#Franscico

[clemsfilmdiary]

Mystery Island (2023, Nicholas Humphries)

1/27/24

[nerdieforpedro]

Remember Francisco~

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction rating: 18+

Main Masterlist l Frankie Masterlist

Word Count: approx. 3k

Summary: You're Frankie's superior as he's working to get his pilot license back. You find that he listens and follows directions quite well. This pleases you greatly.

Warnings: power imbalance, the reader is a menace, hand jobs, teasing, edging, semi-public sex, Frankie being a polite sub, mentions of masterbation, random douche, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating

Notes: This wasn't beta read so all mistakes are my own. I read @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Javier Pena/reader/Dieter Bravo sandwich last night was up past 2am contemplating my life choices. This was after almost being caught up on @frenchiereading Sky Drabbles as part of her cozy celebration so, the two melted in my mind and became this. It reads as stream of consciousness and switches POVs, I may write these two more when in the mood for filth which is most days of the week. We'll see.

The pilot’s cock is in your hand again. It’s usually while the others are at lunch. He’s so cute when he looks up at you, whimpering under his standard oil heating hat. You’d asked about it the first time you met him two months ago, he’d shrugged and said it was between him and his brothers. That was fine, you’d just been making conversation.

You’re griping him a little tighter, feeling him spurt out a bit more pre-cum for your hand to slick up and down his shaft. He’s not to touch you, he can watch as you lean against his desk and stroke him. Asking him if he’ll finish before the rest of the office comes back, if he can continue to keep quiet, if he knows that he bites his bottom lip and scrunches his nose when he’s close to his high, how his eyes light up when you first touch him and drink you in as he watches you stroke him.

It’s been a month of this, watching him walk around in those cargo pants, his little belly hanging over them slightly. You’d wanted to grab it and give it a good pinch before knocking that hat off and pushing him up against the wall. Crashing your lips against his. You never did. Instead, you pulled up a chair when he asked to learn more about these stupid spreadsheets for fuel inventory. Well, not stupid, but not as important as finding a way in those cargo pants.

You’re being professional, explaining things to him. Frankie, he does have a name. When you mess with him sometimes, you’d call him Franscico and he’d wince. He didn’t like it, that was something you’d remember. You may have tugged at the bottom of your v-neck sweater, exposing your breasts a bit more because he’s taller than you even sitting and he’d be looking down. Quite mean of you, but effective, his ears are red and he’s huffing. That was when your hand first touched his thigh. He didn’t move it so further you took it, until you’d unbuttoned his pants and had his thick cock in your hand, poking it with your finger. He became engorged quickly so you asked him if he wanted you to keep touching him. He replied yes and it’s continued during lunch time since then.

“Francisco, do you want me to put it in my mouth?”

He just stared at you, it felt like five minutes, but maybe it was just a full one and nodded. 

“You’ll have to earn that Frankie. For now, accept my hand.”

Morales’ hands are gripping the armrests on his chair, his hips are thrusting into your hand. His cock is looking particularly delicious this afternoon. It would make a perfect dessert after your lunch. “Francisco. Move back, I’m going to need room.” He is confused at your hand not moving but compiles and scoots his chair back. You take his jacket off the back of his chair and set it on the floor in front of you as you get on your knees.

“Wait, querida. I thought you said I had to earn it? I haven’t done anything yet.” His chest is heaving with his cock dripping but he still remembered what you told him at the start of the month. A smile drapes your lips, well trained already. 

“Did you not want me to suck your cock Frankie? You don’t think you’ve earned it?” Your hand returned to his cock, only this time you’re just holding it while looking up at the poor man. He’s tapping his foot wildly but still making good on not touching you. “I decide if you’ve earned it or not, don't I Francisco? Am I wrong?” You release his member and let it drop, making him flush in the chair from the loss of your hand and the sudden movement.

“N-No querida. You decide. I just listen. Please, did I earn it?” He licks the drool off that threatened to drip from the side of his mouth. Voices of the others are heard, it’s too late. They’ve come back early, unusual but not completely unexpected. You stand and straighten out your skirt, pick Frankie’s jacket up off the floor, walk over to him and place it on the back of his chair. Your hands move to his shoulders and push him and his chair back to his desk, giving him a kiss on his cheek before gingerly speaking in her ear, 

“We ran out of time Francisco. Seems like you talked yourself out of it. There will be another opportunity tomorrow.”

“T-Tomorrow? B-But, I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt you again. I promise querida.” You took your seat at your desk that was next to Frankie’s and licked your fingers off his pre-cum just as the others were filing back into the office. You then used some hand sanitizer and opened your email like it was a normal lunch. 

Throwing a knowing grin his way as he adjusted himself back into his pants and utter discomfort, “I’ll hold you to that Frankie.”

It had been a week since you’d almost sucked Frankie off in the office. Honestly, it’s been hell for him. He was able to get through the rest of that day just barely by making four different bathroom trips, each ten minutes, just to jerk off and clean up after himself. He told himself that this should have never happened. He should have asked to be re-assigned, but to where? It was part of getting his license back, this office work, so close to the helicopters that he flew and yet so far with all this damn paperwork. He didn’t remember it being this much. 

When he first came here two months ago, he was introduced to some old coger. He was supposed to be working with him, but then he had a heart attack. He made it, maybe? Frankie’s not really sure. What he does know is that you became his superior. You being a woman isn’t the issue, it’s that he finds you attractive and he knows you’re single. Apparently there was a bet to see if this one pilot John, James, whatever was actually going to ask you out. Frankie also doesn’t know if that guy ever did. What he does know is that you smell like vanilla, your voice sounds like honey and he shook your hands when he met you and noted how soft they were. Shaking hands is polite, but he shouldn’t think about your hands in his hair, on his chest, back or cock. He also looked too long at your full lips and thought about them when he went home at night.

Then you made your move, he should have said no. Maybe should have redirected it to a date, but he’s always had an issue with saying no. Saying no to Pope and that damn mission. Saying no to Tom during that mission and it got him killed. Saying no before the mission where he transported cocaine and got fucking caught and now he’s grounded. Your hand felt so good and he was able to watch your breasts bounce as you got him off. 

Frankie can say that he is good at listening. Been doing it the entire month. His friends asked how the assignment is going, he tells them fine. He’s aware no one can know about what you do with your hands and his dick. The no-touching you is extremely difficult. He wants to put his hands all over you, see what you look like getting off, if you’d ask, if you’d tell him to do it he would. You haven’t. Why haven’t you? But he’s scared that you won’t touch him again and not recommend him to get his license back. Is he only good for feeling his dick? Is that the only thing you like about him? Maybe all the other things, you just tell him to get him off, he has been able to just think of your voice and cover his hand in his own cum.

Morales is following you into the hanger.

Apparently, the two of you have been tasked with restocking supplies in the back of this helicopter. It’s for a trainee the work that you’re both doing, he sometimes wonders why you’re doing it though. He knows why he is, but he doesn’t believe you’ve messed up anything in your life professionally that he knows of. 

The bastard John is here, he’s asked to speak to you so you step out for a minute, there’s no way he’s not gonna eavesdrop. He might have worked up the nerve to ask you out.

This fucker, he did and you said no. Frankie is thankful, but John, will at the very least be having his tires cut before the pilot leaves this evening, tell you that you should be glad he asked you out anyway. It’s why your last boyfriend left you because he didn’t want a fat bitch anymore. Frankie was about to step off the helicopter when you asked John why has he been sniffing around you like a dog with a bone then? And also you’re aware his wife left him for her fencing instructor who apparently fucked her so well that she faked pulling her back at work at her desk job that you were dumb enough to believe. 

John left with a red face as you stood still, hands tightened into fists. Frankie jumped off the helicopter and stood beside you. “Quierda, can I hug you? Please?” He was so thankful when you told him yes, he was aware you were sad, but thankfully not crying. God you’re so soft and feel so warm against his chest, Frankie rocks you back and forth as you murmur something. He asked what you said.

“Back inside now.” A command, but Frankie made sure to ask before touching you and you’d said yes. It should be fine, it has to be. Back inside the helicopter, you tell him to sit in the pilot’s seat. He does, but he’s nervous. He hasn’t earned this seat back yet, he was going to ask why you asked him to sit here when your lips touched his neck, moaning ‘Francisco.” Normally he prefers Frankie, but he’d let you call him Bob at the point because you’re touching him, fuck you’re kissing his neck, licking it. He wants to grab those wide hips of your and set you on the control panel so he can see your face, if it’s hungry like he knows his is, but he remembers. You leave his neck with a bite and run your hand across his chest.

“Frankie. I’m going to treat that fat cock of yours real nice. Watch me and paint my throat.” Morales watches you start to move down and he stands, apologizing. He goes to the back of the helicopter to grab a life fest, it’s got some foam so it should be good to kneel on. You looked confused for a moment, but kissed his cheek when he came back and as you settled between his legs took his hands and kissed the back of each of his hands. Looking up at him and hearing you utter the words, “You’re such a good man Frankie.” He nearly soaked his cargo pants. Call him good anything: good shot, good pilot, good man, good father, good boy, the list can go on.

“P-Permission to touch you again quierda?” You look up at him again, pressing your tongue to the tip of his cock, he finally feels your warm tongue on the head. “Please, for fuck’s sake…” His hands were an inch away from your cheek, almost touching you, but he still remembered.

“Not yet Francisco. Continue to be good for me. I’m looking forward to this too, sweetheart.” He felt your run from the head of his length to his base, seeing part your round face covered by the dark bush he had. Frankie’s a whimpering mess and he’s unsure what to do with his hands, where to put them. His foot was tapping hard again as your teeth nibbled gently at his velvet skin working your way back up. It was then that you truly took him in your mouth a third of the way and he bucked his hips once. The look on your face was stern at first, then softened, what did that mean?

The groan that he unleashed as your tongue swirled around the head of cock, his precum coating your lips. He felt you take him deeper, more of your throat was available to him as he thrusted again, unable to control himself. He reached for your face again, but hands on his thighs grounded him and made him remember what you’d told him. He opted to hold onto the bottom of the pilot’s seat as he bucked, seeing your face come closer to the base of his cock and loving every second of it. He was sure he heard you moan as well, he wanted to hear it unmuffled. You’re nearly back within his coarse curls when he feels his throbbing increase, he’s close so damn close. “Quierda I-It’s…” Your fingers press into his thighs as you continue to hollow your cheeks.

Frankie knows that you know him well. At least, his dick well. You’ve made him reach his peak most days at work, those few were when you two were interrupted. You’d always toyed with him, teased him, told him what he can and can’t do. Now you’re moved one of your hands to cup the wrinkled skin of his balls and are massaging them between those damn hands of yours, while he hears you audibly whimpering while swallowing his cock. Your head is even turned at an angle so you can breathe slightly easier, not by much. The small lights he sees near your eyes are from your tears and how hard you’ve been working for him. He tried to hold on as long as he could but he can’t and he’ll never forget this image because Frankie remembers.

His head swings back at first, knocking his standard oil heating cap off and then snapped his neck back down. His cock is pulsing in your mouth and with your head still at an angle he can see you gulping his spend down with only a few drops landing on the tops of your breasts. It’s a large load, he only masturbated once last night before passing out from having gone out with Benny and Will for drinks. Your hand that had been on his thigh reached near the base of the pilot’s chair and touched his hand, your fingers making a circle on the top of his hand. After the last of his seed drips into your mouth Frankie feels his body relaxing as he muttered his nickname for you. “Quierda, that was…damn I’m glad I listened this time…”

Slowly you withdrew him from your mouth, your tongue rolling against the bottom of his shaft once more, until you reached the head of his cock again. He hissed as you removed him finally from your warm mouth and kissed his tip. His softened length dropped against his boxers and cargo pants. With a final swallow of what was left in your mouth, you purred, “Yes you did Frankie. You listened well.” You motioned for him to help you up which he did and you sat in the co-pilot’s chair. Your chest was heaving as you finally caught your breath, your head back against the top of the chair, you looked over at Frankie, smiling. “I think I may be addicted to your dick Frankie now that I’ve had a taste. We may have to start taking this outside of work.” Your hand started at your breasts as you curled a finger to scoop up his cum that dripped and brought it to your lips. You didn’t swallow it though, instead he watched as you applied it like a balm to your lips and stood up, leaning over him after grabbing his shoulders.

“Taste yourself on my lips Frankie.” The pilot didn’t move because he recalled you hadn't given him permission to touch you yet. Being the smart woman you are, you remembered too and straddled him, bringing your full weight on him, thick thighs, belly pressing against him and your breasts nearly in his face. His hands touched your back, cupping your love handles. Your fingers cupped his face as he looked up at you and he dove his head forward crashing into your lips, starting tentatively before licking and having his own musk in his mouth, he then was able to grasp the flavor or your mouth mixed with him. His tongue fought with yours, winning due his skill and desperation. Your hips grinded on him and he felt it, the moisture between your thighs. When you drew back from him, he had a small smirk on his face.

“Hermosa let me drink you in. I’ll do a good job.” Frankie placed a kiss atop your breasts before you stood back up, pulling your skirt down. He felt a peck to his forehead as his hands remained on your back, though they had traveled lower. 

“Not yet. We need to finish here before they get suspicious.” You pressed your thumb against his bottom lip, he wanted to press the issue of having you right now, fuck everyone and everything else. “I think I should savor you elsewhere. Where we won’t be bothered and I can hear more than your whimpers, no matter how delightful I find them.” 

Frankie watched you walk away and pick up some package to place it in the back of the helicopter. He had forgotten that’s what he was supposed to be doing. He looked forward to the day he’d have you all to himself without interruption. 

The pilot fixed himself back in his pants and stood, exhaling before joining you to finish the assigned task. One day soon he'll be able to say he remembers your taste in his mouth instead of his own.

The Catfish Bowl: @yorksgirl @megamindsecretlair @guelyury @innerpersonunknown @legendary-pink-dot @saturn-rings-writes @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @fhatbhabie @moralesispunk @morallyinept @linzels-blog @@maggiemayhemnj @secretelephanttattoo @goodwithcheese @trulybetty @readingiskeepingmegoing @perotovar @seratuyo @sp00kymulderr @for-a-longlongtime @musings-of-a-rose @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @tinytinymenace @magpiepillsjunior @rhoorl @joelslegalwhre @joels-shitty-puns @dameron-grant-spector @covetyou @pedritapascal @handspunyarns @linzels-blog @beefros-sin-bin @javierpena-inatacvest @sin-djarin @gwendibleywrites @nissaimmortal @pascalsanctuary @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @undercoverpena @beefrobeefcal

[francoischristophe]

Archives U.S.A 1995-1999 1- New-York city / 2- San Diego / 3. San Franscico

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 4: Bargaining Power - Now that Mitsuhide has “rescued” Katsu, he’s going to let her go. Isn’t he?

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

The auction room wasn’t any more pleasant upside down than it had been right side up. Nor was Mitsuhide, but this angle was more familiar, given our previous meetings. Even so, I objected to being hauled across the ship like a sack of rice. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

My hands were still tied and wedged into his back, but I managed to kick his ribs hard enough to hear him grunt.

“As you wish.” He dumped me on the floor, then loomed above. “Are you comfortable down there?”

What do you think?

He thrust his hand at me, but I ignored it and got to my feet. “After you.”

In an instant, he yanked me to his side and whispered in my ear. “I would prefer to get off this ship without having to kill anyone on the way, so if you could at least pretend to be cowed, it would make both our lives easier.”

He… had a point.

Meek now.

Kill him later.

“If you think there’s going to be trouble, maybe you could untie me so that I can help defend us?” Knowing that it would be useless, I did not bother trying the puppy-dog eyes that occasionally got Aki to agree to my suggestions.

He ignored my perfectly reasonable offer of help and propelled me out the door.

Hm, should have tried the puppy eyes after all.

Because I had no desire to get caught in the middle of a swordfight while my hands were tied in front of me, I kept my mouth shut as Mitsuhide half-dragged me across the deck of the ship, until I saw two hulking shapes and the priest out of the corner of my eye. “On your lef-“

With three sharp strikes of his sword, Mitsuhide had the attackers disarmed. He gave me a look that left no doubt in my mind that he had seen them before my warning. No one else bothered us as we hurried down the gangplank and onto the docks of Sakai, where Mitsuhide’s vassal Kyubei was waiting with two horses. Oh, hi, Kyubei. Long time no see.

Before I could greet the other man, Mitsuhide tossed me onto the horse and climbed up behind.  “Make certain no one follows us,” he yelled over his shoulder at Kyubei – then we were off.

“You know, I can actually ride without help.” No response.

It was even odds between ‘couldn’t hear me over the sound of the horse’ and ‘still ignoring me.’

What followed as a circuitous route around and through and back around Sakai. Probably Mitsuhide had doubled back to avoid pursuit, although he might also have done so to make things extra uncomfortable for me. By the time we halted behind a building in the merchant quarter, my core muscles were screaming at me. Without the use of my hands, I had been forced to continuously rebalance myself or risk sliding off the horse (and I doubted Mitsuhide would have bothered to catch me had it happened).

Equestrian pilates will never catch on as the next big fitness craze.

Before I could jump off on my own, Mitsuhide pulled me off the horse and led me through the back gate into a townhouse. Like Franscico’s office/home, it was a typical merchant’s machiya, more narrow than wide, with an office, a courtyard, and storerooms on the main floor. But I had no time to look around, because Mitsuhide hurried me past the business area to the second floor, where the stairs led to a private office of sorts. Presumably there would be a kitchen and an eating area also on this level and sleeping quarters on the top level.

Given that Mitsuhide still seemed disinclined to talk, I plopped down on a cushion to try to figure out how to let Francisco know where I was. He must be frantic.

Mitsuhide lit a lantern, filling the room with a warm amber glow, then took his time settling down at a writing desk.  Finally, he looked at me. “I imagine it would be too much to expect your gratitude.”

“For what? It took me three days to set that up.” Now I would need to figure out an alternate plan… which would require coming up with an explanation for how I was purchased by Mitsuhide and ended up with Francisco. Hm. Perhaps I had been purchased as a gift. I mean, a slave was a little more personal than socks, or a bottle of Drakkar Noir… but I could probably make it work.

“Dear me.” It takes talent to make the condescending words of a British butler sound like the sarcasm of an exhausted parent. “Am I to understand that you were selling yourself in the slave market on purpose? That does put a different face on it.” Mitsuhide nodded his head to indicate the stairs leading up to the top level. “My bedroom is the last door on the left. You may disrobe first, although I would prefer that you wait for me to undress you.”

Since my hands were still tied together from the slave ship, I figured he was being facetious. Although, who knows. Maybe he thought that I had some contortionist skills.

“I wasn’t selling myself.” He gave me a look of sheer disbelief. “Not exactly. I have a partner who was going to purchase me, thus giving me the opportunity to view the auctions from the inside, as well as create a back story for when he paraded me around the Nanban merchants.” Figuring that Mitsuhide had no immediate plans to untie me, I wiggled around until I managed to extract the dagger I kept strapped to my ankle. The auctioneer hadn’t even bothered to search “Kaya,” – apparently, he lacked the imagination to realize that even a kidnapped housemaid would have been armed. I tried to flip the dagger around to cut the rope around my wrists, but the angle was all wrong. After I poked myself three too many times, I stuck it between my knees and began sawing away at the bindings.

“For what purpose? You cannot tell me that Akihira would permit his daughter to masquerade as a courtesan.” With benign interest, Mitsuhide watched me reposition the knife after it slipped to a useless angle. “What happened to your partner?”

“I … don’t know.” Had Francisco joined the ranks of the disappeared? Would the Nanban imprison one of their own? As to the first question… was I safe telling him that Aki was missing? The two of them were, well, if not exactly friends, they were at least friendly. Or had been before I ruined that earlier this summer. Still…

Taking a chance, I looked him right in the face, alert to any change of expression, and added, “Aki is missing. Like your friends Toyotomi Hideyoshi and his fiancée. Frack.” The knife had slipped again. I bent to retrieve it, but not before noticing that his posture had stiffened when I mentioned his friends. Nothing major, and he recovered immediately. But I saw.

“You might have better luck if you held it in your teeth,” Mitsuhide said. I guess his advice, such as it was, was all the help I could expect here. “Do you have a spy in Azuchi Castle?”

If I put the knife in my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to answer his question – which… I’m sure he had considered. I again repositioned it between my knees. “In fact, we don’t. You might have to repeat whatever lecture you normally give the castle servants and vassals about not gossiping when they wander around town.”

The dagger clunked to the floor and bounced out of reach. I refused to crawl to retrieve it – it would totally undermine the attitude of casual indifference I was attempting to project. Mitsuhide might intimidate me, but I refused to let him know that. “It’s possible they didn’t notice me. I’m very good at being invisible in plain sight.”

“An enviable skill.” He got up and poured himself a cup of sake. He didn’t offer to share but that was ok because I wouldn’t have taken it anyway. While he was moving about, I used my foot to pull the dagger back, and then, as he had suggested, held it in my teeth to try to saw through the rope.

It wasn’t any easier than holding it with my knees.

With an attitude of indifference, Mitsuhide pulled out his sword. “Hold out your hands.”

I did so, presenting the rope as the best target I could. The sword whistled through the air, then sliced cleanly through the bindings.

Ahhhh. So much better. I massaged my wrists and wiggled my fingers. I guess I did owe him some gratitude, even if he had ruined my investigation. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head but said nothing.

“I will pay you back, of course.” It might mean breaking into Francisco’s desk, but the money was mine anyway, so I wouldn’t technically be stealing it.

“Of course.” He rubbed his chin. “Do not attempt to sell yourself into slavery again. I might not be around to rescue you next time.”

His definition of rescue differed quite a bit from mine – but I wasn’t really in position to argue. “My back-up plan involves keeping an eye on a certain warehouse.” And perhaps scamming my way – as Katsu - into a job with this mysterious Shojumaru. “I doubt I will need rescue from that.”

I pretended not to notice his look of skepticism – clearly exaggerated for theatricality. “You’ve been a source of chaos since we met.”

“You’re the one who just messed up my plan.” I was still on the fence as to whether I had needed rescue. “However, if I discover anything about Lord Hideyoshi or Lady Mai, I am willing to share information.”

If Mitsuhide had any intention to make a reciprocal offer, I will never know, for our ‘negotiations’ were interrupted by the sound of angry shouts coming from the ground floor of the building. Reacting instantly to the noise, Mitsuhide picked up his sword and stepped in front of me.

“Lord Mitsuhide – stop. That’s my partner. Francisco.” I pushed past him and called down to the lower level. “Francisco, up here. Don’t worry. I’m safe.” Then, because Francisco’s apt to forget his Japanese even in the calmest situation, I repeated myself in Portuguese.

Moments later, a puffing Francisco breached the top of the stairs and rushed into the room. His face was red and there were sweat stains visible on the shirt he wore under his jerkin. “Katsu. You are here. When I learned someone bought you, I thought, Akihira will murder me.” He paused and drew in a long panting breath. And then another. “I got lost and went to the wrong ship.”

Of course he did.

Note to self. Next time find a partner who can find their way from one end of the city to the other.

He was still speaking in Portuguese, so clearly his language skills (such as they were) had deserted him completely. I hurried to reassure him. “An acquaintance of Aki’s recognized me and purchased me. If you can repay him… and maybe give him a bit extra for his trouble, then we can be on our way.”

Francisco turned to Mitsuhide and executed a clumsy bow. In halting Japanese, he thanked Mitsuhide then held out his coin purse.

Mitsuhide ignored the money and looked back at me. “You are fluent in Portuguese?”

No, Francisco and I were just talking in Pig Latin. “Yes. Speaking anyway. Reading… I’m still working on that.” The Latinate alphabet script wasn’t that difficult because I had had some rudimentary lessons in English when I was in school, but it added another layer to translations.

“That being the case, our previous agreement is nullified.” He signaled for Francisco to put away the money. “I believe I will keep you after all.”

Keep me? How…? What? I didn’t bother to hide my confusion, so it was no surprise that he easily read my expression. “I purchased you and have no intention of selling you back.”

Yes, that part I got.

If he thought I would willingly become his concubine, he’d better keep a dagger next to his futon, because I would kill him in his sleep. Or when he was awake. Or… now. Actually, I probably wouldn’t even need a dagger. I’d just strangle him, the way Princess Leia killed Jabba Hutt. Only slower. “Strange. You don’t look like you’re certifiably insane.”

Francisco’s head swiveled from me to MItsuhide, his expression one of complete confusion. We’d passed his grasp on Japanese a long time ago. “Katsu, what is going on? Does he not want the money?”

“We’re bargaining over the price.” Technically. The price being something I was not willing to pay. I considered telling Francisco to prepare to fight our way out of here, but I didn’t know if Mitsuhide had any other men stationed in this building. Nor did I trust Francisco’s swordsmanship. He’d probably accidentally stab himself. Or me.

Mitsuhide poured himself another cup of sake before responding to me – he’d apparently come to the same conclusion about Francisco’s necessity in this discussion as I had. “In truth, there is something about you that causes me to doubt my sanity – but my reason for being at tonight’s auction was to establish an identity as a merchant who has a lenient attitude toward slavery of his own countrymen.”

Alright. Rational step, considering he was investigating his friends’ disappearance. Similar to what I was doing but coming at it from the opposite side. I nodded to let him know I was following. So far.

“Having a-” he paused then sighed as if the idea was personally offensive “-concubine adds to the verisimilitude of this charade. Having a subordinate fluent in Portuguese, who can eavesdrop on the Nanban, puts me at an advantage.”

Francisco poked my shoulder, so I quickly translated the gist of Mitsuhide’s idea. He smiled, then bowed clumsily. “Katsu, tell him that this is a good idea. It will allow me to direct my resources in other less savory directions without involving you.”

What was less savory than a slave concubine, I did not know, nor did I particularly appreciate the idea of them deciding my fate without any input of my own, but I dutifully translated his words to Mitsuhide, then added, “I really don’t like the idea of being your partner.”

He gave me one of those deep probing stares that said he could see right through me. If that look had been a scalpel, I would be filleted right now, and pinned to a dissection tray. “Heavens, wherever did you get the idea that I was offering you a partnership? You will be working for me, and you will do exactly as I say.”

Oh hell to the no on that.

Before I could tell him where he could put his job offer (such as it was), he continued. “Don’t look so mutinous, Brat. Am I wrong in thinking that this was exactly the scheme you were planning with this man-” he nodded toward Francisco, “-as your conspirator?”

Ok yes, that had been the plan.

“And would you agree that I would be far more competent in the role than a man who was not able to appear at the auction in time to rescue you from danger?” In spite of, or more simply to humor, Francisco, Mitsuhide sent a friendly smile in his direction.

Again, yes. Mitsuhide and his mouth full of teeth would be an upgrade in that regard. If I continued with Plan A. However, I could move directly to Plan B – finding and working for this Shojumaru – without taking a partner. Especially one who would-

“I rather think your rejection of me, while somewhat personally hurtful,” he dramatically placed his hand over his heart, and directed an over-the-top lovelorn glance at me, “lies in the fact that unlike your language-deficient friend, I would exert control over your somewhat impetuous behavior.”

“My rejection, as you put it, lies in the fact that I don’t want to work for you. I don’t want to work with you. I don’t want to spend any time in the same room with you.” My dagger was still within easy grabbing distance – one more snarky word from him and -

“Struck a nerve, did I? You do like being in control.” He rubbed his chin, letting his thumb briefly sweep across his lip. Aki had the same chin rubbing ‘tell’ as Mitsuhide, although the lip thing was an individual twist, one that called attention to sensual shape of th-

Ack! What are you thinking?

While I was busy bleaching my brain, I nearly missed his next comment.

“Alas, do not, for one moment, imagine that I will permit you to leave. If I must parade you around the city in chains, I will do so. In fact…” his voice took on a speculative tone. “It would add an air of authenticity to the charade.”

Yep. I’m out of here. “Never mind. I can find Aki without you.” I snatched up the dagger and prepared to make a run for it.

“You couldn’t even cut your way out of the rope with a knife, that, I will add, I am aware that you’re clutching it in anticipation of fighting your way out of here, and I would not recommend that course of action.” He turned to Francisco, and said in slow, clear words that even a language dunce like Francisco would understand, “Katsu and I are in agreement. You may go.”

If this had been a cartoon, there would have been a Francisco shaped hole in the wall. As it was, he stirred up enough of a breeze on his exit, that some of the papers on Mitsuhide’s desk rustled.

See if I send you a Christmas card this year!

“I would have managed the rope, eventually.” I could do better work without an audience. He’d made me self-conscious, that’s all.

“Hrm. I do believe you’d look quite fetching in chains.” Now that the (dubious) protection of Francisco was gone, Mitsuhide stepped forward and with those cold hands, traced the line the rope had left on my wrist.

“Oh, let’s not.” Try it. I’d once read an article on how to get out of handcuffs. Surely the principle was the same with chains. I pictured Mitsuhide walking into an empty room, furnished only by a defeated chain.

“Your protest lacks conviction. Perhaps the prospect of wearing chains excites you. Or… you have the ability to pick locks.” Those fingers massaged my other wrist and I just barely prevented myself from shivering. “Oh my, your pulse did race at that. Practice a bit of thievery on occasion, do we?”

It hadn’t been the suggestion that I could pick locks that had made my pulse jump like that. It had been his touch. Because his hands are cold. Of course, that had been it.

The first thing I hate about Mitsuhide – he uses a royal we when he’s teasing me.

@mllorei @selenacosmic @tele86 @bestbryn @lyds323 @akitsuneswife

[toot-things]

Éduardo Franscico

[njbice]

Just found your work - it's incredible and lovely and making me miss San Franscico. Have you ever painted one maritime plaza (the alcoa building)? I used to work there and am curious to see it through your eyes!

Thank you!! I've never been there but I'll keep it in mind next time I'm looking for somewhere to paint. Additionally I do take commissions and you can find info on that at njbice.com!

[sjsrpblog]

ALECKSANDRA CHEN | 20 | BALLERINA | SEEING DOUBLE

Alecksandra - aka Sasha - is a dancer in the corps de ballet for the Korean National Ballet. Originally from San Franscico, she has also lived in Taipei, Taiwan before coming to Seoul. She lives at the ballet campus with several other dancers, rooming with two other girls her age also in the corps. As she navigates company gossip and the competition for roles, will she discover that her loose-lipped gossip about the company star is feeding into a secret plot?

ALECKSANDRA SEEKS: two roommates, fellow dancers

[bellaplots]

leviticus "levi" rivers, 21 anos, estudante de cinema.

dyed hair, glittering lights, graphic t-shirts, messy rooms, guitars, nightly escapades, stolen glances, large headphones.

+ engenhoso, carinhoso, sincero. - temperamental, inseguro, ingênuo.

tw: religião

Se você visse uma foto de Levi a quatro anos, você provavelmente não iria o reconhecer e faz sentido: ele era outra pessoa na época. Ele vivia em algo que hoje em dia descreveria como um culto, mas que de que forma você descreveria o tipo de ambiente que não te deixam nem tomar café? Levi, ou melhor, leviticus como era conhecido no seu passado, nasceu de uma familia extremamente religiosa, seus pais são membros da Igreja de Jesus Cristos Dos Santos Dos Últimos dias, ou seja: mórmons. Do tipo tão tradicional que ele tem doze irmãos, ele tem quase certeza que seus pais nem sabem o que é uma camisinha. Desde que tinha uns dez anos o menino queria descobrir o que tinha além da pequena comunidade no meio do nada em Útah aonde ele vivia, mas todas as crianças tinham esse desejo até serem moldadas até não terem, mas a vontade de Levi nunca passou. Juntou dinheiro escondido e com dezesseis anos comprou um celular, coisa que apenas os lideres da comunidade, ou "crianças rebeldes" tinham, e foi por ali aonde descobriu muita coisa. Tipo o significado de bixessual, que descrevia muito bem o que ele sentia a vida inteira. Descobiu quase tudo pela primeira vez por ali e pelas poucas horas de televisão semanal que lhe era permitido. Não teve o privilegio de descobrir vivendo como boa parte das pessoas. Fugiu de casa na madrugada em que completava dezoito anos, e nunca mais olhou para trás. Se mudou para San Franscico aonde encontrou ONG para pessoas em situações parecidas com a sua que lhe ajudaram a o reerger. Estudou em uma escola de adultos o suficiente para conseguir uma bolsa numa faculdade, cursando cinema. A primeira coisa lhe fez conhecer o mundo de verdade.

ele raramente vai dizer não pra algo, ele ficou muito tempo tendo "não" como a única opção.

ele tem o cabelo raspado mesmo! vive pintado de cores diferente e as vezes fazendo desenhos e etc.

tem contato com dois dos seus irmãos, que também escaparam de casa, mas o resto da sua familia nunca mais viu.

além de estudar, ele trabalha em um café durante a semana e vive pegando bico de barman ou outra coisas.

se tem uma coisa que ele não gosta muito, é de fazer compras pra si mesmo. seu guarda roupa é todo de brecho ou presente de amigos que sabem isso sobre ele.

aprendeu violão ainda criança e ama, mas substiu esse por uma guitarra. vive tocando no quarto.

[qkzy]

healing together

little gifts

they remember you they remember feeling heard

in a cruel world

forced to interact with humans

forced to not zombie fy into their scripts.....

a tension between behind the counters

overwhelemd tears

constant chaos constant intteruptions

to flow in between and amidst and in the intteruptions

accept all interruptiopns

PLEASE INTTERRUPOT ME THIS IS FLOW

and practice and flow

draft saved

a burnign of a wire

a cake

a heart cake

a heart making greek lady scratching many things

obesrving ciao bella

two ciao bella

one with rings

one ciao bella a bit quier

one coin collector

one san franscico

one cash cash boom

one bloody eye i like messy nailpolish oyu are not boring

one why are you so happy

one heloo hobble hobble to the happies girl in woodlands

one beautiful lady i see you i se the shop i see the tiredness and work is put through

one thank you for printing everyyhing

one i shall walk and this is the year iswas born this is the year i was born and now i shall read all my silly magainze s but laughter

laughter i bring you laughter i shall share with you bow

sparllign diamons laughet er shared smelling smiling smelling smiling looking at numbers giggling at wins and losses and more gigle and the state of teh world an d the intenstiy and balance and more things and c'est la vie la noir la vie les diamonts noirs a bientot mervielu and itailin

and macedonina

and dzin dobre zoupka babcia waz

and a winning

and breathe fast word play she is traveling the world

and forced politenss

and tired of being kind and feeling forced enrgy thrust forth

and hello where is the teaxi where is the taxi

and crotchet lady that does not like to speak

and baking lady

and colorugul daughet with sparekles in her hair

and cool mom

and many spenders much spender peopl

and sailing cflubs

and golfing clubs

and you are a blessing ad we dtry our best all we can do is trt our best

and here can you lainate this prayer

with ominsiceint omsinc onc spelling mistakes

adn wearing scarges and picing safarin

and unicorns adn unciron head badns

and cheeryness

and im feeling tired i dont really like being kind to children

and leaves and pain

and massages that help

anmd cadnleign

amd staying just simply at a flower byesdie the candlee iglih twe stare

to mmayn scfereens

but this time i dont have to type or lok at the screen

jsut fingers do work

but to have sunday mornign piano maybe not use words theat are identicied we dont know ho w private or publis these entries are i forgot

but i do still remember how to type adn tehre is magic in that

i see a pland

the plant

the begging nest plant

let us now count the leaves

listki

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven

we never coundted them before

was sometihngg just crawling on my face

we welcome crawls

and intteruptions

just d no walk into my eye.. mm

mpore epaceful mblss

and the babcai that sings how coudl we fogret

and the wipe your bum

come

and so many spirits

oh the skrit slit

t oh and lady gaga we lost count

so many different souls

in a foster home

dcannot slee

a proper ppillwo

mmm

tiss beautlfil to be

a bird

a fleet

all but all of this all of this is just a sumple fleeting moment tis tis tis tar tar tar

gunk wiping

sitting on floor oh t sit afer many horus

just me and the vacuum cleaner

is a bliss unto itself

jsut sitting

vacuumign coersn

those dark dark corers

those dark dark places thatno one e wants to g

ther ei stay

theere is tay

vacuumign

corners

echos

in an instant

nine yeras pass by

or they coudl hof

and stilll the lion guards us

echoes

of the solar eseence lulbaly

mm

doors close

doors open

beets contineu

refresh refeh

let anxiesty pass

we know you

you are friend anxity

yup oh i feel afraid thsi is normal jsut accept it as an dernrghy

[funaisfinest]

Kinetic Productions Internship Day 16 (3/3/2023)

Hours completed: 8, from 9 am to 5pm

Total hours completed: 120! I'M ALL DONE!!!!!

Although it was my last day today, it was probably the most relaxed day I had thus far because a lot of the business done was in preparation for their Levi's trip this coming Sunday. The Kinetic team will be in San Franscico for three weeks shooting a campaign for the Levi's brand. I'm glad I planned out my hours so that I would finish before they left because three weeks of no hours would have been detrimental to my cause.

I spent my last day with one of their freelance editors who was talking with me about my passion for music videos. We went over some of his personal projects he did, how he did it, and the planning for his next one. Luckily, he's a smart guy so when I showed him some of my inspirations, in terms of music videos, he was able to give some insight into how they were done. For the planning of his upcoming music video, he also allowed me to be a part of it in some way. There are going to be three different teams on this music video, one in Hawai'i, one in Texas, and lastly his in San Franscico. I should mention that this music video isn't anything professional, it was all planned in a week because it became a tradition whenever the Kinetic team goes to shoot for Levi's. Moreover, the song he chose to do isn't necessarily school friendly, so I won't be line by line about his plans. However, what he did show me was an AV script, I think he called it. Audio-visual script that was a substitute for a storyboard. He didn't want to draw everything up for this particular project because he doesn't have full control over the shots as there are so many people active in this project. The AV document has two columns, one for the audio, or lines of the song, and the other is a detailed description of the shot. In the sections he controlled, the things he considered in his visuals were setting, talent, and transition points -- many of which were descriptively stylistic, like zooming into a TV screen as a way to introduce the next shot or coming out of a crystal ball. These transitions make sense in the larger context of the song!

Besides the sharing of ideas and music videos, I just had conversations with everyone to talk one last time before I headed out for a long while.

I was given the opportunity to shadow more, learn more technical stuff, and even get hired if I showed them that I was actively contributing to their projects. While I do believe I will go back because I've become quite close with a director over there, I don't believe I'll be pursuing a position at this production company. I'll definitely drop by to help out where I can when I can!

That's all folks!

[nerdieforpedro]

You're not Broken

Frankie Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction: Teens and up

Masterlist / Francisco “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Approx word count: ~2200 (I edited a bit after starting my draft post.)

Warnings: references to smut, descriptions of past violent traumatic events, depression, PTSD, minor physical altercation (wasn't intentional), anxiety, self-deprecation, Fluff at the end

Notes: I'm happy to finally have a fic for Frankie Friday! In many of my fics as of late, the angst has been HEAVY, this one is no exception. I tried to include all the warnings I thought would apply, please let me know if I need to add anything. I think at some point depending on what weird, painful, happy or fun path life has taken you down, we all may feel broken at some point.

We're not, we're just humans in an imperfect world just trying to figure it out.

The same question had been nagging your thoughts for the past month, “Why doesn’t he let me sleep over at his house?” You’d been with your boyfriend Frankie for three months, getting to know each other, having mind-blowing sex and having a great time so you thought. You’d even met his daughter, Camilla, who was an adorable two year old toddler a few times. Frankie would sleep at your place, playing big spoon to your little spoon, his strong arms wrapped around you, his chin and scruffy beard against your shoulder and neck. You’ve been to the man’s house, just haven’t stayed overnight in it. You realize it’s dumb, thinking too hard about this, you’ve only been together three months, it’s not that long, but it’s also not that short either, at least to you. He makes sure you get home safe from your dates and calls to let you know he’s in his house safe. 

One night, you decide that tonight you’re going to ask him why, why he doesn’t want you in his house overnight. Frankie doesn’t offer an explanation, only that he didn’t realize that it was that important to you. Instantly, you feel like an idiot for bringing it up. He assures you you’re not and you both go off to bed, sleep soundly and he cooks you breakfast. Slowly, you spend more nights at his house, but it was one particular night within the week you had been staying overnight at Frankie’s house why he was hesitant to have you over.

It turns out, Franscico Morales is a man with layers, like an onion. He hates that analogy because his friend Santiago says it too often and Benny mentions that his feet smell like onions, anyone’s feet would after wearing heavy boots all day with no breathable material. He’s a kind man, a loving partner and a doting father. He was also a soldier in the Special Forces of the US Army. This left him with blemishes on his mind and frayed his soul, he tries to remember he’s not that man anymore and has moved on, left that behind. As a concept, he understands, but his body and soul never forget what he did in the name of his country. Most times, he can keep busy to stave off the intrusive thoughts, the fears, the self-loathing, the guilt of surviving, the blood he can still see on his hands and head shots he made. Even flying, something Frankie loves doing which lead him to the army, reminds him of his past, moving his comrades bodies to and fro, sometimes they were alive, sometimes not. Frankie has talked to some people about it, some at the VA, and those he served with, but it’s a struggle each day. He is happy though, his daughter lights up his world and so do you, his new girlfriend who he does want to see when he wakes up.

Instead, Frankie sometimes sees the faces of those left behind, those who he couldn’t save, other times, it might just be blood or his old comrade Tom on that damn mountain a hole in his fucking head. He doesn’t want to burden you with this quite yet, things are new, they’re good. He can’t bear for you to walk away as others have, scared of him, feeling he’s defective in some way. Even Camila’s mother felt that way about him, she told him he’s a wonderful father but a haunted man that can’t let anyone in. That stuck with Frankie in the subsequent years.

Now he’s here, happy that you’re lying next to him, but wondering when it will happen. When his mind will fail him again and he’ll see the past horrors taunt him once more. Thankfully you’re a heavy sleeper, he was sure that he had woken you at your place when he got up in the middle of the night and went for a walk, sat on the couch, read one of your books, scrolled through his phone and then when he was near exhausted, he climbed back into bed. You were never the wiser though, you’d wake up with that gorgeous smile and ask him how he slept, give him a kiss and ask him what he wanted to eat. It was as it should be, no nightmares, no horrid dreams, no violent visions, maybe he got three or four hours of sleep tops, but it was next to someone who treated him like he was normal. He had found that he slept slightly better at your place so he was hoping to keep that going as long as possible. The veteran would get up to four and a half hours of sleep consecutively at your home

Tonight in Frankie’s house was fine, better then fine actually because once again, he made you say nothing but his name for at least an hour. After you both came down from your highs, your boyfriend wiped you down per his routine. If there was one thing you had learned about Frankie, unless he approves, don’t disrupt his routine. He takes special care to wipe you down first then himself, encourages you to use the bathroom followed by himself. Then the pair of you got into bed, his big spoon to your little spoon. A lovely end to a lovely evening. 

Except at one in the morning, you heard whispering. Frankie’s large hands weren’t on your round belly or wide thighs, instead, he had them wrapped around himself as sweat dotted his brow. An unfamiliar grimace was on his face as he mumbled something you couldn’t make out, it didn’t sound like words. You reached to touch his shoulder and he snapped back, he looked at you but his eyes were wide and unfocused. One of his hands grabbed your wrist as he draped you out of bed, he crouched behind the bedroom door. You didn’t say anything at first, shocked by what was happening but you started calling his name, first Frankie which he didn’t answer to, then you tried Francisco, he still gave you nothing. He was rattling off numbers now which were nonsensical. Finally you tried Sergeant Morales which got him to focus on you finally.

It took him a minute, but he recognized you and gasped in horror. Frankie didn’t remember getting out of the bed or grabbing you, ‘a new horror has happened’ he thought as he released your wrist. You actually hadn’t felt your hand for the last few minutes and now that he wasn’t putting any pressure on it, your wrist throbbed in pain, you winced but didn’t want to scare Frankie more than you already assumed that he was. He turned to head toward the kitchen but you stopped him.

“Wait, don’t go. I’m alright Frankie.”

“No you’re not cariño. Look at your wrist…I…”

“You didn’t mean to. I know you would never mean to. Is this…” You paused, taking a deep breath before asking. “Is this why you didn’t want me to sleepover?”

Frankie looks away for a moment, closing his eyes. Is this the moment he loses you? You say it’s fine but like hell it is. He knows your wrist hurts and you’ll be lucky if it doesn’t bruise by morning. You’re one of two people he wanted to be his best self for, you and his daughter, but he’s failed. Shown you what the outcome can be if his mind plays serious enough games with him. He looks into your patient eyes and nods. “Yes. Though not as severe as tonight was, most nights I…I don’t sleep well.”

You surprise him by embracing him, wrapping your soft body against him with your arms around him, massaging his back. “I’m glad I now know Frankie. We’re supposed to be up front with each other right?”

Frankie laid his head on your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on your round shoulder, he was in your arms and felt better, still guilty but better. Maybe you wouldn’t leave right away, he’d have time to convince you to stay at least.

“Frankie, let’s go back to bed, but I’ll be the big spoon this time.” His body stiffened, that was not part of the routine, his regimen with you. Before he could mention this, you’d pulled him back to bed and laid down, patting the pillow beside yourself. The man sighed and laid next to you in bed, giving in to your whim. He rolled on his side and felt your body against his, though your arms, especially your sore wrist didn’t quite make it around him due to the broadness of his back. 

“Cariño, I think we should switch positions. Doesn’t your wrist hurt like that?” You knew Frankie wasn’t wrong, it still pulsed with pain, though slightly less since it had been a few minutes. You decided to turn on your back and patted your chest.

“Lay here then. No funny business though, we have work in the morning.” A playful grin spread across your lips. Frankie let out a happy huff and laid his head on your tender breasts as his chest lay across half your plush belly. One hand patted your head, his fingers rubbing your scalp as his other hand squeezed your hip. 

“This is a lot better. You sure you can sleep like this though? Are you comfortable?” Your boyfriend asked, that was the man you knew, always concerned for your well being, even when you’re trying to get him settled.

“Yes, I can sleep through you having horrible dreams most nights.” You closed your eyes, realizing that may have been a cutting statement to make, but it was mainly directed at yourself. He’s been suffering like this and you didn’t know, slept happily without a care because you don’t remember your dreams but he does and it’s detrimental for him. “Sorry, I just…I would have tried to help you sooner you know. I get why you didn’t tell me. It’s a hellova thing to deal with Frankie.” You feel his body start to relax and to put more of his weight on you, he’s accepting of the position at least, you’re hopeful that it can get him back to sleep with minimal issue.

“Thank you cariño. I don’t deserve your understanding or your kindness.” A small acknowledgement comes from Frankie, though it makes you frown. He shouldn’t speak of himself that way, it’s not his fault his mind is in this state, it took years to become this. You had an arm that was laying across the pillows, above his shoulder, you bent it to place his scalp in your palm grasping and releasing his soft curls.

With a kiss placed on his forehead you told him, “You’re not broken Frankie. You’re entitled to so much from life. I love you and I won’t hear you talk about yourself like that. You’re too important to me.” A heat rose from your cheeks and spread throughout your body, you might burst into flames. You just told this man you loved him and you’ve only been dating him three months, that seems a bit soon. Even if a real tender moment is happening right now, that could sour it a bit or weird it out. You stayed perfectly still, closing your eyes to avoid the look on his face whatever it was. You worry too much.

Frankie is ecstatic with this turn of events. In fact, he too was wondering if it was too soon. Your plush body he loses himself in, your melodic voice where it always sounds like you’re singing his name, Camilla appeared to like you - she didn’t do the stranger danger and waddle away, you make him laugh, his friends liked you, you were aware of his past transporting discretion and although you didn’t excuse it completely, understood that he was trying to make ends meet at the time, enjoyed how comfortable he could be with you even in silence. Why shouldn’t he tell you that he loves you, especially now that you’ve said it first, though he did want to beat you to that originally. Francisco popped his chin up to look at you, your eyes were closed and he snickered, he had horrible dreams and you spun too many things inside that pretty head of yours.

“Look at me, Cariño,” he waited until you made eye contact with him. This was important after all, “I love you too and I also thought it was too soon. We’re on the same page most of the time. Stop spinning and sleep.” A small peck landed on the top of your breast before he laid his head back down.

Soon both of your respirations slowed and you slept until the morning. Frankie did not wake during the night or need an early morning walk. He had the best sleep he’d had in years. You were ecstatic to see him the next morning actually looking well rested for once, sitting on the side of the bed as he said good morning to you. Your hands pressed against his back as did your cheek - a wonderful start to the day for you both.

[wasteddays]

PAUL McCARTNEY OUT THERE TOUR AT CANDLESTICK PARK SAN FRANSCICO, CALIFORNIA AUGUST 14, 2014 2018 LIMITED EDITION 3CD NSU #4385/86/87 IF YOU'RE A GREAT MECCA FAN YOU WANT WANT TO GET THIS ONE FOR YOUR PRIVATE COLLECTION. ORIGINAL (NOT A COPY OR PIRATED...

[graveyarddirt]

Franscico & Malkuth make their debut on Giallo Disco with a tropical storm of magick house and slowbeat savagery, creeping flesh island songs from the lost discotheques of Matool. Six slices of cosmic-moodiness from two of the best producers and finest DJs in the game.

see also: #music

* Listen/purchase: Voodoo Island EP, by Francisco & Malkuth

[joeygallagher]

Henry Sanchez 

ft. Marcus Mcbride

Sight Unseen - Transworld Skateboarding  (2001)

[sitting-on-me-bum]

San Francisco, US

Reticulated giraffes await visitors during the San Francisco Zoo & Gardens reopening, after a near four-month closure

Photograph: John G Mabanglo/EPA

[nco05]

Stan has more layers and development to him in just 4 episodes of an under 20 minute episode running show as a 17 year old than some male characters in their late 20′s/30′s in a series of 5 seasons with each episode being over 40 minutes. Also Wyatt’s a better actor than those guys and he’s like what also 17 at best?