we get to choose our resolution!

If you have no idea what to choose, go for 1920x1080! This is the standard size for most computer monitors and laptops, but it will still display with moderately decent quality on 4k monitors too!

You can choose 3840x2160 as well. This is 2x the measurements of the default, with the same ration. These dimensions are considered 4k. Keep in mind, your image files will be bigger and can cause the game to have a larger size to download.

Now we get to choose our color scheme!

Renpy has some simple default options with the 'light mode' colors being the bottom two rows, and the 'dark mode' colors being the toop two rows.

You can pick anything here, but I like to choose something that matches my projects vibes/colors better. Mostly because depending on how in depth you go with the ui, it minimizes the amount of changes I need to make later.

Click continue and give it a minute. Note: If it says "not responding" wait a moment without clicking anything. It can sometimes freeze briefly during the process.

Now we should be back at our home screen, with our new project showing. Let's talk about allll that stuff on the right now.

Open Directory

This just opens that particular folder in your local file explorer!

game - is all the game files, so your folders for images, audio, saves, and your game files like your script, screens, and more.

base - this is the folder that the game folder is inside of. You can also find the errors and log txt files in here.

images - takes you to your main images folder. This is where you wanna put all of your NON gui images, like your sprites, backgrounds, and CGs. You can create folders inside of this and still call them in the script later. EX: a folder for backgrounds , a folder for sprites for character a, a seperate folder for spirtes for character b, etc.

audio - Takes you to the default audio folder. This is empty, but you can put all your music and sound effects here!

gui - brings up the folder containing all of the default renpy gui. It's a good place to start/ reference for sizes if you want to hand draw your UI pieces like your text box!

Edit File

Simple enough, this is just where you can open your code files in whatever text/code editor you have installed.

Script.rpy - where all of your story and characters live. This is the file you'll spend most of your time in at first

Options.rpy - Contains mostly simple information, like project name and version. There aren't a ton of things in here you need to look at. There is also some lines of code that help 'archive' certain files by file type so that they can't be seen by players digging in code however. Fun if you want to hide some images in there for later or if you just dont want someone seeing how messy your files are. We've all been there

Gui.rpy - where all of the easy customization happens. Here you can change font colors, hover colors, fonts, font sizes, and then the alignment and placement of all of your text! Like your dialogue and names, the height of text buttons, etc. It more or less sets the defaults for a lot of these unless you choose to change them later.

Screens.rpy - undeniably my favorite, this is where all of the UI is laid out for the different screens in your game, like the main menu, game menu, quick menu, choice menu, etc. You can add custom screens too if you want, but I always make my own seperate file for these.

Open Project - this just opens all of those files at once in the code editor. Super handy if you make extra files like I do for certain things.

Actions

last but not least, our actions.

Navigate Script - This feature is underrated in my honest opinion, it's super handy for help debugging! In renpy you can comment with # before a line. However, if you do #TODO and type something after it, it saves it as a note! You can view these TODO's here as well as easily navigate to when certain screens are called, where different labels are (super great if your game is long, and more. It saves some scrolling.

Check Script (Lint) - also super duper handy for debugging some basic things. It also tells you your word count! But its handy for letting you know about some errors that might throw up. I like using it to look for sprites I may or may not have mispelled, because they show up in there too.

Change/Update GUI - Nifty, though once you start customizing GUI on your own, it isn't as useful. You can reset the project at any point and regenerate the image files here. This updates all those defaults we talked about earlier.

Delete Persistent - this just helps you delete any persistent data between play throughs on your end. I like to use it when making a lot of changes while testing the game, so that I can reboot the game fresh.

Force Recompile - Full disclosure, as many games as I've made and as long as I've been using Renpy, i have never used this feature. I searched to see what it does and this is the general consesus: Normally renpy tries to be smart about compiling code (creating .rpyc files) and only compiles .rpy files with changes. This is to speed up the process since compiling takes time. Sometimes you can make changes that renpy don't pick up on and therefore won't recompile. In these cases you can run force recompile to force it. Another solution (if you know what file is affected) is to delete that specific. rpyc file.

The rest of your options on this right hand side are how you make executable builds for your game that people can download to extract and play later!

Sorry gang! that was a whole lot of text obviously the last button "Launch Project" launches an uncompiled version of the project for you to play and test as you go! Hang in tight because my next post is about how to utilize github for renpy, so you can collaborate easier!

[andromeda-pleiades]

Just Trust Me

WORD COUNT: 1,828

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Back by popular demand ٩(◕‿◕)۶, I've decided to make this a 6 part series.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The morning light seeps through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across the bedroom. Simon’s arm is draped over your waist, his slow, steady breathing pressing against your back. You keep your eyes shut, feigning sleep, listening for any sign that he’s awake.

Minutes pass before he stirs. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder before rolling out of bed. You wait, forcing yourself to breathe evenly, until you hear the shower turn on. Only then do you dare to move.

Downstairs, the scent of coffee fills the air, but something feels off. Simon moves too quietly, his footsteps deliberate. When you enter the kitchen, he’s already at the stove, humming softly—yet the sound feels more like an act than a habit. He glances at you, eyes scanning your face, before flipping an omelet onto your plate.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he muses, taking a sip of his coffee. “Not feeling sick, are you?”

You shake your head. “Just tired.”

He nods but doesn’t look convinced. His fingers trail across your wrist as he sets down his mug, a slow, almost idle touch—but it lingers. Every word, every gesture, feels like a test.

After breakfast, Simon settles in the living room with his laptop. His presence in the house makes your skin itch, but you keep up appearances, waiting for an opportunity to be alone.

Hours later, Simon finally steps outside to take a call. You move quickly, slipping into the office and grabbing your phone. Your fingers move with purpose, typing in the search bar:

How to leave an abusive relationship safely.

You hit enter. Nothing happens.

The page doesn’t load. You frown, refreshing it, but the screen remains blank. You try again:

Shelters for domestic abuse survivors near me.

Still nothing.

Confused, you navigate to your browser settings, clicking through menus until your stomach drops.

Search history linked to external device.

Your hands go cold.

You scroll further, heart pounding as you see the timestamps. Every site you’ve visited, every search, every desperate late-night inquiry—Simon has seen it all.

The room tilts.

Your mind races back through the past few weeks. The way Simon had made little comments—“What made you think of that?” “That’s an odd thing to look up.”—hadn’t been coincidences.

He had known.

He had always known.

Your breath comes faster, chest tightening. You can’t even look up how to leave. There is no safe way to plan this.

A shadow moves in the doorway.

You whip around, shoving your phone under the desk as Simon leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression is unreadable.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just—just checking something for work.”

Simon’s lips twitch, almost amused. He steps closer, reaching out, and for a horrible second, you think he’s going to take your phone. But instead, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You know you can always come to me, right?” he murmurs. “If something’s on your mind?”

The weight of his words presses against your ribs. You nod. “Of course.”

He smiles. “Good girl.”

He leaves the room, his footsteps slow, deliberate. You don’t move until you hear the front door open and shut behind him.

Then, and only then, do you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding.

That night, after Simon falls asleep, you try again.

This time, no Google searches. You open a notes app and type instead:

He’s tracking everything. I need a way out.

You go to delete it—but before you can, the text disappears.

Gone. Erased.

A cold chill races down your spine.

Frantic, you type again.

Can anyone see this?

It vanishes the moment you press enter. Like you never even wrote it.

Simon doesn’t just see your searches. He controls what you can say. What you can keep.

You stare at your phone, fingers trembling. There is no way to look up an escape plan. No way to even write things down.

You are trapped.

You stare at the dark ceiling, heart pounding, as Simon breathes evenly beside you. The weight of the realization crushes down on you, pressing like an iron vice against your ribs.

If you’re going to get out, you can’t rely on your phone. You can’t rely on the internet. You can’t even rely on your own thoughts staying private.

You’re completely, utterly alone in this.

But then… an idea.

Kyle.

Kyle. The only person who might help. Unless... No. He wouldn't be working with Simon. Would he?

You close your eyes, willing your breathing to slow. If Simon is watching for any change in behavior, you can’t let him see the shift in your mind.

So you do what you’ve done so many times before. You bury the fear deep.

You pretend.

You smile in your sleep.

And you start planning in the only place he can’t reach.

Inside your head.

The house is quiet. Simon left fifteen minutes ago, his departure punctuated by a kiss to your forehead and a murmured, “Be good.” Now, you’re finally alone.

You move quickly, slipping into the office and shutting the door behind you. Simon’s desk is organized with clinical precision, but his laptop sits open, the screen dimmed in sleep mode, as if he expects to return soon.

The desktop screen glows to life, requiring a password. Your stomach clenches. You try the basics first—birthdays, anniversaries, military references—but nothing works. Frustration bubbles under your skin until you pause, recalling a memory.

“Captain always said to keep it simple,” Simon had once mentioned, laughing over beers. “Overthinking gets you caught.”

You type the name Tommy and hit enter.

The screen unlocks.

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to focus. If he’s monitoring your phone, there’s no telling what kind of security he has on his computer. But this might be your only chance.

Rows of folders are scattered across the desktop. One catches your eye immediately: OpSec_T141. Your pulse quickens. Task Force 141—Simon’s unit.

You open it. Rows of files populate the screen, names and numbers blurred together in a flood of information. You skim past mission reports and encrypted documents until you find something chillingly familiar.

Your name.

A lump forms in your throat as you click it open. Detailed notes spill across the screen. Timelines. Psychological assessments. Weaknesses. Preferences. Even things you’ve never voiced aloud—your tendency to hesitate in confrontations, your instinct to placate instead of fight.

It’s all there: your schedule, your habits, your fears. The photos are the worst—images of you at the park, at the grocery store, sitting alone on the couch. Your breath turns shallow. He’s been watching you far longer than you realized.

You bite back a sob, forcing yourself to keep reading. One section stands out, labeled Emotional Vulnerabilities. You skim it, horrified. Every private fear you’ve ever shared with Simon is laid out like a blueprint.

Prefers to de-escalate conflict.

Struggles with confrontation.

Easily guilted.

Tendency to freeze under stress.

Your mind flashes to past arguments, to the moments where he’d twisted your own emotions against you. The times he made you feel irrational for doubting him. The way he always knew exactly what to say to make you stay.

Every interaction, every emotional response, cataloged like a case study.

You scroll further. There are other names. Kyle Garrick—Gaz. A woman you don’t recognize. You click on her profile. At the top, the file name reads:

Price’s Woman.

Your stomach churns. The picture attached is grainy but clear enough. A woman with dark, tired eyes, standing beside a man just out of frame. Price.

You click through the notes. The similarities to your file are eerie. Psychological breakdowns. Manipulation tactics. Control strategies. The last entry is chillingly abrupt.

Status: Secured.

Your hands shake as you snap photos of the files. A sudden noise outside makes you flinch. You hurriedly close everything, heart pounding as you return the laptop to its original state.

When Simon walks through the door minutes later, you’re already seated on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone.

He smiles at you, easy and warm. Too easy.

“Miss me?”

You force yourself to smile back.

The weight of your discovery presses heavy against your chest. Simon isn’t acting alone. Price trained him for this.

You were never supposed to find out.

Dinner is quiet, the soft clink of silverware against porcelain filling the space between you. Simon’s gaze lingers on you more than usual, studying your every movement. You keep your expression neutral, offering small smiles, playing the role he wants you to play. Inside, your mind races with everything you discovered earlier.

“So,” Simon starts, setting down his fork. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your fingers tighten around your own utensils. “What is it?”

His smile is easy, affectionate. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, elegant box. “A gift.”

A cold weight settles in your stomach. You force yourself to keep your hands steady as you take the box and lift the lid. Inside, nestled in black velvet, is a delicate silver bracelet. The design is simple, understated—something you might have picked for yourself.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, running a finger over the smooth metal. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker with satisfaction.

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of me while I’m gone.” He leans forward, brushing a kiss against your temple. “And something to keep you safe.”

Your throat tightens. The implication is clear. You turn the bracelet over in your hands, pretending to admire the craftsmanship while discreetly searching for anything unusual. It doesn’t take long—there, near the clasp, a barely visible indentation.

A tracker.

You swallow down the nausea rising in your chest. Of course, Simon would frame it as protection, as a sign of love. But this is just another layer of control.

You force yourself to look at him, let warmth seep into your voice. “Thank you, Simon. I love it.”

He beams, taking your wrist and fastening it for you. His fingers linger, thumb grazing over your pulse. “I love you too.”

The words feel heavier than usual. You smile back, keeping the mask firmly in place.

Tonight, you decide, you won’t just endure this. You won’t just wait. You’ll start pushing, subtly, carefully. Testing the edges of the cage he’s built around you.

You tilt your head, letting your expression shift into something thoughtful. “When do you leave?”

“Next week,” he says, studying your reaction. “It won’t be long.”

You let your smile falter, just slightly. “I’ll miss you.”

Simon’s eyes soften, and he reaches for your hand. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. But you’ll be safe. You’ll be here.”

You nod, feigning acceptance. But inside, something shifts. He wants you to stay in place, trapped under his watchful eye. That means your time is running out.

You need to act soon. And you need to be careful.

[tieronecrush]

BNBG (brand new baby girl)

frankie morales x curvy OF/cam girl f!reader

summary: frankie has been needing distractions from a hurdle in his sobriety, so he ventures to his frequented subscription service platform to take his mind off things. he sees the title of your page, intrigued immediately, and dives deep into your content. catching your attention on a livestream with his confident commands, frankie becomes infatuated with you and an avid viewer before he decides to DM you one day...and then ends up with a brand new baby girl.

wc: 11k

rating: E (very)

warnings: daddy kink!! **cover does not depict anything about the reader, simply vibes of softness**, vague descriptions of reader's body (plush, thick, curves, soft, etc. no definite descriptors used otherwise. picture her as you want but she is mid to plus size in my head 🫶), no age specified (only that reader started out of college, no specifications of when she went to school), discussions of addiction & drug use, childless frankie au, sex work, sex livestream, consumption of porn, unestablished relationship, online relationship, pet names (conejita, baby, babygirl, pequeña, bunny, etc.), gratuitous descriptions of frankie's dick, SMUT, male masturbation, female masterbation, sex toys, both frankie & reader have thoughts about the other (unprotected piv, fingering, oral, etc.), major dirty talk, d/s dynamics, some fluff sprinkled in <3, this might be lowkey problematic that frankie uses porn to cope (esp reader's porn) buuuuut hopefully it's hot

a/n: cover design & dividers by me 💋 this is an unhinged daydream of mine, hope y'all enjoy! huge thank you to my besties @kiwisbell and @northernbluess for beta-reading 💓

The time on Frankie’s phone screen turns over to well past midnight. Bedroom pitched black save for the blue light illuminating his face as he scrolls on Instagram, unable to fall asleep from thoughts stirring. He wants to scratch the itch — to pick at the scab that’s been growing in his brain for over a year. Temptation runs hot in his veins. A craving, deep in his gut. A strong inhale or the rub of his fingertip against his gums. It would be fast.  And it would only last less than half an hour — he could manage it one more time, he was sober enough for that, wasn’t he? He indulges himself in other aspects now: drinking, food, lax with his once regimented workout routine.

Frankie can hear the voice of his sponsor, the one he listens to speak at his weekly meetings in the musty church hall. Sure, his sponsor’s got valuable advice for him, having been sober for decades now, but he can’t relate to Frankie. Not really. He doesn’t know the level of temptation he’s consistently faced with, doesn’t know the fucked up shit he’s seen that got him into the substance in the first place.

His sponsor tells him to get into meditation. That it helps him turn his brain off when he has a craving, redirecting the energy into himself and crushing the aching want for it. Or some spiritual bullshit that Frankie doesn’t understand.

And besides, he’s found his own means of meditation.

Exiting the social media app, he opens his browser and types in the website. The light of the phone illuminates his face enough for his saved login to work, bringing him into his plane of piety. Where he escapes at least three times a week, late nights like now and the occasional mid-afternoon or morning on his desperate days off. When the urge is too strong. When he’s formulating a plan of how to get his hands on a tiny baggie, he loses himself — distracts his brain here.

Scrolling through his usual subscriptions, nothing seems to be hitting the spot. One hand grips his phone, thumb gliding along the screen, while the other cups his hard-on through his boxers, palming himself as he searches for something to get off to.

That’s when he sees it — the perfect combination of words that draws him in by the title. Clicking the page, he’s quick to pledge his monthly amount, eager to get access to all that lies beyond the paywall. And what he’s greeted with, pulls a sigh from his lips in the quiet room, his large hand squeezing his cock through the thin fabric elasticated around his waist. 

“Fuck…” he mumbles to himself when he sees that there’s a live stream happening. A cosmic intervention for him, he thinks, a sign that he’s meant to satiate his vices with this.

With you.

The screen changes to a vertical view of you in front of the camera, iPhone seemingly propped up against something while you sit on your mattress. It’s so…delicate and soft. Those are the words he can think of to describe the backdrop that he takes in quickly. Billowing white comforter on your bed, pillows surrounding you. The first thought he has is that it looks like a bed he could easily sleep in — much more inviting than his. There are touches of blush pink, sky blue, and more. A complete rainbow of desaturated colors.

It all compliments you. Centered in the frame, the next sound you make drags his eyes back to your form as you move around. Another squeeze to his cock draws a longer sigh from his lips as he combs across the view of your body, scantily clad in a thong and a bra covered in cherries. The cups of the bra push up the weight of your breasts, spilling over the edge. His tongue runs across his lips to wet them, a new craving ravaging his mouth as he wonders what you would taste like with the skin of your tits dampened by his saliva.

The rest of your body is as softly lined and curving as your chest, waist swooping into your hips as you sit on your knees in front of the camera. Thick thighs spread with the press of your calves into the back of them, the inside of them meeting at the apex and providing cover for what he so badly wants to be shown. There’s a line of your stomach above the waist of your panties, supple skin glistening. Delicious, is all he can think to himself. You look so fucking delicious that it floods his mouth with saliva, enough that he feels the overwhelming need to push his boxers down, freeing his hard cock to rest against his stomach until he’s spitting into his palm and starting a slow, languid pace.

The grain of his palm drags against the length of his cock as he keeps a steady flick of his wrist. Not too fast, but not achingly slow. Enough to start stoking the burning coals in the pit of his stomach as he watches you on the small rectangular screen. Puffs of hot air leave his mouth, his jaw hanging open while he watches you shift to reach for something out of frame, the first look at your ass gifted to him. Rounded swell of curves with the fabric of your thong dipping between them. The slight jiggle of your cheeks makes Frankie moan quietly, taking the briefest moment to picture that same ripple in your skin from him fucking you from behind.

“Shit…” he grumbles under his breath, minorly increasing the pressure of his grip to squeeze his cock as his hand moves, desperate to mimic the feeling of someone — apparently you, despite not knowing anything close to your name.

Skin on skin catches on the base of his dick and he exhales sharply with his teeth bared, opening his palm to spit once again. It’s not enough, but he continues the slide of his wrist as he sets his phone down on the mattress briefly, reaching over to his nightstand, pausing once again to dispense a pump of lotion into the palm of his right hand. Wrapping the moistened hand around his cock again, he starts a faster pace before slowing down to drag out his pleasure longer.

Returning into the frame fully, he sees your face for the first time and coughs as his open-mouthed inhale seizes in his throat. His fingers circle the base of his cock, squeezing hard as he takes in your face. Perfectly primped with a layer of makeup, but he can tell you’ve got the kind of beauty that wouldn’t ever need changing or enhancing — effortless. Velvety skin, as silky as the rest of your body but with an added glow. Bright eyes that are shining with mischief and want, and a smirk that’s as playful; he finds himself shutting his eyes again, for a few lazy strokes as he pictures that face, and your plush, pliable body, on your knees in front of him. Eagerly awaiting his cock to fill your mouth.

Fuck, you’re really doing a number on him tonight. He needed this. His desperation for a high of any kind coats his open mouth with each labored breath.

Focused back on his phone, you show off the treasure that you dug for off-camera. A lilac vibrator, one that fits the length of your hand, with a swell of size rounded off at the tip and tapered in at the end. Leaning closer to your camera, Frankie groans when your tits bounce, spilling out of your bra with a tiny nip slip that he catches immediately. And it only makes him want to see more.

“Mm, c’mon, pretty girl, show me something here. M’fuckin’ dying…Necesito la distracción (I need the distraction),” Frankie speaks toward the screen, feeling pathetic as he barters with you in the one-way system.

As if you heard his pleas, you adjust your position, laying back on the mountain of pillows to prop yourself up and letting one leg fall open. Even in the lowered lighting of the room you’re in, presumably your bedroom, he can make out the wet patch covering your folds. He finds himself wondering if the act of getting off in front of a camera, in front of people watching live, is what gets you wet. Or if you have a fluffer like he’s heard they do in porn.

He’d wanna be your fluffer.

Or maybe he’d want to be the one to fuck you in the porno. At least both of you’d get to finish then.

“Think I need someone who knows better than me to tell me what they wanna see.” Your voice is saccharine, the slight fry in your voice jolts his hips into his hand, mumbles of curses slipping from his lips. “Anybody have any suggestions for me, chat?”

A low hum starts when you press the button of the vibrator in your hand, spreading your knees further to open your core to the view of the camera completely. Your opposite hand to the toy hooks into the crotch of your thong, pulling the small bit of fabric, practically a string with the amount it’s covering.

Frankie’s mouth waters as the speed of his hand picks up, the grip of his fingers not nearly as satisfying as the clench of a pussy, but he’ll make do. He has been for a year; you know what they say, no relationships for the first year sober. That, and he couldn’t find anyone that could take his mind off of coke long enough for him to get it up. So eventually he just let it be.

Now, though, he’s painfully hard. The quick movements of his hand send a shock of pleasure up to his brain, veins contracting with the extra effort to keep the blood supply to his cock. Thumb brushes over his tip, mixing in his precum with the other lubrication, a hiss from behind his teeth shot out from the stimulation. His gaze is glued onto his rectangular screen, huffing out deep breaths while you press the vibrator against your clit. There’s a quiver in your thighs that he notices, as if this is your first touch after teasing yourself, or someone else teasing you. Sensitive already.

Biting your lip, your eyes scan the screen as you read aloud, “FiveFingersAtFreddys said ‘Take your bra off please.’ Well, actually he said ‘Take your tits out’ but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, dude, and say that you actually do have good manners.”

He laughs, and it’s a first for him. Laughing at someone’s jokes as he jerks off, alone.

You comply with the request, taking the vibrator away from your clit to reach around and unclasp your bra. Tossing the material aside, you lean back into the pillows again and the next sight nearly makes Frankie come right then and there until he takes his hand away completely. Laid out, legs open and fingers pulling your panties aside, vibrator pushing into your clit and driving a high-pitched moan from your lips. All while you're bare from the waist up, cushioned torso melting into your heavy tits, pert nipples bringing them to a point. The form of a Greek classics statue, one with fleshy outlines carved impeccably from marble.

“La obra maestra (A masterpiece)…” Frankie whispers to himself, the squelch of his lotioned hand working his hard length bringing him back into his body, a moan slipping from his mouth.

“I think I need someone else to tell me how I should play with myself. M’so wet, jus’ wanna touch myself but I don’t know where to start. All seems like—like it’s going to feel so good,” you stutter out when your hips buck against the vibrator, a whimper echoing from your chest as you turn your attention to the chat again, awaiting intriguing instructions.

Maybe it’s sexual frustration, maybe it’s pathetic. Maybe it’s the intense fucking craving to replace his need for coke high with a need for an orgasm, but for whatever reason chosen, Frankie finds himself clicking on the comment box with his thumb, typing wildly with one finger. He takes a second to read it for spelling errors before he presses send. Too lost in it all now to care.

Your eyes perk up, smirk growing on your face when you read the influx of chat replies. One must have caught your eye because the vibrator is being left to the side again. Fingers hook into the waist of your panties, slowly pulling them off as you read aloud the comment that caught your attention.

“There’s a new name I see here…Maybe we should do what you want, Mr. FlyingFish. Consider it a welcome gift from me to you.” His heart is pounding in his chest, hand gripping tighter and twisting around his dick as he fucks his fist, mumbles of curses spilling out as he listens to you repeat what he desperately typed not a minute prior. It sounds dirtier coming from you, despite his best efforts at politeness, “You said ‘Please show off how many of your little fingers fit into your pretty pussy. Think a pretty girl like you deserves to fuck her fingers…’ Alright, FlyingFish, you’ve got me blushin’ from that request and that is difficult to do, sir. Thank you for calling me a pretty girl. I promise I’m smart, too. I’ll be sure to count ‘em for you.”

One finger slips into your dripping entrance easily, the other hand reaching for the vibrator and replacing it at your clit while your finger starts to fuck shallowly, “One finger…”

Whines of frustration crack over his small speakers before a bigger moan falls from your lips, a second finger slid into you alongside the first, “Oh, fuck…That’s two. Mm, how am I doin’? FlyingFish, d’you think I can get another?”

Frankie’s wrist flicks rapidly now, the direct address to him driving him mad as the sounds of his arm slapping against his stomach and thigh clap in his room and cut into the sounds your pussy is making as you get yourself off. He types as quickly as he can, strings of curses flowing from his mouth as the heat of his desire burns red hot inside of him. He’s so fucking close but he wants to watch you fall apart at the same time. Wants to be the reason you come.

“Oh, shit—you’ve got a mouth, FlyingFish. ‘I’d hope you can take another, otherwise, you couldn’t take my cock.’ Is that a promise, Fish? You saying you got a big dick for me to take?” 

You whimper and he’s edging himself, squeezing hard to stay together when you inadvertently use his call sign. The closest thing you have to his name, and all he can think about is you screaming it while he’s fucking you. He wants to tell you it’s a promise only if you follow through, indulging in the fantasy of actually getting to touch you only for a moment. But instead, his attention is completely drawn to a third finger stretching your cunt in full view of the camera, your wanton moans popping in his speakers and driving his forearm to burn with the strain of muscle as he attempts to fist his cock even harder.

“Fuckfuckfuck…Come for me, baby, please fucking come on those fingers,” he begs no one but himself, a blinding white heat licking the entire inside of his body as he balances on the edge. Waiting for you to fall first.

“Oh my god, fuck…” The last word is drawn out, pitching up at the end as your fingers fuck faster, squelching sounds of your wetness flooding his mouth as his brain pleads for a taste of your cunt. “I don’t think—I don’t think I can get a fourth. M’gonna fucking come—ah! Oh, fuck me, Fish…”

You barely whisper his name, or at least what is his name to you, but it’s singlehandedly what punches out his guttural moan, ropes of warm, sticking spend coating his hand as he keeps moving and spilling onto his stomach. It’s prolonged, the tension in his calves relaxing after he spills the most come he has in a while.

Airy, light, a rush of blood back to his head has his whole body tingling with a high. Satiating his cravings from earlier, dissolving the want, the need, for anything of the sort. Instead, it’s replaced with thoughts of you — the image of you laying fucked out on his phone, adding his own touch of imagination when he closes his eyes to see you as you are but covered with his come the same way he is. Normally, this is when the smallest bit of shame crawls up his spine and sits at the nape of his neck, but instead, he melts into warmth. Faced with your smile as you sit up and lean over toward the camera again, laughing to yourself as you end the live.

“Um, if you’re still here, thanks for that FlyingFish. Felt fucking good…And to everyone else, I’ll stream again on Monday night, same time as always. Night, everyone. Have a good weekend.” All he hears before the sound cuts out is your excited giggles, the brightness of your post-orgasm joy stretching a smile across your face. He’s faced with a black screen, staring back at himself in the reflection with the shit-eating, smug grin he has on his face.

Now he’s got plans for Monday night.

Frankie hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. He’s hooked. Images of your sloping curves flash behind his eyes on the days when you’re not available to watch, his hips fucking his fist in bed, the shower, even on his couch with the blinds all open because he was that needy. Thoughts of you replaced his thoughts of the white powder, chasing after the different high he’s gifted by your voice, your body — all through a screen.

He’s caught himself rasping affections as he pictures you, hissed compliments as he comes and imagining what he’d say if you were in front of him. Letting him use your mouth or your cunt. He’s even gotten into a habit of imagining his head between your legs; the hardest he came is the one time he pictured you sitting on his face and all of the pretty sounds you’d make for him. Fuck, cariño, that’s so good. Mm, bonita, you’re such a good girl. Love doin’ what you’re told, don’t you, baby?

The fact that he doesn’t even know your name but is this infatuated isn’t lost on him. He knows he has an addictive personality, but this feels different. Like he was meant to find you for some reason. His sponsor would tell him it’s a call from the universe that this is all part of his ‘journey to sobriety’, but really, he just thinks that you’re fucking hot. And the tiniest part of him thinks you might like him watching too, even though you have no idea who he is.

Each time he watches you live, his thumb taps across the keyboard, responding to your requests and even adding in some encouragement. Virtually having conversations with you, he quickly became a frequent flyer (your joke, not his). You listen to him. Like the sweet girl that you are. Taking his suggestions — his demands when you beg — and showing off for him, a whimpering mess when he’s done with you.

At times, it feels like he’s the only one watching, or at least the only one that matters to you. With the amount of times his username falls from your lips, it’s easy to fall into a bubble of you and him. You’ve picked up the habit of referring to him as ‘Fish’ and it’s driven him mad, the closest thing to his name that he’ll hear you say. You give him material to think back about for days after. I love a man that knows what he wants, Fish. You can boss me around, Fishie. I always know what you tell me to do is gonna feel so fucking good.

All of this over the last few weeks has built up his courage, which is why he finds himself sitting on his couch with your profile open, the sun barely set outside. A random baseball game plays on his TV, but his focus is completely on his phone, writing and deleting a DM to you about ten times.

It has to be right. Friendly, but not stalker-ish. Flirty, but not creepy. Commanding enough to get your attention among what he imagines are countless messages in your inbox.

After another good ten minutes drafting a message, his thumb hovers over the ‘Send’ button for a few seconds. Squeezing his eyes closed, he lowers his finger and hits the button, anxiety washing over him as he opens his eyes to stare at the blue bubble.

No going back now.

Standing at the stove, water boils over the side of the pot while you pour in the uncooked pasta noodles. A few drops hit your skin, mumbles of curses leaving your lips, “Fucking shit!”

You stir the pasta before reaching for the nearest kitchen towel to wipe the once-scalding water off of your hand. A deep sigh exhales, relaxing your shoulders as the ding of a notification draws your attention to your phone lying on the marble countertop next to you.

What you find on your lock screen sends a shock of excitement down your spine, the warmth of anticipation radiating around your body to tingle your fingers and toes.

[Direct Message:] FlyingFish

Quick to swipe up, the device unlocks with a scan of your face and opens a new notification when you click on it with your thumb. Subconsciously, your opposite thumb has ended up between your teeth, biting down on the skin as you hold back an eager grin while you wait for his message to load.

You’ve never had this reaction to a message before, actually, it was usually the opposite. Rolling your eyes, ignoring the men until the last moment. Only responding to keep them enticed and subscribed — all of which keeps more money in your pocket. That’s really why you started this whole thing anyway.

FlyingFish:

Hey

A puff of air exhales through your nose, a chuckle cutting the otherwise silent kitchen. Shaking your head to yourself, you can’t help but smile at your screen. Heartbeat fluttering, you internally kick yourself for having such a reaction to such a simple message. Not even knowing who this person is, you find yourself typing back a response.

Hey there Fish

Guess I never actually asked if I could call you that

You turn back to your task at hand, continuing to cook your dinner and attempting to put out of your mind all of your assumptions about this person messaging you. You’d guess it’s a guy, an educated inference based on the demographics of your audience, but everything else is a complete mystery. The one time he insinuated he had a big dick stuck in your mind, and based on his behavior, you’d like to assume he isn’t lying. An image of a man sticks out to you each time you whimper his nickname, on camera and that handful of times off camera and alone: tall, solid, and strong. Brunette, only because that’s your type. Rough hands and commanding touches. Someone to bend your stubborn will into submission. He’s confident, at least through the chat, and he seems to know what he’s talking about. Each time you see his username pop up, you can feel yourself start to get wetter. Since you started this whole gig, there hasn’t been anyone quite like him. It’s always people asking for more for them — Show us your tits. Say my name. Turn around so we can see your ass.

But with him, it’s the opposite. He asks for more for you, which you guess is what he gets off to, not that you mind. Bet one more finger would feel even better for you, baby. Curl your fingers, cariño. You reaching that special spot? Gotta get deeper for me, baby. Rub slower, drag it out. Promise it’ll be even sweeter at the end. 

Always polite but stern in his demands. Never too much, mostly not enough for your taste. He’s built up an appetite in you that you haven’t had before, a desire to please and to be good for him. All of it doesn’t feel like performing when he’s telling you what to do, it feels like he’s there, deep rasp in your ears as you picture thick fingers in place of yours and tight grips on your plush curves. Fingerprint-shaped bruises left behind and sore muscles in your thighs from holding yourself up as he asks you to come for him over and over and over.

A vibration against the hard surface of the countertop refocuses your gaze from a thousand yards away. Turning to grab your cell, you rub your thighs together in hopes of relenting the ache between them from your daydreams. Wet panties get caught in your folds, discomfort only momentary before you lean over the counter and open your legs, reading the mystery man’s response.

You can call me anything you want bonita

But I will tell you that Fish is pretty close to my name

Fish is close to your name?

What is it? Bass? Salmon? Trout?

Funny

Fish is short for Catfish which was my call sign with my Special Ops team

Ahhh a military man. You know I like a man in uniform

Oh really? :)

Don’t wear it anymore but does it still count if I was once a man in uniform?

Hmm

:( please?

I wanna be liked by you

Showing your cards there Fishie

Not trying to play it cool?

Once you get to know me baby you’ll come to find out that me and cool don’t really go together.

I doubt that’s true

So Catfish is your call sign? Who came up with that?

My buddies on my team

Said I couldn’t grow a beard for shit and that it looked like I had whiskers

So Catfish

Well I don’t wanna call you Fish if it’s mean like that :(

What’s your real name? If you wanna tell me

Are you gonna sell my identity and let someone tank my credit score?

Never

It wouldn’t benefit me much if your card gets declined every month

I appreciate the honesty baby haha

My name’s Frankie

I like your name Frankie :)

It’s nearly an hour of messaging back and forth, flirting intermingled with genuine curiosity about the other’s life, history and background. Frankie learns that you were struggling to find a job straight out of university and needed to make rent, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to try out selling content. You detailed briefly the time that you grew your following, telling him about your Instagram too, which he follows in that instant. The notification makes you laugh and you follow him back despite the profile being completely empty of any information besides his name. Not even a profile picture. He learns that you don’t speak much to your parents anymore, that your siblings live across the country so you don’t get to see them much.

He tells you about his family — no siblings, parents that live in another part of the state and refuse to visit him in the city — and his chosen family, the Special Ops guys. Laughter hiccups from your chest when he recalls a few of the better stories from them, telling you about each other them as if he was preparing you to actually meet them. He has that thought, briefly, about all of you out for drinks. How they would probably like you as much as he does; your charm and sincerity would hook them all just as it has for him. Frankie tells you all about his current hobby, fixing up an old, cherry red 1978 Jeep Cherokee. How the only other time he spends online is searching for car parts, watching Youtube as he works on the vehicle in his garage.

You make a cheeky comment that he must be good with his hands before sending another message immediately:

Would you wanna actually talk? Like on Facetime maybe

Frankie stares at the message, blinking slowly as if it will disappear. You’re asking to talk to him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I mean, if he knew that was an option he would have asked himself…

He wouldn’t and he knows he wouldn’t based on the way his stomach has dropped to his feet, his hands have gone clammy and his throat tightened. Swallowing hard, he whispers a small pep talk to himself to work up the nerve to say yes. He wants to see you, he always wants to see more of you, but the fact that you’d see him as well…he can’t cope.

Heat trickles across the back of his neck and up his cheeks, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as his brain completely wipes any thought to respond. Dropping his phone into his lap, both of his hands reach up, one grabbing the brim of his cap and lifting it from his head while the other runs through his hair to push it back away from his face. In the corner of his eye, he catches his left knee bouncing. Lips press together in a thin line, rolling the flesh between his teeth before he picks up his phone again and sends a message back to you with just his phone number.

Not even a minute later, his screen lights up with a list of digits strung together in an unfamiliar order. As if it were possible, he felt his stomach drop lower than his feet, deep into the ground below and burrowing away along with his confidence.

Shit, this was a stupid idea. He’s going to make a fool of himself and you’ll lose interest and he’ll have to think about you every day for the rest of his life and wonder what you’re doing, how you’re doing, even what your name is—

Fuck, he’s gonna miss the call.

Frankie decides that it is much more embarrassing to miss the call he just sent his phone number for than to potentially come off as uncool, so his finger swipes to the right to answer. Quickly, he turns off his camera before you notice, opting for the level of anonymity to remain.

“Hi, Frankie…” Your candied voice drips with sweetness around his name. He’s been imagining you saying it, trying to get it right in his mind over the past few weeks, but hearing it now he relishes in the fact that none of them were right. None of them sounded like spun sugar, like it did just now.

You fill the frame from your shoulders up, the same bright smile on your face that he’s seen at the end of each live, after he’s had his fun with you, but looking completely different out of that context. It’s a bit shy, demure in the way you're resting in your bed against your pillows, t-shirt on and fresh-faced. You look beautiful. And it makes him feel a bit silly that you can’t see his reaction.

“Hey, bonita. M’sorry I don’t have my camera on, jus’ nervous. Didn’t want you to hang up right away gettin’ a look at this mug,” he says with self-deprecating laughter at the end, watching as your brows knit together with a pout on your lips.

“You don’t have to apologize, Frankie. M’happy to do whatever you’re comfortable with. Besides, if your voice gives me any indication of your looks, you’d probably be making me way more nervous.” Teeth bite into your bottom lip as you hold in a grin, a hand coming into view to nudge at your nose. He’s seen you do it a few times on live, whenever you’re waiting in anticipation. For him, he’d like to think.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he teases, the smirk playing at his face evident in his flirty tone.

“You jus’ sound…nice.”

“Nice? That’s all? Why would that make you nervous, baby?”

A sigh slips from your lips, rolling your head back as he hears the smallest whine from you. His cock jumps in his sweats, already half hard from the flirty back and forth in your messages.

“God, you’re going to be a problem with all those pet names,” you say exasperated. Frankie laughs at his screen, feeling like an idiot sitting here alone and smiling like a fool. You’re cute when you’re mad.

“You can tell me your name and I can use that instead?” he propositions, licking his lips as he awaits the piece of information he’s been chomping at the bit to have.

“No! I mean, I’ll tell you my name, but…I like the nicknames. Keep them. Please.” Your words scramble out and it makes him grin wider, witnessing you as nervous as he’s feeling. When you give him your name, he repeats it a few times, rolling it around in his mouth, tasting the syllables on his tongue. Delicate, floral, sweet but a slight tang. Smooth as it rolls across his vocal cords, soothing the rising heat he’s feeling with a refreshing chill. Like peaches and cream.

The two of you chat back and forth for a while, pride swelling in his chest when you laugh at his stupid jokes or give him a compliment, despite being none-the-wiser to his looks. He’s quick to make you blush with his comments, telling you how beautiful he thinks you are. And Frankie’s thanking himself for keeping his camera off, because at times during the call, his eyes drift to your chest, blatantly staring at your perked up nipples through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. It grows his hard on, the softness of your breasts bouncing around as you restlessly squirm during the call enticing him to picture getting his mouth on them. He’d guess you’d taste the same as your name.

The next time you move, he watches your chest again before a sight in the background catches his eye, drawing a chuckle from his mouth. A stuffed bunny lays next to you in your bed, messy with age and love. A soft pink color with a red ribbon tied around its neck, he finds the need to ask about it prodding in his mind.

“Is that who films everything for you?” he jokes, watching your face twist with confusion before looking to your side and bursting out in a laugh. Returning your eyes to the camera, you shake your head timidly.

“No, unfortunately he’s pretty limited to cuddling.”

“He? Didn’t know you had a man in your life, baby. Feels like we shouldn’t be talking like this in front of him.” The sound of your laughter quickens his pulse, the melody trilling in his ears with comfort.

“Well, I guess if you could offer me more than cuddling, he could be demoted.”

“I think I can offer more, Conejita.” Frankie watches as something akin to excitement, but burning brighter, flashes in your eyes. You sit up more, one eyebrow raising in challenge.

“What could you offer me, Frankie?” It’s a loaded question. He could be polite, steer the conversation away from where he so desperately wants it to go, to be a gentleman. It would be easy to make a joke, to get you both to move on.

But he always wants to see where this could go. You’re the one who wanted to talk on the phone in the first place. And he would never suggest anything to make you uncomfortable, and he thinks that you know that. It’s like what the two of you do in your lives — a conversation, a back and forth that may end up benefitting both of you.

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, Conejita. I’m a man of many talents.” The words are slick on his tongue, silvery with enticement.

“Hm…” you ponder out loud, tapping your index finger against your bottom lip before turning back to the camera, “Can you cook?”

“Decently. Can’t claim I’m a chef, but I feed myself. And m’pretty good at a grill and makin’ some of my mamá’s recipes. Insisted on teaching them to me so they didn’t end with her.”

Grinning warmly, he feels his heartbeat kick up against his chest, thumping hard at the sight of you giving him that look. “That’s so sweet that she taught you. You can teach me, then someone else in the world will know her recipes too.”

Christ, you’re so fucking adorable. He doesn’t know what he wants more in the moment: to keep talking and simply listen to your voice, or to flirt his way into something more.

“She might be a better teacher than me, baby. Would probably be over the moon if you asked to learn since she had to force me a bit,” he laughs along with your quiet giggle, taking a deep breath when you bite down on your bottom lip.

“Are you a good teacher of other things?”

“I’d like to think so. Haven’t I taught you new things already, Conejita?”

There goes his heartbeat when you look away from the camera, smirk lifting your cheekbones as your demeanor goes shy, shrugging your shoulders as you lay back again, shifting to get comfortable.

“You have…And now I’ve learned how sexy your voice is, too. I’ll be picturing everything you type now to be said in your voice.”

Frankie breathes out a chuckle, a heat burning the nap of his neck, trickling down his back. He feels the effects of his blood rushing below his belt, ever-so-slightly lightheaded as he quietly palms his bulge in his sweatpants.

“My voice is sexy?”

“Um, duh. Are you kidding me? You sound all…rugged and raspy and deep. Like you could manhandle me easily,” you admit your thoughts easily, and he sighs quietly at the thought of having you in front of him to throw around his bed and mold you into the positions he dreams of getting you into.

“No tienes ni idea de lo que haría contigo (You've got no idea what I would do with you)...” he mumbles under his breath, hearing a soft whimper from you. One of your arms is slung across your front, pressing your breast into the other and he can take a guess as to what your hand is up to. “You want some help, baby? I bet you’re jus’ feeling so needy, aren’t you? Listening to my voice got you that worked up?”

“Mhmm…I need it, Frankie…” Your voice has the edge of a whine and he exhales slowly as he hears you beg for him. Not his call sign or a username. His name. Him. There’s no one else who’s making you feel this way, no one else striving for attention.

He pushes his pants down, pulling his hard cock out to start slowly stroking. You’ve left him aching, dripping precum that his fingers smear around his length to lubricate as he moves up and down in a teasing pace.

“Use your manners, Conejita. What d’you say?”

“Please. Please, Frankie. I wanna hear your voice, I want you to tell me what to do.” He hisses from behind his teeth as he squeezes his cock at the base, leaning his head back against his headboard before his focus zeroes in on you on his screen, asking for his guidance, his control to get you off. No one else privy to the sights he’s seeing.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me, baby. Why don’t you take off your shirt for me? Let me see you, bonita.” Wetting his lips with his tongue when you move to prop your phone up on your mattress, an expert at framing yourself perfectly. The thin, worn fabric of your sleep shirt slips over your head, leaving you on full display for him — already pantyless. Whether you started the call with any on is a mystery to him, but now, he settles back to tell you exactly what he wants from you…what he knows will feel good for his conejita.

“Okay, bunny, lean back for me…That’s it, get comfortable. Good girl.” Looking into your camera to your side, a nervous smile plays at your lips, shyness overcoming you as you wait with bated breath for Frankie, who’s still a mystery to you, to instruct you. It’s driving him mad, how trusting you are of him without ever seeing his face. Such a sweet girl. His sweet girl.

“Show me how you like to play when no one’s watching.”

When his phone dings one evening a few weeks later, Frankie pulls himself out from under the hood of his project car. A familiar fizz bubbles over his body, a Pavlovian response that’s been built over the last few weeks he’s been talking to you. There have been text chains, full of flirty sincerity, and more phone calls, all with his camera off but not all ending like that first one. There have been times when the two of you have had long conversations, full of laughter and learning about the other. A few calls have ended with you falling asleep, stuffed bunny tucked under your chin and pillowy lips parted slightly with deep, even breaths.

Admittedly, he’s grown attached. Maybe a bit much for…whatever this relationship or friendship is, but he can’t help the teenage giddiness he’s felt with every text chime, ringtone, or dial that he’s found you on the other end of.

He’s got a crush.

So immediately at the peal of his cell, he’s reaching for the rag on his workbench, wiping his hands clean of grease before reading over your message.

Conejita:

Hiii 😚

Are you busy?​

Grinning like a fool at the gray bubble, Frankie begins to type out a response before abandoning the message and clicking the phone button at the top of your name instead. Pressing the speaker to his ear, he runs a thumb across his bottom lip while he listens to the trill of the dial tone. Steps pace him across the garage, counting them in his head as he waits for an answer.

“Hey, stranger.” The line clicks on and your voice immediately draws a smile across Frankie’s face, hearing one of yours in your upbeat tone.

“Hey, Conejita. What’s up with you?” Even your presence over the phone calms his nerves, sparking kindling low in his gut that spreads down to his toes and up to the back of his neck. Frankie tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder as he wanders back over to the carhood, shutting it carefully. He retreats inside, washing his hands as he listens to you recount your day.

“...So then I got pissed off and left ‘cause she was being so unreasonable. And then I wanted to talk to you ‘cause, I dunno.” The intensity in your cadence slows down toward the tailend of your story of an argument with a friend of yours; Frankie chuckles, biting his tongue while you sigh deeply and he dries his hands off on a kitchen towel.

“You don’t know why you wanted to talk to me? Don’t get all shy on me now, cariño,” he teases you, receiving a frustrated huff on the other end. “Well, for what it’s worth, I agree with you. She sounds like she has a stick up her ass. And m’glad you wanted to call me, Conejita.”

“D’you wanna switch to Facetime?”

“‘Course, I do. Always wanna see your face, jus’ one sec…” Frankie climbs his stairs two at a time, reaching the landing as his screen lights up with the Facetime request from you. He answers it, camera off, while he changes out of dirty clothes and listens to you chatting about plans for the weekend. He mentions going out with the guys tomorrow night, and you make a jest that gets him laughing, both of you bantering back and forth before he settles back on his bed.

“Y’know, I am content to chat with you like this, Frankie. But I keep wondering what you look like…” In the small rectangle of his screen, you lean forward to fill more of it, cleavage exposed in your bralette. He’s been waiting for this to be brought up again, and feeling so much more comfortable with you, he can’t admit he hasn’t thought about it. But with that stronger connection comes the anxieties. What if he isn’t what you pictured? What if he isn’t your type? What if you don’t like him anymore?

Frankie thinks he’s decent looking enough — he hasn’t had much trouble pulling girls since he was a teenager, but not being the most commanding or charismatic in the room, he has had his bouts of struggle in the relationship department.

“Please, Frankie. S’not fair I get to hear your sexy voice and not know what you look like. Pretty please, I’ll give you something special if you do,” you bargain with a pout on your face, bottom lip protruding and puffy. He wants to kiss it away, bite down on the glossy flesh, work away your frowning moue with his own mouth. Wonderings of what you taste like.

Coming back into himself, he wears a proud, intrigued smirk that you’re blind to except for the way his words curl around his slick, silvery tongue, “Oh, is that right, bunny? What if I wanna know what the something special is to decide?”

“Not how it works, silly. Either you want something special or you don’t.” A stern shake of the head, sitting up straight as you raise an eyebrow at him.

He sits with it for a moment, thoughts warring on the inside. In the end, his realistic side barters that either way could end badly: he doesn’t turn the camera on and you get frustrated, ending it, or he does turn the camera on and you don’t like the look of him, ending it. A phantom whisper of your voice, bubbly and bright, reminds him that it could make everything even better, and that ultimately is what convinces him.

“Alright, alright. You make a convincing argument, Conejita.”

A beaming smile stretches across your face as you draw a leg up to your chest, resting your head on your kneecap while you hold back your excitement and anticipation. Frankie takes in the sight of you, astir on tenterhooks.

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbles to himself before his thumb is pressing the camera button, illuminating himself on your screen. He sees himself in the smaller rectangle in the corner, grimacing before he laughs softly and grins, awaiting your reaction with waves of solicitude raging inside.

You see him, your Frankie. Filling your phone screen. Finally.

A nearly inaudible gasp leaves your lips, blocked from the mic by your knee. Studying his face, you witness the lines next to his eyes deepening as he laughs, his shy smile growing on his face. Big brown eyes strike your chest, their sincere softness making you want to fall into their warmth and stay there forever. Like the comforting heat of a mug of coffee on a chilly morning. You note that your visualizations were correct, mostly. Brown hair, curling out from under the cap branded with Standard Oil that sits on his head. Wide set shoulders that extend out of frame, a build to him that screams he most definitely can manhandle you around in bed. His call sign makes a bit more sense to you, seeing patches in his short beard, admiring the one on his left cheek that is shaped like a heart. Simply endearing. The image of him in front of you sends a shock to your core, wet spot in your panties growing as you begin to imagine what the rest of him looks like.

Hot is all you can think. Frankie is fucking hot.

His voice cuts through your trails of admiration, joking around to break the silent tension, “So are you gonna ask me to keep my camera off now?”

As you swallow to recover some of your composure, shaking your head back and forth quickly before a genuinely eager smile paints your expression. Leaning closer to see more of his details, freckles across his neck and where his shirt exposes a sliver of his chest, the peak of his cupid’s bow shaded by his mustache, long eyelashes that reach toward his eyebrows. You drop your knee from in front of you, leaning an elbow on the surface of your desk and resting your shin in your palm.

“Frankie, respectfully, what the fuck? You’re so hot.”

A boisterous laugh rolls from his chest, the same shy smile returning with a blush across his cheeks, “Conejita, you’re the hot one between us.”

“No, no, I’m being serious. You’re like — Damn. Your smile. And you have pretty eyes, Frankie. And you’re just like…really fucking hot. I can’t even think of another word. You should be the one doing what I’m doing.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re only seeing my face, baby.”

“Yeah, and? It’s a pretty face…Wanna sit on it.” Your giggle cuts through his speakers, and Frankie groans at the comment. Saliva coats your mouth as you watch the muscles in his neck tense, licking your chops like a prowling lion. If only he was in front of you right now…

“Diablita…eres una problema. (Little devil…you’re a problem.) Do I get my special something now?”

Another giggle and a mischievous smirk make Frankie’s brows stitch together in frustration, your shoulders shrugging as you toy with the strap of your bra, hooked under your index finger, “Actually, I think I wanna move the goalpost. Will you show me what I’m missin’, Frankie? I wanna see more.”

Desire burns bright and wild inside of you, ache building between your legs as your arousal drips from your panties and onto your thighs. You’d been picturing him — all of him — for weeks. Ever since that first message. But now, seeing him on your phone screen, your imagination is running wild with newfound information and attempting to fill in the blanks. He has to be big, thickness would be just right. He’s the quiet type, unassuming in his own looks, which means he has to have a virtually perfect dick. It's the rules of the universe. Undecided if he’s cut or not, but regardless, picturing your manicured fingers wrapped around it and tongue licking at his tip. Watching him come undone from you. Stomach tensing, those long fingers that you sneak a peek of when he adjusts his hat wrapped up in your hair. Rasping moans. What would he taste like?

Frankie shakes his head, a quick tsking drawing your attention back to the moment as he looks on with a teasing expression, “Conejita, I don’t think it works like that.”

“Okay, then no special something for you. Your choice, Francisco.”

He watches as you move the strap back up your shoulder, the soft snap of the elastic against your skin. Huffing out a frustrated breath, he mumbles, “No serías tan valiente si estuvieras aquí conmigo, mocosa. (You wouldn’t be so brave if you were here with me, brat.)”

Uncaring in whatever annoyances he was airing with you, you watch him sit up further in the frame, knocking off his cap and reaching for the hem of his shirt. Despite his words, he lifts his shirt over his head, looking back at the camera, bare shoulders and chest on display, “This is what you get for now, bunny.”

Satisfaction glows from your smile, biting hard into your bottom lip while Frankie watches your eyes search everywhere on your screen besides his own. A stern clearing of his throat breaks your trance, a commanding expression on Frankie’s face.

“You promised me something, Conejita.”

A deep pout replaces your grin, huffing in defiance as you slip your bra straps from your shoulders, “Can’t you please take the rest off? Show me what I wanna see, Frankie. Please.”

“Nah uh. Quit demanding, baby. Y’know that’s my job. Now tell me, what are you gonna do for me to get what you want?” His unwavering voice surprises you, despite hearing it for weeks. With the added heat factor of his looks, you crumble a bit quicker, clenching your thighs as you sigh and nod obediently.

“I’ll do anything, Frankie. Jus’ tell me what to do, I wanna make you happy.”

He grins on the screen, sincere softness peeking out, “Oh, baby, y’know it’s easy to make me happy. Jus’ gotta be a good little bunny, yeah?” He hums, licking his lips as he ponders what he wants from you tonight, a night he wants to fill with another milestone for the two of you. He’s only seen you use a small vibrator or your fingers on the phone with you, but he knows what else you have. He’s watched the video of you using it on your profile only about ten times.

“Get your pretty pink toy for me, Conejita. Y’know the one. And then get on the floor and you’re going to show me exactly how you use it.”

There’s rustling as you follow his instructions, stripping bare and suctioning the toy to your hardwood floors, propping the phone up for him to see it all. The hot pink dildo bobbles from you moving around it, glistening with lube that you applied — even though with one glance at your cunt, both you and Frankie know you wouldn’t need it. Straddling over the silicone, you slowly tease your entrance with it, whining before you make one more attempt to Frankie watching you with a smugness in his smirk.

“Please, Frankie, can’t you please show me your cock? I wanna picture it while I fuck myself. Wanna know if it’s how I imagined…Dream about it a lot.” He can read right through your tactics, but his dick can’t. It strains against his zippered jeans, throbbing under the fabric for some sort of relief. He squeezes his palm over it once, exhaling as he shakes his head, strong in his convictions.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll show you what you wanna see.” No more room for negotiations.

“Yes’sir.”

Frankie’s mouth hangs ajar while his focus trains on the apex of your thighs. Watching you slowly sink down, the bright pink rubbery toy disappears inside of you. Whimpers slip from your lips as you brace your hands on your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin. Need burns brightly in his chest and below his belt, clenching his jaw while he imagines biting the meaty part of you, leaving teeth marks in his wake before settling his mouth at your entrance.

Your hips set a quick pace, desperate for the high you’ve been dripping for since getting on the phone with Frankie. A low growl followed with a disapproving tut clicks over the speakers of your phone.

“Slow down, baby girl. Not a race…” Frankie corrects, and the only response you have is a frantic nod, turning your movements to a drag. The toy fills you up, stretches you the most that you have ever been. Pain heats your feelings of pleasure, intensifying it all in the lightness of your limbs and head. The ridges of the faux veins of the fake cock impress into your walls, the tip of it notching at the spot inside of you that Frankie taught you to reach. It only skates by it, whines accompanying your frustrations.

Frankie, on the other end, listens to the squelch of your pussy around the silicone. The sound drives him to fully cup his erection through his pants, palming himself with heady breaths as your own moans for him drive the iron hot brand of need deeper into his skin. He can see your need for a change, your need to be given permission to chase that feeling that’s within reach.

“Lean back, little bunny. Sit back on your hands and use your hips…Show me more of that pretty pussy,” he instructs, cool and confident while his hips buck up into his hand. Being his perfect girl, you do as he says and change positions, gasping when you sink down onto the toy. Your cunt clenches around it, a satisfied smirk painting Frankie’s face. He knows he’s gotten you to hit that special spot. With the grip your entrance has around the base of the dildo, he wonders if you’ll pop it off of the floor on your next thrust.

“Oh, fuck…Frankie, wish you were here. Tell me—tell me what you’d do to me if you were here,” you beg, your hips still dragging at the new angle.

A groan escapes Frankie at your request, biting down hard on his lip and taking his hand away from his lap to deny himself the temptation.

“You love hearing me say all the dirty things to you, huh Conejita?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues, “If I were there with you, I’d would be—shit—I’d be devouring you right now. Fucking you with my tongue and my fingers, making you squeeze me and getting your come all over my face. Gotta get you ready for me, bunny. After, I’d flip you over. Get your pretty ass up for me, and I’d fuck you senseless. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Turn it all off up there and just let me take care of you…”

Nodding, your hips start to move faster as Frankie speaks to you. He doesn’t have the heart to tease you anymore, letting you start to take what you want for a bit. Your moans pitch up, tits bouncing with your nipples pebbled and the rest of your soft curves twisting as you rock back and forth on the toy.

“Yes, please. I want that,” you mewl, heavy breaths erratic.

“That’s right. My baby deserves it all,” he says with a sigh, his large palm squeezing his hard cock again, slowly unzipping his jeans and slipping his hand into his boxers to grip himself at the base. “I’d fuck you until that pretty little brain of yours was filled up only with thoughts of how good I make you feel. How good you are for me, pretty girl…Look at you go, bouncing on that toy. Rub your clit, Conejita. Slow, at least for right now.”

You follow his orders, supporting yourself on one arm. Slow circles against your clit have you shuddering with pleasure, a twitch of your tummy as you moan. Your eyes flutter shut, face twisting with overwhelming need. Frankie drinks in the sight, indulging himself in a few long strokes of his cock before he hears it.

“Daddy…” you breathe, near a whisper, but it’s audible to him. Lost in yourself, you don’t even notice you’ve let it slip until it comes again, “Oh my god, Daddy.”

The surprise of it shocks your eyes open, stuttering your hips as you narrow in on your screen. Frankie’s eyes grow dark, licking his lips as he holds in a loud moan. His fingers grip the base of his aching cock, holding off at the edge. So close to coming when he heard that word drip from your mouth like melted sugar.

He can tell you’re attempting to gauge his reaction, nervous settling in as you attempt to move on from it and continue fucking yourself closer to finishing. Frankie’s eager to take it in stride, clearing his throat before he gives it right back to you, opening that door that he knows won’t be shut any time soon. At least not by him.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Let Daddy tell you what you need, yeah?” He chuckles darkly, satisfaction thumping in his veins while you nod and whimper yes yes yes back to him, “Y’know, if you like that lil’ toy, baby, Daddy’s cock will feel even better. S’bigger than that fucking thing.”

“Oh, fuck, I need to—I need you, Daddy, please!”

“I know, Conejita, I know. Poor little thing jus’ needs Daddy to be filling her up, huh? You wanna know what my cock feels like inside of you, don’t you, pequeña?” He hisses with a buck of his hips into his fist, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second.

“Yes, yes, please, Daddy! Please,” you choke on a breath and Frankie can see you twitch at your inner thighs from the full-on view of your pussy, your tell-tale sign that you’re about to come.

“Y’know the rules, Conejita. Better ask before you come.”

“Please, please may I come?” you moan, rubbing faster circles against your clit and grinding down on your toy.

“Oh, bunny, you can ask nicer than that. May I come…?” he leads, smirking devilishly when you nearly squeal from the way he’s holding you out on the edge. Teetering on the verge of that high that he knows well, he can see your legs faltering with a cramp.

“Please may I come, Daddy?” Your eyes open, heavy-lidded and lips parted with shallow breathing. Frankie gets lost in the sight, wrecked from his direction, his words, a sheen of sweat over your skin and the arousal coating your thighs. A fucking dream.

“Mm, come for Daddy, baby girl—” he’s interrupt as you erupt in a high-pitched moan, mouth wide open as you string together mumblings Oh fuck, Daddy, feels so good. Need you so bad…

“Good girl.”

Frankie hums contently, chuckling as a dopey grin finds your face, blinking through the orgasmic haze. Laying back, you slip the toy out of your pussy, leaving it to wobble in place and spreading your legs around it. One arm comes to rest against your forehead, breasts rising and falling with deep, recovering breaths. He’s blocked of the view that would make this moment even sweeter, licking his lips before he speaks up.

“Lemme see that fucked cunt of yours, bunny. Let Daddy see what belongs to him.” You sit up again, popping the toy off of the floor and laying it to the side to be cleaned later. Frankie hums as you part your legs more, the glittering of your come dripping on your thighs and across your swollen pussy. “Eres un buen oyente, pequeña. (You’re a good listener, little one.)”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, a long exhale punctuating the question.

“You’re a good listener, little one.” Frankie grins when you grow shy, inching your legs together before he tsks again, one hand coming into frame to motion for your lower limbs to part again.

“Y’know, it would look even prettier with my come dripping out of ya, baby.”

“Please.”

“What, Conejita?”

“Don’t tease me anymore…Can’t take it, Daddy.” You lips push out in a pout, subtle but he can catch the change in expression.

“Nah uh, no pouting, bunny. Who said that I was teasing? I’m going to make it happen.”

Sweetness slips from your lips in a giggle, leaning over to pick up your phone and hold him closer to your face.

“So, if I was a good girl, doesn’t that mean I get to see what I asked for before?” Wiggling in eagerness, Frankie feigns ignorance, scratching at his beard as he shrugs, acting as if he didn’t nearly come in his pants multiple times in the last few minutes.

“I dunno, Conejita. What did you ask me for? Gonna have to remind me.”

“Your cock. I wanna see it.” Your pout sneaks back, biting your lip. “May I please see your cock, Daddy?”

“I think I could do that for you, baby. Asking so nicely. Such a good girl for Daddy, yeah?”

“Always.” A giggle bubbles up from your tummy, biting down on your lip as Frankie takes you in, shaking his head in subtle disbelief. How the hell did clicking for one subscription get him here, having Facetime sex with you?

He obliges your original requests, moving to prop his phone up in front of him, stripping down his jeans first. The sight of his bulge waters your mouth, pupils widening in want at the outline of his cock. No tricks of the light, no chance of manipulation like some men in your DMs do. All natural.

And Frankie wasn’t lying. He’s big.

The reveal comes when he tugs his boxers down to his ankles, settling in front of the camera again. His heavy length rests against his lower stomach, precum dripping into his dark happy trail. Your eyes drag over the veins ribbing him, leading down to show off that he’s tastefully groomed. Swallowing saliva, you lick your lips as his large hand wraps around, slow strokes that gently shift the foreskin away from his tip. The end of his cock glistens with pebbles of precum, red and aching. Frankie hisses at the contact, the veins in his neck straining against his skin while he starts to fuck his fist.

“You look so pretty, Daddy,” you compliment sweetly, grinning at him as he laughs quietly back at you.

“Such a sweet little bunny. You think you can take me in your tight little cunt?” A long exhales concaves his chest, quiet moans as his hand picks up pace. 

You return his regular favor of talking him through it, detailing how good of a girl you’d be for him, telling him all that he would be allowed to do to you. The sounds Frankie makes has you dripping again, getting his permission to fuck your fingers, both of you driving each other to a peak, your second one taking the breath from your lungs as Frankie comes at the same time. Whimpers escape your mouth as you envy his hand and stomach being covered in his release, biting your tongue and crowding the screen as he shows off how much you made him come.

“Wish I was there to clean you up, Daddy.”

“Right back at you, Conejita.”

A few days later, Frankie calls you after one of your livestreams, grinning like a schoolboy when you answer in only your underwear. You laugh as you set your phone down on the surface of your dressing, his childish smirk turning to a pout as he stares at your white painted ceiling. Calling out to him, you ask for one second while you tug a sweatshirt over your head, shuffling around before grabbing the device and relaxing back on your bed, bunny in your lap.

“Hi, baby,” Frankie coos, one side of his mouth lifting in a smile as he drinks in your cozy, drowsy demeanor. Cuddling with the toy against your chest, you grin back at him, curling up onto your side like a cat.

“Hi, Frankie,” you mumble back, exhaustion heavy in your eyes.

“You sleepy, little bunny?” A slow nod answers his question. “Alright, I won’t keep you up for long then. Just had a question for you.”

The vague proposition piques your interest, your eyes shooting open and the camera being brought closer to your face, “What’s your question?”

Frankie works his lips between his teeth, nerves crackling over his entire body. Realistically, he knows you’ll say yes, but there’s still that chance for rejection in the moment. His left leg bounces against his couch, hand running over his face as he takes a deep breath in, “I was wondering if you’d wanna come visit me here in Florida? If you don’t have time—”

“I would love to come visit, Frankie,” you agree immediately, a sincere smile growing on your face. Frankie mirrors your excitement with a goofy grin, the creases next to his eyes deepening and his dimple cratoring his cheek. “I’ll even book my flight right now, that’s how eager I am.”

Shaking his head furiously, he clicks his tongue in a tut, scolding you playfully, “Hey, hey. No, none of that. I’m not letting my baby pay, I’m the one who asked you to come.”

“But—”

“Nope, no buts. Except yours getting onto a plane and coming to see me,” Frankie laughs at his own joke, earning a playful eye roll as you hold back your own chuckle. “Oh, c’mon, that was funny, Conejita. I can tell you want to laugh.”

The two of you go back and forth while he books your flight on his laptop, showing off the confirmation number once it’s all gone through. Both of you wear shit-eating grins on your faces, sitting in disbelief.

Frankie can’t help the rush of anxiety, unable to tell if it’s solely from his excitement. All he can think about is having you in front of him, in the flesh, in person. No screens between the two of you, no broken signals or shitty wifi interruptions. Hearing your voice without the strain of speakers, getting to touch you, taste you, hear you, feel you all over him. There’s the flash of a vision of you laid out underneath him, making your little sounds that drive him crazy and digging your nails into his back…

“Gonna let Daddy spoil you while you’re down here, baby girl?” Frankie smirks as you stretch sleepily, biting down on your lip.

“You’re flying me out, isn’t that spoiling me enough? Shouldn’t it be my turn to spoil you then?”

“Think you know the answer to that, baby. Having you in front of me is spoiling me enough, I jus’ wanna take care of you.” 

The simple statement brings a smile to your face, shyly tucking your face into your pillow. The rest of the call relaxes you back to near sleep, listening as Frankie tells you all about what he’ll take you to do. Your drowsiness catches up with you, drifting off on the phone. Frankie chuckles quietly to himself, sitting with you for a moment silently before he goes to hang up.

“Night, Conejita. Can’t wait to see you.”

taglist: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @kiwisbell @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @k-k0129 @cartoon-garbage04 @nostalxgic @ravenpoe67

[hillbillyoracle]

I've been researching and experimenting around rehabilitating my relationship with technology for a few years now. What I've realized is there's a big gap between what the research shows and what gets bumped by algorithms like YouTube - which is probably not an accident given the aims of the algorithm.

Here are my biggest takeaways so far:

- Dumbphones, lockboxes, switching to physical media, most everything you see online about coping with tech overwhelm - these plus a very long drying out period are best in cases of genuine tech addiction. Otherwise it's overconsuming to solve and overconsumption problem. Our attempts to rehabilitate our relationships with tech are being hijacked and comodified which keeps us dissatisfied/on the hamster wheel.

- Not all screen time is created equal - research shows this. Some impacts people positively, some neutrally, some negatively. Targeting screen time as a metric tends to make people feel happier in the short term by minimizing the negative category but this often leads to a level of untenable friction toward the positive and neutral types in the long term that tends to lead to a relapse and "binging" the negative. Shame leads to a repeat of the cycle.

- Social media is consistently shown as one of the most negative impacts on psychological wellbeing. Your biggest bang for your buck will be in either leaving, modifying, or heavily structuring your use of social media.

- If you can't leave social media, taking it off of your phone and using a plug in to block the feed + ads on desktop can help. Still want to see what your friends and family are posting? Create a folder for bookmarks of direct links to their profile/main pages or use an RSS reader like Feedly. Curate it carefully; avoid outrage regardless of whether you share it's leanings.

- There are other targets that I personally think would make people happier with their tech usage overall: eliminating/minimizing subscriptions, avoiding ads, prioritizing privacy, and using human curation. While they each have benefits on their face, the shifts in usage they encourage are ones that people generally report more satisfaction with.

- Eliminating/minimizing subscriptions means more money each month but it also usually means cutting out things like streaming. The big non-financial con of streaming is that it can lead to overwhelm and perfectionism - thereby decreasing satisfaction. The upside of cutting it out is that it pushes people toward renting, owning, or ripping media they love which requires intentionality and curation.

- If really you want free streaming, check out whether your library has Kanopy, Hoopla, or Freegal. You can still get some of the benefits by embracing the reduced selection they offer. They also likely still have CDs and DVDs you can rip for your personal collection.

- Avoiding ads and prioritizing privacy go hand in hand. This usually means using an ad blocker and shifting away from Apple and Google and Meta where possible - deleting apps, switching services, blocking feeds, switching browsers. I can't deGoogle completely at the moment but when I shifted in the ways I was able, I started scoring my time online more positively and I took more breaks/spent less time on it.

- Seek out human curation: library newsletters, listen to local radio, ask your friends and family, check out round ups and newsletters from your favorite creators, share your own. Human curation is less likely to be driven by business interests and while there's no algorithm free media rec these days, they're not being given to trap you on a platform.

- Focusing on a quantitative metric (like screen time) is the gateway to consumerism. Stop looking for a cure and start discovering your personal philosophy. Talking about the algorithmic alienation from our actual feelings and desires is too much for this post but simply put there is no "pure" experience you're missing out on by using a screen. Notice how you're feeling, respond with kindness, and let the rest go. Shame is a weapon in the hands of corporations.

Hope this is helpful for someone out there.

[purplekissinger]

Eye of the beholder

He looked back on his life, not with shame but with a kind of disgust at its dreariness. - 'That hideous strength', C. S. Lewis.

BEFORE YOU READ THIS i really think i have to explain myself. i’ve wrote a ‘Robert Daly x reader’ piece back in 2024 (and never posted this) and my first and only motivation was to escape the cosmic horror of knowing that someone was trapped in their mind FOREVER. Robert Daly is not a good man nor a nice guy, he’s a villain and no one should defend him, and yet his fate was truly horrible and i just felt the urge to write something on that. Knowing what happend to him in the sequel i kinda want to share this text now. Please pay attention that the relationship is shown as toxic (because ehhh that is the way he is) - with a bleak hope in the end. Please forgive me for anything that could make you feel uncomfortable.

When you moved in with Robert Daly, he cleared out a few shelves for you with a frantic urgency he didn't expect from himself. The collector's construction set, the Commander Carpenter action figure, and the three mugs with views of the Brachian wastes were now resting in a box. In their place went your shampoos, a stack of T-shirts, and a box of books. Robert felt that these were perhaps the most precious items in his collection.

Your phone is full of tracking apps that send him a detailed report every day at 18 p.m. Location, messages, photos, browser search history. Robert spared no effort to carefully review all these documents every night and then save them in a secret folder (you went to bed earlier anyway). Are there suspiciously warm messages from colleagues? Are you googling something like "my boyfriend is too controlling"? 

Robert felt almost no guilt when he installed bugs on your phone, except maybe a little. Do you really feel guilty when you install an anti-theft system on your car? Especially if it is an expensive car that is beyond your means.

You were, indeed, beyond his means. Not financially, though.  Robert felt more or less secure when it came to money. His salary was enough for him to make you move into his apartment pretty quickly and let you work from home more often (so that Walton wouldn't chatter with you too much). You were, by any measure, out of his league. Too pretty, too sweet, and just too affectionate with him for it to be true. There were those crazy moments when he was overcome with a suffocating fear: what if this was just another simulation? What if he was now actually half-asleep in a chair, watching scenes of a happy life with the living dream?

Robert glanced sideways at the bed where you were snoring peacefully. In the flickering light of the monitor he could only see the top of your head. Without taking his eyes off you, Robert whispered:

‘Exit game’. 

You sighed softly. Robert stared at you intensely for another three or four minutes, then turned back to the computer.

Geotracking. No surprises here, after work you made a quick stop at the coffee shop near the house. You bought an ice cream and a cup of coffee (receipt attached), and then went straight home. Robert felt a growing warmth somewhere in his heart. It's for your safety, after all. He imagined you sitting in this cafe, carefully picking an ice cream with a spoon. He wonders sometimes how does he even manage to hide his madness.

Oh, and here's a photo of the ice cream. You sent it to a friend. Open chat logs.

Diana: Ooooh, that looks tasty! :heart emoji:

Y/N:  trust me it is :3

Diana: are you at Gingers rn?

Y/N: yeah. You wont believe me what theyve done with the place lol

You discuss different ice cream flavors for a couple more pages. Robert read it all carefully. The ease with which you ​​talked to people always fascinated him.

You watched a couple of episodes of Futurama on the phone when you got home. Then you googled ‘lasagna recipes’ and ordered the necessary ingredients. They say that you get used to good things quickly, but Robert still couldn’t get used to the smell of a delicious dinner cooked by loving hands that was now waiting for him every night. Then you put on some music, and maybe danced a little (Robert briefly thought that he should check the cameras). Then there was a text message from Nanette.

Robert pursed his lips. He often racked his brains over how to cut Nanette out of your life, but so far he hadn’t come up with anything. Meanwhile you two had become good friends. Nannette asked something about work, you answered her right away, then you agreed to meet on Friday evening (he would think about how to prevent this later).

Nannette: you were busy last Friday xd pleeeeeeease don’t sneak away from me this time!

Y/N: sorry x) Rob and I had a Space fleet marathon, we watched like 10 episodes or something

Nanette: whoa

Nanette: :skull emoji: :skull emoji: :skull emoji:

Nanette: u ok lmao?).

Go to hell, Robert thought darkly. You like it, he knows for sure. That day you two ordered pizza and cuddled until late at night, staring at the screen. He sometimes paused the show and explained the references, and you listened intently. It was the best damn evening in six months. Better than being a captain.

Y/N: well, it's actually pretty cool x) such a cute vintage. It's a cult classic, half the tropes in modern sci-fi owe the debt. Plus the jokes are really funny)

 Thank God, he thought with relief.

Nanette: listen, I’ve been meaning to ask, how are you two doing? I know you just moved in with him

Nanette: don’t get me wrong, I’m not prying into your personal life. I’m just curious 

Y/N: oh, everythings great) Ive been seeing Rob more often, he works an awful lot. Hes  different at home, by the way)

Nannette: wow, what’s he like?) surprise me

Y/N: very cute :heart emoji: like a huge teddy bear. I could hug him all day long lol

Robert felt like he was having trouble breathing. He blinked twice. The screen in front of his eyes was blurring. It took him a moment to realize that it was tears.

Y/N: Damn, Im actually a little offended that no one knows what Rob is really like) hes a real genius, no joke, and at the same time so humble and hardworking

Y/N: I love it when someone is really passionate about something. Such people usually have a lot of love in their hearts) Rob is very caring

Y/N: and very kind

Y/N: in short, I hit the jackpot xd

Y/N: his birthday is in two weeks tho :thinking emoji:  i was thinking of a surprise

Y/N: thought of an action figure xd 

Y/N: but now i have even better idea

And that is when Robert closed the chat window hurriedly, hitting the cross on the fourth try, and hid his face in his hands. He needed some cold water. He needed to do the breathing exercises that you had taught him. He needed to lie down. He needed to wake you up, to confess - though to what, he couldn't say.

For as long as he could remember, Robert Daly had been a man who, with astonishing persistence, saw only injustices towards himself and never noticed any problems of other people. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt something that could be described as noble and dignified. He saw now with devastating clarity that he did not deserve you. He was not a good man or a nice guy, never had been; he had always known that you were too good for him, but now he felt like a robber, no, worse, like a thief. 

So what if he did not pursue the clones who had broken free? So what if he returned digital copies of Walton and Tommy to the ship and gave them unlimited credits? Robert was doing it for himself, because he knew full well that he would go to jail for that sweet entertainment.

You will never know about the USS Callister. You will never know that six months ago you could have been trapped there. You will never know what you really saved him from when you raised the alarm in the work chat, unable to reach Robert. You sure as hell will never know what a monster he was and remains. 

You won't see him turn off the monitor and lie down carefully next to you on the bed. You won't see him staring at the ceiling until almost dawn and thinking about the long, long hours in the darkness of dead space. You won't hear him sobbing quietly as he remembers how this darkness was cut by the light of a hospital room as he saw your face.

Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder. But could it be the kindness that Robert didn't feel in himself no matter how hard he tried? For the only thing he felt was an endless empty and cold space inside of him, deadly, hungry, ugly, unforgiving, and no other light except his guiding star, his wishing star. And as Robert hoped desperately that he will never lose sight of this star, he knew damn well that it would be better for the star to lose sight of him.

[embracing-the-ineffable]

The Ineffable Detective Agency presents more Ineffable Discontinuity and Suspicious Moments: Hawaiian Shirt / Pub Table Guy

Introducing... the extra/background character who makes Aziraphale do THIS, and then immediately has his table at the pub miracled away:

Jon Dan Duncan's imdb profile doesn't list Good Omens, not even as "uncredited" - which seems strange, because his profile does include the above photo of him. Since the actor isn't credited in GO, we don't have a character name or know anything more than what we can see onscreen. So, what DO we see?

First of all, when Aziraphale sees this person, he definitely has A Reaction. We were probably all too distracted by Azi stroking the thin dark duke to notice (as an aside, IS Crowley a Duke? Of what? Hell? Something else??), but after the 90th rewatch, it gets a bit easier to focus on these background details that are probably critically important to the story in ways we just don't understand yet. Look at this:

Did he mouth "stop" when he's supposed to be saying "sherry"? Maybe. These LOOKS, though:

We all know that Michael Sheen's expressions, no matter how tiny or fleeting, are very intentional. Who IS this mystery person??! Immediately after taking his table:

After whoever-he-is loses his pub table, he lingers nearby, and there's an interesting "ineffable discontinuity" - what he's holding in his right hand abruptly changes twice between camera cuts (sound on, if you want context for this small zoomed-in part of the screen, and try watching from your browser if the Tumblr app is cutting off the right edge of the image):

So far, our best explanation for the "ineffable discontinuities" - things that inexplicably and improbably change, like which hand is holding his drink or (coming up next) when he's behind Gabriel and then suddenly in front of him - is that we're seeing multiple timelines that are being knitted together in production to make them look seamless - but who knows? We'd love to hear your ideas! (Also, see the appearing Honolulu Roast sign in the coffeeshop, or Crowley's tattoo and sideburns, or the fandom's newest discovery (from @kimberleyjean and @bbbitchvibbbez) about Gabriel visiting his statue with "both" s1 and s2 Beelzebubs, plus the way the statue's cross is sometimes missing - just to name a few!)

Was the point in this scene with Hawaiian shirt/pub guy's right hand to draw our attention to this page of his newspaper?

"Unearthed mysteries of sealed library basement" - when Crowley told Shax that Aziraphale was "stock taking in the basement", was it true that there IS a basement in the bookshop? Basements apparently aren't that common in most of the UK, but London is famous for having "iceberg" buildings (where the basements are actually bigger than what's above-ground).

"Government approves funding for citywide charging stations" - We don't know, but it makes us think of all the electric cars used in s2 (it was an indoor set) and of Crowley throwing lightning in the street.

And the smaller headline on the right ... Hmmm. Can you read it? 😅 Maybe "Neighbor says New ------ park gate is ' too --- ' "

And it's not just the pub during episode 2! This mystery character is everywhere!

E1: He somehow starts out behind Gabriel, and then ends up in front of Gabriel with another extra on his arm:

E2: In addition to his appearance in the pub, he's also watching when Saraqael, Uriel, and Michael arrive:

E3: Our mystery character is there again when Crowley makes it rain, wearing his e1 shirt:

E4: We didn't spot him in this episode, but there are only a few minutes of present-day SoHo. Did anyone else see him?

E5: He has a doppelganger in a different Hawaiian print shirt! (Notice the different facial hair, among other things.)

Later in e5 he does actually make an appearance in the bookshop window for a quarter of a second (!!), wearing his e2 pub outfit, and maybe it's his presence that elicits this similar-to-the-pub reaction from Aziraphale?

E6: And back again to his black e1 and e3 shirt with the red flowers, while in line behind The Metatron, and then sitting at a table on the sidewalk, where he remains with the person in the turban who was in line behind him (and who also shows up quite a lot during s2) right up until Crowley drives away:

So, why have him wear such a noticable black shirt with red flowers on what are supposed to be three different days? Is he connected, with his Hawaiian print shirt, to the appearing Honolulu Roast sign? Why does he get a doppelganger in e5 - to distract us from his presence outside the bookshop before the ball? Why does Aziraphale react like this - TWICE - upon seeing this person?? (Much to Crowley's great confusion!)

And why does it seem that Aziraphale is keeping this person's presence/ identity/ importance a secret from Crowley?

As always, we'd love to hear your ideas!

Also, here's an earlier post from @theastrophysicistnextdoor about him, with gratitude for the inspiration to write all this up.

With appreciation for contributions from @noneorother, @thebluestgreen, and @embracing-the-ineffable at the @ineffable-detective-agency

Want to see more interesting posts, plus Good Omens clues and metas from all over the fandom? There's a huge collection here!

[suzukiblu]

Hi sorry I'm new here so I'm not sure how the whole WIP thing works - is it only things you're actively writing? I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, I've just been fully brainrot consumed by your Red Hood omegaverse WIP and I haven't seen anything about it in almost a month. Again, sorry if this comes off as pushy ;-;

You're all good, man, I am always of the "ask if you don't know" mindset! Just makes the most sense, imo. And thank you, glad to hear you're enjoying . . . um presumably the DickJay one since that one specifically namedrops "Red Hood" in the WIP tag and also I don't THINK I've updated my other Jason-related omegaverses in the past month-ish, but heck if I actually remember either way, haha. 😅😅

Basically the way it works around here is I have about eight hundred billion WIPs I consider "active" ( there's an alphabetical but still slightly chaotic list of specifically the DC ones right here; just make sure to open that link in a browser if you're on the app 'cuz sometimes the app gets tetchy with it ) and I work on whatever I'm vibing with unless either:

a) I am actively running WIP Wednesday or a similar writing meme, in which case I will put up a post about said writing meme and its rules and what the options to request from are (WIP Wednesday typically goes up 12:30pm EST the weeks I do it, but other request memes I just do randomly )

OR

b) someone donates to me on Ko-fi, in which case I write them thank-you words or sentences, word count and specific WIP depending on if it's a one-off dono or a specific subscription tier ( those explanations/rules are a little hard to summarize down to an elevator pitch but are all on my Ko-fi page if/as needed ).

Otherwise, like I said, it's just whatever I'm most vibing with. Sometimes I also just randomly write more of something because someone's interested in it and as a result told me something that gave me the itch to work on it or because somebody I know is bummed out or having a tough day/week and I know they like a specific WIP, or I'll take votes via poll or things like that; it kinda just depends? Also sometimes I will ask weird questions like "hey spin this wheel and tell me what random quote you got" and will write based off the responses people, well, get, haha. Lately I've been picking one WIP to dedicate a specific amount of time to and posting daily in it during that time; right now we're doing a month of "think pink" 'cuz I was feeling it and also I knew people would appreciate seeing more of it; next month, who knows! Maybe four fics!! Maybe no fics!! It'll be a surprise to us all, especially me, hahaha.

So yeah I am very, very ADHD, if that was in any way at all subtle, lol.

[mod2amaryllis]

I'm coming around on cooking because eating yummy food that doesn't kill you is good, and recently I've found an absolute game changer of an app.

it's called paprika, and what is does is let you search any recipe from the app, like via an in app browser, then downloads the recipe. so it takes the unreadable recipe pages and makes it actually usable. no ads no backstory just ingredients and directions. and it does this INSTANTLY it's like magic. then from those recipes, you can add it to a shopping list.

but not only that, you can write your own recipes, and it will still be able to add to a shopping list. i was shocked at how well it works. like here's my no bean chili basically copied from an ask where i gave the recipe

and as you can see, it was able to easily make a shopping list.

it's so so simple but works so well I'm in awe. there's endless meal planning apps out there and they often overwhelm me by being too busy, waaay too expensive, or they only have their own selection of recipes. paprika is $3 for the full version, THREE BUCKS, no subscription, and does exactly what i need it to do perfectly. i love it 10/10

[wintersettled]

Ongoing Batfam recs

disclaimer! this is being written primarily off the top of my head so don't expect insane quality! also I'm aware a lot of people aren't sure where to start or what's current -- for that I recommend looking through reading guides but I thought I'd talk a bit about current ongoing batfam comics I'm aware of. To read these you could go to your local comic store, use the DC Infinite app or do what I often do and use alternative sites to read comics, many of which can be found by searching "where to read comics free reddit" via your internet browser.

not all batfam characters are currently appearing very much in comics so I'm afraid there will be a distinct lack of many favourites such as Tim Drake, Helena Bertinelli, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, and Jean-Paul Valley, however it should be noted that in Batman: The Brave and the Bold there is always a chance that an issue will feature one of them. This series features 60 pages containing multiple short stories which vary in length, some occurring across multiple issues. While it is labeled "batman" it regularly features characters outside of the batfamily.

I'd also like to not that due to DC's All-In there are many new authors and storylines starting up so most are barely any issues in! These are really just early on thoughts BUT it's a great time to start reading!

Regarding Bruce Wayne himself, Batman is currently (as usual) appearing in two new all-in arcs in both Detective Comics and Batman (2016). Can I say I like either? No! It is a long established fact that I am most definitely not Taylor's biggest fan and him deciding to rehash already done and in fact tired storylines as well as making minor adjustments to origins is no surprise nor do I care -- still I'll be fair and tell you that the story involves, you guessed it, the no-killing rule woah! Something so deftly written you can spot the killer from the first couple pages except this time the issue ends off with perhaps one of the most ridiculous and bad plot twists I've ever seen... enough hating on that. Now with the Batman series itself, I fear I dropped it ages ago. I'm understanding there's some conflict regarding the return of previous characters but following Gotham War I struggle to car about this run and I'll admit so far what I've heard from those who have read the recent series is mediocre at best.. still I recommend checking it out for yourself seeing as I can't actually speak on it.

Nightwing aka Richard Grayson is having a seemingly better time. With the introduction of Dan Watters as the new writer we're getting a new Nightwing (2016) story that I am feeling really positive about! I fully recommend checking this one out, just going off the first issue it looks good and I have spent the last month yearning for more! Titans (2023), however, I'm a bit more sceptical of... I'm liking the change in dynamics (always love a Roy feature and Donna leading) which see different characters taking the forefront of the team. I'm not a big fan of Beast Boy nor his dynamic with Raven so it may not be the best but I think the Titans are a super important part of Dick's story so I'll say if you're not keen on this, maybe run it back and pick up The New Teen Titans (1980) which is the start of the team and even sees Dick become Nightwing!

A new writer has finally joined up on Catwoman (2018) and let me say that I loved that first issue. Someone is trying to kill Catwoman and all of her previous identities. We hearken back to her international thievery and what a huge scale Selina Kyle was once on! I'm very excited to see her travel as the story progresses!

Damian Wayne continues as a main character on Batman & Robin (2023) which I am not caught up to so I can't comment on the story but at least in the past it's had its moments! I can't say I've always been totally into the portrayal of Talia however this series has in the past emphasized Damian's relationships with his father as well has others like Nika aka Flatline!

Both Barbara Gordon and Cassandra Cain have been appearing in Birds of Prey (2023)! I enjoy the series but I will admit I feel like it's still finding its footing and I loath the occasional portrayal of Barbara as Batgirl -- something I feel is actively harming the quality of the story. Most of the time she is portrayed as Oracle, and while her wheelchair has yet to make a comeback, I'm hoping somebody explodes the dark spirit of Dan Didio from that office so ableism and misogyny can finally die a cold and lonely death in their buildings janitorial closet. Anyways! Cass has also been appearing in her new solo Batgirl (2024)!! This is so exciting! If you don't know Batgirl (2000) is possibly one of the best things ever written in history and every one should read it so I'm so excited to see her back! This first arc seems to focus a lot on the dynamic with Lady Shiva, Batgirl's mother. While the first issue was more set up for the rest, I cannot wait!

outside of elseworlds I'd say that about wraps things up for current batfam! pick one up, I'd love to chat about it!

[thelonelyshore-if]

heyy, hope u dont mind me asking but how did u learn how 2 use choicescript??

Hi Nonnie!! I don't mind at all c:

When I first decided I wanted to make an IF, there was a lot of deliberation about which program I'd use. I fiddled around with Twine and Ren'Py (since I considered making TLS a visual novel for a while); but both had their drawbacks, since I hadn't done any coding since high school.

Choicescript, for me, was very straightforward to learn...after I started using CSIDE. When I was just trying to use choicescript in notepad I struggled to visualize a finished project, plus had no actual idea if what I was trying was working.

CSIDE, though, has a built-in tutorial that did an excellent job of teaching me the basics. I highly recommend it for anyone starting out. The program also works well for me because it has built-in testing features and you can run your game right in the app. I use the desktop version, but there's also a browser version!

I also read the wiki obsessively when I was first learning, and spent (and still spend tbh) a lot of time on the forum reading about other people's code, bugs, and fixes.

The biggest suggestion I can give, though, is code diving!! Seeing an in-use example of the code and how it works is a great way to get a feel for how choicescript functionally works and how various authors build their games.

I pretty much only read the code for demos on dashingdon, since that's the method I'm most familiar with. It's super super easy to do--just go to the project you want to read the code for and add /scenes to the end of the url. It'll take you to a page that looks like the one below, where you can start poking around!

I hope this was helpful, and good luck if you're in the process of learning!!

[tenaciouschronicler]

July 3 2024 2009

Lets take a look at Julys updates now that I have some free time.

Behold! Apple juice!

So with this we have a better grasp of the time jump, its before Dave and John first talked on Pesterchum. @homestuckreplay made a great observation that I just wanna reiterate... Its absolutely adorable how much Dave LOVES talking to his friends, especially John. First thing he thinks of when finding apple juice? How much of a kick John is gonna get out of the unexpected movie reference.

Behind his cool guy persona hes just as much of a dweeb as John and I think he(John), at least as far as weve seen, is probably his closest friend. Maybe they were childhood friends until one of them moved and as they grew up Dave found it harder to fit in or find someone he could let in and trust.

You also might as well ask him about that beta. The kid's been harping about it for weeks. It would be cool if it came on his birthday. He'd be one happy camper.

Before we get into the chat, we see a little of Daves mindset. Even though Dave has made it pretty clear hes not really interested in the Beta, his friend is and hes gonna, 'In your own cool, sort of roundabout way', ask about it because he likes his friends happy.

Lets take a look at his desktop. (I appologize for the quality, dont know what happened)

Fisrt of, sick as hell wallpaper. Not sure what its from but its got a battle bracket on the bottom right so maybe an in-verse video game? Im not sure what app that blue one is, or maybe a file?, but Dave aint happy with it seeing as its named 'COMPLETE BULLSHIT'. The two red folders however hold Daves 'ILL BEATS' and 'DOPE RHYMES SO DOPE'. And keeping in-line with the sheer amount of tech, Daves sporting a shiny Pesterchum 7.0.

The enflammed silhouette is Daves browser aptly named Hephaestus. Hephaestus is the Greek God of artisans, blacksmiths, carpenters, craftsmen, fire, metallurgy, metalworking, sculpture and volcanoes. He was casted out of Olympus either by his mother Hera or by Zeus depending on the myth. In the first he is lame at birth, in the second he becomes lame after the fall. He now resides again on Mount Olympus crafting the Gods equipment and any fine metalwork pieces are said to be his work.

The first website Dave visits is his own satire review blog where he posts about Gamebro. And then theres his webcomic SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF and. it. sure is. Something.

I.

Theres no words honestly.

Daves cool guy facade is fading fast. But then again hes a kid so....

Theres 3 pages with the same style and Ive gotta question if this is really as popular as Dave makes it out to be ┐(￣ヘ￣）┌

[mibyledraws]

alt text 101 for artists

I’m not an accessibilty expert, but I gathered these tips here and there, and it has really been helping me writing better alt texts - and I hope they will help others too!

Alternative text is a description of an image that can be read by a screen reader. It also can help the understanding of an image for people who don't use screen readers.

What do you write?

It all goes down to including what is relevant to give the user an accurate idea of your artwork:

the medium you used to make the artwork (is it a digital illustration? a traditional oil painting? a graphite pencil sketchbook doodle?)

the subject of the artwork

anything that is relevant for understanding the meaning of the artwork. For instance, is the lighting important, or does it bring a particular meaning or mood?

Write sentences - don’t just throw away key words. EDIT: don't write full sentences, but phrases and fragments to keep your description concise

adding one more thing after getting feedback: keep it concise! Under 125 characters (even 100 is best)

Where/how do I add it?

The alt text feature is more or less obvious on the apps we usually post on. In doubt, please just search for it on a web browser, you’ll find how to add it in the blink of an eye :)

On Twitter

enable the alt text reminder! Everytime you post an image, it will remind you to add alt text if you forgot it. Go in your settings, then “accessibility, display and languages”. Then “accessibility”, and in the media section, check the “receive image description reminder” box.

on web browser: once you’ve uploaded your image, click on “add description” under it.

on the app: once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the “+alt” bubble in the right bottom corner that appeared on your image.

On Instagram

at the bottom of the posting page, go in “advanced settings”, then “accessibility”, then “write the alt text”.

On Tumblr

once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the three dots icon that appears when your mouse is on the image, then click on “update the description”.

On Mastodon

once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the “description missing” message that appears on it.

On your website (portfolio, shops, etc)

Where and how you can add it depends on the platforms but there’s always a way! My tip for this would be to schedule yourself an alt text audit of your website to take a moment when you would search how to do it and when you would add all the necessary alt texts! I’d also encourage you to pay attention to some other accessibility features - for instance contrast between background and text. There are lots of ressources out there and I admit it can sound overwhelming: digital accessibility is an expertise, a job field in itself after all. In my opinion, taking it a few steps at a time is a good way to go! For instance I like to do little accessibility audits of my portfolio every once in a while and check a new area that I might have missed before.

I forgot to add it, what should I do?

On some platforms, you can add it after posting if needed - it’s the case on the Instagram app for instance. Always try to see if you can add it afterwards. If you can’t, add it in the replies (if it’s on twitter for instance) or edit the body/caption of your post if you can change this but can’t change the alt text.

Adding it as a “simple description” instead of an alt text that will be read by a screen reader in lieu of the image isn’t perfect, but having it somewhere very close to the image in plain text that will get to be read by screen readers is way better than nothing to my knowledge :)

It's Disability Pride Month (July, when I'm writing this)

I wanted to take some time to encourage you to take some time and energy this month, and at anytime of the year, when you can, to learn about Disability Justice. I’m not the best at explaining what it is, and how much there is at stake. I’m better at this, making small guides about what fellow artists can do to make their work more welcoming to disabled people. But it doesn’t mean Disability Justice isn’t close to my heart and that I shouldn’t even mention it.

There’s a documentary about the Disability Rights movement that I can only highly recommend - it’s Crip Camp. It’s on netflix, and even watchable in full on Youtube.

Pay attention to us, disabled people, to what we have to say. ”Nothing about us without us”: our perspectives and opinions are those you must focus on when it comes to disability and to our lives.

[xcziel]

sometimes if you *make* a post (or save a draft) on desktop you can't edit it on mobile

if you make a post on mobile, you should be able to edit it on mobile though

Tumblr mobile took away my edit post ability and that's so fucked. I use my phone for everything lol my kids don't let me sit still for long for laptop use on a regular basis. Lmao GIVE IT BACK or someone tell me where it went if it's still here and I'm just dumb. Like even on my drafts in mobile. Like damn

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

hi, can i get a tutorial on how to put tags as a link? i wanna do mine for my blogs 😞

sure! i assume you're referring to this sort of thing i do in my masterlist and at the bottom of my posts to point readers toward similar content--

more Price / more Gaz / masterlist

how to make tumblr tags into links

first, and this may go without saying, but make sure you have at least one post on your blog with the tag you intend to link.

first method: desktop (recommended)

1. navigate to your blog on the left-hand sidebar.

2. then, on the other sidebar--right side--select "view blog." you should be seeing your blog the way any other user would, including its custom colors, header image, etc.

3. navigate to the post with the tag you want to turn into a link.

4. go to the post's tags and right-click the one you want (or command-click; whatever it takes to bring up the menu).

5. copy the url from there. the url should look something like "https://www.tumblr.com/[yourblogname]/tagged/[thetagyouwant]." alternatively, left-click the tag and let it take you to the "[...]/tagged/[thetagyouwant]" page itself, then copy that url from your address bar.

6. now, wherever you want to add it (like in a new post), type out the text you want to display--

all my homemade posts

7. --highlight it, and and use tumblr's hyperlink function to link the "[...]/tagged/[thetagyouwant]" url to that text.

8. click the linked text you made just to be sure. you should end up with something like this:

all my homemade posts

second method: mobile

this method is more roundabout. i haven't found a way to do this solely through the app, so you'll need to use a combination of the tumblr app + your phone's browser.

1. navigate to your blog in the tumblr app .

2. navigate to the post with the tag you want to turn into a link.

3. select the arrow at the bottom of the post to send/open the link in your browser of choice. alternatively, select the meatball menu (•••) in the top-right corner of the post, copy the link, go to your browser of choice, and open that copied url.

4. in your browser, go to the tags of your post and select the one you want.

5. copy the url from there. the url should look something like "https://www.tumblr.com/[yourblogname]/tagged/[thetagyouwant]." alternatively, select the tag and let it take you to the "[...]/tagged/[thetagyouwant]" page itself, then copy that url from your address bar.

6. now, wherever you want to add it (like in a new post), type out the text you want to display--

all my homemade posts

7. --highlight it, and and use tumblr's hyperlink function to link the "[...]/tagged/[thetagyouwant]" url to that text.

8. you should end up with something like this:

all my homemade posts

and you're done. happy hyperlinking! b(￣▽￣)d

[jheselbraum]

Hey real quick here's how to read weather radar

See that swirly bit where it looks like the storm itself is starting to twist as a part of it juts out? That's a hook echo. On your basic radar reflectivity settings on most weather apps that's what you can use to figure out where a tornado is or if one is starting to form. As in, this is one of the things the National Weather Service looks for before issuing a radar indicated tornado warning.

But don't just rely on hook echoes, they may not always form or be clearly visible to the untrained eye. More reliably you can look at velocity radar, which measures wind coming towards and away from a given radar tower.

For example, all the red in this image represents wind that is moving away from the radar tower and all the green represents wind that is moving towards it. Ideally, if your wind is moving all in one direction everything on one side should be green and everything on the other should be red. Before we get into what to look for, how do we even get to a velocity radar map?

Well I use a weather app called Radar Omega but you're in luck because the National Weather Service just Has That. It's browser based so using it on your phone gets a little weird so make sure you're not using the mobile version of the site, but basically to get there you go to weather dot gov and type in your location.

For this example we'll be using screenshots for the forecast office in Norman, OK since there's a tornado near Cleo Springs at time of posting. From this page, scroll down until you see links to radar and satellite images.

Click on the radar map

Which will bring you to a screen that looks like this. Click "high res" and that should bring you to radar that looks like this

Navigate up to that little bar in the top left

go to the second of the three dropdown menus (yeah I know it's not userfriendly) where it says SR_BREF click on that

Select Super Resolution Base Velocity

And boom now you have access to base velocity radar images.

Here's a clearer image of the circulation you're looking for, since the circulation out in OK at time of posting is actually not that visible and currently looks like this:

Like you can still see the bits of red and definitely still take shelter but at time of posting it looks like this warned tornado is still trying to form, or may have previously touched down and then lifted and is reforming.

Anyways stay safe y'all and watch How to Read Weather Radar by Watch Chris Chase on YouTube because he explains it better than my "took a meteorology class in community college" ass can