#i hate algorithms i want following feeds

[alicentlesbian]

i hate the pinterest algorithm so bad you save one pin with a butterfly in it or something and then your entire home page is butterfly pins until you go to the tune your homefeed page and remove it. and this continues forever with everything you ever save

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Man instagram has gotten so much worse since I stopped going on it as much

And unfortunately dogblr is kinda dead these days so I'm not getting as much dog content as I would like here

But instagram is a fuckin headache

[8pxl]

BEGINNERS GUIDE TO BLUESKY

Hiya! Curious about joining bluesky but intimidated by all the features? Already on bluesky but want to learn more? Then welcome to my quick guide on getting started and navigating bluesky!~

What is Bluesky?

it’s a social media site that’s owned by no single person or company. it's aim is to bring back the early days of twitter before bots, elon musk or algorithms took over. Personally I find the site really cozy, wholesome, and engaging. my Bluesky account for example

What’s unique about Bluesky?

→ CUSTOMIZATION: ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎your timeline is very easy to control. There’s tons of options, so be sure to go through each tab in your settings. some options include: turning off autoplay, changing the order in which threaded replies show, changing DM settings, content preferences and lots of visual app settings.

→ MODERATION LISTS: human made, mass blocklists. These are public lists of accounts that when you subscribe to you automatically block or mute everyone in that specific blocklist. A great way to avoid unwanted content, and interactions. ✦ Moderation lists I recommend will be below the cut

→ STARTER PACKS: recommendation lists on who to follow, made by users. You can even curate your own starter pack of recommendations! ✦ Starter pack recommendations will be below the cut

→ FEEDS: public timelines, basically. There are a lot of feeds you can join, or you can even create your own. I made a feed featuring just my pixel art so it doesn’t get cluttered with text posts or other photos in my media tab. ✦ I’ll post feeds I recommend below and link you to a tutorial on how to create your own feed

→ BLOCKING/MUTING: bluesky has a great blocking system. When you block someone they can no longer see, or interact with you. They also have a feature to make your blog inaccessible unless logged in. you can also mute specific people, delete post replies, and even detach your post from a reblog. You can also mute specific words, phrases, tags etc.

→ NSFW: bluesky allows NSFW content, including artwork, porn, lewds etc. They also have a great moderation page to avoid the content completely, censor the content, or show it if you’d wish. ✦ just go to settings > moderation > toggle on NSFW settings and it’ll let you heavily moderate.

→ LABELS: this is a really cool feature on the site, you can subscribe to certain pages that enable a lot of fun/useful labels that help you in different ways! (like pronoun tags, artist tags etc) ✦ Labels to browse will be posted below

→ COMMUNITIES: the vastly diverse communities really feel like the best parts of tumblr. since you can so heavily curate your experience, it can really feel like a calming oasis. Mine is mostly artists, and other creatives.

there’s also a large community of professional artists, art directors, authors, celebrities, and even the best shitposters from twitter. the app really is what you make of it but it’s thriving right now.

RECOMMENDATIONS & LINKS BELOW ⬎

→ MODERATION LISTS:

HATE SPEECH: NAZIS | MAGA | MAGAv2 | MAGAv3 | TRANSPHOBES & HOMOPHOBES | FAR RIGHT | FAR RIGHTv2 | FAR RIGHTv3 | ELON MUSK FANBOYS | ANTI-BLACK | ANTI-VAX

NFT/AI/CRYPTO: MASTERLIST | AI/NFT | AI/NFTv2 | AI FANBOYS | CRYPTO | NFTs

SPAM/SCAMMERS: SPAMBOTS | BOTS | CONTENT SCRAPERS | CONTENT FARMING

✦ to block or mute everyone in the blocklist at once, click subscribe in the top right corner:

→ STARTER PACKS:

ART: PIXEL ART | PIXEL ARTv2 | WOMEN OF PIXEL ART | BADASS DIGITAL ARTISTS | MAGIC THE GATHERING ARTIST | PAINTERS OF BLUESKY | INDIE COMIC CREATORS | LGBTQIA+ COMIC CREATORS | WEBCOMICS ULTIMATE COLLECTION

GENERAL: WOMEN OF BSKY | AUTHORS | LGBTQ NEWS

SHITPOSTERS: JUNIPER | JUNIPERv2 | MASTERLIST | SCIENCE SHITPOSTERS

✦ for more niche starter packs, use the search function. search your specific interest and ‘starter pack’ and you’ll find some!

→ FEEDS:

DISCOVER | WHATS TRENDING | MENTIONS | ART | TRENDING ART

THE GRAM: a timeline for exclusively image posts from those you follow. no textposts etc. ONLYPOST: similar to the gram, it shows a timeline of only those you follow. no reposts, just original posts. 📌: a way to bookmark posts. just reply with the pin emoji.

✦ there’s tons of others feeds as well! just use the feed tab and you can browse feeds or search for specific ones.

✦ TUTORIAL ON HOW TO CREATE A CUSTOM FEED FOR YOUR ART/POSTS

→ LABELS:

SKYWATCH: most popular label. Lots of useful labels!

AI Labels: identifies AI users, can also enable hiding the posters.

Pronouns: self explanatory but useful. can add a badge with your pronouns!

✦ you can search for additional label bots on bluesky!

OTHER RECOMMENDATIONS:

✦ EXPIRIENCE ENHANCING TOOLS RECS ✦ CLEARSKY: TRACK BLOCKS AND BLOCKLISTS ✦ SKYFEED: CREATE CUSTOM FEEDS EASILY ✦ use the block function often. do not entertain trolls or hate speech. ✦ as well as starter packs, there’s also lists! lists can be used in the same way to create curated lists of accounts. it’s a good way to keep track of specific genres of posters you’re interested in, and finding new ones! ✦ hashtags: use them! they’re beneficial in boosting your post. you can even link hashtags in your bio making you easier to find. another method of making you more visible is if you post an ‘interest’ post! basically just type things you’re interested in and it’ll help people find you / vice versa ! ✦ update your profile first thing, like bio avi etc. make a small post so people know you're real. interact and engage! the communities there are so welcoming!

I think that covers abt everything i wanted to cover! Hope this was helpful and thanks for reading lol

[deathbypixelz]

[image ID: tags that say "that being said i hope everyone realizes that the staff post is about an OPT IN feature. this is editable. we're not all gonna be forced to use the algorithm. it is just there for newer users to get more accustomed to Tumblr. bc without personal curation this site seems boring and dead". End image ID]

Because @staff is too cowardly…

[provinzpoet]

On Engagement Bait

Whenever you see it, that's an additional five years. All currently active negative effects are dispelled.

A lil' essay.

I hate engagement bait - with a passion.

"Reblog if you care" "Reblog to mark your blog safe for [marginalized group X]" "Reblog or your mom dies in her sleep tonight."

"Reblog, or else."

I know most of these are made in jest. Harmless fun, right? But to me, "harmless fun" doesn’t excuse poor taste. Especially when it veers into manipulation.

So, here's a little something below the cut. If you're here for the poetry, you're free to scroll. If you're here for the ramblings, keep reading.

Either way, have another look at the duck. That's another 5 years on the house. Download it, look at it whenever - stack that immunity to last a lifetime. No engagement bait shall ever touch you again.

That little ducky up there was born in response to a post about you not having any original thought for the next five years.... unless you reblog.

It was meant as silent defiance, as a soft out. Then @bred-is-a-dumb-name reblogged my little ducky. With the following tags:

First and foremost: Thank you for speaking so clearly. Your tags were the push I needed to sit down and write this.

I. The Premise

Engagement bait plays with a simple human desire. Recognition. People want to be seen, they want to be recognized. Above all, they want to be validated.

From the early days of social media 'likes' equaled validation.

On tumblr, the currency of choice is reblogs. Reblogging equips a post with wings, allowing it to touch down on your own blog, be exposed to your own audience. The growth potential here is exponential, as reblogs don't just live tucked away in your profile, but are the groundwork of the tumblr algorithm on what content to show to its userbase.

My Thesis: You are responsible for the content you pass along to your mutuals. Even if you didn’t create it. Even if you reblogged it "ironically."

From the creator’s side, engagement bait is often a way to chase notes - a hit of serotonin from the numbers ticking up. And I get that. I love seeing my posts resonate too - reading your tags, your comments, the ways my words find you.

But I would never boost engagement through pain, coercion, or bad vibes in general. And I think no one should.

II. The Danger

Here's the catch: reblogging engagement bait feeds a manipulative feedback-loop.

But, at the same time, Let me be clear: Not all engagement bait is created equal.

Baity posts like "reblog to show your moots you appreciate them" (you know who you are! And I appreciate you too! c: ) are fine. Sure, they're meant to play the algorithm and the very human rationale that 'external validation is more valuable than internal validation' . basically: "If I reblog this post it'll mean more than if I just tell my moot they mean a lot to me".

At best, they're a reminder to be kind.

But - and this is the important part - there is also a different kind. Engagement bait like "Reblog or your mother will die tonight", "Reblog or no more creativity for 5 years".

These aren't funny to everyone. To some, they're not even neutral.

They're cruel. They are emotional abuse hidden under the guise of a 'funny context'. Of the absurdity of a duck holding that power.

Let's be real. It's not holding that power. And you'll reblog it ironically with funny tags in the vein of 'oh, better be sure, mighty duck'. Unless you don't.

Because guess what? It IS holding that power.

To those with OCD. To those in intrusive thought loops. To those with deeply rooted fear of loss. To the neurodivergent. Maybe even to you? To those, these posts can be triggers.

III. The Mechanics of Harm

To people like that, the harmless meme becomes a source of real-world stress.

It's toying with - to me - deeply problematic, psychological concepts:

Compulsion and Intrusive Thoughts For someone with intrusive thought patterns, seeing a post that ties inaction to harm can spark a cycle that’s hard to break. It’s not a meme - it’s a trigger.

Guilt-Tripping and Moral Coercion There’s a quiet cruelty to coercion wrapped in kindness. ‘Only good people will reblog’ is just a digital form of social blackmail.

False Urgency & Manufactured Stakes The moment a post tells you "do this now, or else" - it's bypassing your agency. It swaps thought for panic.

Neurodivergent Sensitivity to Harm Avoidance This isn’t about superstition. It’s about the fear of what happens if we don’t play along. That fear is real. Many neurodivergent folks have built entire internal systems around minimizing perceived danger. These posts poke at that. They exploit it.

The Illusion of Safety through Compliance Some users - especially those who’ve seen harm happen "coincidentally" after ignoring a chain post - develop ritualized engagement. It becomes a way to feel in control, even when logic says otherwise. Engagement bait can reignite old fears tied to punishment, loss, or abandonment. And I get it. These posts feel silly. But they sit in the mind like a splinter.

Yes, it's uncomfortable having it called out like this - and it should be. It's meant to be.

IV. Walk a mile in their shoes

I’m not writing this from a pulpit.

I’ve wrestled with compulsive thoughts and weird little rituals my whole life. So when I say this stuff can hurt, it’s not theoretical. It’s personal.

And I’m not here to scold. I’m just inviting you to zoom out. To consider that your reblog might have more impact than you intended.

V. Being Responsible

I try to bear responsibility for what I put out here. Tumblr is full of vulnerable, brilliant, open people. The way we talk to each other matters.

Don't get me wrong, sharing a joke is fun - But if you knew a joke would hurt your friend, you'd probably hold it back. The same logic applies here.

I'm not here to shame anyone - unless you’re making this kind of post in bad faith. If you’re knowingly feeding on people’s fears for notes? That’s not a joke. That’s cruelty. That, to me, is despicable.

All I wanted was to offer this, another point of view. And just maybe, if you’ve ever reblogged something like that without thinking, this helped you see it through a different lens.

Be nice to each other. Look out for each other.

We're all navigating this life for the first time, let's not make it any harder than it needs to be, okay?

Yours truly,

Poe

Just silently accept. The donkey will know.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.” 

[yuurivoice]

I totally get hating like parent type questions for the boys, but would it be out of line to ask why you aren't a fan? Don't feel pressure to answer, it's really your business and your business only. Either way I hope we'll all make an effort to stay away from that area in the future!

The flashback EP is INSANE, thank you for feeding us Mr. Voice, the YouTube algorithm's choices on what and what not to age restrict always baffles me, I feel like the Auron yearning one was incredibly tame

Because in a medium that caters specifically to women 90% of the time, I've done my best to remain both gender and sex neutral. The specific fantasy of seeing the boys in a fatherhood role, while not explicitly tied to carrying a baby to term, is a very logical assumption the audience would want to make.

And that is wildly exclusionary.

So, let's follow the thread of "well it could be an adoption, some kind of au where they already had a kid, etc" and we end up with a loud audience of people who then want the pregnancy fantasy specifically. And I get to keep saying no, despite already caving in and giving the fatherhood thing.

There is also a segment of people out there who want to be the one being babied. I've literally had ppl ask for parent roleplays where listener is the offspring. And while I don't doubt that someone out there needs to hear assuring, confirming words from a parent, it sure as hell ain't worth someone being creepy about it. Mind you, I'm not just talking about ddlg type shit, that's fine. No biggie there.

This can of worms keeps going, I could list a dozen more ways that there's some kind of uncomfortable potential issue. Versus...me just saying nah fam I'm good!

So I'm good! Also my fuckin swimmers don't swim and I'll never be a bio father, and i have conflicting feelings about it, which I'll throw in for free as a "do ya get it now?" final point to make. People got their reasons for things, both personal and professional.

It's not a huge deal, what really bothers me is the way it would alienate a fairly significant amount of the audience, or open the door to it.

I absolutely understand the appeal, it's just not something I'm looking to tackle in any scenario where the listener may be involved. I've got plenty of parent characters, though none are in the active role of parenting a young child at the moment. 😂

This is why I come up with other ways to show characters nurturing, teaching, or doing other fatherly things in less direct ways. But yeahhh. That's my deal. It's not a huge burden or issue when people ask, it just bums me out because certainly someone is going to see the question being asked and feel like someone out there didn't consider them in this scenario. And that blows, even though it's obviously not a malicious thing.

As for YouTube, it's veryyyyy likely just the proximity of the kiss to the word fuck. These systems are too stupid to realize the deal. 😂

[schwarznummer1]

Cullen was a fucking rapist waiting to happen

Get off my dash

Thank you for showing up here to give everyone a good laugh. If you want to talk shit about Greg Ellis I'll grab some popcorn and coke and join you. BUT when it comes to cullen if you have the most basic literacy of a toddler, a pupil's ability to search and gather information, and a teenager's reading comprehension you won't come to THAT conclusion.

But unfortunately, you have none of them! All those ingame texts, writers' interviews and fan analysis are just too complicated for you! Hope you spend some time to scratch your silly little scalp and figure out every word i type! if that's also too hard for you, i don't mind teaching you abc! (remind you, I'm typing with my third language)

By the way i don't know how come my post was on your dash, you either followed me knowing i draw him and reblogged a ton of in-depth analysis of the character or you hate cullen so fiercely that algorithm only give you cullen-related feed?

[all444glo]

HƆNI XI9

part one

warnings: foul language, suggestive, etc etc

summary: englishmen are insistent.

You scrolled aimlessly through your phone, sitting on the cold wooden bench in front of those all-too-familiar lockers. Jude was everywhere—on your feed, in your explore page, buried in stories you didn’t even mean to tap on. It was like the algorithm had it out for you, twisting the knife a little deeper each time his face popped up.

You weren’t new to fame. You’d been in music videos, name-dropped in songs, brushed shoulders with more celebrities than you could count. The spotlight never rattled you. But somehow, Jude did.

You’d ignored his follow requests. Left his texts on read—not that you even remembered giving him your number in the first place. Still, he lingered. A handsome kind of plague you couldn’t seem to shake.

Your mind drifted, uninvited, to that private dance. The way his hands hovered, cautious but curious. The slow, reverent way he’d unlaced your underwear like he was unwrapping something sacred. He never crossed a line, but somehow that only made you want him more.

You needed him. But needing wasn’t the same as having.

Because in the real world, men like him didn’t end up with girls like you. You were an exotic dancer from a tiny town in Georgia; he was a football star on one of the most decorated teams on the planet. Even if you left that life behind, the past had teeth. And the media never let girls like you forget it.

You checked the time and pulled yourself out of the spiral, grounding yourself in the now. Showtime was coming. You were used to this. You’d climbed from pouring drinks to dancing side stage to dominating the main floor.

You were the name people whispered about, the one they came to see. The one they paid for. The money rolled in, but lately, the weight of it all felt heavier than usual. You were tired. But at least tonight, the crowd was small, private. Manageable.

They’d asked for you, like most did. You had the kind of body that made people forget their names, and the kind of presence that made them beg to remember yours. A tap on your shoulder broke your thoughts—it was one of the girls stepping off stage, her garters barely holding bills.

Private party with private pockets, you thought bitterly, standing up. You sprayed one last mist of setting spray across your face and leaned into the mirror. A quick swipe of your cheap, glittery lip gloss. Still, even exhausted, you looked like a dream.

You stepped into the haze of the club, lights flickering against the smoke, your heels clicking softly beneath the music. It was packed, shoulder to shoulder with unfamiliar faces—men too stunned to even touch, too fascinated to blink.

Definitely not from Atlanta.

You scanned the room. Nothing but tourists. That sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You hated outsiders. Hated the guessing game. At least the regulars had patterns. Predictability. These men? You’d have to read them cold.

You approached the pole slowly, easing into your rhythm. A bend at the waist, a calculated tilt of your hips. Letting the tension build, letting them think they had time to figure you out. Then—you felt it.

Fingers slipping into your thong.

Your body stiffened. You knew that touch. Too well.

“Jude,” you gasped, whipping around and stepping down from the stage, heat flooding your cheeks as your coworkers looked on. “What the hell are you doing here?” You smacked his chest—not in anger, not exactly. Something heavier. Conflicted.

No matter how many times you tried to shut the door on him, he always had another key. That was the curse of rich men—money rewrote the rules. Bought back access you thought you revoked.

“I paid good money for this, love,” he said, with that same smirk that made you ache and want to scream all at once. His hands grazed your sides, the heat from his skin sinking into your bones.

“You love to tip toe on my boundaries,” you said, quieter now. “I told you I’m a stripper. That’s all I’ll ever be to you.”

“And I keep telling you,” he said, stepping closer, “we could be more. But if you really mean that—if that’s all you’ll ever be—then at least let me be your favorite customer.”

There was something in his eyes. Lust, yes, but beneath it—something dangerous. Something tender. It chipped at the wall you’d built.

For a second, you almost gave in. Almost let yourself believe he meant it. That he could be different.

“Why do you want me so bad?” you asked, voice shaky. “Is this some kind of fetish?”

“What? No—”

“Is it the control? The idea that you can buy me? Does that turn you on? Am I just some PG-13 prostitute to you?”

He didn’t flinch. Just reached for your hand and led you into the same room where everything started. Where he first watched you, not like a man paying for a show—but like someone looking at art and aching to touch.

The silence settled thick between you.

“Why would I think of you like that?” he said finally, his voice quieter now, slower. “Am I not allowed to be infatuated with you?”

You looked down. The words came out before you could soften them. “I like you, Jude. That’s the problem.” You huffed putting your head in your hands, trying to take a deep breath.

“But I know how this ends. When i’m the docile girl you took out the strip club you’ll love me. But when I fuck up or do something you don’t like, I’ll be back to being a hoe. That’s what happens to girls like me.”

The air shifted. You hated how fragile you sounded. How much it sounded like a plea for protection when all you wanted was honesty.

“So you don’t want anything real?” he asked. “You don’t want love?”

You shrugged. A tear rolled down, but you wiped it away before it could fall too far.

He stared at you—like he was trying to see through everything you said, everything you didn’t.

Then he spoke, low and steady:

“If you were really okay with what you do…you’d understand that I accept you exactly as you are.”

A long pause.

“But the truth is, you don’t even know how to accept yourself.”

[crazysodomite]

i dont like the concept of bluesky/twitter, etc. and similar social media just in general... even if the algorithm shows me only people i follow its still really annoying to hot have tags or any sort of archive or categorization on your profile. idgaf about posting whatever i want on tumblr bc i know the important posts are tagged and i can find them. but on like twitter i get super annoyed that if i post or retweet things its gonna bury my actual posts. and it genuinely isnt even because i care that much about people looking at my posts. *I* like going through my posts/art and looking at them 💢💢 and it just feeds into that whole thing about constantly running in the hamster wheel of posting content and keeping up engagement which is extremely frustrating to me. i dont like when my posts have a lifespan of a few days AT BEST (few hours usually) and going back to older posts is a hassle

i also hate when theres no simple search function to search someones profile

[adumbratrapedme]

streamer!kenma x reader - secret relationship

Synopsis. kenma, in the peak of his career neglected y/n, but dont worry! our pudding head knows exactly how to fix things!

wc. 2,9k words | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. streamer!kenma x reader, angst to fluff, post time skip, neglect.

important ! Please if the content was of ur enjoyment dont doubt following me, liking and sharing ;D! maybe i'll make this a little series of streamer!kenma and his girlfriend lives, i have nothing else to say so, enojey! !

Kozume Kenma, or "kodzuken" to his online legion, had finally reached the apex of his streaming career. Years of relentless grinding had paid off, but success often comes with a price. Especially for a relationship... and a sometimes insecure girlfriend.

Y/N, once the undisputed star of Kenma's social media and life, felt a pang of loneliness. She was undeniably happy for her boyfriend, but ever since his rise to influencer status, things had changed. Gone were the days of their selfies plastered across his feeds. Now, his past posts, brimming with her face, were archived – a digital ghost town. Kenma, wary of online scrutiny, decided to keep their relationship private. While Y/N understood the logic, it gnawed at her. Five years together, built on trust and shared experiences, felt invisible to the world. Unknown to Kenma, sleepless nights plagued Y/N.

His phone buzzed incessantly, a constant barrage of love comments, fan messages professing love, and even DMs from other streamers seeking collaboration. Despite knowing Kenma's loyalty, a seed of doubt sprouted – a fear of being overshadowed by his online fame.

Today wasn't any different. Y/N woke to an empty space beside her, the familiar chill a stark contrast to Kenma's usual warmth. He was probably hunched over his computer again, another night sacrificed to the algorithm gods. A pang of sympathy stabbed at her. How could she blame him? Reaching the peak of streaming was his dream, and his excitement over the recent growth was infectious. All she wanted to do was support him, even if it meant sacrificing their mornings together.

Treading softly towards the studio, the faint glow of the monitor spilling into the hallway. Inside, Kenma was indeed sprawled on the worn couch, exhaustion etched on his face. She knelt beside him, her touch feather-light as she ran her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

"Ken… sweetheart," she whispered, her voice a gentle nudge. "Why didn't you join me in bed? Your back will hate you later."

Kenma stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. "Just… so tired, Y/N. Almost beat my viewer record last night." A hint of pride snuck into his voice despite the fatigue.

"Amazing, babe! That's fantastic news," Y/N beamed. "But sleep is important too. Come on, let's get you some proper rest. Breakfast is ready, I made your favorite – [insert Kenma's favorite food]."

His response was a mumbled curse, a stark contrast to his usual cheer. A frown tugged at Y/N's lips. Was he annoyed? She knew he was exhausted, but his reaction felt harsher than usual. Maybe she was overthinking it. Taking a deep breath, she nudged him again, this time a little more firmly.

"Up you get, sleepyhead. We can talk more after breakfast."

Moments later, Kenma shuffled out of the studio, a mix of exhaustion and… something else clouding his features. Y/N followed, her smile strained. Breakfast was ready, but the air between them felt thick, a potential storm brewing beneath the surface.

The breakfast was a tense affair. Kenma scrolled through his phone, barely picking at his food. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the clinking of his fork. Finally, Y/N decided to break the ice.

"Hey," she started cautiously, "I was thinking… we haven't really had any quality time together lately. Don't you think it would be nice to… maybe go somewhere tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

Before she could finish her suggestion, Kenma let out a heavy sigh. "Y/N, I can't tomorrow, or today for that matter. I'm swamped. There's this charity stream thing with some new, up-and-coming streamer. My manager practically forced me to do it."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Y/N's face, but she quickly plastered on a smile. "Oh, I see. No worries, I understand completely. You're busy, that's perfectly fine." Her voice held a hint of forced cheerfulness.

A beat of silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Of course I understand," Y/N continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur. Maybe a little too low. "My name isn't Kozume 'Always Understanding' Y/N, after all."

Kenma finally looked up from his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? What are you getting at?"

Y/N's carefully constructed smile faltered. A surge of frustration bubbled within her. "Maybe," she said, her voice tight, "you should consider what being 'Kozume Understanding' actually costs sometimes."

Kenma pushed back from the table, barely touching his breakfast. "Look, I appreciate you trying to be supportive, but I have a lot on my plate right now. I gotta get everything set up for today's stream." He mumbled something about needing more coffee and practically bolted out of the room.

Y/N sat alone at the table, the untouched food mocking her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Understanding was one thing, but feeling invisible was a whole other story. The air crackled with unspoken resentment, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

A few hours had crawled by since the breakfast debacle. Y/N found herself folding warm laundry in the bedroom, the rhythmic whoosh of the dryer a monotonous lullaby. In an attempt to bridge the gap, she turned on the TV, pulling up Kenma's stream. He was just a few rooms away, physically close yet emotionally distant. Tuning in had always been a source of comfort, a way to connect even when they were apart.

But today, the comfort was replaced by a gnawing emptiness. The stream displayed two camera feeds: Kenma on one side, and a girl on the other. The unfamiliar face sent a jolt through Y/N. So, this was the "new streamer" Kenma mentioned. Y/N hadn't expected a girl.

They were playing Minecraft, a stark contrast to the usual high-octane games Kenma gravitated towards. The girl was chirping cheerfully, gathering flowers, while Kenma focused on mining deep underground. A humorless chuckle escaped Y/N's lips. How predictable.

Despite his focus, the chat box buzzed with activity. "Great duo!" "Shipping them so hard!" "You two should collab more often!" The girl, clearly enjoying the attention, punctuated her flower-picking with playful glances towards Kenma and flirtatious comments. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, a mix of annoyance and feigned disinterest etched on his features. He muttered a few sarcastic replies, clearly trying to deflect her advances.

But Y/N wasn't convinced. The way the girl preened, the way the chat reacted, it all felt… intrusive. A subtle shift began to gnaw at her. Maybe it wasn't just the lack of quality time that bothered her. Maybe it was the realization that this new reality, this world Kenma inhabited, wasn't one she felt comfortable sharing.

With a decisive click, Y/N shut off the TV. Enough boyfriend content for one day, she thought bitterly. Intellectually, she knew there was nothing wrong with Kenma collaborating with another streamer, especially a girl. Yet, a suffocating tightness constricted her chest.

It wasn't just the girl's undeniable beauty – the cascading hair, the infectious voice, the effortless charm that seemed to captivate the chat. It was the way the internet, that ever-hungry beast, latched onto the situation.

Four hours. That's all it took for the fandom to erupt. Fan art depicting them as a couple flooded Twitter. A dedicated hashtag, #KenmaAndQueen (Queen being the other streamer's username, no doubt), trended at an alarming rate. The internet worked in mysterious ways, Y/N thought, a humorless laugh escaping her lips.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she scrolled through clips people had already made of the stream. The girl's relentless flirting, the forced interactions designed to fuel speculation – it all felt like a cruel parody of their own relationship. Y/N couldn't hold back any longer. Fat tears streamed down her face, blurring the screen.

The last few months of loneliness and neglect had taken their toll. The trickle of tears transformed into a torrent, sobs wracking Y/N's body. The sound was probably louder than she'd intended, echoing through the house.

A few minutes later, Kenma appeared at the bedroom door, his face etched with concern. "Y/N? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Y/N's sobs intensified, her voice barely a whisper. "Kenma," she managed to choke out, "do you like Queen?"

Kenma's brow furrowed in confusion. "Queen? What do you mean?"

"The streamer you were with today," Y/N explained, her voice trembling. "Do you like her? Is she better than me? Prettier? Funnier?"

Her words hung in the air, heavy with insecurity. She felt like a shadow compared to Queen's radiant presence, her own worth diminishing with each passing moment.

Kenma's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y/N, what are you talking about? Queen is just a colleague. I don't like her in that way. And you're the most amazing, beautiful, and intelligent person I know. Don't ever compare yourself to anyone else."

He gently pulled her into a hug, his warmth radiating through her. "I love you, Y/N. More than words can say. You're the only one for me."

Y/N's tears subsided, replaced by a sense of relief. Kenma's words were like a balm to her wounded soul. She nuzzled into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice still laced with emotion. "I just felt so insecure watching you with her. The fans, the comments, the whole situation just got to me."

Kenma chuckled softly. "I understand, love. But you have nothing to worry about. You're my everything, and no one could ever replace you."

He held her tighter, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for this man who saw her for who she truly was, insecurities and all.

As they sat in silence, enveloped in each other's embrace, a sense of peace settled over Y/N. Kenma's words had not magically erased her insecurities, but they had offered a glimmer of hope, a reminder that their love was strong enough to weather any storm. An idea sparked in Kenma's eyes. He reached for Y/N's hand, his expression a mix of determination and nervousness. "Come on," he said gently, pulling her towards his streaming room.

Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn't sure what Kenma was planning, but a sliver of hope flickered within her. They entered the room, the familiar hum of the computer the only sound. Kenma settled back into his gaming chair, gesturing for Y/N to stand beside him, just out of frame.

He took a deep breath and addressed the chat. "Hey everyone, sorry for the sudden break. Thanks to some attentive viewers, it seems you might have heard some… background noise." He glanced at Y/N, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yep, those cries were from my amazing girlfriend here."

A collective gasp, presumably from Queen, erupted from the speakers. Y/N felt a wave of heat flush her cheeks. Kenma ignored it, his focus laser-sharp.

"The truth is," he continued, his voice low and sincere, "I haven't been the best boyfriend lately. I let my career take priority, neglecting the most important person in my life." Y/N's breath caught in her throat.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. "This is me, publicly apologizing. Y/N, I've been a jerk, and I want to change that." He squeezed her hand, his eyes locking with hers, conveying a wealth of emotions that transcended words.

A beat of silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Then, with a swift movement, Kenma pulled Y/N closer, framing her face in the camera's view. "This," he declared, his voice husky, "is the most amazing, supportive, and thankfully, understanding girlfriend a guy could ask for." He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

"Isn't she the prettiest?" Kenma murmured against her skin, a playful glint in his eyes. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face, his gaze holding hers. A blush bloomed across Y/N's cheeks, a mixture of relief, surprise, and a flicker of possessiveness aimed at the unseen Queen.

Kenma chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright everyone, enough mush for one day. We'll be back with the stream shortly, but for now, I have some serious apologizing to do." He winked at Y/N, a silent promise hanging in the air.

[bobacupcake]

anyways heres my twitter exodus social media rankings as someone whos income is tied directly to my following so i am stuck in this hell loop until i get paid enough to hire a socialmedia manager for our game studio

tumblr - i mean come on guys. ive been here for 11 years. i met th love of my life and became her friend via tumblr ask memes here. whats more to say. theres obviously things i would change but out of all of them this one is the one i feel most comfortable using. you guys always have my back 7/10

twitter - awful. awful. awful. i hate you. you took everything from me. we used to have cotweets. i was going to collab with my friends and post them as a cotweet. you bastard. 0/10

cohost - favorite out of all the new sites. in terms of functionality i dont have too much reason to use it because its ux is super similar to tumblr but the community and vibes are great. its run by actually cool people. you can put css in posts. i have seen so many cool posts. 10/10

bluesky - honestly not too bad from the usability angle. big thing keeping it down is its another VC funded thing so it will eventually become awful but for now its decent. its basically twitter but before it got bought out by musk and also you can pick the algorithm your feed runs on kind of like tumblr (so like you can make your default a completely linear timeline of only the people you follow. or a completely linear timeline of only your mutuals). if any of them become the proper "twitter successor" i want to believe it will be this one . not that i Hope its this one but i feel like if it isnt this one its going to be threads and i dont want it to be threads. 5/10

hive - it was mobile only and i needed to update my phone to use it so i never did. i dont know if people still use this one i dont think they do ?/10

mastodon - idk why i cant get into mastodon i have tried so many times i am just not feeling it. 4/10 for me but 8/10 objectively

threads - bad. bad. meta product. privacy violations so bad its banned in the eu. algorithm driven feed with 50 million celebrities i dont know and dont care about. mobile only. pleae dont let this be the one. please i dont want to use threads. i dont want to have to use threads. please. please. please you guys

[biancasaidstfu]

To the anon ask about socials. The key to balance it is to have more content of your other interests in your algorithm so you see less of the foolishness of Bridgerton fandom. If you do that you'll still see Bridgerton but more of the good stuff and if you don't watch too much of the annoying things is doesn't hit your algorithm as much.

On my socials TL, TT almost always has a profile I need to block every time I login that's because the trolls, bitter ex shippers and jakolas pop up daily. But for the most part if I see anything it's mostly Polin, Nicola and Luke alone, Nicola alone or Luke alone.

IG I do not get trolls, jakolas or bitter ex shippers content bombarding me. For some reason my IG algorithm works the best, if I see something it's because I searched for it but what I quickly do is reset the algorithm and it's back to normal, my IG has a lot of curated content that drowns out everything Nicola, Luke and Bridgerton related. Because my other interests have more content and attention than Bridgerton related stuff.

Tumblr is easy - once I don't follow a tag I won't see anything Jakola, bitter ex shipper or troll related. Again I only see it if I actively search for it. I stay away from the tags and only visit the blogs I am interested in. If something slips through I block.

Twitter is not so straight forward I find I have to do a lot of blocking, muting profiles and words. Most times if sub tweets about the adjacents ex bitter shippers or jakolas come up I don't see it. I also use the tags to go on a blocking spree because sometimes profiles I am interested in respond to sub tweets and that's how I find more to block. I don't even think sub tweets about the adjacents should even be a thing but to each his own.

As Bianca said, a lot of people in the fandom aren't interested in the sides anymore only the main course. Today I saw some shady sub tweets about Jake and Antonia's stories but they weren't referred to by name, you could tell it was them the profiles were tweeting about. Some of the Portuguese, Italian and Spanish Twitter shippers still spiral or pay too much attention to Jake and Antonia, I blocked a lot of them because it's ridiculous and they are the same ones who tweet hate shit about Luke and Nicola when trying to kiss Jake and Antonia. Every day they fight and I can't stand that. No offense to anyone who believes in Tarot but I blocked those profiles too, a lot of drama follows them and I don't like it so I stay away.

Sometimes fandoms host spaces, I joined a few on Twitter but language is a barrier so I can't catch everything that is said.

The thing is you have to keep updating your algorithm by just focusing on what you want to see and it will read that to curate your content on your TL. Generative AI would only work well when you feed it what you want.

Good advice and info!

[llendrinall]

How to kill a woman online all over again (How to recognize a smear campaign)

“It's actually sad because it just shows you have people who really want to hate on women” Melissa Nathan – Professional Online Assassin (PR Crisis Manager)

In December 2024 The New York Times published a story about a targeted campaign of harassment and character assassination against actress Blake Lively. I won't rehash the details of the case here. Be it enough to know that Lively suffered sexual harassment during the filming of It Ends With Us. Baldoni, the perpetrator, orchestrated a campaign against her to preemptively mar her character so that any allegations against him would be dismissed.

I won’t dwell on that here. Instead, having read a lot of what has been published, I want to describe how these public relations campaigns work.

The main idea is that the rich and powerful can and will hire people (Melissa Nathan being the most famous at the moment) to turn public opinion against their victims. This has two benefits for them:

Victims are less likely to speak up when they find themselves targets of attack.

Prosecutors, judges and jurors can be swayed by these campaigns.

Ultimately the idea is that only good, saintly, women are victims of abuse. If the woman is less than perfect then she is either lying or deserving of the abuse.

How do we recognize these campaigns? These are the traits I have noticed so far.

The target is a woman.

The attacks comes from within and without. So there will be “inside” stories as well as “public” stories.

Inside stories can be something like a “journalist” claiming something terrible happened behind the cameras, leaking videos out of context, etc.

Public stories are ideas supposedly noticed by the public. Someone commenting on the victim’s outfits, accessories or behaviors and extrapolating to their character. For example, if she uses a leather bag, she is supporting animal abuse, but if she uses a plastic bag, she is bad for the environment.

Of course, since people are far from perfect, some of these stories will point to actual bad behavior. That still is no justification for abuse.

3. The campaign is multi-platform.

Traditional media pick up the story. This doesn’t mean proper, trust-worthy media, but it’s important that some paper tabloid like, say, The Daily Mail will mention it.

Online media also pick up the story.

Social media pick up and spread the story through all platforms. This, to me, is the most tell-tale sign that something fishy is going on, when Reddit, Instagram reels, Tik-tok videos and Youtube short are all in agreement that this woman is nasty. Some posts will be bots, some created by actual humans working by the PR firm and many more made by users following the trend because as Nathan notices, people like to hate on women.

4. The story jumps the algorithm and now you are hearing about it.

Think of this: You enter Tik-tok and Instagram and stare at a short video of someone tying a knot. It’s a cool knot so you watch the video half a dozen times to learn how to do it. Next time you enter the site, your feed offers you nothing but knot-tying videos. That’s the algorithm working.

Now, when you are peacefully watching knot-tying videos and in pops a video of someone mocking the ridiculous way this woman drinks water, that’s a jump in the algorithm.

In other words, I can’t tell you any other films in which Blake Lively has starred, I have no interest in her whatsoever, and yet I got videos saying how horrible and tone-deaf she was during promotion.

If you are learning nasty things about a person even though you care nothing about them, their job or even their industry, then we should take pause. I’m not saying dismiss it, but ask yourself why are you seeing this.

5. There is a comparison with a man.

It’s not enough that the victim is a bad woman. She must be compared to a man, most likely her abuser, who is a much better person. He would never use a leather/plastic/cotton bag, don’t you know?

Examples:

Knowing how these campaigns work, it’s easier to notice their outline, their shape, under the waves of news and social media. Here are some examples.

The Fallen - Amber Heard vs Johnny Depp. This is the paradigm of online assassination. If you were online in the spring of 2022 it was impossible to avoid the hate against Heard who, I am sure, is a horrible person. Yet she was also abused by Depp. He lost a libel suit against a tabloid. You really have to be a nasty piece to lose a libel suit. Depp, by the way, also used Melissa Nathan as an online gun-for-hire.

The Ones Currently Fighting – Blake Lively against Justin Baldoni is the most recent one. Summer and Fall of 2024 was marked by the hate against her. Again, I am sure she is insufferable, entitled, blonde and all together quite impossible to describe. This doesn’t change the fact that Baldoni sexually harassed her. One should not have men ogling one’s naked body.

Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Did you know that Melissa Nathan not only represented Johnny Depp and Justin Baldoni, but also Brad Pitt? Did you know that once this fact was made public Pitt finally signed the divorced papers after eight (8!) years? Little is known of this story because Angelina Jolie has amazing intuition for public relations. She has been silent for almost a decade, while there are news about Pitt going out with his girlfriend, Pitt missing his children and Pitt being sad that his children are forsaking his last name.

(The report on the 2016 plane incident states that Pitt choked one of the children and hit another in the face. Can’t imagine why they would take the Jolie name after that).

(As an aside, I think there is a racist bias here at work and that people assume he hit the boys, not the girls, and the POC children, not the white ones, so “it’s not as bad”).

The One Success Story so I can finish this on a hopeful note – Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas. The moment the couple split, stories emerged of Sophie being a bad mother for, hear this, going to a wrap-up party, having a career in film instead of staying home and what not. This was in 2023, the sting of the Heard-Depp case was recent and Sophie Turner’s fans were not having it. I remember reading an editorial noting how the campaign had fizzled out and Jonas stop fighting for custody of their children.

Anyway:

Bad women can be victims of abuse.

No one deserves abuse.

If you ever think “why am I being showed this?” that’s an abuser killing his victim online all over again.

[sexybritishllama]

at the end of the day i just don't think guilting people into reblogging or commenting on art/writing/etc is effective

i get it! i really do! when you put your heart and soul into something, it feels incredibly shitty to get ignored- maybe even worse to know that people might HAVE actually consumed your work (and maybe even enjoyed it!) but never bothered to actually engage with you. and then that's not even taking into account the number of artists who rely on algorithms and visibility to make a living, where number go down = will i actually be able to afford groceries this month

and then there's the fact that on a broader level, i do think the growing culture of silent consumption is making the internet a colder, more disconnected place to be. we're more inclined to see things as 'content'; this vague nothing of a word that turns art into something existing only to fill up instagram feeds and tiktok for you pages. you consume and then you move on. scroll scroll scroll

it's shit!! i hate it!! we SHOULD all make an effort to fight against this, to see the actual people behind art, to recognise and celebrate and share the work that people put so much love into!

but for some reason so many people take that sentiment and turn it into 'i am going to make a post guilting people for liking things instead of reblogging. if you don't comment on every fanfic you read YOU are the reason i stopped writing and art is dead'

and... idk man. if your goal with these posts is truly to convince people to interact with art online more, i don't think that's the way to do it. i don't want people to share or comment on my work because they think there's a begruding moral imperative to it

maybe instead of trying to enforce compliance via the eternal guilt that the catholic church favours, the focus should be on how genuinely FUN it is to engage more with art, even in the smallest ways? like, i love reblogging art on here! not because i'm stressed out that the artists are going to stop posting unless i get their numbers high enough, but because the art is pretty and i want the artist to know i like it and i like doing the equivalent of online scrapbooking with cool stuff! and then i can see MY followers see the art and like and reblog it, which makes me happy i could share cool stuff with them too!

or for another example- i write fics, so i understand how getting a nice comment (even literally just a single ❤️ emoji or a short 'great chapter!') can make my entire day, week even. i make an effort to comment on other stuff that i read, and a lot of the time the authors reply to those, and then we BOTH feel happier and like we had a moment of joy and connection over something we love. and then sometimes you come to recognise certain people, and maybe see them in the comments of another fic, or on tumblr, or whatever, and it helps the internet feel like less of a big cold expanse and more of a community that you're actually a part of! that's awesome!

i get people feel awkward about not knowing what to write in comments, or that they just never reblog things in general, or whatever. but truly, genuinely, i'd encourage you to give it a go, even in the smallest way, first and foremost because it's FUN! it's fun to make a spot with all your favourite art like a magpie collecting shiny things for a nest, it's fun to express your enjoyment and gratitude for a piece of writing that you stayed up until 2am reading, and then this all feeds into itself to create a nicer world where artists feel encouraged to make MORE stuff, giving you more to enjoy and share in turn, and on and on it goes!

[violet-moonstone]

ranting about internet "media literacy" -- started angry but mellowed out as I continued writing:

highly tempted to start writing dark romance and monster romance to piss off the growing amount of people who feel the need to proclaim their judgments about stories that are obviously meant to be outrageous fantasies and not models for realistic or healthy relationships

cannot imagine being so boring that you think everyone's fantasies have to be safe and sanitized

sounds miserable

remember when there was a moral panic about violent video games? and how we collectively looked back on that and said "wow that's wild. clearly the issue is either with kids playing games they're not old enough to play, or with people in general not being adequately taught how to recognize and avoid emulating harmful behaviours they see in media. surely censoring media isn't the solution, but good education and proper parenting is."

and then remember how we decided to forget all of that and do the exact same thing with books?

if you are concerned about readers not having adequate media literacy and being easily affected by what the they read, then address the media literacy instead of just complaining about the fact that there are books with things in them that you don't like! show people how to recognize harmful tropes so that (if they want to) they can still engage in them without unconsciously normalizing harmful behaviour.

to me, reading dark fiction is like riding a rollercoaster. It's a simulation of a dangerous experience without the actual risk (assuming the ride has been built and maintained properly) -- the vast majority of people don't want to be flung into the air without any safety precautions -- so we make sure people are safe so they can briefly experience simulated danger before coming back down to the ground, nice and safe. Some people hate rollercoasters because they're scary, make them nauseous, or even seriously trigger them -- those people should absolutely not go on rollercoasters. Some people might experience the thrill of the rollercoaster and want more and engage in dangerous activities to feed that desire -- this is an example of someone who needs support to make sure they stay safe and don't hurt others, but that doesn't mean rollercoasters should be banned

that being said, I do think there's an issue with the way the internet works now that's contributing to this moral panic

while I'm glad that more people are becoming aware of kink, bdsm, and dark fantasies in fiction and that those topics are being explored more by writers who can gain exposure through the internet...that higher exposure also means bringing something niche into the mainstream that a lot of people refuse to wrap their heads around

part of the problem is that the internet has become too universal. yes, there are certain places you can go for niche topics -- you can follow specific blogs and forums that focus more on intentional online community than algorithms -- but on platforms like youtube, tiktok, and instagram, it is extremely easy for people to just stumble onto things they never intended /wanted to see without warning

at the very least on a lot of reddit forums and properly tagged works on archive of our own, you have to pass a warning telling you about what you're going to see (and people still complain about it but whatever) but on other platforms, you're kind of just presented with stuff with no context -- including people who are either not willing to learn about that context or not old/mature enough to even be seeing that content who are just going to go with their immediate reactions

P.S. -- I lied. I mostly want to write monster erotica because I think it's hot