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beckinferno · 6 months ago

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My SP hyperfix is back so here's a masterpost for my general headcanons!

I'm sure you can guess which characters are my fav based on how some of them are very detailed. Sorry about any typos or unclear sentences LMAO

Kenny

Has a 5+ year old phone with a cracked screen which barely works. He only uses it to call or text people. At times playing games on it too

He loves chicken nuggets and fries but most of the time can't afford it

He never shows his face and hates it when people tell him to take off his hood

Butters, Stan, Kyle and Cartman are the only people who has seen him without the hood on. Idc about canon, let me have this

He drinks alcohol and smokes cigarettes from but hides it from other people

He loves hugs and cuddles, maybe because he never gets that affection very often from his family

He has a bad immune system

His favorite sodas are Pepsi and Sprite because I say so

He often skips classes or sleeps through them

Fingerless gloves.

He's actually a VERY good drummer and is self taught. He also lowkey enjoys sketching

He hates talking about personal things and will often brush them off as nothing

Stan

Biromantic and on the asexual spectrum

Plays the electric guitar and likes to doodle in his notebook more than doing actual school/home work

He likes ramen noodles

He dislikes weed because of Randy's farm, but he does smoke normal cigarettes and uses other drugs sometimes (as a teen)

Big soccer and baseball enjoyer

Listens to music too much and too often. He likes MCR because I do too

Loves holding hands, hugging, etc (any kind of physical affection) unless he's in a bad mood

He's very messy and rarely cleans his room. He is in no way organized about anything.

Hoodies. He wears many hoodies and sweaters. He loves comfy clothing and has come to dislike wearing suits and fancy clothes

Cartman

Very very very closeted bisexual. No, I won't elaborate.

Owns and knows how to play the electric guitar and is actually kind of good at it

Everyone knows he loves food, but less people know he actually really likes cooking. (He has a secret Pinterest account with only recipes)

He has heterochromia; one blue eye and one brown

He speaks a lot of different languages besides from English. Like German, Vietnamese and some Spanish

Loves Lady Gaga and Britney Spears

Cartman has been arrested a lot of times, and does have quite the collection of mugshots

Even when being a teenager, he has a love for his stuffed animals and always enjoys looking at toys while at the store

Secretly a history/war nerd

He's the type of guy to send random and unrelated memes in groupchats and text conversations

Anger issues about most stuff. Especially when losing in any kind of video game

Likes photography a lot

Ike

Autistic because I am autistic and I say so

Tells people he loves Minecraft and Roblox but actually enjoys violent games the most

Comfort food is pizza and his favorite drink is chocolate milk or coca cola. He also loves any type of cookies/chocolate

Loves his weighted blanket and one of comfort items is a stuffed dinosaur

Stuffed animals, drawing and music helps him calm down after nightmares/memories of Miss Stevenson

Only accepts physical affection from Kyle and their parents. His experience with Miss Stevenson changed his reaction to touch

Plays ice hockey and baseball

Hates being kicked/teased. But loves teasing Kyle back and wearing his hat

Big Pewdiepie, Jacksepticeye and DanTDM enjoyer

Loves cartoons, especially Scooby Doo and Chinpokomon (Pokémon)

Swears a lot despite certain adults not liking that he does it

Very protective and caring for Kyle and even if he's younger, he tries to show it the way he can

He hates being sick and despises taking any kind of medicine. He can be very stubborn about this sometimes

#south park #my headcanons #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #eric cartman #ike broflovski

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year ago

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Some of you may remember me mentioning my quest to get black cherry soda and several shipments ending in tragic bottle breakage. I have been seriously craving this soda for nearly a month now.

I contacted Boylan and accused them of shoddy shipping.

They very politely informed me it was not their shoddy shipping store on Amazon.

After some additional Amazon analysis, I felt foolish about my inaccurate accusations.

They informed me there were no local distributors of Boylan brand bottled black cherry beverages. They said they had no control over Amazon shipments and recommended I order directly from them. That would make this already pretty pricey pop about $15 more expensive after shipping and tax.

I had nearly given up.

After the $220 pizza and the $250 battery replacement and an almost assured account overdraw in my future, I'd have to wait at least until next month to satisfy my soda craving.

But when I went to my local Schnucks grocery store last night I decided to check the soda aisle to see if there were any alternatives.

My first find was Schnucks' own generic brand black cherry soda.

I have to say, that is a cute label for a generic store brand product.

After some research, I discovered this is a rebrand of a classic Vess soda. I like Vess soda! They make a wonderful cream soda concoction that my grandma used to buy whenever I would visit on the weekends. And I specifically told my mom never to buy cream soda for home because then it wouldn't be special when I had it at my grandma's house.

Sadly, I was unaware it was Vess-in-disguise and I was not trusting of a generic store-branded soda. Sometimes these low-cost rebranded items can be good, but it is always a crapshoot. I mean, their generic peas are 70 cents cheaper than Green Giant, but they are also mushy as heck. So based on my previous peas experience, there was a good chance it would taste more like black cherry cough syrup than soda.

I didn't know it was Vess, okay?

REMEMBER THE PEAS, PLEASE!

I fell into a soda research rabbit hole. Vess was acquired by a company called Cott Beverages in 1994. And Cott was then acquired by a company called Refresco in 2018. And Refresco partnered with Coca-Cola and is now their main manufacturer in the United States.

So I guess it is actually a Refresco Cott Vess Schnucks brand black cherry soda in partnership with Coca-Cola.

Capitalism is fucking weird, dude.

So the possible cough syrup RefresCoVesScnhucks was in my cart. I was considering taking the risk.

But then I noticed... the Fitz's section.

A locally owned and operated boutique soda bottler.

*heavenly music*

And do you know who owns Fitz's?

Mr. Alfred J. Fitz! (I don't actually know his first name or middle initial.)

Who founded Fitz's in 1947 as a drive-in restaurant based around his popular secret root beer recipe.

That's right. Fitz's was not enveloped by an incestuous line of conglomerates successively eating each other.

And because of that, they went out of business in 1976. The soda biz is rough if you don't have a multinational manufacturing and distribution network.

But then Fitz's was revived in 1993 by two plucky entrepreneurs who were determined to rebuild the brand using the original secret root beer recipe from Mr. Alfred J. Fitz.

Small business wins the day!

And then they sold out to The Westgate Group in late 1999.

Which then sold it again to Clayton Capital Partners in 2003.

Will capitalism please stop fucking with soda?

But then one of those plucky entrepreneurs thought the brand was being damaged by soulless investment firms and bought back Fitz's. He restored it to glory and I'm sure he will never sell it again*. He is intent on maintaining the Fitz's tradition and image as a beloved St. Louis small business that culturally enriches our famed Delmar Loop with vintage soda bottling techniques customers can watch when they visit the Fitz's restaurant. Neat!

*Unless RefresCoVesScnhucks offers him a bunch of money.

I can't believe I forgot about Fitz's. I used their root beer as a subject for one of my favorite product photos.

To make a long story as long as humanly possible my god why are you even still reading this...

...wouldn't you know it, Fitz's makes black cherry soda!

It is delicious.

Craving accomplished.

#I can't decide if it tops Boylan or not. I think it is one of those “not better just different” type deals

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bassguitarinablackt-shirt · 7 months ago

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hey do u have any hcs for leo, reyna, or rachel?? :)

I DO INDEED!!!! although for my leo and reyna hcs keep in mind im only on son of neptune so im coming from a place of limited knowledge

leo:

that boy is NOT cishet. hes pan as fuck and his gender is whatevers funniest to him in the moment

listens to beyonce and lady gaga religiously

had crushes on both jason and piper

has really fucked up teeth, personal hygiene who?

basically lives off of coca cola

keeps trying to jokingly flirt with percy, annabeth is not happy about this

I JUST KNOW THIS BOY WOULD BE A THEATER KID, not a performer though hed be backstage

really likes painting and drawing but hes not exactly good at it so he doesnt do it often because looking at his art makes him hate himself

almost always listening to music

has really bad seperation anxiety

hyperaware of the fact that he is not and will never be charles beckendorf, gets really insecure when the other hephaestus kids talk about beckendorf around him

reeses pieces are his favorite candy

this last one is kinda weird and specific but i like to think he has a stash of ring pops that he keeps with him at all time to either eat when hes anxious or use to jokingly propose to people he finds cute

(wow im projecting hard for some of these)

reyna: (not alot for her agh im sorry)

aroace. i take no criticism im right about this

i wouldnt exactly say shes not cis but she does have a bit of a weird relationship to gender

had a bad case of comphet (compallo???) and it took her a while to realise she was queer

really protective of nico, has basically decided hes her younger brother and she would both die and kill for him

has ptsd that she refuses to adknowledge

listens to a weird mix of classical and emo music (the emo is nicos influence. shed never admit she likes it though)

RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE MY BELOVED:

AROACE AROACE AROACE-

good friends with thalia

never actually had feelings for percy it was just a good ol case of comphet/compallo

going back to the thalia point, her favorite band is green day, thalia introduced her to them

the pjo character whos most likely to smoke weed i think

vibes with being a cis girl but she does enjoy engaging in gender fuckery on occasion

after she realised she wasnt in love with percy she thought she was a lesbian, she was not, she just found girls aesthetically attractive

in a qpr with percy (let me have this okay)

experiments with her style alot but generally refuses to wear an outfit if it doesnt have atleast five bright colors

dyes her hair alot, never the full head just streaks

#asher answers #sorry if these are bad lmao

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cetaitlaverite · 4 months ago

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Could we please see Freddie being jealous while they are in America? She is jealous but at the same time she can’t blame the woman who flirted with her husband because he is so gorgeous.

i kind of freestyled a bit with this one. hope you don't mind!! freddie and rosie are just so much fun to write when they're jealous!!

under the cut because it's long (2870 words, i went off). also a bit suggestive near the end but nothing crazy. what can i say? these two can't keep their hands off each other. this takes place about a month after freddie arrives in new york.

Minton’s Playhouse was Rosie’s favourite jazz club and Freddie could see why. With its moody red lighting and live jazz band full of passionate, talented performers, lively clientele and plush booths, wide array of cocktails and hotspot location, there really was nothing about it not to like. Rosie had spoken often of wanting to bring Freddie here during the war and she was glad to finally experience it - even more so to see how happy it made Rosie to bring her here. She knew he’d been looking forward to it for a while.

Jazz music was something Freddie was coming to love through Rosie. It reminded her of him. During the war he’d played it during quiet evenings in the officers’ club, when most everyone else was out on a weekend pass, and when they’d spent time at her parents’ house in Oxford. He still treasured the Artie Shaw record she got him for Christmas in 1944.

So she settled back into the velvet of the booth beneath her, sipping on her strawberry daiquiri and trying to decide whether she liked it; cocktails were new to her and Rosie was always buying her different ones as they searched for her drink of choice. Secretly, Freddie thought she would always prefer wine, but she was enjoying the selection process too much to say so.

Rosie was grinning in the seat beside her. It was still a little bit strange to see him drinking anything other than beer or coca cola. Tonight he was drinking a vodka soda - apparently he’d acquired a taste for the liquor during his time with the Russians, which Freddie still couldn’t really bear to hear him speak about - and tapping his hands on the table in time with the music as he watched the band play. Freddie smiled as she watched him; she loved how much he loved music in spite of his lack of musical talent - maybe even because of it.

Scooting closer to him on the booth, Freddie set down her cocktail and lifted Rosie’s arm so she could settle into his side.

Without a second thought, Rosie wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, resting his cheek there as he turned his eyes back on the band and the many dancers occupying the floor in front of them.

“Drink up,” Freddie said after a beat, watching the dancers, too. “Then we can dance.”

Promptly, Rosie took a big gulp of his drink.

Freddie laughed and lifted her glass to follow suit.

“How do you like the strawberry daiquiri?” Rosie asked, smiling as he watched her sip from the straw.

Freddie hummed and shrugged. “It’s okay. Tastes a bit like cough medicine.”

Rosie pulled a face.

Freddie laughed. “It’s close to the top of my list, maybe second place behind the French 75, but I’m still searching.”

“What’s next?” Rosie asked, pulling the drinks menu towards him on the table. He scanned it quickly before his eyes caught on an option. “How ‘bout a sidecar?”

“What’s that?”

“Cognac, triple sec, and lemon juice,” Rosie explained.

Freddie perked up. “Yes. That’s next.” She leaned back into his side again, sipping from her daiquiri. “After we dance,” she added.

“After we dance,” Rosie agreed.

They spoke idly about this and that as they polished off their drinks, revelling in the simplicity of being but one couple in a sea of many in a jazz club on a Saturday night. During the war they’d so rarely had this anonymity - they had been a major and a wing officer for so long that there had always been an expectation that they would act a certain way, would keep an eye on the people who worked under them, would still be somewhat on duty even after they’d clocked out for the day. Here, there was no duty to attend to, no one watching to see if they would put a foot wrong, no gaggle of German-speaking wireless operators or freshly deployed airmen to keep in line. Here, they were just Freddie and Rosie, still on their newlywed high even though it had been almost five months since their marriage, absolutely smitten with each other and soaking up the joy of their new life.

Freddie finished her drink first and shot Rosie a satisfied smile. They hadn’t formally been racing but Freddie liked to make competitions out of small things sometimes without telling Rosie, just so she could feel a sense of triumph when she won. It was a habit she’d adopted when she’d first moved into Rosie’s apartment and which he often complained about, because he was by nature also incredibly competitive, perhaps even more so than she was, but which he always laughed along with nonetheless.

Tonight, when Freddie declared, “I win!” and held up her empty glass as evidence, Rosie rolled his eyes jovially and took her face into one hand, squishing her cheeks together.

“You can’t win competitions I don’t know I’m competing in!” he told her, amusing himself by trying to see how pouty he could make her lips.

Freddie batted his hand away and insisted, “I told you to drink up!”

“You didn’t tell me we were racing!”

“Sounds like someone’s a sore loser to me,” Freddie drawled in reply.

Rosie stared at her for a moment before a slow smile started to spread across his lips. He shook his head at her. “You’re unbelievable. There’s no reason for you to withhold that information unless you thought you were gonna lose.”

“I don’t lose, Rosie,” Freddie informed him matter-of-factly. “I’m your princess so you’re not allowed to let me lose.”

Playfully, Rosie groaned. “Oh, right,” he conceded, tipping the rest of his drink down his throat and setting his glass down on the table with eyes dancing, “I forgot that’s what I signed up for when I married you.”

Freddie giggled. “No backing out now! Your mum likes me too much.”

Rosie grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Neither of them knew who started the kiss they got lost in, but they were lost in it for a while. By the time they pulled apart, flushed and breathless, grinning wildly at each other, Freddie could no longer postpone the inevitable. “I have to go to the bathroom but when I come back we’ll dance, yes?”

“Yes,” Rosie agreed, chuckling to himself. “You want me to wait outside?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” Freddie assured him. “Just wait for me here, please, darling.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Rosie watched Freddie with a wide smile as she crossed the club towards the door with the bright red, lit up sign above it reading Ladies. She turned back once on her way over and caught his eye, and he laughed as she blew him a kiss, pretending to catch it and press it to his cheek. And he continued to stare at the door she’d disappeared behind for a few moments after she was out of his sight, until he realised that that was strange and may be misconstrued and turned firmly back around in his seat.

There wasn’t much for him to do now that he had no drink to sip on, so Rosie picked the drinks menu back up and scanned the rest of the cocktails list for other options Freddie might like. By now they had discovered she generally liked the sweeter options instead of the refreshing ones - something fruity instead of minty tended to get a higher ranking on her list - so he made a mental note of the ones which contained the most fruit juices.

He was so deep in contemplation over the list he didn’t notice the woman making her way across the front of the booth towards another. She glanced his way idly as she went, then paused, stopped walking, leaned closer to try to get a better look at his face where it was ducked towards the menu, then stood up straighter to take advantage of his lack of attention. She fluffed her hair and adjusted her dress and swiped her thumb nail across the corners of her lips to ensure her lipstick wasn’t smudged. “Robbie?” she asked once she was ready to be looked at.

Rosie’s head shot up, his eyebrows furrowed. When he saw who had spoken, however, he broke out into a surprised smile. “Sammy?”

“Yes!” the woman exclaimed, skirting around the side of the booth to sit down beside him in Freddie’s vacated space. “Long time no see!”

“Yeah, it - it really has been,” Rosie agreed.

“Ain’t seen you here in a long time!” Samantha told him. “Ain’t seen you ‘round anywhere in a long time, come to think of it!”

Rosie shrugged, giving a short shake of his head. “Yeah, well, I - I actually just got back from Europe a couple weeks ago.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Europe!” she echoed with a gasp. “Where?”

“England,” Rosie replied. He laughed a little bit self-consciously. “My base was in East Anglia, so not the most exciting of places, but it was great. Great people.”

“Well, the great people over here have missed you,” Samantha replied easily. “How have you been? I hope the war wasn’t too hard on you.”

Rosie shrugged. “War was hard on everyone, wasn’t it? You’d be hard pressed to find someone left unscathed. But me, all of us over here, we’re the lucky ones, right? Some of the stories the people over in Europe tell -” He faltered, thinking back to the old man he met in Poland on the way back to England. He quickly pushed that thought away. “I’m good, anyway. I’ve been good. Glad to be home.”

“Glad to have you home,” Samantha replied.

“How have you been, anyway?” Rosie went on. He tried to be subtle as he shot a glance over his shoulder at the door to the ladies’ room but no one was emerging from it.

Samantha launched into a long story of her experiences during the war: how she’d had a marine boyfriend at one point but he’d run off with a nurse he met while on leave in Australia, how she’d considered trying to become a nurse at one point herself but wasn’t sure she wanted to do two years’ worth of training, how she’d thought about going to see Rosie’s mother to find out whether he might want a sweetheart back home to write to - she’d figured he was away for the war, she just had no idea where.

“I just kept thinking while the war was on and no one had seen you for a while -” she was saying, “- I kept thinking about our time together. Y’know, back in the good old days, when we used to go to the movies and spend hours in diners talking about what we saw. When we’d sneak off to my dad’s car to fool around and then go back in to sit at the dinner table like nothing happened. Wasn’t it great?”

Rosie’s polite smile was strained. “Yeah,” he hedged. “Yeah, but hey, listen, that was a long time ago. A lot’s changed since then and -”

“I’m back!” Freddie declared as she rounded the corner of the booth. “Rosie, are you ready to - oh.”

Rosie’s back was ramrod straight. He wasn’t sure why he felt like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Fred,” he greeted. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, darling,” Freddie replied. Her smile was confused as she turned to the woman in her seat. “Hello. I’m not sure we’ve met.”

“Samantha,” the woman introduced herself. There was an expression of mild distaste on her face. “Who’re you?”

“This is Freddie,” Rosie said. “My wife.”

Freddie watched with raised eyebrows as Samantha turned to Rosie and frowned. “Your wife?”

“What’s going on here?”

“Nothing’s going on here,” Rosie assured her. “Sammy’s an old friend and we were just catching up.”

“Old friend,” Samantha echoed with a scoff. “Yeah, sure, Robbie, we were friends.”

“What does that mean?” Freddie asked. Her eyes flicked between the two of them, her arms folded across her chest.

“It means I was his girlfriend, sweetie,” Samantha replied sharply. “And we were just reminiscing on all the good times we shared together. Y’know, in the backs of movie theatres, in my dad’s old car, in -”

“That’s enough,” Rosie cut across her. “Fred, it wasn’t like that, honey.”

Freddie’s eyes were wide as she stared back at him from across the table, lost as she wondered what she was supposed to do with herself. “Rosie, I’m not sure I know what’s going on.”

“Why’s she calling you Rosie?” Samantha demanded from beside him, though her eyes were on Freddie.

“That’s what everyone called me during the war - just - it doesn’t matter,” Rosie stumbled to reply. “Fred, honey, nothing’s going on.”

Samantha’s eyes were narrowed on Freddie, her lips curled in a smirk as she laid a hand on Rosie’s bicep and added, “Not yet.”

Freddie stared back at her blankly for a moment, hardly able to believe what she was seeing, before she tilted her chin up and pushed her shoulders back, mustering up the authority she’d had during the war when an entire wing of wireless ops had followed her every order. “Can you get your hands off my husband, please?” Her voice was level - sweet, even, and casual - but there was an undercurrent of steel Freddie knew the other woman had heard because her eyes hardened.

Samantha’s hand curled around Rosie’s arm. Surely, her nails must have been digging in. “Your husband was my boyfriend first,” she said, lifting one perfectly plucked eyebrow in challenge.

“Was your boyfriend,” Freddie repeated, her gaze hard. “Is my husband. It really doesn’t matter to me when you were together or for how long because it ended, it’s over, he came to England and met me, we fell in love, he proposed, we got married, now we live in his apartment together with our dog. So whatever competition you’ve decided is going on here, I hate to be the one to tell you but you’ve lost. Quite severely.” She planted her hands on the table and leaned forward over it to be at eye level with the other woman. Her voice dropped an octave. “So hands off my husband, don’t make me tell you again.”

Samantha stared back at her, her mouth falling open, an incredulous smile tugging at its edges. Finally, she turned to Rosie with raised eyebrows. “Robbie,” she complained.

Rosie was looking at Freddie, grinning. “What?” It took him a moment, but eventually he tore his eyes away to meet Samantha’s. “You heard her, didn’t you?”

“You aren’t gonna do anything?”

“I’m gonna dance with my wife,” Rosie replied. “Have a nice night, Sam.” With that, Rosie wrenched his arm out of her grip and rose to his feet, wrapping a protective arm around Freddie’s waist as they turned and headed to the dance floor.

“What a cow,” Freddie said when they were pressed together, swaying to the music. “She really thought she was going to steal you from me.”

Rosie only laughed. “Nothing and no one is ever gonna steal me from you, Fred, I promise, sweetheart.”

Freddie shot a glance over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed, her lips twisted in a residual frown. “Thinking we’re in competition,” she mumbled to herself as she turned back around. Wherever Samantha now was, it wasn’t anywhere near where they’d left her. “You’re mine, Robert Rosenthal,” Freddie declared, locking her arms around Rosie’s neck and pushing up on her toes to kiss him soundly on the lips. “Only mine. I don’t care how many rabid ex-girlfriends you have crawling around the city, you’re mine, you hear me?”

“I hear you, baby,” Rosie assured her, smiling wide. He shook his head once, as though to clear a fog. “You’re so beautiful, Fred. I love you so bad. Can we go home?”

Freddie quirked an eyebrow. “Why would we go home? We’ve only had two drinks.”

Rosie ducked his head until his lips were brushing her ear. His hands on the small of her back slid down dangerously low. “I think you know why,” he whispered.

Freddie smirked, turning her head until their lips brushed when she next spoke. “Seeing me jealous get you hot under the collar, Major?”

“You have no idea.”

Freddie grinned. “One more dance and you can have your way with me, honey.” She spotted Samantha watching them from over Rosie’s shoulder, attempting to be surreptitious as she lingered in the crowd by the bar. Freddie smiled sweetly at her as they locked eyes, then brushed a soft kiss against Rosie’s lips and whispered, “First, why don’t you be a good boy and make sure your bitch of an ex-girlfriend knows whose name you’ll be calling tonight?”

The kiss he gave her in reply was deep and long and messy, not entirely appropriate for a public setting and yet they were far from the only couple forgetting themselves in the club tonight. By the time they stumbled out of the door together, hand in hand and giggly, Samantha had no more ideas about any sort of competition for Rosie’s heart. It was clear to her now that that was a feud she’d long since lost.

#asks #watm #requests #my writing

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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For many years now Apple, Nike, Coca-Cola and many other top American companies have been building iconic brands into cultural icons by giving consumers experiences that create cultural capital. To do this, they use the unique music, video, and language of each generation. Nike created the Air Jordan culture; the announcement of a new Apple product is a much-anticipated international experience; and on a hilltop in Italy, Coca-Cola brought together young people from around the globe to “teach the world to sing.” In the past two weeks, America’s two major political parties gave master classes in this convergence of culture and experience. We witnessed the maturing of one movement and the birth of another. Both movements center on a cultural icon, creating a new cultural currency for their brand and telling very different stories of the American Dream. Donald Trump has had nine years to build the MAGA movement. Kamala Harris and the Democrats jumpstarted one in nine days following President Biden’s passing of the torch.

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pink-evilette · 1 year ago

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I rly want to understand the coquette subculture. It seems neat! but I'm so confused. I thought I got it, but the more I look into it, the less coherency I see (at least, in a way I understand). I don't see any consistent color palettes, textiles, topics, ideology, makeup, hairstyles, music, community language or signals. I can see ballgowns & lace w/ glitter & then tshirts and flannels in a dingy laundromat. I've seen people recommend Little Women & American Psycho in the same breath w/ no further elaboration. Celebrities w/ completely separate style influences are often grouped together. I see a lot of idealization of wealthy femininity ("old money", luxury brands, mostly rich celebrities, preppy vibes, heavy amounts of skincare/selfcare/"wellness" routines which cost $$$$) but also lots of depictions life's struggle w mental illness, substance abuse, & others things commonly associated w poverty & lack of class/femininity (Cigarettes, sweatshirts, the aforementioned laundromat, not eating, pills, speculating about Anya Taylor Joy's coping mechanisms??). What is it that unifies y'all? What is it that I'm missing? I feel so lost & I want to figure it out :/

this is a great question and I can totally understand your confusion! the way I see coquette/faunlet is more of an attitude than a specific style/aesthetic but I still call it an aesthetic if that makes any sense. it's about reclaiming your own girlhood in whatever way that looks to you, we all look and dress differently but have the same sorta energy that connects us as a community.

it all began with nymphet, which was all about classic americana, lolita, lana del rey, gingham, coca cola, diners, priscilla presley etc. but the tag got censored by tumblr because many kink blogs were infiltrating this innocent subculture with sexual material. in this era girls were feeling connected to dolores haze from lolita through their own experiences and related to her as a tragic figure.

the community was revived many times but the current home of the community is with @coquette-club which was created by @lovesickbrat and also used by @bbabyyy ♡ there is a lot more to our history that I'm missing out on but if you look on my blog you will find more explanations.

there are many subtypes of coquette which is why you see so many conflicting aesthetics within the tag, from coquette noir (which is like an expression of French new wave film stars, 1920s aesthetics, Betty boop, mainly black outfits etc.) to bubblegum coquette (all things pink and girly, electra heart era marina and the diamonds, barbie etc.) and many coquettes on here either fit into these substyles or blend some together to make their own personal style!

the old money aesthetic is popular but controversial due to its implications, and I'm personally more into the thrifty side of coquette, and using pieces that I've had for years in my looks.

as a community we usually try to distance ourselves from the pro-ed/pro-ana communities as they can be harmful to our vulnerable members, since they promote eds and make them look glamorous which is something we don't want associated with our subculture.

I hope this answers your question - in short, coquette is about being authentic to yourself, reclaiming girlhood, community and sisterhood, incorporating your own aesthetics and interests (e.g. horror coquette) and expression ♡ if you have any more questions I'll try my best to answer them!

#coquette #coquette aesthetic #love letter #og coquette #classic coquette #coquette history #coquette community

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tomx005 · 6 months ago

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SUBTLE APOLLO WORSHIP:

OFFERINGS:

- Active offerings are a good way of giving offerings to Apollo (especially if you’re in the broom closet)

-some of my favourite are listening to music with him in mind, studying- this can look like studying school work or something you are interested in or doing homework (I know it’s boring but it works) I also like studying his mythology and stories as it gives me a better idea of how to worship him. Taking my medication on time is also a very good option.

-If you are looking for more physical offerings, I usually recommend anything that has his symbols or appearance on it. This can look like a necklace or ring with sun, snake or raven imagery on it as well as an art print of him or a statue of him on his alter.

- food offerings are also a good idea. I usually offer him fruits- oranges, apples and the sort- or caffeinated drinks- Coffee (very sweet), Coca Cola or Tea with honey. I also give him any food offerings that would involve using olive oil to make.

- This is very much my opinion and is not rooted in any form of fact. It is simply my experience with my deity and a upg I have because of my relationship with Apollo.

#apollo devotee #apollo worship #Apollo likes Coffee #Stubtle Apollo worship #hellenic worship #hellenic pagan

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statementlou · 10 months ago

Note

Louis first headline a festival on CCME?

Yes! The Coca Cola Music Experience festival in Madrid in 2019 was his first full set headline solo show!! It rained all day right up until Louis time and them the clouds parted and he played to like 40k people- he played Steal My Girl!! I nearly died! And Mr Brightside! And we heard Habit for the very first time ever and EVERYONE almost died! And somehow we STILL don't have good quality video from that show, what is up with that anyway?

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edosianorchids901 · 1 year ago

Text

Liminal Space

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "mall at night"

On the occasions when Crowley had assignments in America, it was kinda fun. He didn’t leave London much these days, and a change of scenery kept things fresh. New places, new drinks, new experiences.

It did have one major downside, though. It was lonely.

In London, if he got a little depressed, it was easy to deal with. Just a quick drive, and he could be at the bookshop in minutes. Aziraphale always greeted him with enthusiasm, with that bright smile and those kind eyes. Just seeing him was enough to make everything feel loads better, even if they had to constantly be careful not to misstep.

Here, a continent away, Crowley had to find a different kind of mood boost. He’d tried alcohol. He’d tried driving his rented car really fast and listening to loud music. It hasn’t worked.

Which meant it was time for something else, a challenge, some sort of adrenaline rush, something to get the heart rate up. In this case, breaking into a shopping mall without using any miracles.

He’d parked the black Mustang across the street, then crept over to the mall. Dodging the street lights, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Evaded a guard and snuck over to a back door.

Crowley usually opened locked doors with a miracle, but he’d recently learned how to pick locks. It seemed like a good skill to have, a cool skill. The sort of thing that would be a terrific challenge.

It actually turned out to be kind of tedious, but he tried to enjoy it anyway. Needed to appreciate the little things if he wanted to cheer himself up.

The interior of the mall was more interesting. An odd sense of peace settled in as he slipped inside, his footsteps echoing down the empty hall. No humans to worry about, no jobs to do, no needing to put on an act as a big bad demon. Just him.

Or so he thought, right up until he strolled into the food court and found Aziraphale seated at one of the tables, delicately working his way through a massive soft pretzel.

Aziraphale looked up, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he beamed. “Crowley! Hello, my dear. I was wondering how long it would take you to pick the lock.”

“You were…” Crowley paused, gaping at the angel. “You were watching me? What’re you even doing here?”

“In answer to your first question, I was indeed watching you. I considered providing assistance, but you looked like you were having an awful lot of fun.” Aziraphale ate another bite of his pretzel. “You were swearing quite enthusiastically at the lock.”

“Nnnh.” Crowley crammed his hands in his pockets and sauntered closer, tilting his head curiously. “Hold up, you know how to pick locks? Since when?”

“Oh, for a few centuries. Sometimes there’s a, er, lovely little book that needs to be liberated from behind locked doors.” A faint hint of pink crept into Aziraphale’s cheeks. “And sometimes, my miracle allotment is a bit low when I happen across one. I decided that multiple methods would be ideal. And you?”

“Just recently. Although for me, it’s more because…” Crowley winced, his own cheeks heating up. Aziraphale looked at him curiously. “Because it’s something James Bond would know how to do.”

Aziraphale’s smile brightened even more, and he dusted salt off his fingers before standing. “Ah, of course. I ought to have known.”

“Hn.” Still a little embarrassed, Crowley strolled over to one of the food places and liberated a bottle of soda. “Wanna Coca-Cola?”

“Ooh. Why not?” Aziraphale collected his rubbish and threw it away, then came to Crowley’s side and held out his hand for a bottle. “I don’t believe I answered your second question. I’m here because I’ve been sent to influence the same politician you were.”

“Oh!” Crowley said, thrilled. “Terrific. That means I can stop talking to the bastard.”

“Mhm. I know I could have simply called you, but I thought it would fun to take a little outing and come visit you.” Expression shy but eyes twinkling, Aziraphale held out his hand.

Crowley took it, and they strolled through the empty mall together. Past all the little restaurants, toy stores, arcades. On his own, Crowley would have killed some time in the arcade, delighting in all the beeps and flashing lights.

But just being with Aziraphale was a million times more exciting than beeps, flashing lights, or anything else. Crowley’s earlier loneliness vanished and he grinned at the angel beside him. “I really like these places at night. Peaceful, eh?”

“Very much so. In a way, these sorts of spots seem to be, well… in between everything else. Their own little world.” Aziraphale gestured with his soda. “It’s quite a relief, isn’t it? Our world is so starkly divided.”

“Opposite Sides and all that,” Crowley said softly. He pulled Aziraphale to a stop outside one of the darkened doorways and gazed into eager hazel eyes. “None of that here, is there? We’re just in between.”

“Yes, rather.” Aziraphale swallowed hard, gaze drifting to Crowley’s lips. “One might even think that certain things aren’t forbidden, in a space like this.”

“Yeah. It does feel like that, doesn’t it?” Crowley asked, leaning in.

He kissed Aziraphale gently, taking advantage of the shadowed halls and locked doors. In the real world, they had to be constantly mindful of what lines could and couldn’t be crossed. Here, there were no lines. Just them.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

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