#Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge

[georgelthomas]

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Favourite Things to Do in the Summer #WritingCommunity #WriterCommunity #BloggingCommunity #BloggerCommunity #WednesdayWeeklyBloggingChallenge #Challenge #Wednesday #blog #Summer #seasons

[bobmueller]

Can We Talk About Something Serious?

A serious post this week for WWBC: the importance of open, civil communication as we challenge ignorance and bigotry. Direct but civil conversations are the key to fostering understanding and change.

This post is part of the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge, hosted by Long and Short Reviews. Check out other bloggers at this week’s post, “Things I Wish More People Talked About Openly.” Oh, my. Where do I start with this one? Wait. Where do I start? I had so much to say here when I first saw the topic. Then I couldn’t get started because I was so overwhelmed by the possibilities. It…

[rewritingkel]

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge

Each Wednesday Long and Short Reviews hosts a blog hop and we hope you join us! Today’s prompt is: Would You Move to a Mars Settlement? Explain. Moving to a Mars settlement sounds exciting, but I personally would not do it. I love the Earth too much! Here are a few reasons why I wouldn’t move to a Mars settlement: 1. 🌎 Earth’s Beauty: Our planet is filled with breathtaking landscapes, diverse…

[tennisdadsaficionado]

📚✨ Social media made me do it!

I’m talking about the books that snuck onto my shelves thanks to Instagram, TikTok, and more - from glamorous old Hollywood stories to cozy coffee shop fantasies.

Curious which titles made the list? Head over to the blog for this week’s Weekly Wednesday Blogging Challenge and see which ones I couldn’t resist!

🦙 The Bibliollama → https://www.bibliollama.uk

🧡 Let me know — what book did you buy because the internet wouldn’t stop talking about it?

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | Francisco Morales x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | working your summer job you find yourself fawning over a boy you barely know, realizing by the end of the summer that letting go of him may not be the best idea.

content warning | young!frankie morales, reader is working in bar (if there’s some things wrong, just know i tried fjsjsj), background tf boys, phone texts, inebriated hook ups (frankie is a lil drunk but he’s okay i swear) smut out the wazoo, oral (m/f receiving, protecting p in v, hints of voyeurism, idk let me live in this dream pls

word count — 7.5k

The bar was supposed to be easy cash, a second job you picked up during the summer, between the interim of your final year of college and the beginning of your life—just some extra money to keep you afloat amongst the drowning seas of tuition debt. But, the job came with unexpected challenges—rude customers, drunk customers, (given that you worked in a bar you really couldn’t fault them) but it was the rowdy ones that really got under your skin. And you quickly learned the unspoken schedule of customers as they made their weekly round for a few drinks, some over-fried bar food, and a game of darts or pool.

Monday through Wednesday were some of your more favorite days, friendlier people who liked to visit earlier in the day before the bar got packed after sunset, some relaxed chit chat and a beer or two. They tipped very nicely, too.

Thursday was the slowest of the week, co-workers sliding in to catch a game of pool or watch some sports game on the old, ratty television tucked in the corner area of the bar, even with you squinting your eyes it was still barely visible and they almost always left the biggest messes at their table—but again, you couldn’t complain when it was only a few tables you had to scrub down.

Friday was always busy, the weekends just as bad—from open to close you were shuffling around behind the bar, in tune with your co-workers as you moved around each other. You knew some people by name and some would politely remind you—you saw about a hundred different faces every week, some were bound to slip through the cracks.

But, within your first week there, you found a particular group of boys would show up every Friday without fail—a few rounds of beers, a mountain of wings and fries and whatever else they could get their hands on, and a game or two of darts and a pool table they had just to themselves.

The charmer, Santiago, was the first to introduce himself.

A crisp hundred dollar bill slipped over in advance with a softer tone, “I’m apologizing in advance, they tend to get a little, uh, loud.” It wasn't the right word, but you smiled nonetheless, still checking the money behind the counter in case he tried to slide you a fake and mask it with a simple courtesy that wasn't shown often. Kindness. 

You start their tab, grab their orders, and within twenty minutes their voices are already booming over the rest and arguing about a stupid game of darts, three other boys crowded around Santiago as their faces are within an inch of the board, fingers pointing all over.

There is a straggler, though—a man who’s similar in age to most of the boys, late twenties maybe? He had to be close to your age or just a little older but the sodden expression on his face made him feel much older, sipping at the round of beers you had brought by as soon as Santiago headed back for the table.

They call him Catfish, whatever that means—and it seems like they all have nicknames for each other and you wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem worth it. Your Rolodex of names in your head was already bursting at its seams and Santiago was the only one you could bother to remember, especially when he’s sliding over a chunk of cash in advance rather than blowing up his tab and then scrambling to pay.

For a few weeks it’s just that. They come in, Santiago pays, and then they spend a few hours in the back of the bar arguing like boys, rather than men. But, they always leave you a hefty tip when they don’t fill out their tab or when they go over and pay it out and then some. 

And naturally, you’re curious. About them. About him.

So, when Catfish comes in on a Saturday night completely alone, that curiosity does get the better of you.

He doesn’t make much of a scene, sliding into the bar stool instead of taking up a table, and seeing how busy it is, he waits—quietly and with a faint smile on his face that you catch a few times in passing, refilling cups with ice and offering a polite smile back.

When you finally get to him you're slightly breathless, wiping your hands on the towel tucked into your back pocket, “Hey, sorry about—what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” He says with a shrug, promptly sliding over a twenty as you pour and hand off the glass.

“Where’s the others?” You ask curiously, an attempt at casual conversation despite selfishly wanting to know.

“A party,” Fish explains, “Benny won his tournament so they’re celebrating that.”

The name sounds familiar but you can’t quite place it.

“The younger one,” He adds with a subtle smirk, seeing the furrow in your brow of you thinking too hard.

“So Benny, Santiago—but you get stuck with Catfish?”

It can’t be his actual name, but they never use anything else.

“Francisco,” He takes a generous sip of his beer before setting it down, tapping his fingers idly against the surface of the bar, “—but, just Frankie. If that’s easier.”

You tilt your head with a genuine smile, putting a name to a face and it feels fitting, the hat suffocating his mop of hair, curls peeking around the edge of his hat and the dark colored tees he always wore, some sort of dismay always written on his face. You can’t explain it, but it works for him.

Frankie. Francisco. Catfish.

“Well, Frankie—if you need anything just yell. That’s probably the only way I’ll hear you,” You tell him with a laugh before attempting to depart—the bar isn’t too bad at the moment, all customers dealt with but the roar of the bar is loud.

“Well—wait,” Frankie half shouts, grabbing your attention, “what’s your name? I gave you mine, seems fair to ask.”

You tell him with a shrug, “But, I only ever hear honey or sweetheart all night, so really, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Frankie chuckles at that, looking away briefly as if to busy his mind with something else and you slip away then.

You don’t ask why he came alone—why he would skip out on a party with the men he came here every Friday night with—maybe he needed a break. Alone time. It wasn’t your business.

But, one Saturday becomes another. And two months later he’s come by every Saturday. Alone. And giving you his undivided attention. It’s sweet, you’ll admit that. 

He isn’t as closed off on Friday’s when he arrives with the other boys but isn’t as outwardly friendly as say, Santiago would be during that time. But, Saturdays—he’s a whole different person. Lighter. Happier.

He only ever orders one beer, makes small talk, and lately—he’s been walking you to your car. So, not only is he nursing that beer over the four hours left in your shift by the time he gets there, he’s waiting for you. To clock out, that is.

Really, it’s against your better judgment. Allowing a total stranger to know what you drive, where you park, what time your shift ends, but Frankie is a… friend.

He isn’t like most of the customers, terrible at small talk and flirting and only making half-assed, nasty comments toward you when they get a few rounds in. 

He’s seen it a few times. He never berates the guys, but he does pull your attention away, occupies your mind, and always manages to slip in a few words that make your legs go weak and encourage the dull throb between your thighs—even if it’s just a smile and an apology on their behalf. 

Frankie always shows interests, ask about you and your life in the politest way he can without seeming like a complete creep—you can tell he doesn’t flirt often, by the way he’s quiet around his friends when you stop by their table or how he never asks for your number despite twirling his phone in his hands idly most of the night, trying to seem occupied but mostly staring at a blank screen until he finally gains the courage to ask you another question.

The first night he walks you to your car it’s quick—he stays until you close up for the night and walks around back, a careful and watchful eye on your surroundings as he nods and wishes you goodnight with a half-hearted smile, kicking himself in the ass for not just asking for your number.

And it continues like that for weeks, within those couple months, and gradually Frankie bursts out of his shell little by little until you both are giggling one night over a particularly rowdy customer, having gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure and broken a table. 

His hand grazes your lower back as you walk out, a genuine mistake but you turn your head toward him quickly, soothing his worries with a smile as you stick the key into the lock.

“Don’t worry about it,” You tell him with a comforting tone, “I’m used to men being a little more handsy than that, so, if anything, you’re a gentleman.”

“Those aren’t men.” Frankie argues lightheartedly.

“Eh, men who act like boys,” You say, “they’re assholes either way you put it.”

Frankie nods, readjusting his cap on his head as he pushes his fingers through his hair.

You twist the keys in your hand and start the walk toward your car.

“Do you ever take that thing off?”

Frankie’s eyes dart up toward the hat and he chuckles, hidden under the scruff and grown out facial hair, “No. No, not really.”

“Would you do it if I asked you to?”

He contemplates but never gives you a straight answer, forcing you to prod him gently with the end of your key, “Don’t worry—I won’t. Not yet.”

Frankie’s fingers curl around the edge of your door as he holds it open and watches you climb in, mind swimming with a million ways to ask what he wants, but it never comes.

But, you see it on his face immediately, the caution behind his eyes in being so forward with you.

“Ask for it,” You tell him, turning on the ignition to your car, still looking at him as he looms between you and the car door, “—unless you want to make me ask.”

Frankie looks away briefly and you laugh softly at his sudden unabashed expression as he smiles and turns back to you, “Can I have your number?”

You hold your hand out in wait, thumbing in your number the moment the phone finds your palm. You send yourself a short text with a smiley face to make sure it goes through and hand it back over, feeling a sudden flutter of anxiety in your chest.

Not good, not bad—but it is something.

“Put it to good use,” You warn him, “don’t make me regret that.”

Frankie smiles wider that time, his teeth peeking out behind full lips.

“Right,” He agrees, “absolutely. I promise.”

He adds a soft goodnight and you depart, feeling your phone buzz again before you even pull out of the parking lot.

[Unknown Number]: Goodnight

You snort a quiet laugh to yourself.

An hour later, a toothbrush tucked into your cheek as you stare down at your phone when it vibrates. You had half the mind to save his number despite your exhaustion from the shift you worked.

[Frankie]: Home safe?

[You]: Yep. :) Thank you for checking on me

[Frankie]: :) Goodnight. 

[Frankie]: Again lol.

It’s stupid—it shouldn’t make you smile. But, it does.

You quickly find every day occupied by Frankie in some form, through text or just the thought of him. He’s everywhere and you can’t seem to care—and you give up sleep in the middle of the night for text conversations that come from just wanting to hear from him, as nervous as you are to just call—you could, you knew he wouldn’t care. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You try to learn as much as you can about him.

[You]: Why Catfish?

It’s a random Tuesday when the text comes through his phone. He’s busy in class, cramming himself in as many hours as possible before he tests for his pilot license.

[Frankie]: Long story. Obnoxiously long. Why?

[You]: Just curious. It’s a strange nickname

[Frankie]: So what does that make me?

Frankie doesn’t get a response for a while and he knows you’re probably working, but he finds his fingers reaching for his pocket any time his phone vibrates in the hopes that it’s you.

[You]: Sorry. There was a mess at work. 

[You]: It makes you strange btw

[You]: I’m kidding. But, it’s still a weird nickname.

Frankie can tell it’s you from the constant buzzing and he takes a peek at his phone.

[Frankie]: Oh shit. How bad of a mess?

[Frankie]: I know. Maybe I can explain it another time.

You’re busy wiping the beer off your face as you look at his text, the security dragging out the guy who had splashed the glass of liquid back at your face.

[You]: Some asshole threw a beer at me. Nothing new. Clothes are soaked.

[You]: Don’t try to make a joke about that or I’m double charging you this Friday.

Frankie frowns at the implication that you think he’s first instinct is to make a joke at your expense, but you can’t help to protect yourself from the behavior you’re used to from most men.

[Frankie]: Do you need me to bring you something? I can stop by on my way home?

[You]: I’ll survive. Thank you, though. My shift is almost over.

A couple days later you end up going down a fireshot line of questioning to get to know him, much to his surprise.

[You]: Okay. Birthday?

[Frankie]: April 2nd. 

He returns the question to which you answer but add on another text with a joke at his expense.

[You]: Damn, a day short and that would be perfect for you. So, you’re an Aries.

[Frankie]: Yeah, whatever that means.

You laugh to yourself, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you walk through your local grocery store to pick up items for dinner that night.

[You]: It fits you. Oh! What do you do for work?

[You]: Fair game since you know what I do.

[Frankie]: We’re all in the army. I work on aircraft.

Oh, that’s…not what you were expecting.

[Frankie]: It’s new. I’m trying to get my pilot's license right now. I’ve got a big test coming up for it.

[You]: That’s so cool! Take me for a ride sometime?

You smirk to yourself as you press send.

[Frankie]: Yes.

You look ridiculous smiling at your phone in the middle of the aisle but you can’t help it.

In the army. A pilot. And a gentleman? Or, at least he’s provided himself to be nice enough. You were both young, so it didn’t surprise you that you were both unluckily single. But, Frankie seemed like such a catch—and it terrified you how badly you wanted him. Even in the simplest form. 

A friend, a best friend, even. Or more, definitely more. But, you didn’t mind either way.

He’s due to take the test for his pilot license the Monday after your last shift, showing up with the boys on that Friday before—typical routine and behavior, but he does seem a bit more handsy. Santiago has always been friendly, but he does hug you this time he sees you, catching you on the way back to the bar and he plants a kiss on your cheek that you welcome with a soft, playful shove of your hand at his face and if it strikes Frankie with jealousy, you don’t notice.

But, he does shock you when he wraps an arm around your front and hugs you lazily, haphazardly slumping his other arm over your shoulder as he plants a kiss in your the hair at the crown on your head and rubs your hip with his thumb, leaving you dumbstruck and wanton the rest of your shift, frazzled every time you glance his way.

Santiago orders a round of shots toward the end of the night and thanks you with a wink, departing for the table and interrupting the idle conversation the men were entranced in.

You’re not sure what was going on, wiping down the counter as the night slowed down and casually flicking your eyes up to check on them, hearing them laugh occasionally, glancing your way briefly and suddenly Frankie was headed your way, fiddling around with the brim of his hat as he pressed a forearm against the countertop you had just wiped down. 

You snap him gently with the towel and give him a look, he backs away slightly, hovering over the edge of the counter.

“What’s up?”

“They’re a bunch of dicks, I’m sorry.” Frankie deflected, glancing back at the boys who were staring on with sated smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of him fumbling and dropping the ball as he spoke to you. His eyes flick up wearily, soft and so distinct to him that it makes your heart ache. “Pope—Santiago, he dared me to come over and kiss you. And it’s stupid but if I didn’t at least try I would never hear the end–”

You pull him in by the collar of his shirt, the brim of his hat being pushed askew by the force as you press your lips to his in a simple, but unmistakable kiss. Tilting your head slightly as you pull away briefly to kiss him once more, dropping your towel to push your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and it seems like his brain catches up too late, his fingers barely grazing your neck as you pull away.

You pointedly look around Frankie to flip the other three off with both hands.

“Get out of here,” You warn playfully, “before I murder one of them.”

Frankie huffs a soft laugh through his nose before he turns away, speechless.

They were out of there within a few minutes, but an hour later your lips were still tingling.

Frankie is different that Saturday—more energetic, seeming lighter and more playful. 

He drinks one beer, then two, surprisingly a couple shots of tequila—and before you know it, you’re seeing a much different side of Frankie than you're used to and it is quite the sight.

“Am I cutting you off?” You ask curiously, “I don’t want you nursing a hangover tomorrow when you have your test on Monday.”

“One more,” Frankie promises, “but—surprise me?”

You shrug, not finding a problem with it.

“Sweet or savory?” You ask him.

You feel your breath catch slightly as he pauses, his eyes doing a subtle drag over your body as you take a couple steps back, reaching for an empty glass.

“Sweet.” 

It has an underlying tension to it neither of you address. 

You make something up on the fly—fruity and sweet with the slightest bit of tang, nothing that screams Frankie but when you set it down in front of him and he drinks, his eyes widen slightly.

And for half a second you think he might spit it out, but then he’s chugging the rest down—and maybe it’s alcohol dulling his taste buds but he makes a quick show of assuring you he liked it, even if it’s mostly for your own benefit.

Shaking his head as he licks at his lips with his tongue in a way that feels so unnecessary that you can’t help but giggle, snatching the empty glass away from him as he smiles, his eyes half-lidded from the faint buzz he has going on, but otherwise he still seems fine.

You couldn’t let him get that drunk, not when he had so much riding on that test.

By the end of the night, your side hurts from laughing so much, forceably having to shove your hand in Frankie’s face to get him to shut up for half a second, his fingers circling around your wrist as he pulls you forward and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Stay. Let me close up and we can walk through the back.” You tell him and he nods quietly, though his grin never fades, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip idly while he watches you work around the clutter and reorganize, cleaning everything down before you’re flicking off the lights and nodding at him to follow.

If it were anyone else, you’d have given them a stiff kick to the balls and sent them on their way, but the moment Frankie noses at your neck your hard resolve melts and you shrug him away at how much it tickles your skin, feeling his hand wrap around the bicep on your left arm. He’s never been so touchy but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. In fact, you’re eating it up at this point.

“Frankie,” You warn him playfully, working and failing to lock the door as uses his other hand to squeeze at your side, “come on—I can’t lock up with you doing that.”

“Try,” He teases, challenges, and you can’t help but like the bolder, less restrained side of himself he’s offering up to you.

The gentle nuzzling quickly turns to kisses, wet and open mouthed as he practically drapes himself over you, one hand pressed into the brick wall beside the backdoor and you sigh softly, leaning into his chest as you finally get the door locked and shrug him away.

“Am I going to see you next week?” He asks hopefully, knowing that with August looming in the distance that your job at the bar was close to being nullified. 

You shake your head with a bittersweet smile, “Tomorrow is my last day, actually. For now, anyway.”

Frankie’s brow furrows at that and he shakes his head slightly before he’s invading your space, hands cupping your face as he lifts your chin up to meet your lips and kisses you gently, your fingers coming up to curls around his forearms and you feel his lips part just as you pull away.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask him, feeling like an echo as he comes back to the surface with a delayed response, trying to kiss you again but you're pressing your fingertips over his lips until he realizes that you actually want an answer.

“I’ve wanted you all summer,” He admits and it makes your blood run hot, that distinct tingle of pleasure shooting down your spine and it is nothing you were expecting him to say, but tonight was full of surprises apparently, “do I need to prove it to you?”

He presses his forehead against your own and you shake your head in response. You believed him, you didn’t doubt him for a second—but it feels surreal. Those quick, fleeting summer flings you only hear about in passing, never expecting to experience it yourself.

You may never see him again, you had to strike the match while it was still in reach.

“Are there cameras back here?” Frankie asks hastily.

You snort, “No—we’re five minutes away from college dorms in the poorest part of town. People come here for cheap booze, not security.”

Frankie nods at that, “You’re right,” He responds but the end is muffled as he kisses you again, with less care and a lot more tongue as you open your mouth to him and find the words on your tongue are muffled by his.

And thank god the street lights were shit in the back alley, barely working amongst the occasional flicker, you eventually find your way in the darkened corner of the back alley with Frankie’s hand working at the button on your jeans, almost tripping over an overturned crate on the way there that causes you both to burst into a fit of giggles, laughing through the sloppy kisses Frankie can’t help but smother you with, sighing when his fingers dip past the denim and thin fabric underwear to cup your pussy with his entire hand, the warmth of his palm like an answered prayer.

His hat is frustrating though, constantly bumping and prodding at your head before you finally get fed up, plucking it off his head and tossing it to the ground with an annoyed sigh that forces a choked laugh from Frankie’s throat, dipping a finger down the center of your core before pressing inside of you, gasping at the sudden but welcomed intrusion. You release a shaky sigh and open your eyes to look at him, finding he’s plenty amused but still buzzed in his own way.

Half beer, half pleasure—but he looks like he wants to devour you.

Lucky for you, he was starving.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, breathing picking up as he angles his fingers and slips another inside, curling them toward you from within and you pull at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He smirks in amusement, “Wish you could see how needy you look,” Frankie comments, “all it took was a couple fingers, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Too bad it took you all summer,” You pester him as he picks up the intensity, using his other hand to push your jeans lower down your hips, “and some stupid fuckin’ drink to make you finally want to have sex with.”

“Sex?” Frankie jokes through a throaty chuckle, “Who said anything about—”

Your hand cups the front of his jeans firmly, a little harsher than necessary but you can tell he doesn’t mind, almost challenging you to tease him a little more but the moment you both hit a solid wall you’re tripping over each other’s feet and it pulls you back to the surface and despite your clothes being half-stripped away and Frankie’s hand still shoved down the front of your jeans, it brings back a surprising amount levity to assess the situation at hand.

“I mean, do you want to?” You ask him curiously, tucking a curl behind his ear as he blinks, considering how this would affect his relationship with you, as brief and fleeting as it was.

“You’re really asking me that?” He responds, “Of course.”

“Well, I mean you did just say—”

Frankie places his palm over your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He deflects, hoping you’ll play along.

You work at his belt without hesitation, far over the small talk and tired of wasting time. Frankie pulls his hand away much to your disappoint, pouting slightly as he drag his hand up your stomach, under your shirt until he’s got it tucked under your chin and mouthing of your bra greedily, the fingers of his other hand peeking around the fabric to pull it down, taking the soft, pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking with a satisfied groan as you dip your hand beyond his waistband and over his boxers, pulled tight against his thighs and groin. You could picture the sight of him in your mind for hours if you wanted, but you had him here, right here. 

Why not give yourself a peek at the real thing?

Frankie is lost, deep within the exploration of your body that he doesn’t even hear your voice when you plead with him, his voice grazing over the delicate skin of your breasts as he pulls away, already ready to descend and yank your jeans the rest of the way down, press his face between your legs and feast on you like it was the best thing he’s tried all night.

But, there’s the pout again—so subtle he would miss it had he not finally given you his full, undivided attention and he was right. You are needy.

His thumb rubs at the small sliver of your lip that’s poking out, rocking his hips gently into the hand still tucked away into his jeans—there was such a distinct charm to him, melting under his gaze the second his eyes made contact with your own. Every time.

“I don’t wanna keep you,” You whine emphatically and Frankie almost immediately begins to shake his head—

No. No, of course not. You wouldn’t be keeping him at all. Not a chance, not a fuckin—his inner monologue is going wild but he finds you perking up at the slowly growing panic on his face.

“But,” You breath, the thumb that was resting at your bottom lip trailing down the valley of your breasts before he cups one gently in his hand, “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t give you at least something to remember this.”

“Couldn’t forget about you if I tried, actually,” He begins, but you shake your head, shushing him and pushing his hand away before you sink to your knees despite the immediate protest in your knees at the hard gravel—but god was it fucking worth it when you look up, half-lidded eyes staring back as you shake his jeans down his hips, just far enough that you can watch as he does the work with his boxers, cock bobbing free as he settles the band underneath his balls and if has to look away by that point, overwhelmed in the way your eyes roam but you don’t speak, clearly admiring and seering this to memory as you smile cheekily, taking his cock in your hand and jerk him slowly, thumb running along the vein that follows to the head of his cock.

“Get off the floor,” He begs pathetically, “gonna tear your knees up doing that.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and slide your tongue along the head of his cock, dipping down the slit of his head and to his shaft, pulling back at the skin and taking him into your mouth fully. He’s uncircumcised, thick and perfect—he fills your mouth out so beautifully in all his girth that you wonder just how much better it can feel between your legs, filling you out in the best way.

“Oh, jesus—baby, that’s,” You hum, bobbing your head in constant rhythm as your work your free hand around his balls, cupping them and allowing your other hand to cover the rest of what your mouth couldn’t take of his length and Frankie looks like he might actually pass out, looking around desperately for something, anything to lean on before he just settles for the wall behind you, resting both of his palms against the brick as he towers over you.

Frankie sighs shakily, dropping a hand to tuck against the back of your head, and your stomach swirls with anticipation as he allows himself to break his restrain a little, guiding his cock into your mouth with little aide given how eager you were as you took him as far as you could go, brush your nose against the trimmed patch of hair at the base and feel his hand flex in your hair, gripping it tight and attempting to pull you off to no avail, repeating the process until he’s begging for you to slow down, give him just a few seconds to breathe, ultimately finding that you don’t stop until he finally finds his voice again, stuttering out a desperate, “Stop, stop, stop–”

You pull away suddenly, worrying crossing your face but quickly dissipating as Frankie laughs, pulling you to your feet without much fight on your part and he does notice the few scraps on your knees, collecting with blood and he really wishes you would have listened but you brush him off, his body pressing you up against the brick wall behind you, pants still hanging at his thighs and his dick pressed against your stomach, shirt still sloppily bunched up over your tits.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, so vulgar it makes you pulse around absolutely nothing, his eyes roving over your face curiously, his thumb tracing over your lips, with a soft mumble, “God, I need you so bad.”

“My car,” You respond, tongue pressing against the pad of his fingertip as you nod behind him, “Condoms, they’re—in the car.”

Frankie makes a face, sort of amused but a little confused.

“Shut up,” You null his question before it slips out—”It’s precaution, okay? Guys love to pull the whole—”

“No, I—I get it,” Frankie answers, a small laugh rounding out his tone, “I just figured, you know—we’d…go back to your place? Or mine?”

Your hand fists into his shirt slowly, pulling him impossibly closer like he wasn’t already pressed against every surface of your body.

“What if I can’t wait?” Your eyes soften, looking up at him and catching the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, wanting to taste that tinge of sugar that lingers with him, “Would you fuck me right now?”

Frankie nods eagerly and you don’t hesitate, grabbing for his hat, placing it against his chest and gripping his hand in your own before you shove him away gently and lead him to your car, mostly covered in darkness aside from the obnoxiously orange streetlight that glowed overhead. Your clothes haphazardly pulled back up as you clamber into the driver's seat to reach over the console and into the glovebox, aware of the hand that slides between your leg as you search in the poor lighting, squealing when he squeezes at the flesh under his grip and shoving the foil wrapper into Frankie’s chest when you finally get your hand on the box.

“Off,” He tells you, pulling at the zipper of your jeans, “all the way.”

There was so much going on in your mind, nothing you could pluck out and focus on but it buzzed with excitement, anticipation, the kind of adrenaline that only comes in situations when your judgment is hasty and not fully-thought out. You’re barely kicking your shoes off and pulling your jeans past your ankle before Frankie is manhandling you into the backseat, and pressing his face between your thighs as he licks into you, a surprised gasp tearing from your throat as you grip the seats wherever you can.

Your pussy throbs under the care of his tongue, and he carries on obnoxiously, making a mess between your legs as his fingertips grip at the flesh of your ass and force you to open yourself wider to him, “Frankie—” You interject weakly, but he silences you with his mouth, sucking at your clit like it was his new obsession and you whine so pathetically that you find you covering your mouth in shame, biting gently at your bicep to muffle the flurry of sounds that came out after.

He pulls away some time later—minutes, hours, days, you can’t even place it. But, you hear him shift, the rip of the wrapper and the jingling of his belt as he shifts his jeans further down and slides into the backseat more comfortably, hovering over you. His hands squeezing at your hips, a comforting gesture as he speaks from behind you.

“Are you sure?” 

It’s sweet, you can admit that. But, you don’t need that.

“Frankie.”

He wasn’t budging. Because, if by some sudden change of heart you didn’t want this, he wanted to know.

“Yes. Yes,” You say, turning slightly to look over your shoulder, his face only an inch or so away as you tuck your arm back and push your fingers into his hair, pulling his face next to yours as he pushes inside of you slowly, yanking gently at the strands between your fingers as he settles, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“Let me hear you,” He begs, “It’s just us.”

He hears you all the time, voice carrying across the bar but never like this—for him, only for him.

He pulls back gently, snapping his hips firmly and you hum softly, slightly giddy over the entire situation. He continues that way, so gentle and cautious that it makes you wonder why you both avoided this for so long, “More?” Frankie asks. You nod and his pace quickens slightly, a little harsher, and your hand grips onto the passenger seat beside your head for leverage as he chest rumbles with a deep sigh, “Fuck this is—baby, you have no idea.”

“Tell me,” You plead, the quiet creak of the car drowned out by your loud, pathetic moans as Frankie’s fingers curl around your throat and hold, no pressing or squeezing, just another place for them to find a home.

“Thought about this—so many times,” He admits, “came here for months—fuck, months. And then you show up and I was nervous—couldn’t, couldn’t even think of what to say to you. I knew I’d embarrass myself in front of them.” He squeezes then, a gentle pressure on your throat that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“I had to see you alone,” His throat is tight, his breath a little quicker as he speaks, his hips snapping into you at a steady pace that clouds your mind effortlessly, “wanted you for myself—and, I would’ve fucked you that first night if you’d let me.”

You cunt squeezes him tight at his words and he curses, “So greedy, baby. She’s drooling all over me—such a fucking mess,” And you need to see him, face the man who’s finally found just the right amount of confidence to make you speechless. You lean up suddenly and force a hand into his chest and he only looks slightly confused before you’re pulling him inside and forcing him to sit into the cramped back seat, uncaring of the open car door as the car rocks with the weight of your bodies and you seat yourself on his lap, gripping his dick in your hand and sinking back down onto him without a word, curling yourself over him as you push away the hair clinging to his forehead, damp from sweat and his eyes are blown wide, staring up at you like he was under hypnosis, gaze locked on your own.

“Tell me now,” You challenge him—nowhere to hide behind his words.

“Would you—have let me fuck you that one night I walked you to your car?” He asks.

You smile guiltily, remembering the heat of his hand on your back, never really an accident.

“I’d have let you fuck me over the pool table if you asked, Frankie.” You admit, “In front of your friends too, if that’s what you really wanted.”

Frankie laughs weakly, giving you the lead as you lift your hips with a sudden eagerness.

“Is that what you want?” You tease him, “You guys are all about claim, right? Army boys love to show off—I mean, they’d probably be into it. Santi, for sure—”

Frankie covers your mouth with his hand and you giggle, biting playfully at the flesh of his palm.

He squeezes at your hip with his free hand, forcing you into a hurried pace as he begins to move his hips to meet your own, lifting off the seat slightly with every snap of his hips. Your cry is muffled by his hand but Frankie sees it in your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes that tells him.

“Touch yourself, babygirl,” He tells you, “Let’s see how bad you want it.”

You lean back between the open space of the driver and passenger seat, one hand gripping the upholstery of the seat while the other works between your legs, fingers drifting over your clit and into the mess of yourself that was leaking over Frankie’s cock from where it was buried inside of you and he wasn’t lying—you’ve never been so turned on in your life. Half-assed hook-ups and guys that didn’t give a shit about your own pleasure, Frankie was a goddamn dream and a hell of a good fuck. 

You know your body well enough that it doesn’t take long, but the show is for Frankie’s benefit alone, head thrown back over your shoulders as your middle and ring finger circle your clit, occasionally wrapping your hand around what of his shaft was available as you tried weakly to move your hips, squeezing to pull a soft little gasp from his chest. It was such a damn shame you didn’t have him fully naked, splayed out on the mattress in your shitty apartment. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin, leave half crescent marks and a reminder of you for days, weeks even. 

“Fuck, I’m right there, baby—” He warns, unexpectedly joining your own fingers and forcing you over the edge just before he pulls you in, a brutal snap of his hips before he’s muffling the deep groans of his orgasm into your skin, teeth sinking gently into your shoulder.

The next few minutes is spent in a blissful silence, moving off of him carefully as he discards the condom but never letting you drift to far, still curled up and half naked on his lap as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss that takes your breath away, literally pulls from your chest and makes your heart stop.

Oh…this was not good. 

You breathe shakily and pull away with a smile that masks that sudden ache in your chest and kiss again at the inside of his palm. He leans his head against the backseat, eyes closed as he catches his breath and groans slightly when you move off of him, oblivious and exhausted as you redress hastily beside him, pulling your jeans back up your legs and over your hips, slipping your shoes on and readjusting your shirt, shaking him gently when you fear he might have passed out right there in the back of your car.

“Frankie,” You call out, saying his name a few more times before you call out, one last time, “Francisco, hey.”

His eyebrows raise in question, a subtle smile on his lips as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

“I really need to get home,” You tell him, laughing half-heartedly at his drunken stupor, “you’ve gotta go.”

Frankie seems to realize then that he can’t drag this out any longer, redressing himself slowly as he climbs out of the car, watching you fiddle with your shirt and your appearance, trying to not look like you just got fucked in the backseat of your car.

He seems to notice the slight dismay on your face, knowing that your lives were diverting down different paths, but this was still the present. Now. And he was still here.

He presses you into the driver’s side door and kisses you then, hands crawling up the side of your neck and caressing the curve of it, dipping his tongue past your lips and really stealing your breath away, moaning into your mouth like you were the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.

You pull away regrettably when you feel him start to ramp up again, “Good luck on your test, by the way.” You tell him honestly, “You can text me the good news when you pass.”

Frankie chuckles, “I will.” There’s a long pause and then he’s speaking again, the few words you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, “Can I see you again?”

The hesitance is obvious on your face and it kicks Frankie down a peg, but he gets it. He wasn’t a boyfriend, barely even a friend. But, he was still hopeful.

“Maybe.” You offer, “I mean—you still have my number. I’m just a text or call away, you know.”

Frankie couldn’t admit that you were the only thing getting him through this summer without relapsing or making another misstep, that wasn’t your burden. But, the weight on his heart is heavy and his own to bear, welcoming the hug you offer him immediately and squeezing you so tight you might break, but of course, you don’t. 

And he thinks that if he showed up broken, in pieces, that you would know exactly how to piece him back together, but he hoped that never happened. That maybe you might manage to escape him and he wouldn’t drag you down with him.

“Goodbye, Frankie.” 

He smiles and nods, settling his hat back on his head as he steps away.

You leave soon after, not sure why this sudden dark cloud is looming over you.

Frankie never texts you about his test and the texts you send in the aftermath are never responded to—and eventually you give up, feeling like an idiot for being hopeful in the first place.

↝ beta: @chaotic-mystery

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[mayberrycryptid]

now we have our very own tumblr community, I will be posting a weekly update:

🏄we have two comment fic/art challenges going for June🌈

🏄its rec week, so we had a great round up of fic recs🌈

🏄we now have coffee shop chat on Wednesdays, where we can hang out and chat🌈

🏄we will be having our very first episode discussion this Friday🌈

🏄we are having a bake off for Danny’s b-day in August🌈

🏄and last but certainly not least, @pineappleinfestedparadise posted some 🔥🔥🔥 fanart for summer solstice! Go to their blog and check it out!!!🌈

🌈🌈if you would like an invite to the bestest community on tumblr, just leave a comment on this post🌈🌈

[tarlosweeklyprompts]

THE TORTURED WRITER CHALLENGE

Hello and welcome to Tarlos Weekly Prompts newest event! I know I said that this would come sooner but life has been busy and I didn't have the time to commit to making the event as I wanted to. We know that Taylor Swift is a pretty big musician - love her or hate her, she's written a lot of good songs that can inspire some pretty amazing fics. This event will be taking inspiration from her songs and the general vibes of her music to create breathtaking fics that I know this fandom can create. If you have any questions, please let me know! I know that she has a lot of songs, not all of them will be listed here but I hope that you guys enjoy the ones that are picked! I can't wait to see what everyone writes!

This event will run until July 31st.

Rules:

Accepted works: fic's, moldboards, fanart, gifs, etc.

All works need to be new works.

All works need to be Tarlos centric

All works need to be properly tagged.

All work needs to be posted by 5 p.m. est time on July 31st, 2024

Tag the blog (@tarlosweeklyprompts ) I'm tracking the tag #twpeventttwc

Prompt's do not have to be claimed. Just pick one (or more) and write your fic.

Song Title Prompts (you can use the theme of the song, lyrics, or vibes to create your fic):

Nothing New

loml

Closure

Vigilante Shit

Right Where You Left Me

The Manuscript

Untouchable

Now That We Don't Talk

Call It What You Want

Invisible String

Champagne Problems

Love Story

the 1

Mine

Lover

Lyric Prompts:

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost / Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw (Hits Different)

No amount of freedom gets you clean / I've still got you all over me (You All Over Me)

The skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up (Cowboy Like Me)

Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere (New Year's Day)

You drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (Cardigan)

Barefoot in the kitchen / Sacred new beginnings / That became my religion (Cornelia Street)

Old habits die screaming (The Black Dog)

I snuck in through the garden gate / Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Cruel Summer)

It never ever occurred to you / That I can't say 'hello' to you / And risk another goodbye (I Almost Do)

You call me up again just to break my like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest (All Too Well)

You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor (Is It Over Now?)

And I wouldn't marry me either / A pathological people pleaser (You're Losing Me)

The altar is my hips/ Religion's in your lips/ Even if it's a false god/ We'd still worship this love... / I know heaven's a thing / I go there when you touch me (False God)

I've been spending the last eight months / thinking all love ever does / is break and burn and end / but on a Wednesday in a cafe / I watched it begin again (Begin Again)

Don't blame me, love made me crazy / If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right / Lord save me my drug is my baby / I'll be usin' for the rest of my life (Don't Blame Me)

[chbnews]

WEEKLY NEWS 04/13/25 - 04/19/25

Join the CHB News Discord!

Camp Announcements:

Due to the mishap with last week's news, we had to take action and ban Damien White from the blog for a week. However, we have decided to allow campers to cycle through and write the news in groups. (Rip Damien...I'll miss you dearly...)

Polling for the prom king / queen will begin on Tuesday! Keep your eyes open!

Cabin inspections are taking place this week! The cleanest cabin is free from camp chores, and gets first dibs on dessert! The cabin inspectors this week are: Holly and Laurel Victor from the Nike Cabin. (Those two will rig it thoughhh)

Satyr Exchange program begins on Sunday! You may see many new satyrs wandering around from all over the world. This is part of a larger, worldwide effort to help demigods from ALL continents. (Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, new satyrs!) (YAY! Hi new satyrs!!)

The game this week will be a Chariot Race! (Didn’t we stop doing that cause it results in more injuries than it’s worth) (Please don’t remind me, I’ll be working overtime…)

Camper Updates:

Terra and Tyson from the Ares Cabin set a new camp record for the obstacle course! They cleared it in just under three minutes!

Katie Gardener and Gale Salo from the Demeter Cabin have successfully revived the Strawberry Fields after the fire incident. Thankfully nobody was hurt. (I will have it be known all of cabin 4 helped revive it!)

Darren from the Hecate Cabin is no longer stuck to the wall of the Big House, after a long and extensive rescue mission from his cabin mates. (We had to remove pieces of drywall from his arms and legs...) (ewww-)

Kei Brooks from the Poseidon Cabin has fully recovered after an underwater combat training session turned into wrestling with a grumpy naiad. Thankfully, the injuries were minor, but that naiad said they'd do it again, which is a little concerning...

Game Winnings:

In an absolute upset, the Blue Team won capture the flag by THREE SECONDS! However, they chose to claim it as a tie, and shared their desserts with the Red Team. (Which was appreciated because the Apollo Cabin was sided with the Red Team this week, and the dessert that night was pecan pie. I would've probably crashed out.) (that was the best pecan pie ever)

Speaking of Apollo Cabin, they hosted a Trickshot Challenge, in which Penelope Hale from the Athena Cabin won with a curving arrow through a flaming ring! She won a set of ten enchanted arrows.

The Hecate and Nike Cabins banded together to win the Chariot Dash competition hosted by Chiron and the Poseidon Cabin.

Dionysus hosted a Board Game night in which the Dionysus Cabin won. (Not saying it was rigged, which would be ridiculous, but I swear I saw my double sixes turn into twos...) (We did nothing of the sort! You just suck at board games. >:p) (it was totally rigged, liar)

Upcoming Events:

"Hexes and X-es" hosted by the Hecate Cabin, Sunday morning in the Amphitheater.

"How to NOT Die: A Forest Survival Guide" hosted by the Demeter and Athena cabins, Monday morning in the Woods. (It’s fun I promise!)

"Combat Healing and Basic First Aid" hosted by Will Solace from the Apollo Cabin, Monday afternoon in the Cabin Green. (This stuff is important, PLEASE come.)

"Dream Interpretations and Sleepy Talk" hosted by the Hypnos and Morpheus cabins, Tuesday afternoon in the Big House.

"DIY Workshop: Daggers" hosted by the Hephaestus Cabin, Tuesday evening at the Forges.

"Riddle Solving: How to beat a Sphinx" hosted by the Athena Cabin, Wednesday afternoon in the Dining Pavilion.

"Faux-lympus Theater: The Titanomachy" hosted by the Apollo and Dionysus Cabins, Wednesday night at the Amphitheater.

"Potion Roulette: The Gameshow" hosted by the Iris and Hecate cabins, Thursday morning at the Amphitheater.

"Man-Drawn Chariot Racing Mini-Tournament" hosted by the Ares and Aphrodite cabins, Friday afternoon in the Arena.

"Fictionary: Aggressive Mode" hosted by the Aphrodite and Hermes cabins, Friday night in the Big House.

Camp Gossip:

Someone enchanted all the Pegasus stalls in the stables, and they are all now completely coated in fruit loop scented bubbles. (Which is an upgrade from their usual smell... Please keep doing this.)

Marlo Quinn from the Demeter Cabin accidentally placed a curse on the Hecate cabin's table, and it will be covered in moss and weird mushrooms for the next week until we can get the Satyr's to fix it. (Oh no, they’re gonna curse us back noww)

Navier Piedmont from the Hephaestus Cabin asks that campers please be on the lookout for a few... dozen mechanical spiders. He's been referring to them as "Skitties" and says they're wearing tiny plumed helmets and are meant to be a security measure. (Athena Cabin, please be safe.) (can I keep one as a pet?) (No)

Apparently a few Aphrodite campers have been spotted playing what appears to be "BINGO" with other campers' relationships and crushes. Apparently Valentina Diaz is two spots away from a BINGO. (Of course they are, sighhh)

Speaking of Aphrodite campers, Valentine Merriweather has started dating that Ares camper mentioned last week. Congrats you two!

Weekly Question:

If you were stranded on a deserted island, what TWO things would you bring with you?

Last Week's Question: What is your favorite weapon to use?

Camper Answers: Rock. - Klaus Hartman (Yo! thats me!!) Palintonos Bow, Sword, and Chain Knives - Wysper Nets and traps :○ - 💙🏴‍☠️Mike Blaire🏴‍☠️💙

Thank you to Klaus Hartman, Will Solace, and Billie Ng for helping with this week’s news!

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Wednesday

SpaceTime 20250101 Series 28 Episode 1

Webb confirms Hubble tension challenging cosmic theory

New observations from the Webb Space Telescope suggest that a new feature in the universe—not a flaw in telescope measurements—may be behind the decade-long mystery of why the universe is expanding faster today than it did in its infancy billions of years ago.

How liquids could carve out gullies on the airless asteroid Vesta

Pocked with craters, the surfaces of many celestial bodies in our solar system provide clear evidence of a 4.6-billion-year battering by meteoroids and other space debris.

Tracking New Year’s day on Mars

While the Earth’s southern hemisphere enjoys a warm sun kissed summer on New Years day – often spent surfing or relaxing on golden sands at the beach -- it’s northern hemisphere experiences another cold winter.

The Science Report

New study shows teen smoking causes lasting damage to heart muscles and their function.

Scientists are calling for urgent action to protect the endangered Parma Wallaby.

New study shows that artificial intelligence may be able to identify people based on their walk.

Alex on Tech the biggest tech flops of 2024

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[dearestkong]

kong's weekly challenge #1🏃‍♀️

hi! my finals for this year are five weeks away, and in the spirit of getting out of inertia, I thought I'd try to use this blog as a more of a productivity tool.

⭐️i'll be tracking my daily sleep and screen time and reflecting at the end of the week.

⭐️i'll also be integrating study-related habits (adding on one a week). i've technically started my first last week; waking up at 6am every day has done wonders.

HABIT TRACKER

⭐️POWER HOUR: an hour every night after i've done all my work for the day where I focus specifically on my weaker areas. i'm the kind of person who benefits from daily efforts, so I think it should be nice!!

monday: ⭐️ tuesday: / wednesday: ⭐️ thursday: ⭐️ friday: / saturday: / sunday:

SLEEP TRACKER

(🟢>8h, 🟠8-7h, 🔴<6h)

monday: 🟢 tuesday: 🟠 wednesday: 🟢 thursday: 🟢 friday: 🟢 saturday: 🟢 sunday:

SCREEN TIME TRACKER

(🌱<2h, 🟢<3h, 🔴3-4h, ☠️>4h)

monday: 🟢 tuesday: 🟢 wednesday: 🟢 thursday: 🟢 friday: 🟢 saturday: sunday:

[georgelthomas]

Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge: Favourite Book Covers and Why #WritingCommunity #WriterCommunity #BloggingCommunity #BloggerCommunity #WednesdayWeeklyBloggingChallenge #Challenge #Wednesday #blog #HansChristianAndersen #Gatsby #TheJoker #AChristmasCarol #BookCovers #Books

[bobmueller]

Beneath the Storm: How Nature's Fury Sparked a Lifetime of Wonder

Aren’t most kids scared of storms? I assume it’s the sudden noise of the thunder. Image by the author Back In My Day I’m not sure what triggered it, but I used to be terrified of thunderstorms when I was little. Just absolutely petrified. Lots of tears, especially in the middle of the night. At some point in the late 70s, my dad leased a cabin on the north end of Seneca Lake, and we began to…

[rewritingkel]

Wednesday Weekly Blog Challenge

This weeks topic for WWBC is Share One Interesting Fact You Know. The problem is I don’t know just one interesting fact, I know more than one person should possibly know. My husband calls me the Trivia Queen and jokes that if I went on a show like Who Wants To Be A Millionaire I could probably win. I use to post Random Facts that I knew in blog posts. I don’t know why I stopped other than I kind…

[wishbrightdreams]

Reinvention Challenge - My Goals

Hello everyone! I hope you are all doing amazingly well. 💖

I saw this challenge and wanted to give it a try, but at my own pace. Not with a restrictive deadline because that just makes me more stressed and anxious, and the whole point of this for me is to be less stressed and anxious!

I will update every week on my progress on Saturday’s starting March 2nd 2024. Let’s make this happen!

Here is the original challenge if anyone is interested: https://www.tumblr.com/dreamdolldiary

Health: Meal prep freshly made juice, every Sunday’s and Wednesday’s. Learn to cook simple, healthy meals for myself (still overcoming a limiting belief that I have with this so this might take longer than the other goals). Get on certain herbs to naturally help me with deeper sleep. Go on red light therapy at least 3 times a week for 15 minutes each.

Professional: Complete my online training course and get the certification I need to start working. Attend a zoom event (monthly) related to my field. Find a mentor in my field.

Adulting: Set up the digital envelope budgeting system in my bank account. Book important appointments I’ve been putting off. Set up and STICK to a to-do list system that works for me.

Hobbies: Write a Tumblr blog post at least 1 time a week. Practice cursive/printing writing 30mins daily. Make my own subliminal at least 1 time a week.

Social: Join a social group (either in person or online) once a month or more. Build up your confidence and practice social skills. Try to go out at least once a week and talk to someone (can be anyone).

Healing/Spiritual: Practice manifesting more things and circumstances. Have weekly spirit guided meditation sessions for 15-20mins. Practice detachment and energy protection daily.

Style/Self-Care: Find out what my skin type is, build a proper skincare routine. Have more self care nights.

Bucket List: Try a depravation tank, go to a rock salt cave/attend a live sound bath, have high tea at a tea room.

[the-pinetree-poet]

WEDNESDAY'S WEEKLY POETRY PROMPTS: 3/26/25

Here we go... the last Wednesday prompts of March, with next Wednesday being the second day of the Annual Poem-A-Day Poetry Challenge (brought to you by Robert Lee Brewer and his Poetic Asides blog)...

Speaking of...

Brewer's prompt today is:

Take the phrase "Keep (blank)," 

replace the blank with a new word or phrase, 

make the new phrase the title of your poem, 

and then, write your poem. 

Possible titles might include:

"Keep Your Head Up," 

"Keep It Like a Secret," 

"Keep Sake," 

and/or "Keep Out of My Room."

My random selection from the world covering palette of Sherwin-Williams is:

Sea Salt

And the Wordstrumpet herself, Charlotte Rains Dixon graces us with:

Today is not that day...

As always, use these to get the inspiration(s) flowing...

𝖌

(NOTE: Posted here two days late as the Poetic Asides new website platform had/has some ongoing problems and the Wednesday Poetry Prompt wasn't where it was s'posed to be...

So, despite that, and trying to get in the zone for the PAD starting Tuesday, I went ahead with one of the two I had Wednesday and came up with the following during the morning commute...

MAYBE SOMEDAY ©️ 2025 - G. Smith (BMI) ================================= Maybe someday, We can go back there again. Maybe someday, We'll be more than forever friends. Maybe someday, We'll feel like we did back then. Maybe someday... But today, Is not, That day. Maybe someday, We will come to see the light. Maybe someday, We will both know we were right. Maybe someday, We won't feel we have to fight. Maybe someday; But today, Is not, That day. It was love when we started. It was love when we parted; And even though I'm broken hearted; Today, Is not, That day. Maybe someday, We'll take a knee and pray. Maybe someday, We will come to say, Maybe someday, We can find a way. Maybe someday; But today, Is not, That day. No, today, Is not, That day. ~~~~

See y'all Tuesday with the first prompt from the 2025 April Poem-A-Day Challenge (if I can find it), brought to you by Writer's Digest/Robert Lee Brewer/Poetic Asides...

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[spnfanficpond]

Weekly Pond Newsletter

We had a great chat yesterday about Monster Movie and Yellow Fever! The best takeaway from the conversation was our decision that the cat in the locker didn't make Dean sneeze, therefore it was a ghost cat. Obviously. 🤣 If anyone writes a fic from the POV of the ghost cat in the locker, or a fic about a ghost cat loose in the bunker, Admin Michelle will give you a prize because she REALLY wants to read this!!

Old Business:

New Member Spotlight for January - It's finally posted!! Click here to see all of our new members and maybe make a new friend!

Fishing For Treasures - This weekend, we're celebrating smutty fics! Over 120 fics are in our queue this weekend, which will be running a bit into Monday morning since there are so many! Give the blog a scroll and enjoy some smutty goodness!

Valentine's Day Writing Challenge - The challenge is now closed, and Admin Marie is working to put together the masterpost. If you have posted, but have not sent Marie a message with the link for your post, please send it to her soon!

Women of Supernatural Writing Challenge - Because March is Women's History Month in the US, we decided to host a writing challenge all about the fabulous women of SPN! Admin Marie has created some fantastic mood boards for your inspiration. Click here to check it all out and sign up!

New Business:

Manta Ray chats - Three chats are coming up this week in our Discord server! Admin MJ will chat on Wednesday at 7pm EST, Manta Ray Arthur will chat on Friday at 10am EST, and Manta Ray Laili will chat next Sunday at 5pm EST! These chats are a low-key way to get to know the leaders in our community and ask for help or get advice about anything. We're here for you and want you to feel comfortable asking for inspiration or assistance of any kind!

Writing Sprints - Admin MJ will be hosting more competitive writing sprints on Saturday at 11am EST! Add words to your WIP and win fabulous prizes!

Coming Soon - #FlashFicFriday! We'll provide prompts that will hopefully inspire you, and you write something quick! 100 words or 15 minutes, whichever happens first. No more than that! (You can write more if you really want. We won't tattle! 🤣) The first Friday is tentatively scheduled for this coming Friday, but it might get postponed a week since Admin Michelle will be at The Heist with Jason Manns, Billy Moran, and Richard Speight Jr next weekend! If you'll be there, too, definitely say hi!!

(Divider by @glygriffe!)

That’s all for this week! To see all Pond events, and also other SPN-related things like conventions and online concerts, check out our Google calendar! Click here for a static view in Eastern US/Canada time (desktop only, no mobile app access, sadly), and click here to add our calendar to your own Google calendar! We try to keep it as up-to-date as possible. If there’s something you want to see on the calendar that’s not there (maybe a convention we missed, cast birthdays, or something similar), send us an ASK and let us know!

Hope you have a great week! - From your Admins and Manta Rays, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @heavenssexiestangel, @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes, and @manawhaat!