#Soda machine price

[waterplant24]

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[jellyrollin-yo]

Who greenlighted selling bottled soda for $2.10 in stores. Why is it more than 1.50 for a normal ass bottle of soda.

[writersdrug]

omg you mind holy wow i love your brain i would never come to lobotomize you omgomg by god i need more bartender!simon you recently mention, maybe abt how they interact and develop? idk i really dont care what exactly you write, i js need any words from you abt bartender!simon

Hmmmmmm I have some headcannons!

You show up for work thirty minutes early because you're NOT risking losing this job.

Simon sometimes lets you bang on the back door for a few minutes, yelling for someone to let you in, until Soap gets tired of hearing it and opens the door. Simon finds it funny.

You think Simon is the owner of the pub until Price comes in one day with cash for your tip payout. You screamed as soon as you saw him walk in through the backdoor, thinking you were being robbed.

Simon barely managed to swing into the kitchen and grab you around the waist before you pummeled Price with an empty beer keg.

Price later told Simon he thought you were a perfect addition to the team.

You do your tips at the end of the bar every night as Simon polishes the glasses across from you. Lets you have one drink on the house.

First floor is the restaraunt/pub, second floor is the pantry/walk-in fridge/office where Price does money work, third floor is the studio apartment where Simon lives (Price discounted it for him).

When it's slow, you and Simon and Johnny all take a smoke break in the alley out back - you don't smoke, but you talk to them while they share a cig, complaining about customers together.

You bring it up to Simon that you've noticed how Johnny always comes to the front of house when Kyle brings the new kegs in, "Simon, need ya to check somethin' - ah, hey, Garrick!"

Simon scoffs at your revelation. "Jus' now seein' that?"

You live ten blocks away from the pub and ride your bike to work. Simon let's you stuff it in the alley for safekeeping.

If you're feeling especially sporty, you pop in your earbuds and take your skateboard. Simon nearly had the breath sucked from his soul when he saw you zipping by the window the first time.

You mop front of house because Simon hates it. Simon restocks the to go boxes because you can't reach the top shelf where the overflow sits.

You tried to pour a lager once when Simon was busier than usual. After watching you attempt it, he banned you from doing it ever again.

You enter Pino grigio in the POS as "peeno greeshio" and Simon hates it, but you love the way Soap cackles from the kitchen when he sees it.

Kyle sometimes sticks around to help you drag the new beer kegs up the stairs, and he shows you how to connect them to the taps.

You're constantly begging Price to set up a Karaoke machine in the corner of the bar. He says when you can afford it, you can buy it.

You broke the soda gun once; you and Soap were frantically filling container after container with tonic water while Simon was on his back under the bar, cursing and trying to turn the water off.

Monday mornings are deep-clean days, and everyone has to participate. You're all wearing sweats and bleach-stained shirts, pulling out the stove, sweeping behind the kegs, dragging the mats into the alley to clean them, emptying the fridge and scrubbing the entire thing.

Simon doesn't like to think too much about how hot you look in your sweatpants, ratty t shirt, and sweaty, flushed skin when you're exerting yourself.

You're constantly thinking about how those sweatpants hug his hips, those muscles in his arms flexing, and the grunts he makes when he's shoving the stove back into its place.

Simon gives you full permission to return any nasty attitude the customers dish at you.

After you go home for the night, Simon often finds himself lying on his bed, one arm behind his head and the other hand on his chest, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day - and they're all centered around you

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 3 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments on the couch

warnings (TW): mdni, contains mature/suggestive content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

tags: mature/suggestive content (in act iii), fluff, early relationship described, pining, affection

notes: please note that there is heavily implied/suggestive/mature content in act iii of this posting (after the second break)- if you do not wish to interact with this type of content i swear to you you can completely skip it if you like, i attempt to not tie TOO much significance to the written scene- and if you would prefer that the postings stray away from this kind of content i will attempt to better balance it in the future! i am in no shape or form a very “smutty” writer (mainly bc i have never written it), so i hope the scene isnt like… terrible ya know lol (also i don’t consider it much for “smut”- i am def using said word very loosly). annnnyyywayyys hope you enjoy and as always my dms are open for suggestions in the future and general conversation and encouragement! enjoy!

also to note! I believe the story is best read in order- i put certain dependences on certain words and bring descriptions back to really solidify the importance of certain scenes/interactions ! but completely up to you, lol

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked the up to date masterlist for this series- thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

| masterlist | part iv |

She had caught him sleeping on the couch in the early heat of June. 

They had a late night on the couch, discussing Ford’s margin notes and rewatching The Price is Wrong. Stan had a certain affinity for price matching, and she was more than a little stunned to learn of it the first couple of months they resided in the shack together. 

She just didn’t expect this 30-year-old man to know the price of most common household appliances. 

After his divulgence last month, in which he had confided a little bit of his background in sales, she began to piece together that although Stan considered himself a conman in every way but words, she considered it pure brilliance. 

So she quickly got used to late-night T.V. shows, as they discussed next steps back and forth, with Stan interrupting conversations to yell out extremely accurate prices at the small box T.V. in front of the couch. It had grown on her, actually, and had turned rather… endearing. 

If not also incredibly hilarious, as he was so passionate about his own accuracy he usually forgot his volume, and sometimes took to ranting at her. 

“Hun! Hun! This is a load of malarkey I tell ya! That vacuum price is way too high! It don’t even come with added nozzle attachments!” 

She would laugh, and he would revel in making her do so. 

They had concluded the night in a similar fashion, and she had stumbled up to her bedroom. The first one on the right from the stairs. But he had lingered in the living room, muttering about tidying up some soda cans and taking the trash out quickly. 

She had shrugged it off, giving her goodnight, and made her way up the stairs. She had fallen asleep so quickly, she hadn’t heard the usual meandering steps of Stan as he made for his own room across the hall from her. 

She almost never woke up before him, another thing that surprised her. She figured he was the type to doze in and out in the early morning, but he seemed to be quick to rise and even quicker to make a pot of coffee, usually stumbling down the stairs thirty minutes before she could manage to roll out of bed. 

So she thought it odd to look down the stairs and not see the usual kitchen light on, and the usual grumble of the shitty coffee machine either. 

She found him snoring on his back, the throw blanket she had brought with her half on half off him. It had grown a little muggy in the shack, due to the distinct lack of central air, but Stan’s solution seemed to be very simple. 

Just wear less clothes. 

Something that wouldn’t disturb her in the slightest, if it were not for, well… Stan. 

She was a scientist, a usual logical thinker, and only slightly prude (due to her upbringing), but she was no idiot, and she knew the man she was cohabitating with was attractive. 

I mean, he was also funny- made her laugh more times than she could count. He was oddly sincere for his age and even more oddly protective. He was flippantly affectionate and even more flippantly kind to her. 

And he was also shirtless. 

Something she takes note of instantly, instinctually. Whipping her head to make for the kitchen, and trying to forget the curve of his broad shoulders and the slight swell of his stomach. The smattering of dark hair on his chest all the way down to the crisp edge of the boxers she had folded two days ago. 

Coffee, coffee coffee! 

She didn’t make as good of a cup as he did, she had never had to before. Something he scoffed at, but quickly took to doing himself. He made it every morning, now. Always up before her, with her mug waiting for her by her worn kitchen chair. 

She turned to the stove instead, moving pans and turning on the burner. She’d make breakfast for them instead of her shitty burnt coffee special. Pulling eggs and bacon out of the small fridge she went to work. 

The smell woke him up, and she noted his groggy fumbling to redress himself. Glancing out the archway from kitchen to living room she watched him pass to the stairs, still shirtless. He takes the stairs two at a time, back up to his room to retrieve new clothes she presumed. 

He returns in minutes, in typical fashion it took him not too long to get ready in the morning. 

He walks in, still stretching, with hair muddled from sleep. A pair of work jeans that had seen a lot of love in the past month, and a shirt that was quickly growing too tight around his arms and shoulders. She decided to ignore that sliver of stomach that peaked out when he raised his arms a little too high, otherwise, the bacon would burn. 

He made his way to the coffee machine, beginning the usual morning routine as it spurred to life. Moving to the sink he began washing their shared mugs. 

Breakfast was always a little quiet like they both couldn’t be bothered to open their mouths beyond sating their appetite. They still moved the same, instinctually and without words. Falling into their unassigned assigned seats, Stan moving to grab her feet and drag them across his lap, while she moved the salt and pepper between them both. She always reached across to his plate, grabbing his toast to butter first and then moving to her own. 

She had decided to interrupt their usual silence this morning, looking across to Stan as he fumbled with the morning paper. He always went straight to the comics in the morning, hoping to pick up on a joke to read to her that day, hoping to make her laugh first before anything else in the morning. 

But she had thrown a wrench in his usual plan (that she still hadn’t picked up on yet). 

“Why were you on the couch?” She asked, biting around her toast. 

“It’s cooler down here hun.” 

“I know heat rises Stan, but the sun rises on my side of the house in the morning. It ain’t that hot upstairs yet. Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

When first rearranging rooms he had resolved to take Stanford's old one. He didn’t want her to have to live in the shell his brother had left behind. His more intimate nick-nacks and sticky notes had been scattered around what is now Stan’s room. Along with his random mismatched socks and sweater vests, and his cologne. And he didn’t want to think about having her live around the last remnants of Stanford, because she got this weird look in her eyes already when she retraced his brother's writings and he couldn’t stand it. He had lived with Stanford for eighteen years, and sometimes entering the room was at least therapeutic. 

Except Stanford always had a weird affinity for sleeping on the ground. 

It’s the main reason Stanley even had the top bunk during their preteen years to begin with, because Stanford would find himself stiff on the floor most mornings. His brother had a tendency to doze away on any hard surface he could rest his head on, starting at his desk most nights, moving to his bed, but usually rolling off it in favor of the floor. Stanford was… not one for restful sleep. And his hard ass mattress showed it. 

“Ya.” Stan muttered behind the newspaper. “‘Ford trying to fuck my back up from another dimension.” 

“You can have my bed?” She offered up her own mattress, one she had splurged on with her own money. He still remembers her playing Goldilocks that day at the flash mattress sale she had circled in the classifieds the week before. 

He shook his head at the memory, them both laying side by side on each bed as she had discussed odds and ends. She had argued that she needed approximately 5 minutes on each mattress to sink into each, and that she couldn’t be intrinsically thinking about her comfort when doing so. So she had him lay beside her and talk to her, as she flipped from her back to her side testing out her comfort and considered the gravelness of his voice. Until she had landed on the right bed, the tenth one, declaring it her perfect match as she looked over at him beside her. 

“Nah, I can’t take your perfect match, hun, your one true love.” He joked, folding up the newspaper with the comics up, setting it aside in favor of looking at her. “Besides my bed is fine for now. I just… sometimes I like being close to the door.” 

She hummed. “I can rearrange the living room today? Do you want to move your bed downstairs?” She hadn’t even questioned it, still searching for something to sate his comfort. 

He laughed at this, he would never let her rearrange things without him and she knew it. He had hovered something harsh those first three months, moving around most things for her as she pointed from object to object. 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I just, I ain’t used to sleeping in a room without a straight way out of it yet.” He admits, munching on his bacon, shrugging like he was discussing the weather. “So sometimes I just, sleep on the couch. No big deal.” 

She sits back in her seat, shock marring her face. He had spent so long hopping from place to place she had forgotten he hadn’t had a place to call home in a decade- besides his car. Something that may have four walls, but had no heart. 

Hotels, to cars, to floors of shelters, he had slept in questionable places for far too long, and in some cases Stanford’s room sometimes felt like a new prison, or at least reminded him of a certain Colombian one. Except this one contained taunting memories and a stupid amount of sweaters. 

It hurt more, to open his door to find hers closed, for some reason. He didn’t like the thought of her trapped either, nestled in a part of the house he couldn’t get to. But he didn’t know how to voice this to her without sounding mad in a way. Or obsessive maybe. 

She digs her toes into the junction of his ribs, grabbing his attention. She’s smiling across from him, and standing before he can ask why. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him up the stairs to their own parallel doors, not even hesitating to walk through the door Stanford used to call his own. 

She’s muttering under her breath as he stands in the doorway, landlocked by witnessing her in this exact space for some reason. She moves to the window, opening it all the way and fumbling with the screen. She gets it off and makes to climb out the window before he can protest. 

“If you want a way out, you got it right here!” She grunts, footing her way through to the shingled roof, his protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Get the fuck back in here!” He leans out, making to grab her. “Ain’t no way this shack's roof is any good!” 

She prances around, slightly mocking him by moving away from his waving arm. “Stan! It’s fine!” She laughs, the sun shining on her figure. Suddenly serious she stops, hands on her hips. “Seriously, if you need a way out, keep the window open, okay?” 

She crawls back through the window a moment later, using Stan’s hand as a weight as she balances back on the wooden floor. 

Still serious, she continues, “Stan if you need to keep the window open, you can keep the door open also if you feel like it.” 

She smiles like she has a brilliant idea, moving across the hall she opens her own room to display her own mess of things. “I can keep mine open also if it helps.” 

How the fuck had she read his mind? He was continually dumbfounded by her unquantifiable amounts of patience she had for him. Like it was a reserve she tapped into, to specifically deal with all his dumb bullshit. He would let it pile in the back of his head, but she’d reach back in and shake him awake, present him with a solution, and he forgets himself in his need to question “why?”. 

He had taken too long to respond, and she stands in the hall, hands wringing her too large t-shirt and looking surprisingly bashful. “Is this okay?” She asks, is this what you need? Vying for his approval as she continues. “Because really I don’t mind you sleeping on the couch, I really don’t, you can keep doing it if you like! Really! I just… I just…” 

Unspoken between them, he already knew. She meant well, she meant the best actually. She wanted him to be comfortable, here, with her. Wanted him to stop moving from place to place in the house because no where felt right because it all felt like a trap. Wanted him to know the four walls they shared could never be a prison, and that she didn’t want him to hop around anymore searching and clawing his way out of it. To not have to Goldilocks around the house, because across the hall from her had to be just right. 

And it was. Because she had read his mind as usual, and he was almost tired of being absolutely astounded by it. 

He nodded, smiling across from her, his confirmation in the squeeze he gave her hand as he reached for her again, and in the ruffling of her hair he gave her as he slipped from the house later. Making his way outside to his work, somehow lighter than usual.

They ended up on the couch most weekends, or at least most Saturday nights. 

She had insisted, against his better nature, that it was not appropriate to drink yourself into a stupor on a weekday. So he had gotten used to the shared moments on the weekend, routinely looking forward to shitty VHS movies and even shittier boxed wine and beer. 

She laughed at fucking everything when she was drunk. He almost wondered if she had ever been high, or if she even needed to be. He might as well be a stand up comedian most weekends, because if he thought he had a great audience Monday through Friday, well he had an even more endearing one on the weekends. 

It was a hot July night, and she had scoffed at his light beer that resided in the back of the fridge. Tisking at him as she danced around the kitchen, pouring sweet red wine into mugs (their only cups), and shooing him back to the couch. Only wine in the summer, only wine when it was this hot.

And it was hot, and humid, unsurprising for Oregon really. So hot in fact, that she had decided pjs were appropriate attire for the night, luckily for him. So he shed his jeans in favor of loose boxers and a well worn shirt. Unluckily for him, she had decided upon much the same wardrobe, which was odd for her and only uncomfortable for sober him. 

But he wasn’t sober anymore, and he had to admit she was rather enchanting hunched over on the couch, laughing at his shitty jokes with one of his old band t-shirts on, shorts that she made no indication of even owning, bagging up around the tops of her thighs. 

He had been intoxicated on numerous amounts of things, nothing, of course, too hard or addictive per say, but it’d be the first time he was this drunk on wine. 

And it was… different. 

He had scoffed at the movie she chose originally tonight. She always chose the second movie, and he chose the first. They had a habit of in depth discussing during films, especially when more intoxicated. 

But he had never been so incredibly invested in a romantic comedy in his entire life, he blamed his company and the alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that he thinks he stands a chance with the likes of her! She’s sacrificed so much! Her jobs on the line here and he won’t even consider marrying her for a green card!” He yelled, just about jumping at the screen. This man in the movie was ridiculous, demanding things from his assistant and throwing her away the next. 

She ran back into the room, mugs full with their next round. She had become the bartender tonight, waiting on him and grabbing snacks when he’d ask in exchange for rubbing her aching shoulders. 

“What did I miss!” She rushed back, handing him his mug and taking her seat back in front of him on the floor, her throw blanket being used as a cushion. 

He takes a sip, setting the mug aside her own on the floor and moving back to place his hands on her tense shoulders. 

“She’s being kicked out of the country right in front of her boss and he ain’t gonna do anything about it! She basically does everything for this man, why doesn’t he see he needs her?” 

She groans below him, her head rocking back as she takes her own drink. “Are we gonna discuss the intricates of them having a relationship though? I love marriage of convenience, don’t get me wrong, but that’s her boss! Isn’t there a weird power dynamic here?” 

“Oh ya!” He agrees, nodding along as his fingers began to dig into her muscles. “We gotta talk about that because if this gets creepy we gotta pick out a different one. He’s already pissing me off!” 

She looks up at him, eyes glowing with an idea. Enchanted, she moves away from him, crawling to the cabinet beside the T.V., and he really swears that he tries to look away. But he also reasons that it’ll be a while before he gets the chance to see her in shorts again. And fuck. 

She turns back, a new VHS in hand. “This!” She exclaims. “Now this is my favorite rom-com!” 

A shitty picture is well worn on the front of the movie sleeve, a VHS he doesn’t recognize from the donation bin sitting in her hands. She must have brought it with her, and she must have had it for a while. 

She crawls forward, movie in hand and a bright, flushed smile on her face. 

“Please, please, please Stanley! This one!” She all but yelled as she leaned up into him. His legs had already been parted to accommodate her sitting in front of him, but now were warm with her torso between them, as she crawled into his lap, movie still in hand and smile still on her face. She leaned up onto his chest, a fake pout on her lips as she looked up at him. 

He forgot himself for a minute, excusing her silently for calling him Stanley in her drunken plee. His hand finding her waist as he answered. 

“Okay, okay!” He snorted. “Better be a better love interest because this guy sucks.” 

He missed her as soon as she left, but his heart still felt something sick when she yelled victoriously on the ground, hand raised in celebration, movie clutched to her chest. Rolling from her current position to the VHS player and popping out the current horrendous movie. All the while she giggled, and he followed in much the same manner. Laughing while running his hand through his hair, trying to soothe himself to forget her warmth. 

She crawled back to him (fuck) settling back into his knees from her position on the ground. The title screen flashed, but he was much too busy watching it illuminate her face. Heart sick again when she leaned her head all the way back, hair across his knees and thighs, she smiles up at him, a thank you on her lips. Clutching his mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips for a sip before passing it up to him too. 

And when he carried her to bed that night he wondered when the tight sickness would leave him. He never closed either of their doors. 

It didn’t happen like this, that night. 

Not from what he could remember anyway, but he felt too groggy to care about accuracy and too intoxicated by the image of her to care much for what was right. 

Her hands had continued up his thighs from her place knelt in front of him, his back hot against the living room couch. She had climbed up on top of him, creeping up to sit on his knees and thighs like she had been there before. Her smile turned sweet into something twisted as she leaned in close to his face, the closest she had ever gotten to it. Whispering something between the heat between the two of them, something lost on him, as he tried to lean closer, tried to bridge the gap between their chests, aching to feel her against the very front of him. 

He knew it was different because she had never worn this in front of him before, at least willingly. He had caught her in the middle of the night, stumbling from her open bedroom door to the bathroom down the hall, panties striped and endearing on her ass. He had seen them in the washer, had seen her fold them and tuck them away. And she was in them, sitting on his fucking lap. 

His hands made for her, reaching behind her and dragging her close, his fingers edging the back of the band of her striped panties. 

She gasps like she does when she’s happy for him, always jumping from her position on the couch cheering along with him when he gets a stupid fucking The Price is Wrong answer right. 

And it’s how he imagined it, fuck, how he was currently dreaming of her noises. In bits and pieces he could remember, his brain scrambling to paint an image of her wanting him.  

Her hands edge along the back of his head, running through his long hair, and tracing to the front along his jaw. Mouth open, her fingers glide along the bottom of his lip, teasing. 

She whispers again, closer now. Her chest heaving against his own, her ass waits precariously positioned above right where he dreamt of her being. Right along the space he places her feet every morning, right where he thought she may kill him.

He catches it this time, between them. Her voice wavering like it had that day in the car when she had apologized for calling him him. He thought of begging for it, allowing her to say his name, but she had read his mind like she always fucking managed to do. 

“Please, Stanley.” 

He had surged forward like his own tidal wave, meeting her in the hot space between them. But he could only imagine a kiss with her, dream of it here. 

He imagined it slow, and building. Imagined her hesitation and the pout of her lip between his fucking teeth, imagined her moan when he eventually came back for more. 

Her hands pulled at his fucking hair, the only time she had placed them there to harm, and he groaned as she pulled him forward, meeting again in the middle of the heat they shared there on the couch. She moaned, her hips rushing to his own, making a new heat between them. 

The friction between them was the same as the kiss, slow and building. Grinding herself in the curve of his lap, right where they both needed each other. Every pass slightly faster, every groan from her more imagined, more unreal. 

The pressure felt real though, and her fingers in his hair felt even more so. His head thrown back on the couch, he looked down his nose at her, a groan leaving his throat as she makes a home in his shoulder, as her hips cause waves against his fucking lap. 

Her breath is hot on his neck, something real, and her echoing noises move up his shoulder to his ear and it makes him hotter than he could imagine. Her groans come to a precipice, getting higher in octave and volume and she thinks to fucking bite him there, right on his shoulder. 

The image she makes shakes him, his hands remembering where they are on her ass and hips, as he makes to work them harder, to somehow bring her closer and harder to the crook of his boxers. Her teeth nestle into him, and it makes him groan more, her hot breath and aching moans reverb off his skin back to him. 

It sends him reeling forward, his own head rushing off the back of the couch, groaning in heat, moving in blind passion. His head rests against the top of her own, his big hands digging into the fat of her behind, finger creeping in through the top of her panties. 

“Fuck.” He groans between them. “Fuck, honey.” His hips canting up, her moans echoing again, her teeth unlaching, like she can’t ground herself to him anymore, because all the movement is him now. He’s fucking using her, the pressure hot, and she peels back to look at him, a heat in her eyes he can’t have imagined. He must have seen it before, marring her face. He had, he swears, seen her with this heat in her eyes before.

He was using her. 

It stops just as abruptly as it began, and he wakes to his discomfort. His room is cool despite the morning sun, the curtains by his windows billowing out with September wind. His door wide open, and his hand curled around something that no longer needed relief. 

His other hand, clutching his hair in a fist. The back of his head tender from the pressure, and his fingers heavy from sleep. 

He got up quicker than usual, his heart still pounding oddly in his chest as he attempted to catch a breath he didn’t remember losing. On his way out of his room, dresssed for the day, he peaks into her parallel room, her door wide open like it was every day now. 

He groans low, she’s wearing the fucking stripes. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day, tries not to be disgusted with himself, but his chest aches something odd and his stride is somehow uneven for the rest of the day. His heart carries something sickly when he sees her that day, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt he’s oddly quiet that day, or that he doesn’t read her the morning comics like usual. 

She thinks it has something to do with how flushed he is, when she catches his staring that evening, as they sit beside each other on the couch, T.V. echoing in the background.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Daddy (Discord Drabble)

Eddie can feel his heart beginning to race when he checks his watch. He sets down his large Coke (a payment from Steve, who is slipping into the driver's seat) between his legs to set an alarm.

He is sure Burt will take more than half an hour on his lunch break but, considering how hard it was for Wayne to score him this job, Eddie decides to err on the side of caution.

For one time in his life.

This probably isn't the best idea anyway – giving his just-friend free rein over the most expensive car in the shop right now, all for the low, low price of a gas station beverage.

But the car in question is a red Corvette, a near enough model to single decorative embellishment donning Steve's bedroom wall.

But Steve likes cars.

And Eddie likes Coca-Cola from that ancient soda machine on the other side of town.

But most of all, Eddie wants to impress Steve.

Steve, who leans over and clips him in – a gesture that almost has Eddie spreading his goddamn legs in a way that would leave the car vulnerable to being ruined by brown sugary goodness.

He scrambles for his drink and covers a possible gasp (okay – it was a gasp) with a big enough sip he gives himself a brain freeze as Steve retreats and fires up the engine.

"Oh yeah," Steve hums, positively groping the steering wheel, "Purr for Daddy."

Eddie splutters, spraying Coke onto the outside of the glove compartment.

[ericshoney]

Money Troubles ~ Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You were struggling with money but hadn't told your best friends Nick, Matt and Chris yet, but when your card declines, you know it's time to come clean.

Warnings: possible swearing, platonic pet names, money troubles, fluff

You were at Target with Nick, Matt and Chris, getting some stuff for a car video. The guys persuaded you to join for a video, which you were happy to join in with, but you had just paid your rent, which went up by $50 a month, then your basic necessities and your car.

You were struggling a bit with money, but the guys didn't know. You didn't want them to know. You knew they wouldn't judge, but still felt embarrassed.

So here you were, stood in Target, looking at all the different items. You knew the month was getting to the end so your rent was due and you had just your car fixed, so you just grabbed a drink.

"Kid don't tell me you're just getting a drink, when there are millions of candy options?" Chris asked.

"Dude, leave her alone. If she doesn't want a snack that's fine." Matt interrupted.

"I was just looking." You answered, before a petty argument broke out.

What you were really looking at was the prices.

"These are your favourites, right?" Nick called, holding up a bag of gummies.

You smiled and nodded, taking them from his hands. Once they had everything they wanted, you all went to pay. You let the guys all go first, before paying for your small items.

But that's when it went wrong.

As you put your card in to pay, the machine beeped at you. You felt confused but saw it was declined. Luckily you were on a self-checkout so you didn't have the embarrassment of a worker to tell you, but now you had to search your bag for some cash.

"Hey, you okay?" Matt asked, coming to stand next to you.

"Oh yeah, just looking for some cash." You answered simply.

"I've got some if you need it." He offered.

You didn't answer, but gave a small nod in recognition. But when you saw you didn't have enough cash in your bag, you looked at Matt with a sheepish smile.

"Can I borrow a little bit please? I'll pay you back." You asked.

Matt smiled and nodded, paying for your stuff. You sighed in relief as you walked out the store and to the car, where Nick and Chris were now waiting.

"I'm not one to push, but why did your card decline?" Matt questioned.

You froze, thinking he didn't see that. Many thoughts ran through your head, but as Matt's hand landed on your shoulder gently, you relaxed.

"You haven't got to tell me, or us, but just know we're always here to help, sweetheart." He said softly.

You nodded as you both made it to the car. Matt was about to drive off, when you spoke up.

"Before we go, I've got something I want to talk about." You said.

Nick, Matt and Chris all looked at you, waiting patiently for you to speak. You took a deep breath and came clean.

"I've been struggling with money a lot. My card just declined while buying a fucking bag of gummies and a soda." You admitted.

"My rent got raised, I've just got my car fixed and the crappy job at that store I work in doesn't pay enough." You continued.

"I didn't want to tell you guys cause I was embarrassed." You finished.

"Oh honey, it's okay. We're not going to judge." Nick said, pulling you into a side hug.

"Yeah, kid. We're your best friends, we're going to help you, not hurt you." Chris added.

"Whatever it is, we'll help you, okay petal?" Matt said.

"Thanks guys." You said.

"You're welcome. Now let's go film another wild car video!" Chris shouted.

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann @mrvlxgrl @melaniesturniolo @cl1tlover3000 @lottieluhvs @lovesturni0l0s @blahbel668  @emely9274 @nicksloverrr @emely9274 @nicksloverrr @pancjfrjb @sturniolosweetheart33 @luvr4miya @artloo123 @n0aa @sturn-rose @ivysturnss @sturn-33

Divider by @issysh3ll

[twinsimming]

Energy Drinks by Twinsimming 🥤

This mod adds custom Energy Drinks to a new type of vending machine.

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

Requirements

The Sims 3: Late Night

The Sims 3: Seasons

The Sims 3: Supernatural

The Sims 3: University Life

Overview

Soda-Lightful Vending Machine

Energy Drinks

Side Effects

Flavors

New Moodlets

Soda-Lightful Vending Machine

- Price: §1250 - Category: Large Appliances - Includes all 11 original swatches + 1 recolorable option (3 channels) - Poly Count: 2346 - Originally created for The Sims 4 by RAVASHEEN, converted to The Sims 3 by me

Like the vending machines that came with University Life, sims can Buy Energy Drink, Shake Machine, or Slam Machine.

Energy Drinks

Teen and older sims can purchase energy drinks from the Soda-Lightful Vending Machine for §5 each.

Energy drinks boost the Energy need, give sims the custom Energy Rush moodlet, and remove any moodlets related to low Energy (Tired, Sleepy, Exhausted, Buzz Crashed, etc.), similar to drinking coffee, but the effect lasts twice as long (6 hours instead of 3 hours).

Drinking multiple energy drinks in a row will boost how long the Energy Rush moodlet lasts, as well as increase the moodlet's value, up to 18 hours and +30 mood.

Once the Energy Rush moodlet expires, sims get the custom negative Energy Crash moodlet.

Side Effects

If your sim goes more than 24 hours without another energy drink, they'll start to suffer from caffeine withdrawal and gain the custom negative Craving Caffeine moodlet for the next 2 days. Drinking coffee, tea, barista bar beverages, or another energy drink will remove this moodlet.

Drinking more than 2 energy drinks at a time also carries the risk of a sim being electrocuted and dying.

Teens and Elders both have a 5% chance of being electrocuted, while YA have a 1% chance and Adults have a 3% chance.

Flavors

There are 8 different energy drinks to choose from. 6 provide flavor-related moodlets from the snow cone machine from Seasons and the bubble blower from Late Night. These moodlets last for 4 hours.

From left to right in the second preview photo:

Charged Cherry (Cheery Cherry)

Pineapple Power-Up (On a Beach)

Lightning Lemon (Laidback Lemon)

e-Lectric Lime (Lucky Lime)

Blue Raspberry Blitz (Raspberry Romance)

Gigawatt Grape (Gleeful Grape)

The Unidentified Fizzy Ooze energy drink replenishes Alien brain power, but makes non-Aliens nauseous.

The last energy drink is called Mystery Flavor and it works like the jelly bean bush from Supernatural; including carrying the risk of death, so proceed with caution.

New Moodlets

Energy Rush: Given when sims drink an energy drink, lasts 6 hours, +10, +20, or +30 mood

Energy Crash: Given when the Energy Rush moodlet expires, lasts 7 hours, -15 mood

Craving Caffeine: Given when sims go more than 24 hours without another caffeinated drink, lasts 2 days, -30 mood

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

Script Namespace

If you want to turn a different vending machine into an energy drink vending machine, open your desired object in s3pe and replace the current script name with the following:

Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Twinsimming.EnergyDrinksMod.VendingMachine

Conflicts & Known Issues

This is a new scripted object, so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

All of the drink cans are different colors when placed in the world and during the drinking animation, but they all have a red can icon when placed in a sim's inventory. I'm not sure how to fix this right now, but that should be the only issue of note.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 3 and The Sims 4, mesh by RAVASHEEN, Visual Studio 2019, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, Sims4Studio, TSRW, Blender, Milkshape, Gimp, and Script Mod Template Creator.

Thank You

Thank you to RAVASHEEN and everyone in the Sims 3 Creators' Cave Discord!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

Download @ ModTheSims

[lisascorner]

NINJA BEVERAGE HCS YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH

im doing all kinds of writing except the writing i actually have to do for school what has become of me

lloyd

green tea. need i say more

this boy lives off pokka green tea and got mad when the price went up and the volume of the classic bottle shrunk. but, occasionally, he will have a mocha.

but before he goes to sleep each night he'll pour himself a hot cup of milo. or hot chocolate milk.

jay

brewed latte with extra sugar. he can't take the bitterness of espresso, but he wants the caffeine for staying up late to do late-night projects.

otherwise, coke or hot chocolate. i don't think he'd drink milo though.

he is the same before and after merge.

kai

coke boy, because it's red. but i also feel like he'd be an iced lemon tea guy! (the pokka one.)

in all seriousness he's the type of guy to actively avoid drinking water and will drink anything else.

cole

this Rocker likes to drink water, weirdly enough. but ribena and root beer is definitely on this man's guilty pleasure.

he drinks milo with lloyd occasionally. he's a good bro.

zane

...

okay yes he needs oil, but he can drink soda. i think he would enjoy slurpees.

nya

her own element, duh!! but she likes bubble tea with 0% sugar and instead of boba it's konjac....

sora

fanta. all the flavours. she built the machines after she left imperium and sold them for a high price, but she built another one after lloyd took her in!!!! and i firmly believe in this theory.

she's TIRED of drinking water because that's all imperium ever supplies their citizens. however, she does like coffee occasionally!

arin

he loves loves loves chocolate milk. he's a chocolate milk guy for sure!!! unfortunately he is probably lactose intolerant, plus drinking it reminds him of the time his parents would give choccy milk to him every day before school starts, so he stopped drinking them after the merge. but he started drinking it again when lloyd took him in and then he stopped again after he left the team. wow okay sorry i didn't expect this to be sad

riyu

a fireball??? water??? probably??????

BONUS:

lord ras

pure rage. that's it thank you!

[the-universal-sun]

Is it okay if we got something about Dr Mittens needing a fix? I'm sure Dr Lee could help!

I hope head canons are okay for this!

Thank you so much for your ask, and I’m so sorry it took so long to get to it! I hope you’re still here! I had a lot of fun writing these headcanons out, I loved your idea, anon! I hope you’re staying safe and warm this winter! Drink some hot tea or hot cocoa! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

As always, I’m open to helpful comments and critiques

Sending all of you all the love in the world!

XX

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-The incident that injured Dr Mittens was probably during one of Little Ford’s safe for kids experiments, maybe some safety scissors hot handled wrong or the plush got drenched in some “lava” from a baking soda volcano. Either way, Ford’s immediately wailing and calling for Stanley

-He’s inconsolable and feeling incredibly guilty, Dr Mittens, his precious Lab Partner, is injured and he feels like it’s his fault, he won’t accept otherwise. He should have been more careful about his friend, ensured proper lab safety! (He’s not thinking about the incident with Stan at all) He’s weepy and hiccuping, cradling Dr Mittens in his arms as he explains the state of the injury to Stanley through his blubbering

-Stan knows that a small tear or some baking soda lava isn’t enough for permanently ruin or mess up the toy, but Ford’s feeling some really Big Emotions right now, and it’s his job as Ford’s Caregiver and Buddy to help him through it. So he’ll have both himself and Ford suit up in gloves and masks before he attends to Dr Mittens with Ford as his Co-Doctor

-Stan wanted to cal him “Sous-Doctor” at first but Ford insisted that wasn’t right, but neither could think of the term to describe Ford’s position in this operation, so Co-Doctor it was

-If the cat plush is stained from baking soda Lava, Stan will gently wipe him off and take off the lab coat and sweater to be machine washed and will gently clean the toy with fabric soap and a wet washcloth, being careful, at Ford’s urging not to submerge the toy in water

-Ford towel dries him off will his special cat hoodie towel, whispering teary apologies and promises never to hurt him again all the while. Soft kisses are peppered on the cats face, too

-If it’s a small tear of some sort, Stan let’s Ford hold Dr Mittens’ hand as be gently stuff and stuffing that fell out, after some general “anesthesia” first, just a mask over the plush cats face, and tries his best to steadily sew the tear back up

-The thread isn’t the color of Dr Mittens’ fur, which upsets Ford but Stan just insists it’s his scar, and every cool cat has one. Ford warms up to the idea because both him and his Buddy have scars, and they’re both super cool cats. Dr Mittens is just matchy matchy with them

-The “incision” gets thoroughly wrapped, Stan lets Ford do that while he holds him, and several kisses before Stan deems Dr Mittens’ surgery to be over and the plush to be on a steady road to recovery. He gives Ford instructions of how to care for Dr Mittens (no bathes or sharp objects around the toy for the foreseeable future) and orders Ford to give his friend 10 kisses a day to help the recovery

-His payment is a week of cuddles and no arguing during nap time. It’s a steep price, but this was a major operation here and Stan’s not running a charity

-Ford begrudgingly agrees, grateful for his Buddy’s help with fixing Dr Mittens, he only groans and whines a little when it comes to nap time for the next week. But no promises afterwards

-Ford does get lectured about lab safety from Stan, ironically, about how he should make sure both him and Dr Mittens are far enough away from any explosions that may happen, no matter if the chemicals aren’t deadly, and no more use of sharp objects with Stan’s supervision

-Ford wants to argue about that last one, but seeing the bandage around his Lab Partner’s arm or the still drying fur makes him agree, not wanting a repeat incident

-Stan knows Ford needs some comfort after this, so he burritos him in his weighted blanket and sits him in his lap, in Ford’s napping tent, rocking him and humming a scratchy tune to calm his Little Buddy’s anxieties about this. It works somewhat, Ford’s breathing and heart slowing down. He’ll still be upset for the rest of the day, but Stan’s glad he’s not crying

-During this, Ford will whisper “Thank you, Buddy” to Stan every 10 minutes or so, just so he knows how grateful he is. Stan whispers back “Of course, Bud” every time, not once getting annoyed from the repetition, he knows repeating stuff helps Ford calm down

-Ford doesn’t go anywhere without Dr Mittens in his grasp for the next week, when he’s feeling Big, too, to keep an eye on his Lab Partner and make sure he doesn’t get hurt again. Nobody says anything about it, they know he needs this

-Every experiment from now on has Dr Mittens observing notes at least 20 feet away and sometimes from another room, Ford isn’t going to have another incident on his hands. No siree

[dullgecko]

Movie nights with the Bad Kids usually start with arguments. Not for what movie they want to see. No, it's because they disagree on the snacks.

if they're not at the Seacaster manor (where Cathilda will periodically drop off snacks and drinks throughout the movie) they have to go shopping for snacks.

As far as life experience goes it's good for Adaine and Fabian to get out and learn how to grocery shop (the other kids are still trying to teach them how to use a washing machine but that's another story). Fabian still hasn't learned how to check the prices of things and picks snacks almost entirely on the basis of vibes or how fancy the packaging is. Some of the most disgusting movie night snacks have been chosen in this way so the other kids get veto power on anything he tries to put in the cart (especially after the 30 dollar bottle of fish flavoured soda in the fancy gold bottle).

Riz will almost always pick quantity over quality, but popcorn tends to be his go-to and as long as they can get him to pick the better quality option noone complains.

Kristin and fig seem to be in a competition over who can pick the weirdest chip flavours and often get in a squabble when it's pointed out they only need a couple not 15 bags and they have to put some back.

Gorgug goes for fruit, fruit is not a movie night snack food. Movie night snacks need to be horrible for you this is law.

Adaine likes those snack size frozen pizzas but she is banned from trying to cook them. Especially after /last time/.

[anton-luvr]

# PLACES THEY'D BRING YOU TO FOR A FIRST DATE ; 7riize.

𖦹 bf!riize x gn!reader | fluff | first date au 𖦹 note ; hope yall like this!! just sth i thought abt over dinner hehe + more posts like this coming soon! <3 + reqs are open !

# SHOTARO.

a theme park ! - lots of good food, screaming your heads off on rollercoasters, holding on to each other nervously through haunted houses, getting to know each other more while lining up for rides, getting matching cute souvenirs like headbands, endless pictures taken together.

# EUNSEOK.

the beach ! - warm sun against your skin, comforting crash of ocean waves accompanying your conversation, having a sandcastle building competition, splashing around in the water together, enjoying a small picnic he prepared.

# SUNGCHAN.

a petting zoo ! - learning about all sorts of animals, taking photos with koala bears and snakes, petting bunnies and feeding them, cooling off with a soda together, laughing when a bird lands on sungchan's head, walking through the zoo hand in hand.

# WONBIN.

the cinema ! - having a mini debate about salty popcorn and caramel popcorn, holding on to each other at scary parts of the movie, fingers grazing against each other when you reach for the soda at the same time, wonbin's jacket around you to keep you warm, the post-movie analysis discussion afterwards that lasts for hours and ends in giggles and smiles.

# SEUNGHAN.

an arcade ! - bright colorful lights flooding your vision, pixelated theme songs blasting from each game, racing seunghan side by side on the car simulation, celebrating together when you win at the claw machine, taking photobooth photos together, making fun of seunghan when he loses at air hockey, the sudden kiss he gives you to make you shut up.

# SOHEE.

an aquarium ! - warm hands interlaced together, watching sharks and fishes swim by gracefully in awe, reading fun facts together, talking about your favorite sea animals and why, copying the way jellyfish swam, waving hi to the dolphins, taking selfies with manta rays.

# ANTON.

an art museum ! - whispered conversations, a peaceful atmosphere, exchanging surprised glances when you understand the art, admiring the details, trying to guess the prices of art pieces, taking aesthetic photos of each other, finding each other prettier than any work of art in the museum when you leave.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[once-and-future-loser]

This is not Tortellini | Charles Leclerc x Male Reader, 2.6K Words

Hey! I have NO idea why am doing this, but here goes nothing!

So I wrote this short fic inspired by my own Tumblr post.  It started out as torture porn, assaulting our favorite Monegasque with my bland American life, but… it turned into something else entirely.

I have never read or written Y/N, but I think it is supposed to be second person?  Well I didn’t like writing it that way, but when in Rome.

Y/N is really not my jam, but for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about this.

Anyway, it is strictly platonic, very much rated T, and decidedly a self indulgent novelty piece that I wrote for no real reason, but if you squint I think it might mean something.  Somehow.

Sorry in advance for grammar and spelling!

–

“This is not Tortellini Bolognese!” Charles grumbles between mouthfuls, perfect Italian pronunciation.  It’s completely inappropriate for the context.

“Of course it is.  That’s what the menu says, it’s a special.”  You reply after taking a sip of your shitty soda fountain lemonade.

“That is hardly a menu!  That is a screen with prices, and pictures that do not look like the food they serve.”  He points at the TVs behind the cash register then to his plastic plate.  The big red Fazoli’s logo on each screen.  Fast, Fresh, Italian boasted several places, none of which were decidedly accurate.  “I don’t understand the name either.”  He continues chewing, and eyes your breadstick, the last one on the table.  

“Charles, you haven’t answered my question.”  you follow-up.

“It is not Tortellini Bolognese.”  He repeats, mouth full.  

“I asked if it was good, not if it was accurate.”  you remind him.

He finally makes eye contact, pained with his distinct conflict, “Yes.” he swipes the breadstick from your plate, “It’s amazing, but I am a Ferrari driver and I know Italian food, and this is not that.”  He shovels another bite of the tiny stuffed pastas into his mouth and suppresses a tiny moan.

With a chuckle, you stand to get some more breadsticks from the counter.  You think they are still unlimited while you eat in the restaurant.

He looks a little remorseful when you return, “Sorry I was harsh, that was rude, you have been very kind to me in this situation.”

“It’s not a problem Charles, I would be an absolute asshole if my car broke down in this part of the country.”  you realize that was something an asshole would say, “I’m saying I would be worse, you're an okay guy, no worries.”  He seems to feel forgiven for his excessive reaction to being called out for enjoying shitty middle american italian fast food.

“I sort of have stuff I have to get done today,” you venture, “It is sunday after all, I can take you to the airport to wait for your fancy private jet to get here… or… we could hangout if you want.”

He looks… interested almost, but mostly distracted.  You follow his gaze to the loud children of the family across the restaurant, running around the booths behind the soda machine.

“Charles, you okay?”  You follow up after some time of silence.

“Yes, sorry, just thinking about some stuff, what was your question?”  Charles replies, running a hand through his hair and blinking rapidly.

“I was asking if you wanted to hangout or go to the airport now?” you try again.  He pauses again,  “Charles, let me level with you.  I have no connections to the media, no social media following, and I signed your fifty page NDA, that you seem to have a million copies of on your person at all times.  If you need to talk, about anything, I am just a random guy with an unbiased opinion.  You could, I don’t know vent.”  You let out a short chuckle, “I am not even a CL16 fan, so you don’t have to worry about disappointing a Lecfosi.”

You seem to have gotten his attention with that, “Yes.  Let's hangout.  Run whatever errands you do here.”  He gestures around indicating the small city you grew up in.  “But, I don’t like when people call my fans that name, and if I am not good enough for you then who is your favorite driver that is so much better?”  He finishes the last breadstick, looks like he’s in mourning when he notes that detail, and crosses his arms, self conscious.

“Well,”  you start, “First, I’m a fan of Carlos then after that probably Max.”  You state easily enough while you get to your feet and head towards the door.

He follows, “Max makes sense, he wins a lot, he is easy to be a fan of, but Carlos?”

You notice that he looks almost hopeful, though you’re not sure of what.

“That seems reductive of the fandom experience, Charles, but Carlos, he’s the Smooth Operator, he seems really nice, high racing IQ, and he’s hot as fuck.  I love a man with big brown eyes and a weird nose.”  You explain and look over to Charles while you’re simultaneously opening the doors to your orange SUV and buckling in.

He’s gone a little pale, and also flushed.  Which.  Interesting, but you don’t press.

“You are gay, no?”  Charles asks.

“What gave it away?  The pride flag sticker on my bumper or the waxing poetic on the beauty of a Spaniard?  Surely it wasn’t my fashion!”  You gesture to the simple khaki cargo shorts and solid color polo you’re wearing.  

He finally laughs, for real, that gasping, weezing chuckle you’ve heard on youtube videos.

“No, the stuff about Carlos!  There’s nothing wrong with it, of course.”  He adds.

You pull out of the parking lot and start down the stroad towards a four lane mini-highway en route to the suburbs.

“Where are we going?”

“I appreciate your acceptance of my rampant homosexuality, Charles.  It is Sunday, I need groceries, we are going to Sam’s Club.”  He nods in understanding.  You’re 90% sure he thinks you're taking him to a small market or private grocer, but… well.  You know that’s not what’s happening here.

“So, any particular reason you were staring down those brats in the restaurant.”  You ask, adjusting the radio and AC absentmindedly.

“I… yeah.  I just was thinking how I have always wanted a family.  Lots of kids.”  He finally admits.  “None of the women I have dated have wanted that.”  

Oh.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not wanting kids, or prioritizing other things in life, Charles.”  You remark, not sure if you are trying to comfort him.  It’s not you, It’s not you, don't feel that way about yourself.  Perhaps you are just verifying that he’s not a misogynistic dick.

“No!  No, you are right.  That is so true, and I am never home and always so distracted with racing so it doesn't really matter.”  He takes a deep breath.

“But that doesn’t change how you still want what you want.  There’s nothing wrong with that either, man.”  You reach over and give him a light squeeze on his shoulder.  “You’ll find the right girl. The right time, it’ll work out.”

“Do you want kids?”  He asks, fair enough.

“In a different life?  Yes.  Things are so crazy though, and I have so little time.  It would be difficult to prioritize them.  Make sure they get what they need.”  You rationalize

“So these things are struggles for everyone, yes?”  He gives a kind smile as you drive along.

You pull into the parking lot of the massive big box store and look over to give him a shit eating grin, parking in the back of the lot.  His eyes are wide and you could swear he pales watching a family load at least 500 rolls of toilet paper into a chevy suburban.

“Why are we so far back?  I am scared.”  He grips the door handles a little tighter.

“Charles!  My Man!  I don’t want door dings!  This is a nice car, no Ferrari Daytona of course, but still.  Alright let’s do this.”  You exclaim, trying to psych him up like it’s his fist city league soccer game.

“Are you sure you aren’t my fan?  You know what car I drive!”  He’s starting to look a little less scared until a rogue shopping cart almost obliterates him.

“You have fifteen cars Charles.”

You dig around to find your member card to have handy for free samples while he takes in the grandeur that is buying in bulk.  

He gets nauseous near the meat counters, he has a small freakout when you pretend to shove him into the giant freezer and trap him, and he loses his mind when he sees the freezer dedicated to vanilla ice cream.

 “Why aren’t you putting this in bags?”  He inquires during the checkout process.

“They don’t have any here.”  You simply provide.

“Oh.” 

He offers to pay, but you don’t let him.  He doesn’t have a membership afterall.

You pull your cart up to the door ready to display your receipt and have some items scanned and he gets nervous.

“Why will they scan them again?  Did you steal something?  Give me the receipt and I will make sure it is all good.”

You laugh him off and exchange pleasantries with the employee as you head to the parking lot.

When you arrive at your house to drop things off, he invites himself to a self guided tour.

“You have too many orange lion things and number 55 chilis, I will have some real merch sent here.”  He saves your address in his phone, and barrels on, “So how much did you pay for this?  $2 Million?”  He says it with such a serious face, that it would be adorable if not so ridiculous.

“Man, I paid $150K for this.  Well, I agreed to pay a bank over $150k for this for the next thirty years, it’s only like 1,400 SF, not a mansion.”  you politely explain.

He seems to register all of this and tries to offer you his remorse, but you're busy on your phone.

“Alright!”  You clap and give a little whoop.  “Charles Leclerc, I am gonna take you out to the ball game!”

You explain that you’ll have time to go to a game of the city’s minor league baseball team.  You explain they lost their affiliation years ago, but still put on a decent show.  He agrees and you dig out an old logo hat and a shirt.  

You stick the hat on his head and don the shirt.  He seems to notice your lack of modesty, changing in front of a perfect stranger.  

“Charles, please calm yourself, I know I have the body of a greek god so you will have to show some restraint.”  You chide him while displaying your very average physique.

“You workout, yes?  You go to the gym I think.  You do not look bad at all.”  Charles explains, bright red.

Interesting.

You arrive at the game, get a couple cheap beers and hot dogs and head to your seats.

“So…”  You decide to say, “Have your eyes on any lucky ladies these days?  I was sorry to hear about your break up over the winter.”  You take a swig of beer, and chance to look over at him, but he has his eyes glued on the two men five rows in front of you.

They are looking at each other fondly and one of them takes out his phone and opens the front camera.  The other man leans in to kiss the man holding the phone on the cheek.  They both inspect the picture before returning the focus to the game.  You think to yourself that you need to make sure Charles knows to be aware of foul balls.

“Or lucky gentlemen possibly?”  You amend.

He sighs and takes a bite of his hot dog, mustard gets on his shirt and you help him get clean up.

“Yeah, you are right.”  and you see a small tear threatening to escape his eye, but he wipes it away.

“Mind if I ask who?”

“Well you will approve seeing as you are his biggest fan or whatever.” Charles gestures around, threatening more laundry mishaps with his concessions.  “It doesn’t matter.  He isn’t interested.”

“First of all.”  You reply.  “I knew it, like it wasn’t obvious if you are worried about, you know staying in the closet or whatever, but I KNEW it.”  You pump your fist in the air.  Unfortunately it is right when the away team gets an RBI single so not great timing.

“I am… I am glad at least one person knows, understands, approves.  You are still a bit of a dick though.”  Charles glares, smiles.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go well when you told him.”  You offer.

“He doesn’t know.”  

You comically spit out your beer.  “WHAT?!  You have to tell him!”

“No, he will reject me.”  He crosses his arms, but you won’t let him get away with this.

“Worst case scenario he doesn’t return your feelings and you move on.  There’s a million women and men who would want to be with you and have thirty children with you.  So you gotta risk it.”

He seems to think this is reasonable.  He nods his head several times, watches a fly ball go up in the air.  He covers his head thinking it will hit him, but it plunks on the roof of the stadium.

“Ok.  I will tell him.  He will reject me then I will come back here and we will date.”

You have to stop drinking while he talks, because this time the beer comes out your nose.

“Charles, you are a painfully attractive man, much like myself, and we should both be so lucky, but I don’t think we would be great partners for each other.”  you politely let him down.

Charles, obviously not used to being romantically, even if hypothetically, rejected asks, “Why?”

“Well for starters, I don’t know anything about being a supportive boyfriend through a world championship title fight, and additionally, I don’t think you would have the know-how for supporting me during the difficult times at my job, or helping me during tax season and managing health insurance.”  You explain.

“I have money for those things.”  He retorts.

“I know, but I think the explanation you just gave me kinda sums up my point.”

You enjoy the rest of the game and you further explain the rules of baseball to him.  He doesn’t understand any of it.

On the way to the airport you stop at a dairy queen.  The noises he makes while eating a dip cone make you almost regret turning down his romantic advances earlier.

You pull up to the parking lot of the private airport terminal and get out to help him with his bags.

He offers the baseball hat back to you and you ask him to keep it, to remember your fun and unusual day.  He puts his things down and draws you into a full body embrace.

“Tell Carlos, I think he will want to know how you feel about him, Charles.”  You say as you break the hug.

“Thank you for this day, and taking care of me, and for not actually locking me in the freezer at the Sam’s Club”  He smiles at you.

“Yeah of course, man, you have my number.  Let me know if you need anything and be safe!”

As he opens the door to the lounge you shout “Forza Ferrari!  You can beat Max this year!”  He grins and walks through the door.

Several weeks later you open your mailbox to find an envelope from the bank and a light box.

The letter is unusual because everything is paperless these days.  YOu open it at the kitchen counter and it reads, “Congratulations on paying off your mortgage with our bank.  We have enclosed the pay off details below and hope you will consider us for your future lending needs.” 

The transaction indicated below details a sizable transfer from an account at Societe Generale Monaco to your now closed mortgage.

It is obvious to you what has happened, although not the logistics.

Charles.

You feel conflicted because, you kind of wanted to pay off your own house, but at the same time… fuck that.  Financial freedom may actually happen to you now.

The box.

You open it to find a bright red gift box with the F1 and Ferrari logos.  Inside you find a VIP pass to the 2025 Las Vegas GP and a letter.

“I hope you don’t mind me paying off your loan.  Our day together meant a lot to me, and the courage your words gave me has changed my life.  I wanted to do the same for you.  I hope you can join me, well us, at the GP.  It is when we plan to go public and would love to have your support.

Sincerely, 

Your third favorite driver, at least I hope.”

Attached is a picture of him and Carlos, they are both resting on one pillow.  Charles has his lips pressed to Carlos’ cheek while the Spaniard makes a scrunchy faced smile.

There’s a number on the back. 

You call it.

“Hello?”  Charles answers

“Yes, I was hoping to speak with Mrs. Carlos Sainz Jr.  Do you know his wife?” you ask innocently.

“That is a very problematic language, mate.  We will both be the husbands.”  He chides, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You laugh as you hear a thick accent ask something about marriage.

“I can’t wait to see you in Vegas.” You say.

[fuck-customers]

a week ago we had to shut our auto-drink machine down bc the managers didnt listen to ANYONE and it got infested with ants, so we didnt have any soda or water 20 minutes before my shift ends this lady comes through, i give her the schpeel of 'hey welcome to -work-, we're out of -lists items-. what can i get for you?" she says she'll have a combo order without the drink- saying it'll be cheaper anyway. its not. its a double burger and fries ala carte in 2024 it was like 12 bucks. gets to the window, tell her the price and she goes "but i got a combo" no. no you didnt. you need a drink to get a combo "but you dont have drinks" i know, but you still can't get a combo without one "well its your fault you dont have drinks" and she drives off in a huff like. hello?? i make minimum wage i didnt put the fucking ants in the machine???

Posted by admin Rodney

[michixoxo]

"𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣?"

you and main cast, where yall going?

John

put on your sunscreen! cuz you're going the fuck outside

takes you to a carnival in town for your first date.

he instantly wants to get you every single prize there is, doing multiple games, all rigged against him, and his frustration gets progressively higher.

until, the fated claw machine.

it was your mistake to mention that you'd love the cute pig plushie, because he spends quarter after quarter determined to get you it.

it gets to the point that you end up leaving to go get you both a soda, seeing how he won't even move from the machine.

with his last failed attempt, he slams his fist against the side of the machine, impossibly frustrated and out of quarters.

but, fate seems to be on his side, as the metal panel guarding the inside of the machine falls as a result of his punch.

can you really blame him for reaching his arm inside and taking a plush or two? or three? or... all of them?

he carries as much as he can, excited to show you. he can see you in the distance, only a little bit more, just a little—

"freeze! you're under arrest!", aw shit.

"you are being charged with destruction of property and theft. anything you say can be used against you in court.", he feels shame and embarrassment pool in his stomach as the altercation draws your attention, your hands covering your mouth in shock as he's cuffed.

as he is put into the carnival police car, he hangs his head low. i'm such a screw up. how could i be so fucking idiotic? they hate me, don't they? i fucking hate mysel—

"john!", your voice rings out even in the police car. he sees you, standing in the middle of the mountain of plushies. he sees as you pick up the prized pig plush, holding it in your arms.

"thank you!", you shout, smiling at him and waving. he tries to wave back, but resorts to shaking his head left and right, indulging in the laugh it pried from you.

even as the police car starts to move, his feelings are replaced with more welcomed ones: feelings for you.

he would take you mostly on casual dates when you start dating. you would go to places like arcades, fairs, and the like. cute picnic dates with each other, just talking and loving each other's company.

cute couple that ends up getting kicked out of every establishment they go to.

Sera

takes you to woaba boba for your first date.

what? it's not romantic? welp, that's rough buddy.

honestly, she doesn't feel the need to overly impress you. of course, she wants you to have a good time and have a good impression of her, but she isn't gonna stress herself out.

also uses it as a sort of test. she's had people, if they're brave enough, try to befriend her in order to benefit off her family's wealth, connections, and power.

so, if you don't like it, then you can happily take your business elsewher—? oh? you love boba? you always wanted to go here? you're thanking her?

hm. well, she may have been a bit rash. maybe you aren't like other people...

you blink slightly as she sips her boba, looking strangely pleased. did something happen..?

takes you to different hang out spots.

you'd go shopping together at the mall or spend time at a skating ring, whether or not either of you can skate is entirely irrelevant.

similar to john, you both get into a lot of trouble on your dates, though your chances of being caught are now halved 👍

badass couple that get progressively dumber the longer they are around each other.

Arlo

first date on the moon

okay not actually but its still exuberantly fancy

french restaurant in the heart of Wellston that has three michilen stars and a price range that would make the average man cry.

you're not surprised when you show up and he's wearing a suit that's the cost of the same man's salary.

classic candlelit dinner, the chef personally comes to serve you both. you pray that he doesn't believe in 50/50

not nervous at all. in fact, bro thinks he's the shit. (and he is but don't tell him that)

he knows he outdid himself with this one, and he knows that it's gonna impress you. still... you look sort of... bored—? well, no matter. he didn't pay the chef just for them not to have any tricks up their sleeve.

date goes well, because of course it did. still, as he walks you to your home, you look... less impressed than he hoped for.

did he do something wrong? did you not like the food? did you hate the restaurant—?,

"arlo!", huh? "there's a cat in the tree!", what did you want him to do about it? you stare at him with those pretty eyes, looking up at him. don't you remember that this suit costs a fortune? why not just call the fire department— "please, arlo..?"

...so what? he got a few twigs caught in his hair. and sure, maybe his suit is completely stained and torn from kitten claws and branches. but that sweet smile of yours, the impossibly bright light in that dim alley, is more than enough to make up for it.

takes you to expensive, classic dates. dinner dates are always a favorite, but you also go to nice lounges and country clubs to play golf or drink champagne.

elitist couple that thinks they are better than everyone and technically is.

Remi

first date is bowling, 90s style

she's very excited for the date, isen and blyke? not so much.

she had to practically chain them to a street lamp to be able to go with you on the date, and still, two guys in employee uniforms seem to be glaring at you an awful lot huh...

but anyways! the date is great! you both spend time with each other and take turns bowling. a fun sort of competition evolves from every passing round. she's... happy. she's really, really happy with you. and it's like she never wants it to end.

alas, a rumble of her stomach catches you both off-guard, resulting in a light chuckle from you and an embarrassed blush from her.

enjoying a burger, fries, and coke, you both sit together playing footsies in the food court. except, no good thing lasts for long.

a stray fry passes by your table, hitting someone behind you on the head. yet, despite doing something about it, the person simply cowers further in fear.

then, another fry. and another. and then a soda cup splatters hard and fast against them, covering them in a sticky, brown liquid. it's disgusting. it's revolting. and remi can barely stand to see it.

yet, for some reason, you grip tightly onto your own soda cup and stand up, your face obscured by the overhead light.

there's no way. no way you're gonna join in this, right? you were better than this, right? you wouldn't stoop to their level. no. no, how could you—?

your own soda cup slams against the face of the perpetrator, a sticky, orange fluid plastered all over them.

after the shock, remi's face almost shines. maybe, maybe you aren't like everyone else. she was right about you. and she's so happy she was.

takes you on classic dates. sharing a milkshake or pasta in a small diner is only one of her many ideas for you both. also likes going to fairs and carnivals, she'll win you so many plushies.

sweet couple that gives everyone diabetes with how cute you are.

Blyke

tries to do something similar to arlo and fails miserably.

first date at a fancy restaurant but he shows up 15 minutes late covered in dirt and mud on his suit.

ask him what happened and he'll brush off the fact that he lost his phone in the sewer drain and bought a fishing rod to get it out and it worked until he accidentally flung both fishing rod and phone into a tree that he had to climb but didn't realize was being actively cut down and got stuck on a semi-truck as he fell and terrifyingly slid off until he bounced and bumped and conveniently landed right in front of the restaurant.

but don't worry! just a few scratches and stains and oh, is there a bird in his hair?

sits down and— "pfft, do you see them?", huh?

"please, what an embarrassment. people like that shouldn't be here, they ruin it for everyone."

...y'know what? fuck them. it doesn't matter. he's here with you, and he won't ruin it by getting angry. he shouldn't be mad. don't get mad—

and suddenly, a cup of water is thrown at the talking man.

"hey! keep your ass out of our business! what makes you think you can talk about us when you're balding at, what, 30?"

after a few more comments comparing the man to mr. clean and a couple profanities later, you're both thrown out of the restaurant with nothing but the clothes on your back.

"psh, assholes. let's go, blyke.", "go? what do you mean?", you smile at him, standing up and offering your hand. "our date isn't over just yet."

he might just love you.

takes you on gym dates. just gym dates. only gym dates. and maybe a few coffee dates or dates at the beach.

superhero couple with all the energy of a shonen anime and the bad decisions to show for it.

Isen

first date at the mall

think about it, it's casual enough to not be taken too seriously but also enough activities to make it seem like he's putting in more effort than he really is.

he's a genius, isn't he?

sometime during the date, you both go inside a stationary store. there, he might've just met the love of his life.

a pen, no, the pen. everything from the smell, to the sleek style, to the vibrant red and black accents. it's beautiful. but he'll be damned if he's spending $300 on a singular pen, even he has his limits.

so, after staring longingly at it, he leaves along with you to the next place. it's fine, surely nothing wrong could happen now—

"hey! you there with the bad haircut!", huh? first of all, rude—

the security guard yells at him, telling him that he apparently stole the valued pen at the stationary store. that the cameras saw him looking at it and they know it was him.

not only is the dude embarrassing him in front of you, but his integrity is being called into question.

why is it always him? can't he have a simple day without things going wrong? he didn't even do anything! why is it always his fault—?

you step in front of isen, almost to protect him. "he wouldn't do that, he isn't like that. just because he was looking at it doesn't mean he did it. you don't even know him, not like how i do."

..? you're taking his side? even after what the security guard said?

his thoughts are stopped as the store owner comes up to the security guard, saying that after checking the cameras, someone with invisibility probably took it.

the security guard stops, looking rightfully embarrassed. "s-sorry, then. my mistake." what an—

"asshole. you think we're forgiving you that easily. you better start groveling right now, you pig."

... you're worse than him... which is kinda hot.

instead of taking you on dates, you both just do everything together. if he needs help with the press team, then you're the first person he's going to. if he needs to share a secret that's been weighing him down, then you're always there to lend an ear.

annoying couple that pisses everyone off in 0.420 seconds.

based on the values i think the main cast would appreciate/need in a partner:

john: forgiveness

sera: authenticity

arlo: kindness

remi: righteousness

blyke: courage

isen: loyalty

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Halloween day 12: House arrest- Scott Lang x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Scott Lang x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drinking, little makeout session, mentions of alcohol and being under house arrest

Type: Blurp

Request: N/A

Word Count:

Prompt: Scott is under house arrest, so Y/N spends Halloween with him at home.

Notes: I’m fucking trying here.

Scott was making the best out of his situation, he managed a deal to be placed under house arrest for a few years due to his alliance with Captain America.

Due to his predicament, it made sense for you to crash a little longer than a few weekends. You could help him with the “outside world” and you got a reason to snuggle up to him every night. The price to pay was just to have the government keep an eye on you a little more often, or so they said.

Most of it seemed like a small price to pay to spend time with Scott. He was creative of course, especially with his daughter’s play dates.

Halloween was no exception, thankfully with the ease of placing orders to deliver to your doorstep, you were never really short of anything.

There were a few decorations to be added to the already existing collection of Halloween decor. This was always your favorite part, it seemed like you and Scott had all the time in the world to make sure it was perfect.

You both even managed to make a haunted house for Cassie, switching it up every weekend she came to visit.

“It’s almost like you’re a ghost that can’t leave this place”

Scott looked up pausing his movement of the batter. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it” he joked back, his smile appearing again on his face.

He was doing the best he could with what he had, for both of you. The faint sound of 80’s Halloween music played in the distance.

As the sun went down, the neon orange lights reflected more in contrast of the darkness beaming through the windows.

You both decided to bake some Halloween cookies, make some spooky drinks and set up the fog machine. You mentioned you’ve always wanted to go to a Halloween party since you were a teenager and since Scott can’t take you to one, he sure can bring you one.

The 60 inch TV flashed in greyscale as you prepared the celebratory cocktails.

Scott closed the oven after sticking the tray of cookies inside to bake. You greeted him with a glass of bubbly red liquid, your smile shining against the orange lights.

“What?” Your smile soon turned shy, eyes looking away when he got closer to you. He took a sip before setting the glass down on the counter.

With a downturned smile, he shook his head, walking over to you. Scott’s arm wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him, pressing his lips against your forehead. Your body pressed against his, you relaxed against him, feeling his hand rub against your side, you looked up to face his dorky smile.

The sound of the muffled screams from the TV made you both smile at the silence. He looked so beautiful, if he had a tail he’d for sure be wagging it.

It wasn’t uncommon for Scott to kiss your head, every time he did it felt like he had the world in his hands.

“Can we stay up?” You pleaded with big eyes looking up at him. How could he ever say no to you?

“We always do.” He admitted trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrows knit together in response. “But it’s Halloween, it’s different.” You protested, head dropping down to look at his stomach.

“You know what, you’re right. Absolutely. First one to fall asleep has to clean the kitchen” he teased, hands treading down to your hands. He picked them up in his and kissed your knuckles.

“Thank god, I was starting to get tired of being the one to clean”

The rest of the night was fulfilled with Halloween cookies, popcorn mixed with all kinds of candy, chips, Halloween candy, soda, beer and alcohol. It was like you two were high schoolers all over again.

You’ve never felt comfortable enough to drink the way you did with Scott, feeling safe enough to let loose was quite the experience. He even taught you how to play beer pong, which didn’t take you long to learn.

Seeing you plunged into the couch with a pumpkin blanket hugging your figure, eyes glazed with joy and slightly too much alcohol, Scott couldn’t be more in love with you.

The sound and reflection of the classic horror movie on the screen brought out your best features. How was that possible? Your eyeliner was smeared, your cheeks were rosy and burning, your lipgloss was long gone and you took off your lashes during the third round of beer pong. Still, you were the most beautiful woman before him.

Hours of laughter came to a halt while all of that was racing through his brain, his smile faded into a loving gaze. You kept your drunk smile, but your gaze had no less amount of admiration.

Scott didn’t hesitate to lean into you, pressing his lips against yours, tasting all the sweets and alcohol you’ve had tonight. He was in a trance, not being able to get enough of you. You tried to keep up, catching your breath and laughing between kisses, your cheeks flushed when you felt his hand press against the back of your head, bringing a new energy to your body.

You pulled away for a breath, laughing and happily receiving all the attention. “Never leave.” He pleaded, half joking and lazily kissing the corner of your mouth. “Wouldn’t ever dream of it” you snapped back, lips looking for his drunkenly.

Whether or not he was under house arrest, you were sure you’d end up on the same couch, the same night.