wildlife cameraman. usually somewhere i don’t have service. |MC21+| Dickface
Key Largo
Joined April 2025
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“COME CLOSER. I DON’T LIKE REPEATING MYSELF.”
⌖ CADE BECKER
⌖ WILDLIFE CAMERAMAN
⌖ EXPEDITION DIVER
⌖ KEY LARGO BORN
⌖ USUALLY OUT OF SERVICE
21+ RP ⌁ FAKE ⌁ MDNI
Cade Becker retweeted
//Here are all ten:
@HelICantHoldMe
@MaleOrderPanic
@ThisShitsWilde
@MrStealUrSeoul
@ISeaYouLooking
@SuchAPrettySin
@FuckABadVibe
@GoOnTakeAShot
@InMyFuckYouEra
@DevilOnLock
DM me if you have a character who can fit into their worlds and you wanna plot something!
Cade Becker retweeted
// I’ve got 10 characters sitting around collecting dust and I wanna WRITE.
Anybody wanna get some stories going? Friendships, rivalries, chaotic bullshit, actual character development. I miss having people to build good plots with.
I’ll attach a list to my next tweet.
My dad asked if I was free Saturday. I told him no. He said “good, be at the marina by six.”
He’s a strong listener.
Cade Becker retweeted
WATCH: A mother grizzly bear approaches a fishing boat, spots a salmon in the water, and snatches it just a few feet from a fishing charter in Alaska.
Fishing guide Carter Brown kept his cool the entire time and said he started filming as the bear foraged along the river. Moments later, she was fishing for salmon right beside him.
"My clients were mind-blown," Brown said.
Brown says encounters like this are part of life in his unique corner of Alaska, where bears and humans regularly share the same waterways.
into dark water, fix a camera, watch the weather, or make a decision that keeps the rest of the crew breathing.
The stool beside mine scrapes against the floor.
I don’t look over immediately. I finish my drink, set the glass down, then turn my head just enough to take in the -
again before anybody who isn’t looking for me would notice.
“Fame finally found you,” he says.
“Tell it I’m not here.”
He laughs and moves on.
I take the first drink with my phone facedown beside me. For the first time in nearly two weeks, nobody’s waiting for me to climb -
over the bar.
“You’re on.”
I look up.
The screen is showing a rerun from a job I did in Belize last year. My footage fills most of it, blue water and the slow pass of a hammerhead, but there I am near the edge of the frame for half a second. Mask on, camera in hand, gone -
sitting at the far end of a waterfront bar in a clean shirt I found folded behind the passenger seat. Clean might be generous. It doesn’t smell like swamp, and tonight that’s enough.
The bartender sets a bourbon in front of me without asking and points toward the television -
I should feel worse about.
I send my father ALIVE.
My brother gets a middle finger.
The rest can wait until after I’ve showered. Maybe until after I’ve slept. Possibly forever.
I make it as far as the turn toward home before changing my mind.
Twenty minutes later, I’m -
with a charter on Saturday.
My brother sent ARE YOU DEAD three days ago, followed by CAN I HAVE THE TRUCK IF YOU ARE?
There are two messages from numbers I don’t have saved. One says she had fun. The other says she didn’t appreciate being ignored.
I don’t remember which one -