#and that is a huge amount of fucking bullshit

[alligatorjesie]

I love how OP is complaining 'capitalism isn't an answer to these questions' when if we just sit down with a shit scoop and dust away the clean surface litter of 'why people vote against their own interests' the stinky cat turd that is capitalism is right there under the surface.

Capitalism explains a lot of why people are stupid and vote stupid, and if definitely explains why a lot of us who are not so stupid and don't vote against our own interests still have to deal with corrupt corporate legislation that force shit options upon us.

In America we've turned schooling into a numbers and testing game that punishes schools who don't test well. That sounds correct on the surface but then when you dig around in the bullshit a little you realize they're literally only teaching these kids how to test and not how to do fucking anything else.

human restoration project did a long fuckin' video on how teaching the test is dicking over American public school systems

skip intro did one about a fictional school but it reflects a lot about what is wrong with real schools.

It's money.

It's always money.

Now we have schools filled with students who can't read good and teachers who ain't really allowed to teach anything but 'the test' and ain't even being paid well enough to babysit and a lot of this isn't this way because voters are stupid. It got this way because corporations own school book publishings. They decide what we learn and how we learn it from lobbying the fuck out of Congress to make it this way. Schools don't get a choice how they teach, and if they don't do it the way Congress wants then they don't get funding.

It's not even a conspiracy.

It's very look-up-able.

We literally just had a ballot measure in my state that was 'hey should we give the already poultry amount of we designate for public schools to private schools instead of public schools?' and thank fuck it lost but that shit got over 30% yes votes. Most of the houses that had 'vote yes on 2' signs in their yards didn't even have children living there.

I also noticed how a lot of those yards also had trump signs in them but that's a conversation for another day.

We don't have healthcare because we're told there's no better system out there besides the one with the absolutely fucking useless middle man who can deny you help because they deemed that cancer you developed from DuPont pouring Teflon into the waterways was pre-existing condition just to ensure shareholders get more of the pie at the end of the quarter. This wasn't even a measure we got to vote on this was just forced on us because of greed. Cooperations have corporate interests and lawyers and lobbyist that are paid very well to make that company as much money as possible.

This is one of the reasons you can't walk into a hospital in America and ask 'hey how much would it cost to do x?'. They won't tell you a price because it's fucking made up.

No joke. You can't find out how much it will cost to have a baby in a hospital in America and the hospital won't give you a price ahead of time because that price is heavy influenced by things like; if you have insurance or not, what income bracket you belong in, if your paying some shit in cash, just to name a few bullshit reasons.

We keep getting food recalls because huge food corporations have have financial interests to demand to monitor their own food safety rules instead of allowing the government to do it. We have a whole government agency that could be better staffed to handle this but there isn't a financial incentive to do that so we don't.

9 times out of 10 the reason shit sucks is because someone wanted to make money over being a decent human being.

It's not even fascism it's just regular ol' corporate greed.

which has roots in fascism no doubt.

Honestly, we could fix most of the problems in America if we just got rid of lobbying.

surely we could educate the people in matters of economics and social theory to make them less stupid in their voting.

Perhaps, but that's a multi-generational project of improving education, which doesn't solve the short-term problem of winning political campaigns. Indeed, the former is rather predicated on the latter.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

anyway here’s my cornley polytechnic drama society into the woods fancast because I think it’s the perfect sort of show for them to fuck up 👍

jonathan plays the baker, alongside sandra as the baker’s wife. I imagine this is shortly enough after peter pan that they’re still very bitter at one another. said bitterness absolutely shows onstage, but it fits the characters perfectly and the audience ends up thinking that they’ve just finally gotten good at acting. jonathan brings a homemade “medieval feast” to celebrate opening night and it poisons the entire cast

annie plays the witch. this was the only casting decision that was unanimously regarded as good until chris let it slip that he’d ultimately done it because she was “the loudest singer.” robert took great offense at this and, despite having no interest in the part before, began campaigning to play the witch instead. it did not work. annie’s witch costume has two layers to make the quickchange at the end of act 1 easier, but the top layer keeps falling off before the reveal is supposed to happen. her magic staff is supposed to emit a smoke effect but it keeps malfunctioning, and at a certain point she just gives up and tapes lit cigarettes (stolen from trevor) to it. this goes about as well as you’d think

dennis plays the narrator. everyone had assumed it’d be an easy role for him since he could just read all of his lines off his book prop, but this is proven wrong near instantly when he starts genuinely reading the book instead. when dennis actually does start reading from the script, it becomes immediately clear that he somehow has the director’s copy and the entirety of the rehearsal notes are read out loud, including several deeply personal things that chris has written in his script for convenience

dennis also plays the mysterious man, but he keeps forgetting which way he’s supposed to be related to the baker. over the course of the show he goes from father, to son, to brother, to father again, to distant cousin, to grandmother

chris plays cinderella’s prince, alongside robert as rapunzel’s prince. they spend the entire show trying to out-act one another, and it goes without saying that this ends up a complete disaster. robert makes any moment into an unplanned duet to try and prove that he could have succeeded in seducing the baker’s wife. chris shows up at rapunzel’s tower and attempts to choke robert out with her wig. they get in an opt-up battle at the end of agony (reprise) that ends with robert singing a note so high it shatters a stage light

in accordance with typical into the woods casting, chris also plays the wolf. he orders a very expensive “wolf suit” online from someone he thinks is a bespoke costume artist. it doesn’t arrive until opening day, and it becomes immediately clear that what chris has actually bought is a full on fursuit. it’s very hard to see in and he keeps running into the fake trees

robert is double cast as milky white. there is no practical reason for this whatsoever, as milky white could’ve just as easily been a puppet or some kind of cutout on wheels, and it’s very obvious the whole thing is just a power move on chris’ part. during the scene where milky white is meant to “eat” the props, vanessa misunderstands and literally feeds them to him. he chips a tooth on cinderella’s shoe

due to a lack of numbers, vanessa is playing both cinderella and rapunzel. her costume is split down the middle, and due to this she can only face in one direction as each part. this means that half of the time she’s facing away from whoever she’s talking to, and that she frequently has to walk/run backwards without turning her head at all. whenever cinderella and rapunzel talk to each other she faces straight forward. the break-off mechanism in rapunzel’s side of the wig doesn’t work (sandra ends up stealing a single, barely visible hair), so she’s also constantly tripping on her hair

max, being in a new relationship with sandra, desperately wanted to play alongside her as the baker so that they could kiss onstage. unfortunately for him, he is playing jack instead. although this is maybe the single most-fitting role he’s ever been cast in and he’s genuinely giving a great performance, the opportunity is ruined by his having to do every scene accompanied by robert’s milky white

lucy was supposed to play little red, but was pulled from the production the day before opening by her parents, who have banned her from performing with “robert’s troupe” after what happened in peter pan

consequently, little red is now being played by trevor, who is wearing a costume far, far too small for him. trevor manages to get away with reading his lines off papers pinned to the inside of his cloak, but he doesn’t know any of the songs, so sandra has to sing them offstage for him while he lipsyncs

all of the ensemble characters are played by a celebrity “guest” frantically switching between various comically large hats. chris tried to get francis back for this part but after some careful deliberation he determined that it would genuinely be easier to kidnap a famous person than to get francis to come back after the disaster that was peter pan. the tension is only worsened when, via a botched music cue, it’s revealed that francis is now an active member of trevor’s metal band

the giant was supposed to have been played by trevor via voiceover from the sound booth, but now that he’s onstage playing little red the part is left to approximately four members of the run crew who are desperately trying and failing to say the lines in unison. lucy breaks into the theatre sometime during the baker’s wife search sequence and takes over the giant’s part the next time she’s on, much to trevor’s dismay

the worst fuck-up award goes to annie, for accidentally knocking the supports out from under dennis’ narrator platform during last midnight and triggering a chain reaction in which every fake tree onstage topples each other one by one like some terrible, life-threatening game of dominos. honorable mention goes to chris for spending $6000 of max’s inheritance on a custom costume without actually seeing it at any point during the process

the worst injury award goes to max, for getting his circulation cut off and almost losing a hand after his arm got stuck inside the golden hen puppet midway through act 2. honorable mention goes once again to chris, who got stabbed with a bunch of glass shards when robert broke that stage light

[justheblueberry]

the process of binding a study in scarlette:

SO. i had a Vision for this fic, right from the start. so many new things i wanted to do and almost no idea how to do it. but let's start from the beginning, shall we?

i usually don't do anywhere NEAR this amount of brainstorming and designing but the fic has so many motifs and details that i knew i wanted to fit in, so i had to draw it all out and piece everything together.

here are a few of my behind-the-scenes brainstorming notes:

this was the very first brainstorm i did, it was basically me flinging a bunch of cool book stuff i saw other people doing at the wall and seeing what stuck in my brain.

this was an idea for a cover which incorporated symbols for each of the chapters inside the branches, but i just wasn't fond of the execution of the draft. so i scrapped it, eventually settling on the silhouette cover for the final.

i had big dreams! and not much experience to back it up with ! so after finishing the typeset, i put it aside for a bit and did a couple other binds first.

this was my second brainstorm, i started to figure out the direction i wanted the illustrations to go in, no longer aimlessly tossing vibes around!

i did a lot of waffling about different versions of the back cover design. here's a couple that i scrapped!

over the summer, i decided to finally stop procrastinating and printed out the typeset (after making a few revisions to it). it's a Chonk. i pressed it some, which helped, but it definitely still had a lot of swell.

sewing with red thread.

endpapers cut, glued, and a glow in the dark paint test.

built a press...up til this point i'd just been stacking a bunch of thick books on top of my binds, but for this one i needed a lying press to sand my edges, so i finally caved. who needs tools? my edge painted book needs tools :(

sanding edges with power sander

so. this was my first time doing anything with edges, so i did a little test on a book i already had; it was a bit of a process trying to work out how much i should dilute it, and it took a bit of trial and error. doing the bottom edge first was the right call ^^;; it's the flakiest out of all the edges on the final bind. i'm really happy with the fore edge though, i got a really even and nice coat on it.

rounding, gluing and (an attempt at) backing

so. it was the day before i was moving. i had run out of time to procrastinate any more. the rounding was quite rushed and i barely backed it at all. there was also the fact that i don't have backing boards and was winging it with absolute unfounded confidence. it still turned out okay though so i got away with it!

dug out a 5 yen coin from who knows where for the bookmark. didn't have pliers with me yet so i had to close the crimp with a metal water bottle and arm strength. who needs tools right

endbands. i love sewing endbands, but man, for chonk fics it gets Long. i think they each took like 2-4 hours to do. i briefly considered learning double core endbands for this bind but decided against it as i barely just got a handle on regular ones. discovery: my ambitions have limits!

this was my finalized cover design. i had planned to do it all with htv, but last minute decided to do the silhouette as a linocut instead. i'd never done one before but i had the materials and the fearlessness that only a beginner (who does not know the limits of fear) can have; i think it turned out good :>

the final stretch!!!! it was at this point, when i realized that the size i'd carved the linocut at would be too wide for the half binding case i had planned. improvisation time. i decided to switch from a regular case binding to a three piece bradel. i have only done case bindings and stab bindings at this point...and with only mild panic and stubborn hubris to fuel me, i went for it. i had already attached an oxford hollow and cut my boards, but it probably wouldn't make too much of a difference! fuck around and find out!

cutting the cloth and adhering the htv. the summary on the back was HELL to weed, and some of the letters ended up crooked. i should've just printed it letterpress, but i was running out of patience.

i followed DAS bookbinding's tutorial on youtube of his in-boards three piece bradel and the part where i had to tuck in the spine cloth in between the hollow was definitely the trickiest, but it went okay in the end!

after attaching the boards and gluing down the endpapers i was finally done!!!! after months and months of the unfinished textblock guilting me from the corner of my room, it's finally finished! fancy pics coming soon!

i learned SO MUCH from this bind, sanding edges, painting edges, linocuts, multiple colors of htv, oxford hollows, and a whole new style of binding....yeah. it was a ride! thanks for reading to the end!

[good-to-drive]

Why are certain fandoms so utterly toxic and horrible like how does that dynamic even start and why do so many people make it their life's work to keep it that way

[mamaclownhunter]

The one thing I hate on Tiktok more then anything is the videos that are like “if you skip this you will have bad luck!!!!!”

Like who knows the difference between a blessing a curse like genuinely knows??

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

what’s the story about the generative power model and water consumption? /gen

There's this myth going around about generative AI consuming truly ridiculous amount of power and water. You'll see people say shit like "generating one image is like just pouring a whole cup of water out into the Sahara!" and bullshit like that, and it's just... not true. The actual truth is that supercomputers, which do a lot of stuff, use a lot of power, and at one point someone released an estimate of how much power some supercomputers were using and people went "oh, that supercomputer must only do AI! All generative AI uses this much power!" and then just... made shit up re: how making an image sucks up a huge chunk of the power grid or something. Which makes no sense because I'm given to understand that many of these models can run on your home computer. (I don't use them so I don't know the details, but I'm told by users that you can download them and generate images locally.) Using these models uses far less power than, say, online gaming. Or using Tumblr. But nobody ever talks about how evil those things are because of their power generation. I wonder why.

To be clear, I don't like generative AI. I'm sure it's got uses in research and stuff but on the consumer side, every effect I've seen of it is bad. Its implementation in products that I use has always made those products worse. The books it writes and flood the market with are incoherent nonsense at best and dangerous at worst (let's not forget that mushroom foraging guide). It's turned the usability of search engines from "rapidly declining, but still usable if you can get past the ads" into "almost one hundred per cent useless now, actually not worth the effort to de-bullshittify your search results", especially if you're looking for images. It's a tool for doing bullshit that people were already doing much easier and faster, thus massively increasing the amount of bullshit. The only consumer-useful uses I've seen of it as a consumer are niche art projects, usually projects that explore the limits of the tool itself like that one poetry book or the Infinite Art Machine; overall I'd say its impact at the Casual Random Person (me) level has been overwhelmingly negative. Also, the fact that so much AI turns out to be underpaid people in a warehouse in some country with no minimum wage and terrible labour protections is... not great. And the fact that it's often used as an excuse to try to find ways to underpay professionals ("you don't have to write it, just clean up what the AI came up with!") is also not great.

But there are real labour and product quality concerns with generative AI, and there's hysterical bullshit. And the whole "AI is magically destroying the planet via climate change but my four hour twitch streaming sesh isn't" thing is hysterical bullshit. The instant I see somebody make this stupid claim I put them in the same mental bucket as somebody complaining about AI not being "real art" -- a hatemobber hopping on the hype train of a new thing to hate and feel like an enlightened activist about when they haven't bothered to learn a fucking thing about the issue. And I just count my blessings that they fell in with this group instead of becoming a flat earther or something.

[reasonsforhope]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but especially with the end of the school year coming up soon, and a bunch of people about to leave high school or about to leave college, I just wanted to say:

Being an adult can be really nice, actually!!!

Like, okay, yeah, life can be fucking stressful sometimes, and there's definitely an annoying amount of paperwork.

But me and just about every single adult I know will agree: I would never choose to go back to being a teenager, even if I somehow could.

Insert obvious disclaimer that nothing is universal. But for people worried about aging or graduating into the next chapter of life, here's some words of reassurance:

When you're a teenager, your brain is extra mean to you. Like, neurologically. All of the changes it's undergoing really, really increase rates of depression/anxiety/etc. A lot of the time, literally just not being a teenager anymore is really good for your mental health

Less than five months out of high school, everyone I knew my age was like "Thank fuck we're no longer in high school." Once you leave high school and adolescence there's really just such a dramatic drop in petty bullshit. Shit that would have been a huge social humiliation or gossip in high school is really often just like, "Hate that for you, man." Boom, done.

When you're a teenager or a brand new adult, you're encountering so many problems for the first time ever. When you're older, you just. Have learned how to handle a lot more things. You know what to do way more often and that builds confidence

When you're an adult, other people generally don't care if you don't do things perfectly, because jobs and life don't work like grades. This was such a trip to learn, honestly? But when you are an adult or have a job the bar for success is usually just "Did you do the thing?" or "Did you do the thing well enough that it works?" or "Did you show up to work for your whole shift and look like you were doing things?"

Similarly, if you're about to graduate college and you're really stressed about it, fyi just about everyone I knew in college ended up very quickly going "wow, 'real life' is way easier." Admittedly I went to a school full of very stressed out perfectionists and the like, so I can't promise this is universal, but there's a very real chance that life will in many ways get easier when you graduate

WAY MORE CONTROL OF YOUR OWN LIFE

Literally I cannot overstate that last point. As an adult, you are (barring certain disabilities or shitty circumstances like abusive family/the criminal justice system/etc.) able to make most of your own decisions. If you want to rearrange your furniture, you can. If you want to eat tater tots at midnight, you can. If you want to get yourself a little treat, you can. You can sign contracts and make your own legal and medical decisions and not need a parent or guardian signature for just about anything ever again

You generally learn how to give fewer fucks

The people around you have also generally learned how to give fewer fucks

Even when things are shitty, being able to choose what kind of shitty a lot of the time can really be worth an awful lot

[forestshadow-wolf]

Soap having to emergency fill in for a demo guy on a mission. He wasn't on demo for this one, he was needed on sniper along with Ghost and Gaz to cover price and the ground team and demo team he was leading. The goal was the blow the entire location skyhigh, but it wouldn't be an easy job. Not with the high amount of enemy soldiers, or the sheer mass and density of the building making it so that they would need to plant charges from the inside as well as the outside.

The demo guy goes down inside while soap, gaz, and ghost can't see them. They'd been keeping the outside backup at bay when price's voice fed through the radio.

"Soap. Our demo guy is KIA, need you down here NOW!"

"Aye, Sir. On my way." The urgency in the man's voice told him that they were running low on time (not that he didn't already know that. He was counting seconds. Always was.) He abandoned his sniper with little fineness, Ghost or Gaz would get it for him.

Ghost and Gaz covered him on his way down. He shucked his gloves on the way, throwing them carelessly to the ground, didn't bother going for cover, they were on a very real time limit with the fixed timer on the charges. It wasn't an ideal situation, and ordinarily they wouldn't have such a thing, but just the night before they'd caught someone tampering with the explosives. It had fucked up the wiring, and the closest to good they he could fix it was a fixed timer because he couldn't get them to communicate with the detonator anymore.

The actual inside of the building was large. Much more winding and dense than breifing said it would be. That was a problem. A big, huge, major problem. Because now they didn't have enough power to blow it all.

And it turns out to be an even bigger problem because when he got to price he realizes that the amount of explosives they had brought wasn't going to be enough in the first place.

"Shit." He hadn't been included in the demo planning, it hadn't been necessary. But now he sees that it was, because whatever calculations had been done were wrong. Even being off by .01 of anything was near fatal with the stuff they were working with.

"What? What's wrong?" Price was even more urgent now.

"There's not enough." He said, setting the first one he picked up, it was further from the last one that had been set before him than he'd have liked.

"Can you make it work?" Price says in, what soap always called, his captain voice. Soap pauses for a moment after that, running mental calculations.

"Maybe?" He wasn't entirely confident to be completely honest, "we'd have to go back and re-do all the ones that have already been set." He curses internally, mentally smiting whoever didn't include him in the demo meeting.

Price sent a soldier off to go collect the set charges, but soap only let them off with very clear instructions on how to do so.

Soap sent price and the rest of the soldiers off without him to finish collecting the data they had been looking for. He worked in silence for a while. If he was lucky (he doubts), it the soldier that price sent off came back with more charges than soap expected, he would be able to just barely make it stretch.

He wasn't so lucky. He sent the soldier after price. He flipped his radio on.

"Ghost, go to channel 2." He switches his own radio to channel 2.

"You solid, Johnny?"

"There's not enough." He was not panicking. Soap doesn't panic. And definitely not on the field. If he did it would be in the dead of night where nobody could find him.

"What's not?" Ghost was calm, solid as a rock. Soap liked that, won't deny needing a win, even if it was as small as Ghost being his normal self.

"Charges." He moves up the hall to work on the next one, "whoever did the calculations did a bang up job, there's barely enough to stretch from the original plan, and the inside is a lot bigger than we thought. Fucking bullshit."

"You weren't workin' with demo on this?" Ghost sounded confused, "I was given an optional attendance." Ah, that explained it. And- GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT.

"Nae. At this point it seems more like a big fuckin' joke that I'm nae in on, than it does a tactical operation." Soap was seething, it was like the gods had something personal against him, but he kept his head.

"Seems like they all hate you, Johnny." Ghost hummed cheekily. Soap couldn't help the chuckle he let out. Leave it up to Ghost to still be a bastard despite it all.

"Awh, c'mon, L.T. you'd never let them all hate me now would ya?"

"Well, I don't completely hate you if it make you feel better." He could hear Ghost's smirk even through the radio.

"Aye, sir, gets me all warm and fuzzy inside, I'll buy you a drink to keep in your good graces after this."

"Assuming you live."

"Assuming I live." Soap parroted

"Can you make it work?"

"No. Not unless you've got some secret magic powers I dinnae know about, sir." He grumbled.

"Not for you, sergeant." Ghost told him. Bastard.

"Bastard." He huffed, amused.

"You still workin' on it?"

"Aye, I'm gonna blow the supports. If it goes right- better hope that it does- it'll bring the whole top crashin' down." He imitated the well-loved sound of the boom and crash he was hoping for, "if the brass wants it gone though, they'll have to send someone back. Hopefully someone competent this time." He was already halfway through the charges, and that was with a generous amount of spacing that he didn't like too much, but it would do, he had to get around to the other side of the building. He glanced at the timer, seven minutesticking down, he'd have to move fast if he wanted to get out in time, his thumb flipped his comms unit to channel the main channel.

"Price, keep an eye on the time." They all had their watches set to the timer so they could keep track. He switched back to channel 2 as soon as he got an affirmative. "Ghost, mind me at the two minute mark, aye?"

"Copy that." Came the steady manc accented response.

"Ya'know what's on my bucket list, L.T.?"

"What?"

"One day I want an OP that goes smooth start to finish."

"A steep ask."

"I felt inspired." He could hear the shrug in his own voice, and there was a breathy laugh in his ear.

Usually he's excellent at keeping track of his time, but this time he was still running minor calculations to every charge he set, making sure they were in the best spot possible. Which meant that when Ghost interrupted his mutterings with a tense "two minutes, Sargeant.", he had only just started on the last quarter of the explosives he had left.

"Shit." He chewed on his lip, using precious seconds to think. He could see the stairs to the exit at the end of the hallway, maybe 200 yards away, but there was still had 6 charges left. Fuckit, no more time for thinking, his gut's never let him down so far, he trusts that it won't this time either. "You see Price? Is he out?"

He wired the charge in his hands in two paces, placed it in six, started on the next.

"Negative. I've got no visual. I need you out of that building, now, Johnny." Ghost went silent after that, but soap was too busy to worry about that.

Shit.

He was almost halfway down the hall when he placed the next charge. Three charges left. The next charge went on in seven paces. The last two went up on either side of the stairs. His lungs burned as he took the steps two at a time. A glance at his watch showed 48 seconds left. The stairs seemed to go on forever. He would not be making it to a safe distance, he'd be lucky to get out of the building.

"I've got Price, Need eyes on you, now." Ghost sounded in his ear. He had not enough air in his lungs to respond, squeezing every cell of blood of its oxygen to keep himself moving.

10 seconds, he could see the door, it was big, and green, and had one of those push bar handles.

9 seconds, his foot slipped, his knee met the unforgiving corner of concrete, and his ankle twisted.

8 seconds, he caught himself.

7 seconds, pain lit up in his ankle. He kept going

6 seconds, he'd halved the distance to the door

5, he could see himself reaching the door already

4, he had an arm out to catch the push bar

3, he made contact

2, fresh air hit his face

1, he was running. It was like every molecule knew what was coming, like every building block of space was waiting for it. He could feel the charge it in every fiber of his being.

0, he dove for the ground, tucking himself in, harms coming up over his head. He didn't even feel it before it all slammed into him like a freight train. But he knew it was coming, knew it like a sixth sense, knew it like knowing the sky was blue without even looking up.

His ears rang. He hadn't realized before. The ringing in his ears was intense, almost overwhelming. Every thing hurt when he uncurled. His fands were stiff whe he flexed them, it looked like he was piloting a robot instead of his own body, he felt it all but from a distance. The world was bathed in gray. His mouth was dry, it tasted bitter as he smacked his lips together.

Something...

There was something... wrong? Or- he needed to do something? He flexed his fingers again. The world looked frozen. Like even the trees were looking at him, whispering that he was dead. Maybe he was, he couldn't be sure. Uncoordinated movements managed to wobble himself to standing. His back. Something on his back. It hurt. But he couldn't feel it. A hand went to his throbbing, and he stumbled a few step before he collapsed. He was tired. He was breathing but he couldn't feel it in his lungs, knew his chest was moving with it though. Maybe he wasn't breathing. He couldn't feel it. He should breathe, he focused on that. But he was so tired. Maybe too tired. Maybe he didn't need to breathe all that bad. He could just.. he was.. everything hurt. He wasn't breathing, except for his moving chest. It's okay. He'll just.. close his eyes. He'll try breathing again when he woke up again. When everything hurt less. It'll hurt less.

---

It didn't hurt less when he woke up again. It hurt more. A lot more actually. He felt his mouth open with out his command, sound left but he didn't hear it. And he couldn't tell if the incessant, ear-blinding ringing was him or if the world around him had gobe silent in lieu of the ringing.

It was a moment before he realized his eyes were open. The world was still covered in gray powder. Ghost's mask comes into view, it moves like he's speaking, but he's not making any sound. Soap thinks about telling him as much, to turn on his voice, but the world hurts, or maybe he hurts, and either way, it's easier to just close his eyes.

---

A hand smacks his face, he see brown eyes first, gaz's mouth is moving.

A glimpse of green rushing past, but black invades and he lets it happen.

The next thing he blinks and there's white, swishing, lots of it. Coats he realizes. Doctor's. A lot of them. He turns his head, it saps his strength, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close are mouths moving in muted shouts.

He blinks again and he's greeted with blinding white. He's moving. Not with his own two legs. It's fast. It makes him sick. He feels frantic hands on him and then his mouth opens, he feels contents leave him. And then he's being rolled back over. It's too much. He welcomes the dark of unconsciousness again.

---

He wakes slowly, there's a thin stream of air that chills his nose, he can feel cords on him but it would take more effort than it's worth to rip them off, uncomfortable as they were. So a hospital. If it wasn't obvious that was here he was, then it could be the plastic guard rails, or that he could see the edge of a very hospital-esq desk right outside the cracked open hospital-esq door where white flourenscent hospital-esq light leaked through.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. Not terribly so, there's a window that lets in moonlight, but dark enough that his eyes don't burn. There's a figure in the corner of his eye, and when he turns it's Ghost. Slumped down, arms crossed, sleeping. He's wearing one of the balaclavas with the narly faded skull, and the eye black he usually wears looks rubbed off, but not washed off, he can still see evidence of its remains. He looks tired, sporting a twin pair of eye bags the size of a small island, and the line of his shoulders is tenser than usual. He wonders when he got familiar enough with the man to notice his "regular tenseness", but he doesn't dwell.

His throat itches with dryness like he's swallowed a bunch of cotton balls. He's fairly certain he did not do that. There's a glass of what looks like water (or some mysterious other clear liquid) on the swinging side table, he reaches for it, but his movements are uncoordinated, limbs reluctant to listen to his demands. His hand swings a little too far and it knocks the glass to the floor. He watches it shatter, cringing in anticipation of the loud sound, but the sound is muted and far away, like he's listening through a pane of plexiglass. Ghost shoots up in a panic, looking for the danger. He does a quick double take when he sees soap's eyes open, then he notices the shattered reamins of his would-be drink.

Soap can only give him an apologetic look for disturbing his sleep that he looked like he desperately needed. Ghost walks over to him, and it looks like he's talking, but it sounds muffled, again like listening through plexiglass, or like he poured thick ink into his ears. That's not good. He can feel his mouth split into a displeased look. This is very not good. Bad, even.

Ghost leans over him, one of his big hands rests on his chest, he puts a little pressure then lets off. He does it again. And again. In a steady rhythm that soap can't help but follow.

A nurse walks in, and Ghost backs off leaving soap feel a little unteathered, but he's nolonger panicking. The nurse talks but everything is underwater, and someone's poured glue in his ears. He can't help the nervous look at ghost while the nurse keeps on, ghost holds his gaze steady. And then she's gone.

Ghost tries to speak, then he pauses, holds up a finger as if to tell him to wait, and then slips out of the room.

Great. Absolutely perfect. He's gone deaf. Well, that definitely seems like that would be the sort of thing that gets labled as "career ending", a cateer that he was damn good at. Did they even complete the mission he was on? He didn't even know if it was a success. Or even if he'd gotten any one killed. He hoped not. And to top it all off, Ghost had gone. He rationalized that Ghost had clearly meant that he was coming back. And when he did, he'd explain everything. It would be fine. So fine. Completely fine. Aside from the fact that he's probably kicked from the military.

Ghost slipped back into the room, carrying a small whiteboard, and a marker. He'd wrote something on it before turning it to face soap. It was nothing long, just two words. Quick and lethal. "Burst eardrums" oh...

"Recovery?" He felt the words in his chest when he said them, but he wasn't sure how loud he was being.

"Full recovery. Few weeks" he wrote. Soap found he likes the way he wrote. It was a simple scribble.

"The mission?"

"Success. Few casualties. Demo was KIA. Few others"

It was a bitter win, but it was often best not to dwell on it.

"You look like you got run over by a minivan three times." He says with a cheeky smile. One that always gets him a long-suffering sigh. One that he could see but not hear this time.

"Not the one in the bed." Ghost scribbled, and gave him a pointed look. It only served to make his smile toothier before a yawn broke it. Either exhaustion, or pain medication, or a combination of the two wanted to make him sleep, and he wasn't inclined to agree until ghost pushed him down gently, and scribbled "sleep" in black ink.

The morning after was better. Still inky and underwater, but less panicked. Ghost had stayed as well. Gave him a long list of injuries ontop of his missing hearing.

By the end of the week his hearing had improved a bit, words no longer blended into a blur of tv static. And he's told by Ghost that the doctor said it looked like he'd be back a full hearing in the next three weeks or so.

The second week was when the boredom really hit. It he concentrated hard enough he could parse out syllables, some distinct sounds. Nothing very quiet. But the world made sound again. And he'd taken to pestering ghost to wheeling him around the halls since he wasn't allowed to leave. Not until his hearing was back, and he started on PT.

The third week wqs much the same, aside from starting physical therapy. PT sessions weren'tanythingnew to any of them, but it was always a pain in the ass. But the fourth week, he had full sign off that his hearing was back up to 100%, and he's successfully made good progress on his PT sessions, so he was getting discharged, and sent home on medical leave.

Apparently Ghost had followed right behind him, taking leave of his own. And he declared that he was taking soap to his own flat. Soap didn't much and to protest, but he did to hear the amused tone in Ghost's voice when he bickered with the man.

[b4kuch1n]

thank u for the well wishes! I got better but it did Something to my brain so I've been Experiencing Happenstances. but I'm gettin there!

haha! bit ill

[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

[caffeineandsociety]

There's a specific genre of shitty antisemitic joke that I have seen fly under the radar (as it was designed to) a LOT more often lately - especially since Kanye started going full mask-off nazi - so I feel the need to issue a warning about it. Namely, the genre is jokes that get spread around by people who aren't willfully antisemitic because outside of conspiracy brain rot land, it appears that the point of the joke is absurdism.

As an example, let's examine the 23-and-me lizard DNA test that I've sadly seen floating around unquestioned.

Because, see, to the average person who isn't willfully antisemitic, this genre of joke comes off as nonsequiturs, or hilarious mistakes - you, as a person with some level of basic observational and critical thinking skills, living on Earth and not in whatever batshit mirror dimension conspiracy theorists think we live in, might very well end up getting a giggle out of it because, HAH, we KNEW those DNA ancestry kits were a scam! If you're not a deliberate antisemite but not really up on the dogwhistles, it doesn't scan as anything awful because you're put in mind of things like feeding a photo of something decidedly not human into that one selfie-to-anime neural net, which sometimes works and produces interesting results because the thing is looking for specific patterns and trying to make anything fit - not things like blatantly lying about doing something like that in the hopes that normies who see the absurdity and want to have a laugh at a scummy company's expense will pass it along to people who unironically believe that Jewish people are actual literal lizard aliens and the test proves it.

This is the same strategy that guy at the game awards pulled. You, a person living in reality where the main source of political corruption is just the basic consequence of an economic system that makes power pool in the hands of anyone willing to exploit enough people, a world of banal mundane evil, know damned well that QAnon-pizzagate-satanic ritual abuse cult conspiracy bullshit is, well, bullshit, if you're even familiar with the details of what they believe at all. When someone crashes the stage and thanks Rabbi Bill Clinton, you may very well laugh because to YOU it is a blatant absurd nonsequitur.

Problem is that to someone else, someone who's deep into that shit, it's either someone letting the truth slip, or someone backing the deep state into a corner - whichever is more convenient to believe.

This is one form of how the far right uses memeification (CW: the example discussed in the link is a rape "joke") - it means something totally different to the in-group than it does to the out-group. To you, it's funny because it's nonsensical; to them, it's fun because they think they're onto something huge and they're about to blow this shit wide open and it's going to be their great moment of triumph.

I cannot stress enough that no matter how absurd an antisemitic conspiracy theory sounds to you, there are people who believe it, unironically. There are people who unironically believe that Jewish people are very literally not human and no amount of evidence to the contrary will ever change their minds. There are people who believe that we're born with horns and tails and pointed ears and have them surgically altered to fit in with good Christian humans like some kind of extremely high-stakes game of Among Us. There are people who believe that we steal, ritualistically abuse, and kill Christian babies. These beliefs, while fringe enough that, yeah, most of you who this post is aimed at have never heard them in the wild before very recently, are not nearly as fringe as you probably think they are. Just look at fucking Kanye. This asshole has more fans than there are Jewish people in the world.

So I'm begging you to please, bare minimum, be careful of "absurdist" jokes about Jewish people, especially if they reference lizards, money, banking, or government power. Also, you may see Jewish people debating how religious laws may apply to fictional creatures, but outside of that context you should also be wary of any time Jewish people are mentioned in the same sentence as vampires, dragons, goblins, zombies, fantasy demons, or any number of other fantasy creatures known for greed, feeding on humans, or both.

If the reason it seems funny to you is because you'd have to be really stupid to believe it's true or makes any kind of sense - it's probably looking for you to spread it to people who are, in fact, that stupid.

[octahyde]

Groomer in the TWST Fandom

The post in question is going around again, and as someone who was groomed in online fandoms in high school it makes me absolutely fucking livid that they got away with it the first time.

(Please note that I got Doom’s consent before posting this because it indirectly involves them.)

@_snooboots on twitter has publicly groomed minors.

Sno wrote a thread calling out another user, which I am seeing go around again. The thread has plenty of issues (in certain areas they can have legal action taken against them for cyberstalking, speaking from direct experience), but there’s one in particular that sticks out to me.

The most pressing and disturbing part, however, is that they tagged children in uncensored pornographic images.

(as you can see based on the first screenshot, the censorship in the second and third images were added by me.)

After posting several screenshots, many of which had sexual images along with this literal pornography, Sno ends it with tagging several minors (and one adult):

Note that Sno is 19. Also note that the youngest user tagged is fourteen years old, a literal middle schooler.

Though 16 and 19 may not seem like a major age difference where grooming can take place (in many contexts it isn’t!), there are still cases where it can be. Case in point: I started being groomed by a 19 year old online when I was 16, and it lead to horrible, horrible things happening to me once I turned 18.

The amount of similarities this thread has to my own experiences with being groomed at that age is, point blank, extremely fucking uncomfortable. Though mine was in a slightly different context (it being sent as a “joke”), it was still being told Look How Bad This Porn is. Likewise, if Sno really cared, they would have taken 10 seconds to censor the screenshots before posting, like how I did.

Again, it’s important to note: these images were originally posted on a private account where minors could not access them. They were only made publicly and exposed to children when Sno reposted them.

When called out for sending porn to real life minors, they chose to double down:

Apparently tagging children in a twitter thread with graphic, uncensored pornography because “they asked” is “the right thing”. (Note also that they admit they had also exposed these kids to this prior on a locked account, which is very Normal behavior and opens up the possibility that this isn’t the first time they’ve “called someone out” doing this, but that’s just speculation.)

And again, I would like to reiterate, which Sno themself corroborates in these screenshots: these images were originally posted on a locked account, where only adults Doom knew were allowed in. Sno was the one who posted these images publicly.

I’ve been angry and hurt by this since this thread was first posted. Doom deliberately kept these images away from children. In contrast, this person sent the images to children whom would never see them otherwise to “call them out”. Sno absolutely should not or have gotten away with this.

(Also, as a footnote: do not use this post to start some proshipper vs anti tribalism bullshit. While I’m not that anon, I do absolutely hate both sides equally and both do this kind of thing on a regular basis.)

(EDIT: not that it means much at this point but it was pointed out that I was kinda uhhhh a huge hypocrite with the original screenshot of the thread! That’s been censored now too.)

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Look the damage the lion swap and clone arc has done to the narrative and the plot and the characters has been discussed to death, but we don't talk enough about the damage specifically done to Black Lion's character and judgement

Black Lion of all should have known that Kuron is not Shiro and that Haggar is using him given that 1) It's a telepathic lion who can route through others brains and 2) HAS THE REAL SHIRO INSIDE OF IT!!!!

Like there's no way it didn't atleast suspected something was up, especially given the fact that it is the one who saved Kuron!!! And yet not once did it warn Keith or Kuron or literally anyone and go 'hey, something is not adding up! You might want to take a look?' And it certainly not because it actually cared for Kuron and wanted to give him a chance, no that certainly isn't the case considering it didn't even care that Kuron was killed off and his body was being used to revive Shiro, no not at all. Not Fucking At All!!!

And then the lion swap, good God i can't even- Black Lion is supposed to take someone who is level headed right? Wrong apparently, cause out of everyone it chose the impulsive loner guy who was currently having a mental breakdown. The guy known for dipping and doing whatever he thinks is right, and does infact doing exactly that which nearly killed all the teammates. Yeah that guy. Oh and by the way Black didn't even tell Keith that Shiro is in there, the guy he's having the breakdown over. It also just completely screwed up team roles in a way that team never really recovered from. There's that too

Can i be mean for a second?

[headspace-hotel]

Dwarf fortress update: world #2

This is going much better since now I know what I'm doing with administrating tasks. My population is at 75 and dwarves mostly happy (or at least neutral) now that i have the food and alcohol running more or less automatically

My strategy for keeping the dwarves happy is basically to just browse through their thoughts and figure out what they would like to have/do.

A lot of them get unhappy when "remembering trauma." Too bad "therapist" isn't one of the workshops.

I have literally thousands of raw mussels. I haven't seen a body of water nearby except for "murky pool". Where are they coming from??

If you make stepladders, the dwarves use them to pick fruit off the trees! I have a tropical biome this time so there is a huge abundance of fruit.

I have a yak herd going and I just kill most of the bulls periodically for fresh meat.

My dwarf children keep getting kidnapped????

The stockpile system is fucking CURSED.

The amount of feeding stockpiles into other stockpiles I have to do in order to get a smelter running let alone forge weapons? Horrible

I was using bins to make items stack, and my weapons stockpile had a bin in it.

After about 3 in-game years had passed, for some reason mining and tree chopping orders just...stopped working. Like the tiles would just stay highlighted for eternity.

This persisted for like. 2 more years in game. I figured out quickly that part of the problem was that all of the axes and pickaxes were gone. I had no idea why. I tried all manner of convoluted looney tunes bullshit to try to make new ones without any wood for charcoal and without the ability to mine anything else. I demolished the wagon for wood, but my dumb ass forgot about the work orders I had set and the wood was immediately converted into doors. So next I demolished all the carpenter shops. It was not enough wood.

Eventually I ended up just buying a bunch of wood from the trading caravan and after a protracted battle with my interrelated network of stockpiles, smelted iron bars. Then set the metalsmith to make axes and picks.

The work orders ran just fine. The mining and chopping still wasn't working. I went to my stocks and tracked the location of the new weapons and was led to a wooden bin in the weapons stockpile.

How. do you REMOVE. WEAPONS. FROM THE BIN

For around half an hour I experimented with stockpiles, attempting to force the bin to disgorge its contents. I made and destroyed many different stockpiles with different settings. When the weapons bin was forced into a stockpile that didn't accept bins, it didn't release its contents, instead it became invisible and somehow stacked underneath a different item in the stockpile.

Finally, I figured out the workaround: I made a garbage dump, went into the contents of the bin and marked each individual weapon within as garbage. I'm pretty sure I marked the bin itself as "forbidden?" Anyway after the whole thing was in the garbage, I un-garbaged the weapons one by one, made another weapons stockpile that didn't accept bins, and after fucking with it for a while I liberated the weapons from the Bin of No Return (which stayed forbidden and in the garbage)

At some point in the process all the weapons ended up forbidden and somehow stacked together in one tile. I had to manually unforbidden all of them and destroy and remake stockpiles and garbage dumps several times.

Mining and chopping orders STILL AREN'T WORKING

I try manually equipping pickaxes and axes to dwarves under the "squads" tab. No dice.

Finally. FINALLY. I go into the dwarves' jobs and set it so the miners can ONLY mine EXCLUSIVELY and set some dwarves to be locked into wood cutting as well. This, on top of everything else, fixes the problem.

Don't use bins. Got it.

A cyclops randomly attacked my fortress. I hadn't trained my military or anything so I was worried it would do a lot of damage, but my dwarves killed it pretty much instantly

I saw under the "engrave memorial slab" tab that there was an option to engrave a memorial slab to the cyclops. Which I did, just in case.

I found an underground cavern. Since I found the underground cavern I have been getting "petitions" every 5 minutes with adventurers volunteering to come kill monsters. I have like 12 of them in my fortress now.

Also a bunch of mushrooms are growing up into the areas of my fortress with dirt floors, and several of them can be farmed as underground crops??? I have a room in my fortress that grows "cave wheat" now

i'm guessing the next step is to train my military but idk where to start with that

[nayatarot777]

What Should You Love About Yourself?

Thank you to everyone who has been booking personal readings and tipping! I’ve been able to buy some new oracle decks thanks to you guys. Thank you to everyone who has joined my Patreon too! Much appreciated! 💕💓

• Pile One •

What you should love about yourself is how, despite all of the pain and heartbreak that you’ve experienced thus far, you still put your head down and work at creating the life that you want. You could’ve been like many others and allowed your traumas to put you into a rut and ultimately an end to your efforts in regard to taking control of your life - and you may have experienced moments like that - but you’re extremely resilient. You don’t give up on your own life. You haven’t allowed anything that you’ve gone through to keep you down or break your spirit. You refused to allow yourself to be downtrodden by life’s (or other people’s) bullshit. Many people would consider detaching from emotional pain as a “bad” thing. I disagree. And that seems to be what you’ve done. You seem to not care about the people who’ve hurt you in the past and that’s where your power comes from. Your ability to walk away from people who hurt you is an ability that (I would say) a majority of the population struggles with for a huge portion of their lives. Women especially 👀. You don’t have this self-harming tendency that a lot of people mask as selflessness or love, though. You have great methods of self protection. There’s also a craft or a job that you’ve absolutely perfected that you’ve found a lot of success and recognition with - and if you haven’t yet, then you will! With the amount of time and energy that I’m seeing you invest into this, there’s no way that you don’t. You should love yourself for your ability to really take control over your life and what you create out of it. Your ability to see life from a higher perspective too. The way that you’re not afraid to be seen and show tf out 😂. Because a lot of people don’t reach this level of confidence to put themselves out there like that.

• Pile Two •

You should love your ability to create complete luxury, comfort, and harmony within your own space BY YOURSELF. This may not seem like a big deal to hermits or introverts, but trust me, a lot of people don’t even like themselves enough to like their own energy. That ability in itself is something that you should be giving yourself praise for. Your physical is also something that’s jumping out here. Love the fuck out of your body and your physical appearance, Pile Two. I don’t know if you do a lot of exercise, or if you just eat really well, or if you pamper yourself. You could just be born extremely physically beautiful. But I am seeing that you’re someone who treats your physical body really well. This could be something as simple as validating your body and recognising your beauty for yourself. You should love that you value yourself enough to do that. Your mind is also something that’s being brought to attention. You’re extremely introspective and diligent at taking a look at what’s in your mind. You’ve created a beautiful space for yourself too. Whether this is an external space or a mental space. You’re an extremely abundant person because you know how to attract abundance to yourself. And abundance is a plethora of things; it could mean money, it could mean an abundant mindset (an abundance of knowledge and understanding), it could be an abundant frequency/energy as a person. Whatever this abundance is, I’m seeing that you’re very giving of this abundance. You don’t hoard it, you’re willing to share it with others who are in need of it. I’m seeing that you’re a great manifestor. Mainly because you find things to celebrate in life in general - from the big things to the small things. You definitely work with the cosmos though. Through your inner compass. Are you the types of people who others can’t influence? If so, then this is what keeps you on the correct path. You’re very attached to your opinions and your beliefs and you’re in control of your mind through this way. Once you’re in control of your mind, nobody and nothing can be in control of you. And it takes a particularly powerful person to reach this level.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Pink Moon in Scorpio ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Hey, was your Full Pink Moon in Scorpio great on the 24th/25th of April? It took me a couple of days to realise there was an active shedding and releasing of A FUCKTON of black magick and karmic debris from the collective of people tuned into this PAC. That shedding and releasing was by Divine Mandate, so that’s good to know hahah

After the Full Moon, have you been feeling lighter now? Brighter in the mind? Clearer about your purpose, maybe? More motivated to take the next step? Kinda ironic because Scorpio is the darkest sign of all. But hey, seeds need to break in the dark for them to grow into plants, trees, fruits and flowers, right?

This Full Pink Moon in Scorpio is really associated with rebirth, plant magick and wishing for a victorious blooming of our desires. Scorpio is also a sign associated with the underworld, death and ancestors. Did you know people born with significant Scorpio influences in their birth chart were often born shortly after some death had occurred within the family/bloodline?

Since the Full Pink Moon has passed, have you been feeling the call of your ancestors? You’ve got a huge family of great and wise ancestors you’ve never even met in this incarnation watching over your spiritual development. Each of them loves you and honour all the spiritual work you’ve done in this incarnation. The ripples of your lightwork go beyond what you can comprehend at this moment.

Listen carefully with your pretty heart~ Your ancestors and Spirit Guides are currently very active in guiding you towards your most exciting chapter yet! Stomp forward confidently, babes~!

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Let’s Go Far Away! Far From All the Dra-mama-mama~

s h e d d i n g – Queen of Pentacles Rx

You are not taking anybody else’s karma as yours anymore. You’re done. Fucking done with spiritually taking care of everybody who isn’t even aware of their bullshit karmic load. And on top of that, you’ve been known that these fuckers ain’t ever gonna be grateful anyway. So, why should you bother? You learnt the hard way, didn’t you? Now you’ve truly become a spiritual boss bitch. You ain’t vibing with Love and Light anymore—not like that, at least. You understand now that the whole ‘love and light’ consciousness has been weaponised to neutralise the power of those who can defeat EVIL consciousness.

Now, you understand people are fully responsible for their own healing; for how they react to what’s happening around them and for their own choices. Even their points of view are theirs. You’re not participating in anybody else’s drama anymore. No amount of empathy will ever make you stupid again. That was your decision quite a long time ago and now that resolve has become SOLIDIFIED. Welcome back, spiritual gangster. You’re YOU again~ Now, we watch you quantum jump into your greatest abundance Reality yet!

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Pentacles Rx

I feel like you’ve been in isolation of sort for quite a while, right? Or at least, there’s a clear indication that you’ve not been in communication with too many people. Your ancestors gave you that push to be alone and to clear your aenergetic field from a lifetime’s worth of bullshit you’d absorbed from other people. During this time, you were shielded from further psychological attacks from your environment. But at the same time, you were also being given clear guidance about your next steps.

Your visions and daydreams are not random, so this Full Pink Moon is giving you more reasons to believe all of your gut feelings about your place in the world—about what you’re put on Earth to pursue and manifest. When you’re excited, make sure you share your good news with ONLY those you feel are vibrationally safe to share with. People you know won’t have any business being envious of your progress. Otherwise, keep moving on in silence, dear ghost~ You’re about to become reborn into real riches!

g l o w u p, BITCH – 6 of Wands Rx

The whole aenergy of this Pile is abundance and material riches. I’m being told, you’re building a massive Empire that’s based on real spirituality. An empire that will serve a great number of people and how that contributes to not only your material security but also to the prosperity of all involved with your projects/spiritual work in the future. With that said, your success is needed by the world! You’d better believe there’s no force on Earth strong enough to mess this up.

Your ancestors, in fact, have been setting you up for this success for literally aeons. Even from the aethers they’re still very much actively making this happen. It’s a family project, babe~ You’ve got important codes stored in your DNA—you bloodline is special. One way or another this will continue to get revealed to you through various means your ancestors can think of ;P Your physical beauty, physical prosperity, physical safety and everything is quantum jumping into a much higher octave of Reality.

You’ve set up the foundation well. You’ve sacrificed a lot with so little guidance. Congrats again, welcome Home to 5D Consciosuness~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Hello? Ordering From Future Express~

s h e d d i n g – Page of Pentacles

You’ve been in the process of learning (or preparing) for a big change in your Life. This Full Pink Moon, if anything, is just indicating that you’re ready to mingle in the higher level of whatever you’re graduating from. Rather than becoming a student, you’re becoming an actual employee, worker, or expert at this thing you’ve been studying/preparing for. You have a lot of knowledge that’s ready to be shared by those who can benefit from your work. So, congrats~!

Of all the Piles, I sense your journey thus far has been pretty much lighthearted. It isn’t to say some traumatic things haven’t happened, but no matter your age, you’re such a wise optimist. You’re the type that can always say, ‘Oh well, I did learn and gain valuable lessons from it.’ You have an awareness of your surrounding and the events that visit your everyday Life, so you’re not often bothered to the degree some of the other Piles are XD

t r a n s f o r m i n g – Knight of Cups Rx

I sense that many of you reading this have been in the active process of manifesting a new kind of Reality. You’ve daydreamed and fantasised a lot—too much, sometimes LOL But I’m getting that your heart is literally constantly pulled in that direction because you’re literally that close to manifesting this Reality. Of course, when we say ‘close’, some of you may wonder how that’s even possible because you don’t feel like you’ve done a lot.

But I’m being told that your manifestation is heavily ‘water based’, meaning it is highly based on the emotions produced during your daydreaming~ As long as you maintain the feeling, the optimism, the feel-good vibes from those daydreams, you’re GUARANTEED to get every single thing you’ve envisioned for yourself. I betcha you have significant Water sign placements or planets in Water Houses in your natal chart :D

g l o w u p, BITCH – 5 of Cups

I know that recently you feel like you’ve lost something important. Although you’re positive and optimistic, it’s only natural that people can still dwell in the negative emotions caused by the shock of any kind of loss. You can take your time. But also know that this Full Pink Moon is promising you a way to rebuild or rediscover in another form what you’ve lost. What’s been lost or broken will be renewed and you will be a lot happier.

By this, the general message is that you have so much good fortune and success in the future. It’s almost like, your daydreams have been ordered from the future express and delivered to your doorstep as feel-good thought-forms. For now, they may be only thought-forms, but you’re being directed to the right place, so don’t lose sight of those visions, OK? For the most part, I think most of you already know this—you just needed some kind of a validation ^o^v

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Calm in the World, Lucky Girl~

s h e d d i n g – 7 of Swords

Ooohhh my lucky guuurl~ You’re the lucky Pile, but actually, you’ve worked really hard to increase your luck quotient in this world! Of all the Piles, you’ve transmuted a lot of karmic bullshit in your bloodline—things like toxic mindsets which were passed down by your elders. I think you’ve worked the hardest to transform yourself whilst carrying generational bullshit which you vowed would stop with you, because you wouldn’t want these mindsets or ways of living to be passed down to the next generations.

And in your case, I get that you’re not just thinking about your own bloodline; you’re also thinking about stopping these toxic ways of living and being for all people belonging to your generation and the next. You’re thinking global—you’re thinking cosmic. This Pile is definitely for those of you who identify as being a witch or a mystic or something similar in nature. You are now shedding ugliness. All the ugliness in the ways you were brought up.

t r a n s f o r m i n g – 9 of Cups

No matter when you come across this reading, within just a couple months your abundance level is going to visibly get better. This sense of abundance is going to be real—not just a mindset thing—it’s going to be physical. You’ve been working so hard for so long on the mental and spiritual level, and in many cases, you might’ve felt like your spiritual work hasn’t produced anything tangible at all. And this could’ve often dimmed your light and made you cry, because it felt like your struggles were never going to end.

You were going in circles, but babe, you were always spiralling up out of that hell that was created for you. I think you just didn’t realise that. The path was never straight; it was a spiral in which you were spiralling and meeting old wounds and healing them, but the whole time, you were spiralling UP! Okay? The exit is close. Dang, many of you tuning into this are already out! The real physical abundance is following along tightly. Look forward to this year’s Lion’s Gate, Wise Ones~! You’ll be surprised! <3

g l o w u p, BITCH – 10 of Wands

In the deck I’m using, 10 of Wands depicts an array of soldiers who’ve just finished warring. They’re back home now, exhausted, traumatised, needing a lot of care and ease after a long battle, and are probably still in a war mindset after being in it for quite some time, right? But the important thing is that they’re home; that the war is OVER. It is OVER. It’s peacetime now. You’ve just got to celebrate all you’ve done for your country (yourself) and relish in a good bowl of soup to soothe your aching heart.

Recuperation and relaxation are crucial for you right now. You need all the TLC you could give to yourself, so in that sense, if there’s somebody who could be of some assistance to you, don’t hesitate to ask for help so your Life can be a little easier. For the time being, you need to be taken care of. Sooner than later, you will be jumping into a different kind of an exciting bandwagon straight to your Destiny~ Then, you can help others~!

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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