#petco sucks

[mcromwell]

Growing up is learning how to be real with yourself.

[t3acupz]

Going off of the tags about "what if guinea pigs instead of dogs"

Can you imagine hannibal going into will's house to snoop and instead of dogs who want sausage it's like 30 guinea pigs SCREAMING for snacks.

you’ve had guinea pigs before haven’t you 😂 because yesss they make better guard dogs than actual dogs! hannibal can’t just bribe them with some sausage links, he would have to bring a truck load of vegetables that they’d devour in minutes and then chase him around the house nipping his ankles until he gave them more

[specialneedz]

feel like a complete dog rn. time to make a stupid purchase

[bloodibambiidoll]

Rafe Cameron x Bimbo!Reader ~ bratty reader, daddy kink, hinted pet play, implied blow job 18+MDNI! Part 2

“Daddy, pleeeease?”

“I just don’t understand why you’d wanna do that when they have those fancy ass ones I could custom order for you?” Rafe is looking down at you like you just grew a second head, his eyebrow cocked while he waits for a response.

“Because, I saw it on TikTok and I thought it was a really cute idea!! I thought it would be fun for us to do together!!” You pout up at him all doe eye’d like you know he loves, your hands clasped together under your chin.

“You saw it on fuckin’ TikTok, of course. You and those god damn trends.” He scoffs at you, rolling his eyes. “My girl isn’t gonna walk around wearing a cheap ass pet collar, if you want something like that I’ll get you an actually nice one. Hey, quit with that fuckin’ face, alright?”

“That’s not what I want!” You let out a little huff, stomping your foot. “I think the little collars and dog tags look super cute! Are you saying I wouldn’t look cute?”

“Kitty, I’m warning you, drop the fuckin’ attitude.” He leans down to your level with a stern look on his face. “Or else you’re gonna regret it. And you won’t get shit.”

“Pleaseeeeee.” You stick your bottom lip out extra, clasping your hands together tighter so it accentuates your cleavage in your little top. “Why can’t we get both? We can just get this one until whatever ‘fancy’ one you wanna buy comes!”

“No.”

A smirk spreads across your lips as you drop to your knees in front of him, reaching for his belt.

“Are you sure, daddy?” You bite your lip, looking up at him through hooded eyes.

“You can suck my dick all you want baby girl, I’m still not taking you to fuckin’ Petco for a collar.”

“We’ll see about that.” You pull his shorts and boxers down, taking his cock all the way down your throat without warning.

“Oh fuuuuckkkkk”

Hours later you’re walking out of the pet store with your cute little pink collar that has “Kitty” engraved into the silver heart tag dangling from it. Rafe insisted on putting his name and phone number on the back.

“I thought you wanted to be my pet, princess? We have to make sure people know who to return you to, in case you get lost.”

[nabsthevulture]

Okay petsmart coming in clutch with a 50 percent off deal. The tank comes with a bunch of shit that I do not need though, so i'll probably be selling all that stuff on offer up

so i got a nice 10 gallon with a sliding lid, and all that shit, for 42 dollars after using my 6 dollars in rewards

normally? that tank is 90 dollars

ty petsmart

Tell me why a 10 gallon tank for the Spookies is fucking $68 dollars

[alltheirdamn]

Chapter 1: Opening Day

Series summary: You've seen it all as the team's lead photographer. You're in the tunnel before the games, on the sidelines for each inning, and always around the players. When Frankie Morales is called up for the new season, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can't quite explain. Chapter summary: It's opening day at Petco Park, and you finally meet the team's new star catcher. Rating: 18+ (Eventual smut) Word Count: 5k Tags: Triple Frontier AU, OFC! character described as having red hair and freckles, meet-cute, two big dummies bound to catch feelings, mutual pining, slow burn, future smut, duel pov, baseball terminology, etc. A/N: Hi!!! Well, welcome to the series! I'm really excited to share this lil story with you all. I've never really written an OC! before, so hopefully I don't totally butcher it. Anyway, I'm a bit nervous but please enjoy!

Masterlist | Baseball 101

Point. Click. 

Point. Click. 

The camera shutter echoes through the stadium tunnel as you settle into your usual game-day routine. It’s your third year on the media team for the Padres, and you’re beyond eager for the new season to begin. Nothing beats the thrill of baseball season, and it definitely doesn’t suck when an endless array of beautiful men in tight polyester uniforms surrounds you.

Perched on the ground, you angle your camera down the tunnel to capture the boys as they arrive. Benny Miller, the team’s starting shortstop, waltzes through the hall after a few managers get their head start. He’s got on his usual athleisure wear, a workout bag slung over his back, and his blonde hair tousled in a way that’s both messy and intentional.

Point. Click. 

“Welcome back, Benny,” you say, your camera angled a bit higher to adjust to his height.

“Hey to you too, Red,” he grins. 

America’s heartthrob, you think.

Not far behind him is his brother, Will—or Ironhead, as they all call him. He’s been a vet on the team for nearly five years and is one of the top left-handed pitchers in the league. No doubt, with last season's standings, he’ll take them far this year. He’s got the best ERA out of any team in the National League, and his brotherly dynamic with Benny is unmatched. The only difference between Will and Benny, though, is their personalities. Where Benny is outgoing—and a bit flirtatious—Will is reserved and collected. He’s the voice of reason and the glue that holds the entire time together. 

“Hey, Will!” 

You snap a quick photo, all too aware of how much he hates the attention. He gives you a subtle nod and continues down the tunnel behind Benny. 

Santiago Garcia is the next to make his entrance, his infectious smile perfect for a candid moment. Santi was the rookie outfielder last year, securing himself a spot in the All-Star Game with his defensive playing in center field against the stronger teams. You’ve never seen such an arm on someone, and the way he commands the field is wildly impressive. His gigantic ego and self-assurance are also quite impressive and sometimes a bit aggravating. But, you let it slide. He’s a sweet man through and through and has, thankfully, never hit on you. 

Unlike the majority of the sports world. 

Especially when it comes to women working in the media industry. 

You’re convinced Santi has some sort of sixth sense for the camera because the moment you line up for the shot, he’s already sporting a wide grin directed straight at you. 

“Hola, Red,” he says, waving in your direction.

“You know I have a real name, right?” You toss back.

“Whatever you say, Red.”

You roll your eyes as he walks past you, chuckling to yourself as you scroll through the photos logged into your camera. Making a mental note of which to select for the social media posts, you realign the camera back to eye level and squint through the lens. 

The team's newest addition walks straight down the tunnel, with his head low and eyes covered by the visor of his ballcap. Francisco Morales had been called up from triple just a week before opening day. You hadn’t read up much on him or his stats, but you know he’s done quite the work as the catcher for the El Paso Chihuahuas. There had been talks of who they’d have replacing Tom Davis after his season-ending injury last year, and Francisco was their best prospect. 

“Welcome to the team, Francisco!” You holler before snapping a photo.

He barely glances up, but you catch a rosy tint coloring the tanned skin of his face and a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. He’s dressed far differently than the other boys: loose khaki pants, a basic cotton shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He doesn’t even carry a bag with him, just a plastic bottle of water gripped tightly in one very large hand. 

You’ve been with the team long enough to know his personality is far more reserved than the rest, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable, even. Maybe that’s just the game-day jitters getting to him. 

“Can I get one of you looking at the camera?” You ask before adding a polite please at the end.

He hesitates but ultimately obliges. Through the camera lens, you meet his eyes—the soft, warm brown of his irises boring into you so intensely it causes you to falter over the shutter button. Like any baseball player, he’s got that signature scruffy face, with a distinct mustache over his plush lips and a patchy beard covering his jaw. Despite his introverted demeanor, Francisco steals the air from your lungs just from a simple glance. It’s as if he’s giving you this one moment to capture who he is, and you take it without hesitation.

Point. Click.

“Thank you, Francisco. Good luck today!”

You’re acutely aware of how shaky your voice is, which is unusual given that he hasn’t even spoken to you. 

“Frankie,” he offers as he walks past.

The raspy low pitch of his voice reverbs inside your head, and you only manage to nod in agreement to his wishes. 

Frankie. You can do that. 

**

“So, what are your predictions for game one?” Ryan asks, nudging you slightly.

You’re both crouched behind home plate shooting pre-game warmup photos, the volume in the stadium growing as more fans trickle in. You switch out your sim card and set up your camera for action shots, too focused on getting the right angle of the outfielders to respond. 

Ryan has been your partner in crime on the media team since the start, and both of you got hired right out of college. While you focus more on the game-day action, Ryan usually tends to the off-day social media posts and team engagement with fans. It’s a fair trade-off, plus you’re far more invested in the sport than Ryan is ever willing to admit.

“Hellllooo?” He waves a hand in front of your camera lens.

“I don’t like giving predictions, Ryan. You know that,” you grumble.

“You and your weird superstitions, Red.”

“It’s not weird,” you counter. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the broadcasting curse? If I say something aloud, it’s bound to go the other way, and my hopes will be crushed.”

Ryan adjusts the focus on his lens, shrugging absently at your argument. 

“It’s the first game. Even if they lose today, there’s still six months left in the season.”

“No one wants to lose their first game.”

“You care too much,” he says, but there’s a lightness in his tone.

He knows you care more than you let on. Baseball has been something ingrained in you since you were just a kid. Your dad spent the greater half of his life as the pitching coach for UCLA, dragging you to nearly every game of the season since before you could even walk. You were raised sitting in the dugout with a handful of sunflower seeds in your hand and a baseball cap covering your red hair. Being a part of a baseball team in some capacity had always been in your future, but after your dad passed away when you were just starting college, you centered your entire life around it. You threw yourself into photography, taking every chance at capturing moments that could give you just a second of nostalgia. The photos weren’t just for school, a baseball team, or a social media page… they were for you. It was your way of coping. The longer you could stay on the field, the longer you could live in that bubble of the past. 

Your dad was gone, but you still had baseball. And you’d never give it up. 

“Think Morales is gonna make his mark on the team?” Ryan asks, steering the subject in a different direction.

You tense up, locked on the memory of Frankie’s big brown eyes. There’s something about him that skyrockets your heart rate, and you aren’t sure if it’s in a good way. You search the field for those dark curls, looking at everybody on the field,  trying to spot him during the warmup. Crestfallen, you give up your search and resume snapping photos.

“I think he’ll do just fine,” you say dismissively.

“His batting average in the minors was insane,” Ryan rambles. “Just hopes it sticks here in the big leagues. You know how it is sometimes.”

You did know. Too often, have you seen star minor league players appear on the big stage and choke. Something about Frankie Morales makes you believe he won’t end up like that. There was something in his eyes that told you otherwise, a seriousness that showed this game meant something to him. 

You liked that. 

“Where’s your station for the game?” Ryan asks.

“First base. I might have to step into the bullpen for some shots if they let me.”

“I’m sure the boys will love that,” he teases.

“Oh, fuck off. They’re harmless.”

“I don’t know, Red. I see the way they look at you.”

You deadpan, giving him an icy stare. None of the boys thought of you that way, and you didn’t think of them differently. This was a job. They played the game; you took the photos. 

That was the end of it. 

“I think you’re seeing things,” you argue.

“I mean, Benny is giving you fuck me eyes from across the field right now,” Ryan shrugs.

You steal a glance out to the in-field to find Ryan is, in fact, correct. With his free hand, Benny tosses you a flirtatious wave before throwing the ball back to Santi across the field. 

“He flirts with everyone,” you say pointedly. “Did you see how many girls he brought back to his hotel rooms last season?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding one more.”

You punch Ryan in the arm, clearly annoyed with his pushy behavior toward the subject. Grabbing your equipment bag from the ground, you toss him a quick finger and haul your stuff down to the media room under the stadium. 

**

Frankie isn’t in the right mindset when the National Anthem concludes before the game. He’s not one to get nervous before playing, but something about seeing Petco Park sold out for opening day has him fidgeting. The only saving grace is having Santi playing alongside him. 

He and Santi met back in college, playing together from Sophomore year until Senior year when they got drafted to different teams. Santi was selected in the third round by the Houston Astros and was traded a year later to the Padres. Frankie got drafted by the Padres right away in the fifth round. He spent the last four years in the minors, just waiting to get called up.

Now, the moment is here, and he’s terrified.

Frankie doesn’t like to admit it often, but he holds himself to a higher standard. He’s fucked up in life a few times, and it’s cost him his happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up now. Not when the entire world is watching. 

“Estás bien?” Santi asks Frankie as they head into the dugout. 

“I’m fine,” Frankie says, but his tone says otherwise. 

There’s a haze over his mind, a fog he can’t shake. Santi claps him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

“It’s just first-game nerves, Catfish. It’ll pass after the first at-bat.”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He’s got a lump in his throat, and he can’t quite swallow it. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his closest friend—or the team. He can’t be a disappointment. He has to be good. He has to be the best. 

He has to prove himself.

Frankie runs out onto the field, securing his catcher's mask over his face. The weight of his gear feels like a comforting anchor, leveraging him to keep his mind focused. There’s a roar from the crowd as he takes his place behind home base, and the applause and cheers only make things worse. He’s under the lights, he’s got thousands watching, and this is his one shot. 

The first pitch comes fast, a sinker that falls perfectly into his glove. Strike one. Will is on the mound, his face stoic and focused on the batter standing to the right of Frankie. There’s still some trust to gain between them both, and Frankie hopes he proves himself today. Will throws a slider next, down low and right past the bat. 

Strike two. 

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Frankie and Will waltz between batters. An easy one, two, three, and they’re out of the top of the first. Frankie runs alongside Will as they head toward the dugout, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.

“Great job out there, Morales,” Will says. “Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks, Miller. You’re solid on the mound. Those sliders are insane,” Frankie commends. 

“Gotta keep them on their toes. Now, get ready for the bottom of the inning. Show them what you can do out there.”

As Frankie steps into the dugout, he nearly collides with a body nestled into the corner of the steps. Her red hair is tousled into a ponytail, the bill of her Padres ball cap shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, stepping out of the way.

He recognizes her from earlier, the media girl in the tunnel. Frankie was so wrapped up in his thoughts earlier he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was: bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a face covered in freckles. 

“All good,” he huffs, too flustered to choke out any more words.

“You look good out there,” she smiles. 

Frankie runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, no doubt looking a mess. He needs to focus—needs to move—but he can’t seem to make his way past her. 

“Be careful with Akin’s pitches,” she adds. “He tends to throw his fastballs up in the corner of the zone.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nods. He’s surprised at how much she pays attention.

“Yo! Catfish!” Santi calls from down in the dugout. “Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m assuming you’re Catfish?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Frankie grumbles. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go see what he wants.”

“It’s all good. I’m moving down to first base, so I’ll be out of the way.” 

She rises to her feet and gives Frankie one final smile before stepping onto the dirt. Frankie watches as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her with every step. 

Focus. 

**

Halfway through the batting order, you’re already onto your next sim card. You usually space out the amount of footage you take, but the game is electric. The Padres are up three to zero, thanks to a home run from Benny—obviously—and a few quick plays made by Santi and Chris Holmes. 

With two outs in the sixth, Frankie is up to bat. His first plate appearance was abysmal, with a groundout to third base. You saw his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field; he didn’t take it lightly. It’s just the first game, you tell yourself. He’ll do just fine. 

Akin throws the first pitch, a fastball, just as you expect. Frankie takes the strike and readjusts himself for the next pitch. It’s outside the zone, and he tracks it carefully. You hold your breath as he hits a full count, three balls, two strikes… and wait. Akin places a screwball down low, but Frankie manages to get a piece of it and sends it sailing into center field for a double. You startle yourself with how loud you cheer, watching his muscled body run past first and onto second base. You’re so caught up in watching him you forget to snap a photo.  

You scold yourself for missing the opportunity to capture his first hit for the team. Why are you so fixated on him? None of the other guys have ever caused you to miss a shot; no one has ever tripped you up this badly. But Frankie… there’s just something about him. He’s not self-assured like the rest. He’s not cocky in the slightest. Honestly, he looked terrified when you ran into him after the top of the first inning. Before your mind starts wandering off, you check the settings on your camera and return to shooting footage. 

The team wins five to zero. Fireworks sparkle through the night sky as the stadium begins to clear out, and you start to return to the dugout. Benny and Will are in a tight embrace as you step under the awning, your camera gear slung over your back. 

“Great win, boys,” you say, giving them each a high five. 

“Did you ever doubt us?” Benny teases, giving you a smug grin. 

“Not for a minute.”

The Miller brothers make their way down into the clubhouse, leaving you standing alone in the dugout. You peel off your ballcap and remove your ponytail, letting your hair fall down your shoulders. 

“Thanks for the advice on Akin.”

The voice startles you, and you search through the shadows to find Frankie sitting alone at the end of the bench. He’s got his glove resting beside him and his bat propped between his feet. He should be celebrating with the team down in the clubhouse, yet he’s here by himself under the stadium lights and swirling shadows. 

“I’ve got plenty more if you ever need it,” you tell him. 

Frankie doesn’t respond, but his eyes stay locked on yours. The stadium lights illuminate the rich chocolate inside his irises, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” You wonder. “I’m sure they’re all celebrating the first win of the season.”

“Just wanted some time alone, I guess. Soak it all in, you know?”

You walk toward him, cautious on whether or not to get any closer. You aren’t sure if he even wants company, but you can’t seem to steer yourself away. 

“Was it everything you hoped for?” You ask. 

“It could’ve been better.”

Frankie moves his glove into his lap, offering you a space beside him on the bench. Though you feel reluctant, something inside you forces your legs to move. You want to be nearer to him, to get close enough to see past this wall he’s built up. You’re used to some players being quiet and shy, like Will. At least with Will, though, he’s fun when there’s no stress on his shoulders. He relaxes a bit from time to time and lets his guard down. Something you’ve yet to see with Frankie. 

Sliding onto the bench beside him, you adjust your camera into your lap and lay your ballcap over your knee. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Frankie’s head tilt slightly, his eyes trained on your legs. There’s still a healthy gap between you both, yet the warmth of his body swarms around you. 

“Are you with the team full-time?” He asks. 

You glance at him, studying the way his hair curls around his ears and at the base of his neck. There’s a tension in his jaw that flexes under his beard, a simple twitch that happens after every time he speaks. Despite the timid exterior, you can’t help but to notice the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

“Mostly just for home games,” you explain. “I only really travel with the team if they invite me on the road. They like having extra media presence for the bigger series, and whatnot. If I could be at every game, I absolutely would. Sitting on the sidelines beats having to watch it on the TV or listening to the radio.”

Frankie nods along as you talk, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking of what to say. Avoiding any more awkward silence, you flick on your camera and scroll through the photos, presenting him with a few you’d taken during his first appearance at the plate. His arm brushes yours slightly as he leans in closer, staring at the photo far longer than you expect. 

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to take a photo of you after that double in sixth,” you admit. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I like this one.”

It’s a photo of him swinging at a curveball, his bat posed perfectly in the center of the box, and his muscular thighs flexed under his pinstripe uniform. You have to admit, it is a good shot—and he looks amazing mid-swing. Your eyes flick up to his, realizing he’s already looking at you. Thank God for the shadows inside the dugout, or else Frankie would see the way your face warms at his words. You don’t ever share your footage with the guys until it’s posted on the social media pages, but it feels different with Frankie. It strangely feels nice. 

“I feel like an asshole, I don’t think I’ve even asked for your name,” he says. 

“The guy’s normally just call me Red,” you shrug. 

“But that’s not your name.”

You tell him your name, and listen to his gentle voice echo it back. It’s rare you hear your name nowadays. Everyone just refers to you as ‘Red’, like it’s who you are. It doesn’t bother you, necessarily, but finally hearing someone acknowledge you makes your stomach flip. Frankie’s eyes never leave yours, and you realize how close you both have gotten. His leg is pressed against yours, and you can still faintly smell the turf on his uniform. He must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts his legs inward. Shutting your camera off, you let it rest in your lap between your hands. There’s a quiet buzz between your bodies, a comfortable cocoon of shared silence that seems to swell with each passing second. 

“I, um, I should probably head down there with the guys,” Frankie says after a while. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I kept you too long.”

Frankie rises from the bench, his thick fingers wrapping around the neck of his bat. He offers you a hand, and you shrink under his height as you move to stand. 

“I didn’t mind the company.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face, just an easy curve of his lips as he stares at you a moment longer. You should move. You should definitely move. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,” you say. “Great job out there tonight.”

“Thank you.” He says your name, again, emphasizing it as if to prove a point. A gentle reminder that you’re more than just a nickname. 

**

“What took you so long, Catfish?” Santi yells from across the clubhouse. 

He’s already showered and got on his casual clothes for the drive home, something Frankie should have been doing. Instead, he had been helplessly wasting time sitting next to the photographer he had seen around all day. 

Frankie tears his baseball cap off his head, tossing it into his locker as he unbuttons his uniform. He’s still mentally picking apart the day—what he did wrong, what he could improve on—but in each thought, her shiny red hair and doe eyes make a reappearance. Shaking his head, he strips off his undershirt and searches through his stall for a fresh one. 

“Got to chatting with the team photographer,” he says, shrugging the shirt over his chest.

Santi leans against the locker stall, his mouth quirked up in a teasing grin. Frankie already knows what he’s going to say, and he regrets ever mentioning it. 

“Distracted by Red, huh?” Santi teases. “She’s got that affect.”

“She’s not distracting,” Frankie defends. “She just came down to show me some of the pictures she took, and we talked a bit. That’s all.” 

He hopes his clipped words are enough to steer Santi away from the conversation, but Santi can see right through him. 

“Red never shows anyone her photos. None of us ever see what she’s got on that camera until they’re online.”

For some reason, Frankie loves knowing he’s the exception. He saw the way she lit up as she scrolled through the footage, clearly proud of her work. Hell, he doesn’t even care she missed his big play. She spent that time in the dugout with him while his mind was a mess, and gave him a reprieve from the clouded thoughts that the game left him with. Was it awful that he was only looking forward to tomorrow’s game so he could see her again? 

“Maybe she feels bad for me, I don’t know,” Frankie huffs.

He slips on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Santi watches him suspiciously, tracking the tense movements Frankie makes as he gathers his stuff to leave. 

“She’s a nice girl, you know, and she knows her shit, too. Hell, half the guys have tried to grab her attention the last few years, and she’s never been interested.”

“What makes you think she’s interested in me?” 

“I don’t know,” Santi drawls out the words. “Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, shoving past Santi and out of the clubhouse. He steers clear of the other guys as they walk together out to their cars. No one has said much to him yet, and he’s okay with it. Frankie knows he’s the new guy and it’ll take some time for everyone to warm up to him. The only person that seems to be welcoming so far, was Red. Maybe that’s just who she was, but Frankie found himself working Santi’s words over and over inside his head. Red never shows anyone her photos. What made Frankie so special, then? Was he right to think she felt bad for him? If she hadn’t been interested in anyone else, then why did she spend that time with him? 

The apartment is pitch black when Frankie opens the door. Flicking on the lights, he takes in the empty space. Moving boxes scatter the hallway, leading into the renovated kitchen. Frankie barely got the keys to his new place in San Diego two days ago, leaving him little time to settle in before opening day. After this series he’ll be on the road for a week, without any time to get acclimated. Traveling never bothered him, but he wished he could just stop and breathe for one minute. You wanted this, he reminds himself. He’s worked too hard the last several years to let this opportunity pass. The boxes can wait, at least for now.

Tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa, Frankie slumps against the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been itching to look at his phone since he left the stadium, but he held off. Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight. Digging out his phone from his pocket, Frankie opens Instagram and refreshes the page. Sure enough, the media team already made a post-game slideshow…with Frankie’s at-bat being the first photo. 

The same one he told her he liked the most. 

His thumb hovers over the post as he debates whether or not to look at the rest. He’s already got his one photo, there wouldn’t be any need to give fans more. Yet, as he slides his thumb left over the screen, there’s another photo of himself—from the pre-game walk through the tunnel. Even though his eyes are staring directly into the camera, he knows that wasn’t what he was looking at. His entire focus had been on the girl behind the camera. 

Frankie opens the team’s Instagram page and scrolls through the ‘following’ tab, searching for her name. It’s just innocent curiosity, that’s all it is, but as he finds her name down the list, he’s tempted to press the button. The blue Follow button taunts him, begging him to make the move. Her profile picture is a simple mirror shot, half her face covered by her camera. He wants to see more, like this odd desperation to know her past the lens she hides behind. Before he talks his way out of it, Frankie taps Follow, and sends his phone sailing across the room. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and sits there silent on the ground. He tips his head back against the couch, pitching the bridge of his nose. God, he feels stupid. 

A soft buzz resounds through the room. Frankie slides his eyes toward his phone, seeing the carpet illuminated by the screen. Just a coincidence, he thinks. Despite the denial he spews inside his mind, he moves from the couch to retrieve his phone. 

Red has accepted your follow request. 

Red started following you. 

Frankie stares at the screen with a stupid grin on his face. He scrolls through her page, finding a surplus of photographs of the stadium, the beach, and a few cityscape shots from various cities. There isn’t a single photo of her, though. He studies each photo, wondering what she saw through the lens of the camera, wishing he could see just one of her face. As he makes his way down her page, a message notification pops onto the screen. 

Red: I hope it’s okay I posted that photo of you. 

Frankie: Absolutely. 

Red: Ok, good. I liked it, too. 

Frankie: Santi told me you don’t show anyone your photos. 

Red: Of course he did. LOL. I’m just protective over my work. I like to keep things private.

Frankie: Why’d you show them to me? 

Frankie watches as text bubbles appear and disappear over and over for at least a minute. He half considers turning his phone off for the night to avoid her response. He shouldn’t care why she showed him, but the thought of it would keep him up all night, wondering why he was deserving of it and not anyone else. His phone buzzes in his hands, and Frankie quickly opens the message. 

Red: I don’t know. You’re the only person I really felt like sharing it with. 

Frankie: I feel honored. Any time you want to share them, I’m always around. 

Red: I’m holding you to that. 

Frankie thinks of a million things to reply with, but his fingers don’t move; all he can think about is seeing her again tomorrow.

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

It's amazing how many adults are unwilling to lie even if it's for their own benefit. Lie to the HOA. Lie to that guy who sucks who you don't want to talk to. Lie to the cashier at the petco to get more treats for your dog. Lying is OK if it ain't hurting anyone. And especially if it can get you safely out of dangerous situations. The creepy guy at the 7/11 doesn't need to know that you live alone. You live with your husband and pet pitbull for the rest of that conversation.

[the0retically]

The Suckening thoughts-#6 Meet Your Maker:

Spoilers below but my god that was a cool episode

- The intros get crazier and crazier and I love it

- Part 2?? Oh!! Goodness I have no idea how many episodes there will be of this and I’m so Scared because they all said it emotionally destroyed them

- …why are they spending this long on this intro,,,,please

- GOD THE MUSIC SLAPS SO MUCH NATHAN HANOVER THANK YOU FOR MAKING AN AMAZING SCORE

- GREFGORE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CHARLIE PLEASE

- Emizel’s “I HAVE QUESTIONS!” makes me So sad

- “Arthur do you see Grefgore anywhere?” SHILOOOOOOO :((((((

- “Arthur please just wait for like 45 minutes” “….is there a pet store nearby” PLEASE??

- SIBLING BONDING EXERCISE!!

- God why are they going back in????

- Ok yeah cat emizel, he has claws

- This is a nightmare what the hell, but good! Go get Grefgore!

- SHILO?? GO WITH YOUR BROTHER

- They’re just redoing it??????? Y’all pleaseeeeee…Charlie’s just like “yeah this will be Exactly the same!!”

- “What is another life for Grefgore!” Shilo I love you, thank god you’re going to try and get him

- And god emizel is Alone what the hell

- And they had to leave Condi alone goodness

- NO! THATS THE QUESTION HE WANTS ANSWERED?? brooooooo

- Ok that entire exchange made me so sad, he lost when him and the demons got their hideout, sure he was able to get Grefgore back (LETS GOOOOOOOOO!!!!!) but he Still does not have an answer to why he was abandoned and Shilo got to stay :((((( emizel buddy :(((

- Rip Arthur Petco is closed

- BIZLY IS SO HAPPY ABOUT GREFGORE BEING BACK!

- ……….weird digital glitching?? Excuse me?

- Also god why is Shilo’s aura mortal

- Awwwwwww shilo goes to hug grefgore!!

- “Can vampires regrow their heads?” “……………….what?” Oh god Grizz please don’t cut grefgore’s head off

- “Permission to hug you back my prince?” “Of course!” “Big day for grefgore!” PLEASE :)))

- “You still have many hours for the night” “is that true?” “….yeah?? No! You caught me in one of my DM lies!” iconic exchange

- Oh my god what is happening with this poor nurse, just let her go!!

- Oh god now this has become a sitcom bit what is happening, shilo is just concerned for this woman’s life but emizel and Arthur are trying to get her to get Vanya’s schedule

- :( Arthur telling the boys they don’t have to come with is Very sad

- “If Grefgore is truly a burden to you then I shall go get blood” GREFGORE NO YOURE NOT A BURDEN

- No vents? Damn rip

- Thank god no Arthur frenzy

- LAZARUS????? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

- He’s in the toilet???

- Oh a little family reunion!

- ……….why is this sus, is that really Lazarus?

- WHY IS HE PUSHING A PHEASANT THROUGH THE TOILET PORTAL?

- Charlie’s curse as a DM is just making insane animal noises

- …..is shilo allergic to birds?? Why is he sneezing bizly please let him enjoy the bird

- “Well it is what it is!” LAZARUS PLEASE

- The chaos of the twins to the seriousness of Arthur is Such a juxtaposition

- Oh…Arthur killed his family, god this is heartbreaking

- “Why did you use me?” “Because it was the most effective way” GOD PLEASE

- God props to Charlie and Grizz for this whole interaction, I love this

- OH STAKE RIGHT THROUGH HER HEART

- Arthur popping off, it’s incredibly sad but good for you! Burn her!!!!!! She’s the reason your family is dead, kill her!!!!

- Arthur I love you I’m so sorry your life has been this tragic

- EMIZEL DID NOT ANSWER AND SAY “YELLOW?”

- Jonny???? Oh god, why is there a hit on the demons??

- Thank god soda isn’t there! Please Charlie say soda isn’t there

- HA GRIZZ REALIZING THAT EMIZEL FORGOT THE GANG WAS SO GOOD

- But emizel remembers Theo at least!! That’s good!

- SHILO IS GETTING THE OLD PEOPLE TO BEAT UP EMIZELS SIRE????? IM CRYING OH MY GOD

- What???? Metal???? What is up with this vampire

- Please tell me emizel isn’t going to die again

- Why did they leave Grefgore behind???

- “YOU SHOULD’VE JUST LET ME SUCK YOU MAN!” “WELL I’M SORRY I SUCKED BACK!” ????????

- SHILO RALLY THE OLD PEOPLE!!!!!

- Charlie is that old man Earl????

- EMIZEL IS DEAD AGAIN??????

- “The Wylan twins send their regards” ??????? HUH??

- Shilo is just a sweet boy :( but GET OUT OF THERE

- SHILO GETS HIT TOO?

- “Next session is going to be the adventures of Arthur and Grefgore!”

- Shilo please get out of there

- GOOD RUN!! GET OUT OF THERE

- SHILO PLEASE YOU CANNOT DIE

- WHAT THE HELL

- TAKE GOD FOR REFLEXIVE HEALING

- MINUS FIVE TO EVERY ROLL??

- HE MADE IT! HE SACRIFICED THE OLD PEOPLE HES BLEEDING OUT BUT HES OK!!

- EMIZEL HI??

- Get out of the sun my boy!!

- Oh,,,,,,,oh no?? He has no arms or legs oh my god, he’s tied to a chair and his mouth is sewn shut????

- HORROR HORROR HORROR

- CHARLIE WHAT THE FUCK

- WHAT THE HELL??

- I don’t know why this encounter with the twins and emizel is the most terrified I’ve been with Charlie dming, holy shit

- WAIT EDWARD TWILIGHT?????? WHAT THE FUCK?????

- Emizel I love you, biting off your own tongue to spit at them is amazing he’s so iconic

- Viv and Vex,,,,,interesting

- GOD EMIZEL I LOVE YOU YOURE BADASS

- 7! God please don’t lose more I’m getting scared

- BUT GOD A GREAT EPISODE

[avescoolblog]

he had been at the pet store for so long and is such a sweetheart i just had to take him home 😭 meet daryl the hamster! (and matching norman images) these are from the store before i got him but once we’re chill trust there will be daryl the hamster content

he’s loving having a nice big cage with things to do- i imagine it sucks living at petco

[upsy]

this website fucking sucks. why is no one talking about the margaritaville jumbo shrimp dog toy from petco

[doctorguilty]

I wanted to use a little of my extra money to get prozac a cat tree for my room specifically, there is cat furniture in other places in the house b/c of my sister's cat so he isn't like Deprived sdghjhjdsfg but I feel like he deserves to have something in my room too, like I had at my old apartment

but shopping online is legitimately a nightmare because no matter how much you try to specify you're looking for a tree for a LARGER CAT, petco/chewy/amazon/whatever will still show you shit meant for literal kittens, the sample images just having like random cats photoshopped in so you don't even know what you're looking at. anything I found within my budget and size limitations (I don't have a TON of room..) I look at the customer reviews and it's always "too tiny!!! *photo of their like Normal sized young adult cat barely fitting on it*"

I don't remember how I lucked out on my old tree, I think maybe it was on sale on some site somewhere and I had plenty of money to spend and space to dedicate I could just skip over all the stupid searching and just pick out something that looks good.

but yeah this fucking SUCKS man online shopping fucking SUCKS just like everywhere all the time

[kimio7]

NYC recs in no order!!!!!!!!!

Korean food:

• Sam Sunny https://www.samsunnynyc.com

• Hangawi https://hangawirestaurant.com/menu/ (vegetarian) • Her name is Han https://www.hernameishan.com/ other restaurants:

• Aoi Kitchen https://www.instagram.com/aoikitchenny/ • La Bonne Soup https://maps.app.goo.gl/Pykado2Hj4WZe99S9 <- EAT HERE IF POSSIBLE

I know u said you have the museums on your ita but I have opinions:

The Met and the AMNH:

• pick a few rooms/exhibits you want to see and focus on those, especially if you've never been before. these two are crazy and take one day each unless you want to die. aim to go on a weekday.

The Whitney:

• Every time I go they have the biennial up and it sucks. idk. you could skip this one.

The Frick:

• 100/10. really interesting personal collection with a portrait of my meow meow Thomas Cromwell and less crowded than most of the other art museums. we stan. The Guggenheim:

• I have a fear of heights but if you don't it's a cool building

MoMA:

• it's good but NOT very ADA compliant

The 9/11 Memorial/Musuem:

• I love it. you will too if you like to feel sad. It's a grave. NOT for everyone. and not too jingoistic unless you go in the gift shop which is uhhhhhhh hm. you don't need to go to the 9/11 Memorial Gift Shop.

Times Square:

• don't

Union Square:

• there are public bathrooms in the Whole Foods, the B&N, and the too fancy Petco

the subway: • if you have Apple pay or equivalent on ur phone you don't need to buy a card anymore. yay

omg!! thank you so much for this list 🤩🤩

gonna try to go to as many of these places i cant wait haha thank you!!

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

I keep having dreams of kittens, I think it's a sign to get one. Who knows, maybe it's telling me that a kitten will show up on my doorstep or smth. Lord please make a kitten show up on my doorstep, I want one so freaking bad please save me.

My landlord doesn't allow pets, but does he really have to know? 🙄 We've got 3 geckos too, love my babies to death. I actually need to order some worms because I don't like supporting petco and petsmart, every time I go in there I see the beta fishes in the cups and most of them are unhealthy so it makes me sad and guilty ☹️ Plus I've seen malnourished geckos in there too, IM A PETCO AND PETSMART HATER IDC. They can suck my toes and eat a butt SMH.

Anyways fact remains that I need to order some worms for my precious angel babies, my beautiful well behaved (is Macaroni really behaved tho??? Still got that grudge of my son biting my neck 😔) ((just kidding, besides that incident he's a sweet boy who doesn't know how to shed properly so I'm constantly having to soak him in warm water))

MCKDINGUS!!!

the cat distribution system will pick u… trust🤞🤞🤞

no yeah pet smart is horrible ! i need them out of business NAOW

it’s ok one time my bearded dragon bit my pinky 😞 like why would u betray me like this i feed u crickets n worms…. i thought we had something special…? HELPP maybe he just likes the baths 😊😊😊

[paranoidgemsbok]

I was actually really happy to see this at petco today :) like I know chain pet stores suck ass but it's nice when you sometimes see individual employees trying to do the right thing maybe there is hope

[moonjxsung]

my dream with jisung was just bad! i haven’t had any like ✨sexy✨ dreams with skz for a whiiiile. i had one about minho and an unrequited romance dream about I.N (which would be a super nice fic imo but i suck at writing) but aside from that nothing.

so in my dream about han, he was part of my graduate program or study-work crew. and we were doing a secret valentine (instead of like a secret santa). and i was excited bc i knew that i was han’s valentine. and i wanted him ofc. and when the day came (for some reason there was halloween deco), he told me that he gave up me being his valentine bc another person in the group had a crush on me (and it was a random guy that works at my local petco that i don’t even think is cute or anything, no repressed attraction). and i cried. and he was all cute and apologetic but he just said bros b4 hoes😭

-🐈‍⬛

NOOOOO PLEASE THAT IS SO FRUSTRATING 😭😭 not the random petco employee winning instead of Han 😔 I have ✨interesting✨ dreams about idols like very rarely, sometimes I’ll have a dream that we’re on a date or something, but in most of my dreams there’s just an idol there and I’m doing some mundane task 😐 a few nights ago I had a dream that I was back in high school and I wanted to ask onew from shinee out to prom and my sister kept telling me I could never pull him and that he’d “100% say no” 😭😭 I was so sad LMAO

[fan-art-ic]

Today went to a palestine car rally and I was literally sitting on my car roof trying to finish sewing my really long flag in the group parking lot and I didn't finish in time but it was fun bc a lady offered help holding the flag in the wind and then it kind of worked for most of the drive till we got going on the highway abt 90m in and the green section got sucked into my tailpipe and I had to pullover to readjust shit. One car from the group pulled over and then a random tow truck also pulled over seeing if i needed help and they were nice. I think everyone was amused by my ridiculous flag that so clearly was made by a proto-beginner. At that point I needed to pee so bad I pulled in to petco, and the guy sitting outside was correct no public bathrooms, and he directed me to burger King so I went and the bathrooms were unlocked but there was a sick guy struggling and I helped half carry him outside as he kind of shoved dragged his walker in front of us. Another guy ended up getting the door for us and I got the guy outside. Nearly stopped to smoke cigarettes but got a single tall boy of a really good local beer and took a back road/not highway all the way home. There was supposed to be some kind of event around 530 or 6 after the rally that I had kind of wanted to go to, but by the time I peed and helped the guy outside i was done with the day and hungry as hell. Polished off a bag of goldfish in bed once I got home and I just remembered it was nice that I had to go back for more fabric today bc the cashier lady said I was a really pretty person and i had been feeling bad abt my swollen subcutaneous pimple I had picked bloody last night while sewing the flag and fucking up all my measurements. Life is beautiful and wonderful and worth getting outside the house. OH and I almost went over a toll bridge but I did a semi-legal pull over and u turn right before I had to cross. 👍👍👍