#coca-cola i mean. not... not the other coke

[nerdy-novelist017]

Ponytails and Promises (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 5)

I'm sorry it's taken such a long time to get this posted ☹️ I've been dealing with a few health problems lately and it's made it hard to be creative. I'm not super proud of this but I hope you enjoy it regardless. As always, I'm so grateful for all of you wonderful readers! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.1k+

Summary- Time spent apart has both Benny and yourself wondering what the other is thinking.

******

For the tenth time in a row, you rehearsed what you were going to say as you peddled your bicycle down the street, the morning sun shining through the trees above. You’d been up all night, a ball of nerves working its way through your tummy in preparation of today’s meeting. The diner was busy when you approached, cars and even a few motorcycles parked out front. You hopped off your bike, swallowing thickly as you propped it in the bicycle rack. You tried to spot his motorcycle but quickly scolded yourself for even remembering the particular design of his. Thankfully, you didn’t see it in the lineup. You smoothed out your ponytail and checked your romper for any signs of creasing that he might not like. Satisfied with your appearance, you pushed the front door open and scanned the inside. 

He sat at a booth on the far side and you swallowed your nerves and did a quick assessment of him as you neared. He didn’t look to be physically injured and you breathed a sigh of relief. He looked up when you stood before him and flashed you a quick, fleeting smile. As he said your name and it almost sounded unfamiliar to you. 

“Hi, Pete,” you smiled as you waited for him to stand to greet you. 

He nodded, motioning for you to sit and you tried not to appear dispirited as you slid into the opposite booth. There was a Coca-Cola bottle in front of him and you noticed that he’d ordered you water. You had to remind yourself that he didn’t know you very well yet and that he probably didn’t recall you preferred coke too. 

“You look very nice,” you said, attempting to cut through the awkwardness between you. 

He nodded again, murmuring a thanks.

Okay, better to get straight to your rehearsed lines, you supposed. “Thank you for meetin’ with me. A–and I owe you an apology. Pete, I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“Who was he?” Pete asked directly, cutting your speech short.

You put your hands out of the table in front of you, playing with the straw wrapper as you spoke, “He’s just some guy, a biker–”

“Yeah, I got that. I mean how do you know him?” 

“He . . . was somebody I met when I was out with Kathy. Met him at a picnic,” you explained carefully as your gaze searched Pete’s eyes behind his glasses. “Remember, the one I told you about?”

“She’s becoming a bit of a wild thing, huh?” he asked and you could sense that it wasn’t really a question. There was a blatant statement hanging in his tight voice. 

“She’s always been like that, I think,” you replied, trying to smother the defensive tone in your voice. “And I was only there for a short time, but I guess he took a liking to me.”

Pete hummed, glanced out the window for a moment so you continued, “Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what he did. You’re a really good person and you don’t deserve that.” You considered reaching across the table to touch his hand, but he leaned back in his seat before you could. “And. . . I was excited about our date.”

“Do your parents know about where you went? About him?” He seemed not to hear your last statement. 

“No,” you admitted, brow furrowing. In fact, you haven’t told anyone about your date with Benny. Not even Kathy. You just came straight home and went up to bed where you laid awake for hours, mind reeling through every conversation the two of you shared, every word he spoke. 

“They’d never approve of that,” he pointed out as he looked back at you. 

“Well, they’re never going to find out because I don’t plan on seeing him again,” you stated, looking down at the condensation building on the outside of your untouched water glass. 

“Good.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You don’t belong with a group like that, anyway.”

It was strange hearing that from Pete. It was the same affirmation you had told yourself over and over again last night, but hearing him tell you that, as if you didn’t have a choice in the matter, left a bad taste in your mouth. All you could say was, “Yeah. . .”

You wanted to ask exactly what Benny had said to him, but before you could, Pete leaned forward, seeming to be in better spirits and said, “Dolls like you belong on a shelf where they can be admired and not broken.”

His words, at face value, were sweet, kind, but you couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that toyed in the back of your mind. Pete was the safe choice, you had to remind yourself. Pete was everything you had wanted for your future-husband, for your life. He wanted you to be exactly who you were raised to be. You could be a quiet doll whose whole existence was to sit on a shelf and look pretty. 

You nodded, leaning forward to take a sip of your water as an excuse to not speak. 

“I’m glad we worked through this,” he said as he waved down the waitress to order. 

“Me too,” you said quietly as he ordered for you. And you meant it, you did. But something felt different with him now. There was a shift that seemed to occur and you weren’t sure what it was or if it would ever resolve. Pete didn’t seem to notice as he prattled on about his upcoming golf tournament, falling into a one-sided conversation that he was comfortable with. 

As you absentmindedly picked at your plate of breakfast, you wondered —just briefly— if Benny was eating breakfast right now and if he was, what was on his plate? 

When there was a lapse in silence, you looked up at Pete, suddenly asking, “Are you still planning on coming to the charity picnic with me today?”

His brows pinched together. “What charity picnic?”

“The one I told you about last week? It’s for the children of Chicago fund. Our church is hosting the cookout, remember?” You asked, specifically recalling having this conversation with him on your first date. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he had been trying to process a lot of new information about you and this slipped his mind. 

“Oh, right.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “I’ll have to check my schedule, make sure I don’t have anything else going on today.”

“Okay,” you nodded. He confirmed that he could go with you a week ago already. You slid out from the booth, grabbing your purse. “Well, I’ll maybe see you there then?”

He followed you, standing to his feet also. “Yeah.”

You made your way outside and he touched your arm before you could reach your bike. You were afraid that maybe he wanted to kiss you as he leaned forward but he only put his arms around you in a friendly hug instead. 

“Bye, (Y/N),” he said as he broke free, turning and going back to his car. 

“Goodbye, Pete.” 

******

Benny lifted the glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink. The scent of cigarette smoke and motor oil hung heavy in Cal’s garage where he, Johnny, Wahoo and Corky sat around as Cal worked on Corky’s bike. Benny’s eyes burned as he rubbed his face tiredly. He hadn’t slept well last night – worse than the few hours a night he usually got. His mind was too busy, filled with thoughts of you. Of the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder, of the way your dimples show when you smiled brightly. Of the way you looked so damn beautiful even when you were angry. And you were angry at him of all people which admittedly, he still didn't quite understand why. You were upset that he overstepped, sure. He got that. But when it came to a man like Pete? Benny could take one look at that man and see the strained facade he wore like a mask. Benny’s always been good at reading people, at seeing past the guise. And Pete was no good. 

“What do you think, Benny?” someone had asked, drawing him back to reality. 

“‘Bout what?” he asked, looking up at the faces around the garage.

“About the radiator hose,” Cal informed as he motioned to the stripped down bike and Benny honestly didn’t hear what was even wrong with it in the first place. 

“Probably no good,” he replied with a shrug as he dug out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

As if Johnny sensed Benny’s more than usual reserve, he asked. “Hey, how’d the date go with Bunny last night?”

Benny glanced up at him. “Went good except I think she’s pissed at me.”

Cal laughed. “How could you consider that good then?”

Benny shot him a narrowed look. “We had a misunderstanding.”

“Are ya sure she’s mad?” Wahoo spoke up from the other side of the motorcycle. “When my old lady is horny, she just acts like she’s mad so I spank her and that really gets her going.” 

Benny sighed. “No, she’s mad.”

“Why? What’d you do?” Johnny inquired. 

Benny wanted to argue in his own defense but shrugged. “She’s upset that I had to run off her date.”

“She had a date?” 

“Mh-hm, church-going fellow.” Benny lit his cigarette, taking a long drag of it before continuing, “Caught him before she knew he was there.”

“Did ya kill him or somethin’?” Corky’s eyes widened. 

“Nah, just had a talk with him,” Benny clarified as he stood from his lawn chair, moving to look out the bay door. “He was late to their date anyway and . . . I just wanted to have a talk with him, see what kind of man he was. And I didn’t like what I saw.” He was one of those men who pretended to be something he’s not, who perfected the craft of lying to people – especially women. And Benny didn’t have any respect for liars.

“Okay, what’d you say to him then?” Johnny wondered.

“Just said ‘Are you willin’ to die for her?’ and he said yeah and then I asked if he was willin’ to kill for her because I was.” Benny recalled the twinge of fear in those eyes as he took a long drag of his cig. “And I think he got the message pretty loud and clear after that.”

Johnny and Cal shared a pointed look as a weighted silence followed Benny’s statement. 

“Jesus, kid,” Wahoo murmured. “This girl’s really got you whipped.”

Benny really didn’t want to have this conversation with an audience. He came here in search of Johnny to seek out his advice, but now that he’d confessed to the group, he felt somewhat . . . smaller. He’d never been one to struggle with his confidence, to care what others thought of him. But the idea that you were upset with him, that maybe you didn’t want him anymore, that maybe he’d ruined his luck with you before he’d even had a taste, well, that just struck Benny deep in his chest. It made his fist clench tightly at his side, made his heart beat a little faster.

Suddenly, Johnny was beside him, hand clapping his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Well, if that’s what made ‘em run away, then it sounds like he was no good anyway.”

Benny remained silent, picturing the sight of you walking away from him last night, choosing to walk home in the dark rather than let him drive you back. 

“So, she’s mad at you for that?”

Benny nodded. 

Johnny shrugged. “Let me tell ya a little somethin’ about women; they may be the same species as us but they ain’t the same creature. They don’t think like you and I. When we see somethin’ that needs said or done, we just do it. But they’re more . . . compassionate, empathetic. She probably feels bad for that poor asshole. Probably just wants ya to apologize to him.”

Benny wanted to roll his eyes. He knew all of this. He wasn’t an idiot. “Well, I told her I wasn’t apologizing for it.”

Groaning sounded behind him and Benny clenched his jaw defensively. “I’m not. I can’t apologize for somethin’ I don’t feel sorry for. I don’t regret runnin’ him off and I'd do it again if I have to.” Though if he needed to do it again, he’d probably not openly tell you again. 

“Then you’re goin’ to have to find another way to get back into her good graces, kid.” Johnny shook his head and Benny thought he saw a hint of a smile in his face as he turned away. "You'll think of somethin'."

******

You’d changed your clothes three times before you gave up and just decided to wear the same thing you’d worn to your breakfast date with Pete. Could it be classified as a date? You weren’t even sure where you stood with him now. He seemed to fall back into his usual demeanor, but that was always so closed-off anyway. But so was your father, you supposed. You could see that in the way he’d sit at the head of the table, face hidden behind his newspaper. It was obvious in the way your mother repeated herself over and over again in an attempt to be heard. It was apparent when he was absent during all your years of school accomplishments. That was the normal. It seemed unfair to expect Pete to be any different.

So you went downstairs, packed up your cake (one you had made special for the charity) in the cooler and hopped on your bicycle. The ride to the church wasn’t far but it gave you more time to consider Pete as you waved to neighbors you passed. Though you actively tried to avoid it, you mind drifted to thoughts of Benny. Was he the type of person to wave to neighbors? What kind of neighborhood did he even live in?

By the time you showed up to the church, the event was in full swing. You parked your bike in the rack and carried your cooler through the tents and booths set up, smiling at friends as you went. You found the pastor's wife who directed you to the bake sale booth where there were a couple other girls already setting up. 

“What’ve you got there?” one of the older women asked as you approached, setting your cooler down on the table. 

“A cake.” you grinned as you pulled out the cake, setting it on the display. You had gotten up extra early today to get started on the desert, knowing the congregation was counting on you to supply the design. The inspiration for the design – admittedly taken from a certain biker who you would not be thinking about anymore – was a a field of brightly colored flowers surrounding the base with a family of tiny bunnies to decorate the top. You were pretty proud of it and to hear the ooo’s and ahh’s of the ladies surrounding you boosted your confidence. They set out a donation jar in front of your display and people began to filter by your booth to admire the goods and to grab a free brownie made by one of the other girls at the table. As the event went on and the sun shifted overhead, you thanked the donors and smiled for pictures, all the while your eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to find Pete close by. 

When there was a pause in the flow of foot traffic, you took the time to crouch below the table to replenish the paper plates when a deep, familiar voice broke through your concentration. 

“Got anymore of your famous cookies?” 

You looked up, gaze locking with the ocean blue eyes of none other than Benny Cross.

You gasped and stood up so quickly you nearly knocked your head on the corner of the table. He was staring unabashedly at you, even being so bold as to roam his eyes down your figure and you suddenly wished you had changed into something a little more formal. Ironic, you thought, considering Benny was anything but formal.

His gaze moved from you down to the cake on the table and his brows raised. “You make this, Little Bunny?”

You swallowed, ignoring the rush of butterflies at the nickname. “Mh-hm.”

He bent down to inspect it closer, hands pressing to his knees and you can’t look away. You couldn’t look away from the cerulean gaze beneath a wall of lashes. You couldn’t look away from the slope of his nose nor the quirk of his mouth as he hummed a sound that came deep in his throat. And no, you couldn’t look away as your gaze traveled down his signature denim jacket to the exposed tanned skin of his arms, the muscle tone enough to make your eyes widen. You certainly didn’t want to look away from his hands over his knee as a flash of heat filled your core at the thought of his hands encasing your own knee.

Benny’s eyes flashed back up to meet yours. “You’re incredible.”

You nearly melted at his words, face heating up and you had to break his intense eye contact.

He stood back to his full height. “If it tastes half as good as it looks, I think I might be in trouble.”

There he goes again with those damn double innuendos. You started to smile but then you remembered you were still mad at him, that you weren’t supposed to be happy to see him or to hear his flirty voice. “You already are in trouble, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Benny grinned sheepishly. “I still gotta do somethin’ about that, don’t I?”

You raised your brow at him as you crossed your arms trying to look more confident than you felt. “You don’t have to do anything, Benny. It’s a free country.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “But it’s what you want me to do, right? Apologize to ‘em?”

“No, he . . . wouldn’t like that,” you admitted, “I don’t think that’d be a very good idea to involve him anymore.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Then I guess I’ll just have to win you over again.”

“Who said you won me over a first time?” You challenged, standing up a little straighter.

Benny just grinned, a shit-eating grin that you weren’t sure if you wanted to smack or kiss off his face. You watched as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. He slipped out a five dollar bill between two of his dexterous fingers and dropped it into your donations jar.

“See ya around, kid,” he said with a wink before turning and leaving you standing there wide-eyed and fighting a smile.

-Tag List-

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[predestinatos]

love me down? — CL16 𓍢ִ໋ ᰔᩚ

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: it's time to confront feelings over mcdonald's and a beach view

word count: 4k

tags: a bit angsty not gonna lie, vulnerable!charles is so interesting to write, finally they get it together (kind of), smut at the end - absolutely filthy btw.

minors dni ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! warnings & note underneath

note: so so sorry for the delay in updates! i've been busy on my dissertation, staying home alone for a few days and traveling along with writing some articles for my uni newspaper so things have been crazy here. but i appreciate all the support and patience.

warnings: rough sex, kitchen sex, spit is involved, charles is very... domineering

“Thank you” you smiled softly to the girl handing you the McDonald’s bag and the two big cups of coke, which you promptly asked for Charles to hold as you proceeded to drive away.

Your hands gripped the stirring wheel as you drove – upon Charles�� insistence that he wanted to see you doing it, and also because it would raise less suspicion and attention if you both did so. The night was calm and slightly warm, allowing for the windows to be opened and the breeze ran through your hair wildly.

You felt his gaze on you, noticing how he stared unapologetically at you from the corner of your eye, a warm smile plastered across his face, his eyes half open – details that you didn’t notice but knew, out of the sheer amount of time you were now spending together, his expressions becoming familiar and recognizable, like a painting you hang on your bedroom and see every morning when you wake up.

“Stop staring, it distracts me,” you said jokingly, your shoulders tensing as you smiled shyly and tried to fix your hair with one hand, the other remaining on the wheel. “Now you know how I feel” he replied, popping a French fry in his mouth.

You allowed yourself half a second to look at him with confusion, your eyebrows furrowed as you moved your head questioningly. “What do you mean?” you asked, as you opened your hand towards him and demanded for him to give you a french fry.

“I mean when we all hang out and you sit at the back of my car and all I can see is you from the rearview mirror” he replied, his arms stretching towards your mouth instead of your hand, placing the food in it carefully. You knew the order of these actions was deliberate – first he admitted to something, then he would shush you somehow, as if to let that admission disappear or go unnoticed, or for him to think of something to say that would somehow lessen it.

The cold tone of his eyes remained on you, however, letting silence fill the car, as you noticed you hadn’t put music on, relying on each other’s voices and company instead. With your mouth still half full, you kept questioning his attentive gaze: “we haven’t all hung out in your car in ages, though.” You swallow, hoping he understood what you said between chewing and speaking.

Charles laughed softly, both at your statement and at your attempt to multitask, which he tried to unconsciously replicate by removing the Coca-Cola cup from the bag without taking his eyes off of you. “I know,” he realized that was all he could say, and that it was enough for you to understand its underlying meaning.

You were now arriving at an empty beachside, one which both of you knew because that was where you spent your teenage years amongst the people you loved. “I thought you hated me though,” you said, more seriously than you intended, your hand on the gearstick as you moved it to reverse. He shrugged as he took his seatbelt off, placing one leg under the other one, his sweatpants revealing a comfort he had acquired with you over the past months. “I thought so too,” he replied, chuckling.

You turned the car off but didn’t find his tale all that amusing, how both your and his feelings were now drifting unknowingly and dissolving, getting harder to recognize and pinpoint.

Noticing your discomfort, Charles’ hand once again went through his hair, nervousness hard to disguise, his dark brown locks suddenly in a desperate need to be fixed. You grabbed your order from the bag placed upon his lap, unthinkingly. Months prior, just the idea of being in a car with him seemed ridiculously unrealistic, and now touching him was voluntary and thoughtless, which highlighted the contrast of your words.

“I’ve always found you attractive” his voice interrupted, as he took a bite of his cheeseburger. You reflected his movements, but looking at him, eyebrows raised and interest spiking. The short seconds he took to chew and swallow seemed like an eternity, the urge to hear him continue almost as big as his urge to keep talking. “Even when you annoyed the shit out of me” he laughed shortly, and this time you did too, your head rising towards the ceiling of the car. “It’s true! It just made you even more insufferable” he repeated, his free hand adjusting a lock of your hair behind you ear in caring amusement.

Your eyes met his as you took a sip of your drink, interrupting him before he went on a full monologue. “Thank you for the flattering confession,” you joked back, mimicking him by putting a lock of his hair behind his ear – an almost impossible task. “Come on, I knew you felt attraction towards me as well,” he tilted his head and leaned back, arms crossed smugly, trying to hide the slightly damaged ego. “You were alright,” your answer made him bring his hand to his chest dramatically, a comical expression screaming ‘how dare you’ in sheer playfulness.

“Grumpy men aren’t my type” you continued, placing a French fry in your mouth with feigned innocence. “Bratty girls aren’t mine either yet here we are” Charles replied, a soft gleam in his eyes as he looked at you, the breeze entering the car through the open window and touching his hair softly, daring to caress him when you couldn’t, wouldn’t.

Here we are. That sentence reverberated through your body like an enigma you couldn’t solve. Where exactly were you two? In a limbo of unspoken feelings and mere subtle hints of tenderness, an unbreakable vow of secrecy that can only be expressed through metaphors? In a car, desperate to feel each other’s devoted affection, yet refraining to do so, like a painting in a museum you can’t get too close to?

Charles knew he had said the wrong thing, or at least not the good enough thing for the moment. This back and forth used to be amusing and entertaining when nothing was at stake. But now it seems like both of you had gambled too much, and the few chips you had were holding you together at a table where whatever happened could not be seen as a victory.

He said the only thing that came to his mind at that moment. An earnest and genuine “I’m sorry” left his lips as he looked outside the window. You let out a breath, accepting the apology despite the fact that you didn’t quite know the reason for it. Was he apologizing for the comment that ignited this tension? For letting things spiral to this in the first place? You weren’t sure he knew it either, yet you knew he meant it enough for you to not hold it against him.

But maybe it was your turn to get into his head, as selfish as this sounded. You didn’t hold it against him but that didn’t mean you didn’t have half thoughts and half feelings to let out. “It was hard not being bratty with you,” you heard yourself say, as his head turned towards you. You forced yourself to hold his gaze, despite the fact that you felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you spoke. “You got under my skin like no one else. Still do,” you bit your lip, holding back a smile that threatened to creep up on your face. It was hard to hide your amusement at his own bewildered look, incredulous at what you had said could imply.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to be alone with you” his voice, almost a whisper, traveled through the car along with the nightly air and the soft waves crashing far away. You swallowed dryly, despite the cold cup resting between your legs and the comfort it could’ve provided you in a time like this.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, curiosity, or maybe sheer tension, filling your body as you felt him getting closer to you, closing the gap between both of your seats. “I did, eventually,” his breath hit your neck, his knowledge of this particular weakness of yours making you even weaker, realizing you gave him the power to get to you like this. His chuckle filled your ears and sent goosebumps throughout your body like an orchestra of sensations. “And it’s not like you made it particularly easy for me,” he continued, kissing your neck lightly enough to make your body shiver, his hand now resting on your leg and caressing it with sensuous ease.

“Really?” you played along, irony lacing your lips the way you both liked to play. “How come?” your voice broke upon the sentence as his murmur of affirmation to your question mixed with his kisses down your neck and his now tightened grip on your leg blurred your senses.

Before he could properly reply, your phone vibrated in your pocket, disrupting the tension building up between you two. You cursed under your breath as you pulled it out, reading the name on the screen and locking it again, deciding to reply later. “It’s my sister,” you say, even though you knew you needn’t justify yourself. Nevertheless, you did. You hoped he’d do the same in his own case.

“Oh, is everything alright? She’s in Austria, right?” he asked, genuine curiosity lacing his words. You nodded in response. “Yeah, she’s alright. It’s a drunk selfie, I’ll text her later,” you laughed as you continued, your drink finishing just like his. He laughed, more to himself than to you, as he shook his head negatively. “That’s brave for a Linguistics student” he joked.

His words made you realize something, which you couldn’t help but point out to him, question him about. “How do you know those things? About my sister, I mean” you clarified, your eyes interlocked with his. “You’ve mentioned it sometimes when we all hung out,” he shrugged, the answer seeming so simple and uncomplicated, almost making you feel ridiculous for asking. Yet you stood, motionless. “I may seem annoyed, but I am listening, you know.”

You felt your body freeze at his words, a realization of something you had never considered before. Because it’s not only that he was listening; he remembered. Things you didn’t particularly say to him – in fact, you ignored him most times, only using the basic politeness when strictly necessary – were engraved in his mind when they did not have to be. They could’ve been mere writings on sand for him, ones which the sea would wash away carelessly, yet they weren’t.

And suddenly, you were tired. Of the breeze, of the jokes, of the hiding, of the unknown. Of crying, of laughing, of shrugging it off and trying not to think about it. Of the lack of answers, of the increasingly infinite number of questions. You’ve felt sadness, but now it was time for anger – unfortunately, you did not know whom to aim it at. To him? For not being able to admit the very same thing you couldn’t admit either? To yourself? For protecting your emotions from the person who has shown in the past his inconsistencies, his lack of commitment and emotional availability?

He felt it then. He did not know how or why – whether your breath give it away, how you blinked more rapidly than usual and your eyelashes seemed to bat away the painful realization – but he felt that if he did not do something, say something, before you did, all this would end. And in those brief seconds everything flashed before him: the endless amount of decisions and routes that he could take here, how it would be easy in the short term to accept what you had to say and let you drive him home, drink it away, fuck it away, text someone else, kiss someone else. But the long term painful knowledge of feeling your skin on his when he wakes up at 4am in your room, to witness your eyerolls when he jokes around, to witness your existence quietly – that suddenly felt unbearable.

Your fists were clenched in repressed anger, so were his, though the reasons differed – but the source of them didn’t. It had now become a race against time, daring each other to speak, to do something before the other did, scared of the words that might come out each other’s mouths.

You beat him to it – maybe the only game where you actually won, yet a victory that tasted as a loss, where the podium took more from you than it gave, no morning glory or praise in your eyes or his. “I don’t think I can keep doing this” was all you said as you forced yourself to look into Charles’ eyes, notice how you could tell something in him shifted despite his lack of movement. Despite the fact that he had seen in it coming, he couldn’t help but feel a sharpness in his chest that threatened to break his whole body apart from the inside out. He had nothing to lose anymore, and knowing this, he knew he had to at least put up a fight with himself.

“It’s a shame because I think I’m starting to get feelings for you,” he tried to act natural, almost slightly careless but it did not work, not when your eyes stared deeply into his, confusion written all over them. “I mean I can’t get you off my mind. These hang outs we have are all that I look forward to. I mean that I wish I could just tell you how much I crave your presence at every moment. That part of me feels such anger towards you precisely because you make me feel weak. I hate myself for feeling these things almost as much as I do for not expressing them to you earlier. And I care. I care so much I wish I could be brave enough to ask you to text me when you get home, when you wake up, when you go out. I want to talk to you or stay in silence or eat or do anything, I don’t fucking know what I’m saying but I want this to keep going and I am so fucking selfish for it, I know I am.”

Charles bit his lip, out of nervousness, anger, or sadness – neither of you quite knew. All you knew was that the words that came out of his mouth could never be unsaid, that whatever happened after this could never repair whatever dynamic you two had, and even though you both knew that the first time he stayed after your party, it was now a reality you had to confront.

“Don’t do this to me, Charles” you begged, your voice breaking slightly as it whispered his name, the taste of it so different from before, so foreign it seemed like you were calling someone else. “It’s really fucking mean of you to do this,” you continued, as your hand flew to the car key and started it, your intention to leave the conversation in the sand, let it be consumed by the sea, erased, cleaned.

You drove and drove, although you felt like the car was operating itself, your mind not as much on the way to Charles’ place but more on retracing the steps that brough you two here. He didn’t highlight his presence either. Both of you felt so insanely alone in that car it was almost maddening, a solitary confinement worse than any other punishment: being alone together.

And so when your car came to a halt in the parking lot and you inhaled deeply, accepting the fact that this was probably the last time you would ever have him like this, considering what you’d do differently had you known that when you woke up, he tried one last time.

His hand was so close to opening the door but refused to do so before both his body and his mind had the answer to the question that would solve it all. Every single one of his next movements would depend on how you replied, and he was, not for the first time, immediately aware of your control over him. “Knowing all this, knowing it would come to this in the end- would you have kicked me out of your apartment that night?”

For some inexplicable reason, you did not hesitate then. Your head moved, so slightly it could go unnoticed, in a nod. Then, as if you were watching your own self from afar, you nodded once more, clearly, affirmatively, and confidently, despite your runny nose and teary eyes. You adjusted your hair once again, the mess a reflection of your own thoughts and his – tangled and complicated.

Yet, your reply triggered all of Charles’ courage, made his words come out strong and reassuring at the same time, as he tried, not desperately but incessantly, to make you see what he couldn’t show. “Then why can’t we keep going? You want me to show you I need you, here I am. I need you. I need this, and this might be the most vulnerable I can be with you right now but I am trying. I’ll say it as many times as you want and I’ll leave if you want me to because that’s how much I need you. I need you so much I’m willing to let you go if that’s what you want.”

His reply made you feel your own heart speeding, its pace matching his, though you were both unaware of it. Your hands were shaking at the same rhythm as his hands, the ones that were now opening the door in defeat, but that were stopped by you gripping his arm, feeling him finally, pleading him to stay. He barely had the time to close the door again, leaving it ajar as he turned to you and felt your lips on his, soft and needy and begging for him to stay. He deepened the kiss hungrily, his teeth biting your bottom lip in confirmation of his presence before you.

Remembering where you two were, you pulled away, looking at his unusual post kiss expression. Although the red lips and blissed eyes remained, he was serious, rather than smug, questioning if this was a last goodbye or a beginning. You smiled to yourself at that, his innocent look when he lost control of a situation giving away his honesty.

The atmosphere was still tense despite the fact that the air had been cleared out by his words and the tears washed away by the foggy windows, yet you couldn’t help but bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you said, “so does this mean I have to cancel things with Oscar?”

Charles’ soft giggle and playful “fuck off” made you feel at home more than ever, as you knew now that he was comfortable with you holding that door. And as he stepped out of your car, he leaned down and popped his head in once again, teasingly asking you “want to come inside so I can answer that for you?” – to which you merely smirked as you removed your seatbelt.

As soon as the elevator doors closed and until you made all the way to the 16th floor Charles’ hands were on your waist, your legs, your chest, and everywhere possible, as he tried feeling all of you at once, greedily caressing your skin. You needed him just as much, your own arms around his neck as your hands pulled his soft hair, sometimes with enough strength his groan was audible, but so addictive you couldn’t get enough of it.

The elevator doors opened and somehow you made it into his apartment, not registering any inch of it – you had grown to know it all too well to have to look around for the last few months. With your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding you by your thighs, he took you to the closest spot he could find and placed you there, your ass suddenly feeling the cold surface underneath. Sitting on his marble kitchen counter, you watch as his attitude shifted back to the cocky and possessive one you knew so well. Charles didn’t hesitate to take his shirt off, followed by his sweatpants, which revealed everything already. However, the sight of his naked body between your legs drove you insane, your head spinning with the heat of desire. Completely naked, yet standing above you, his voice, so distinct from the soft and vulnerable from before, demanded: “take your clothes off”

You complied, never breaking eye contact as he fisted his own cock, its length making your mouth water and your entrance embarrassingly wet, yet that embarrassment quickly faded as his gaze lowered towards it, dark lust spreading across his eyes. Unapologetically, he eyes you up and down, eyes resting on your breasts, your nipples hard, your whole body giving away how delirious with desire you felt.

“God your body is insane” he started, his hand still on his erection, moving frantically and out of pace, trying to replicate the feeling of being inside you, yet unsuccessfully. You dropped your shy attitude, replacing it instead with a newly found confidence highlighted by the confirmation of his primal desires.

“Quit jerking yourself off and fuck me, Charles” your voice sounded aggressive and soft at the same time, and caught him so off guard you saw his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let out a ravenous growl.

Without warning, he pushed himself into you, burying his length deep inside your cunt, your wetness allowing him to move perfectly. “Fuck it’s like you were made for me” his voice, now much deeper, erupted against your neck, his face buried in it as one hand held on to your thigh tightly, and your pain was nothing when compared to how full he made you feel, how your whole body responded to him with absolute pleasure. “You were made for me, weren’t you?” he asked, pulling away from you to grip your face in his hand, a gesture so possessive and animalistic it made your eyes water in a haze. You tried nodding, although it was hard given how strong his grip was, how out of control and light-headed you felt, making it impossible for you to speak either.

His thrusts continued, aggressive and ravenous, as he unleashed all of his cravings on you. “Open your mouth” he ordered between breathy growls that pushed you over the edge. You obeyed, mouth open and tongue out as you looked at him in the eyes, some of his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, his muscles tense and his body a complete masterpiece as it moved inside you. You knew what he was going to do, yet it still took you by sheer surprise, a cry leaving your lips as he spat directly towards your mouth, pulling your hair back to be able to look at you clearly.

You couldn’t even imagine the wreck you now looked like before him – completely blissed out and lustful, desperate for release. “All mine, f-fuck” you heard him say, despite the fact that you could barely think or even see, the sensations all mingled as one as you carved your nails in his toned arms.

“You’re mine, Charles” you tried finding your assertive voice, remind him he wasn’t the only one in charge, that you too had an upper hand in this. “All fucking m-mine, just like you want” you cried out as you felt him exploding inside you whilst your name left his lips.

The feeling of him coming and filling you was enough for you to come as well, your body shaking around his as he remained inside you, letting you keep every part of him.

As you stilled your breaths, his lips dropped a soft kiss on your forehead and his hand caressed your cheek. The change caused you to giggle, your brain still foggy from the intensity of the session you just had. “Let’s take a shower. Together” you finally said, allowing him to know that everything he had said was as reciprocate as he desired.

You two didn’t have a name or definition yet, but for now, the mutual need for each other’s presence was enough.

@buendiabebeta @janeholt3 @ruleroftheuniverse @trentsgirl @teenagedreams-cl @cmleitora @marialovesf1 @champagneholland

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 4

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.4

"If we’re going to get to the pit of this peach we gotta get some variables outta the way first. I need a scan of his brain and yours. While conscious.”

“Mine as well?”

“You said he’s your identical twin - he should be genetically the same as you. We can use a scan of your brain as a comparison to see if there’s physical damage on the organ itself, because brain damage is the most common cause of amnesia.”

“I do have the technology available for an in-depth scan, but… ”

 “But what?”

“It’s in the shape of a ray gun, but like a traditional MRI whoever is getting scanned has to stay completely still.”

“I don’t s’pose in the time it took me to go into town and get supplies, you managed to reconcile with him?”

“Reconcile? He’s still convinced I’m a mad scientist out to harvest his organs, 'or worse turn him over to the IRS'- don’t ask about that second part. If I point anything gun-shaped at him, he’ll freak out.”

“Can’t say I blame him…”

“Hush, Fiddleford. There’s an easy way we can get him to hold still.”

“Stanford- Stanford put the tranquilizing doohickey away. We both know that concoction of yours wasn’t formulated with humans in mind. Surely you have less caustic means of sedation.”

---

“Stanford, anyone can tell that bottle’s been tampered with.”

“I have a theory that this persona of his is so self-destructive he’ll still drink it.”

“Y’know, this bottled water tastes suspiciously like two crushed Ambien tablets.” 

*Stan keeps drinking it anyways*  

“I am impressed, but I also hate that your theory was correct.”

*Ford undeafens the cell*

“Stanley, if you think there’s zolpidem in that, why are you still drinking it?”

“You think two Ambien is enough to take me down? Guess again, I’ve used this stuff to cut coke. You’re gonna have to try harder than that, PhD.” 

“Hmm, so we should have used Coca-Cola instead of water…”

“That ain’t what he meant by- how did you survive by yourself out here?”

---

“Hello there …Stan?”

“Sup babe.”

“Don’t call me that. I was wondering - you’re so handsome already, but it’d surely tickle my fancy a bit more if you put on this here necktie.”

“Hell no.”

“Do you not know how to tie one? I’d be happy to-.”

“I know how to tie a tie, specs. But I’ll never wear a necktie ever again. Not after Colombia… I still can’t shave that part of my jaw without nightmares.”

“I beg your pardon?”

---

“I couldn’t convince him to put the mind control tie on.”

“Fiddleford, why are you staring a thousand yards away?”

“He was explaining to me his time in Colombian prison, then he went on a tangent about necklaces and now I don’t think I can change a tire without thinking about it ever again.”

“... Interesting. We’re not resorting to the tranq gun yet?”

“This is your own brother you’re talking about.” 

“There’s only one thing we can do. The only thing that will 99.99% work on my brother. I didn’t think it would have to come to this so soon. But it’s our only unharmful option left.”

---

“Stanley.”

“Doc.”

“I will give you twenty dollars if you stay still for thirty whole seconds.”

“On one hand this is a set up… On the other hand, I’ve done worse for twenty dollars.”

“You what ?”

“Ten bucks up front.”

To be continued...

[ranchiballz]

Operation Wingman

Pairing: Darry Curtis x F!reader

Word count: 1271

Description: Y/N is a new employee at Jim’s burger joint in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Ponyboy and Sodapop have been on a mission of helping Darry find a gal.

Authors note: heyyy. so, i’ve been gone. for like a whole year. my bad g. but anyways here’s part two when i publish it -

You push through the swinging door into the kitchen of the small but homely neighborhood diner, Jim's Burger Joint. The smell of fresh beef and fries hits your nose. You almost wince at how pungent it is, but then remember the smell of your other diner job at the Dingo. That place was the most rundown diner filled with robbers and pedos left and right. You couldn't go a day in that joint without something being stolen from you, whether it was your wallet or your innocence. You would have stayed if it wasn't for the never ending impending doom and soulless labor that they put you through. A dinging sound and the sound of shuffling boots pulls you out of your thoughts.You roll your way out of the kitchen and to the front counter.

“Come on Pony! Just one fresh soda and then we can go, I'll even get you a milkshake.” Says a chipper young boy with a wink, flashing a bright smile.

“But the movie starts in 30 minutes, Soda.  Johnny will be waiting for us . I don't want him to be alone. And why can't you just get a coke at the movies?” States an even younger boy.

“Because, child, their coke isn't as… crisp as this fine establishments.” The accentuation on the word crisp really pulled it all together. By the looks of them you had to guess they were Brothers. The slicked greasy hair, the soft eyes, the sibling banter.

 “Fine, but if Darry gives us shit about not being where we are supposed to, I'm blaming you.” The boy pouts. Both of them walk over to the end of the counter and take the last two seats. You quickly deliver a few burgers to the men at the bar counter. Each one looks at you, winks, thanks you, then digs into their oily fries like they haven't eaten in days. You make a face of disgust then smile when they notice. You roll your way over to the two young boys.

“Hi there, sorry about the wait, what can I get for you boys today?” You say pulling out your pad and a pen, you click the pen as you wait for the boys to give you their orders. As you look up you can see the youngest one staring at you. He sees you notice and looks down at his lap. The other boy is still looking at the menu of drinks. You can see the thoughts pondering in his mind, he was acting like this decision would be his last.

“Hm lets see here, a nice Coca- Cola sounds good, but i haven't had a Dr. Pepper in a while…” The boy continues to contemplate his decision. Your shoulders slump in boredom as he takes what feels like years to decide. You can feel your eyelids get heavy until you are interrupted again by his loud and excited voice. “Ok i will have one large, no, medium. No wait! Large, Dr. Pepper!” You jot down his drink and turn to the other boy.

“And for you?”

“Just a chocolate shake please, Ma’am, Thank you.” The younger boy says. You smile at them and nod as you skate off to back to grab their drinks.

“She's new here, right? Have you seen her here?” Ponyboy says turning to Soda 

“Nope haven't seen her til’ now. Hey, she's a pretty good looking gal” Soda says with a smirk on his face. “Wanna pull the good ol’ operation wingman?” Pony gave soda a disapproving look. Operation wingman was Soda's way of saying ‘Hey! That's a cute girl! Lets harass her into giving her number to their older brother because he's just a grumpy, lonely, muscle man that needs a loving gal in his life.’ Has it ever worked? No. Is that gonna stop him? Absolutely not.

“I don’t know Soda… The last time we did it we got in huge trouble, I mean, Darry got slapped. Can you imagine what would happen if it goes even worse?” Pony mentioned.

“First of all, Slapping her butt wasn't the original plan. I just HAPPENED to mention it to Two-Bit. He did it, then Darry paid the price. In all honesty I thought it would work.” Soda rebuked 

“Really, that was your plan. Wow you are quite the genius.”

“Hey woah man now don't get ugly on me.”

“Soda, I don't know. Shouldn't we let Darry find love for himself?”

“That workaholic is never gonna find a date. He goes to work, comes home, showers, reads his newspaper , and then goes to bed. No gal finds that attractive. He needs major help. I mean, the last time he talked to a woman was Mrs. Crawly down the road asking if he could get her cat down the tree.” Soda rants on. If Darry were here he would say otherwise. ( but yes that is the last time he had a conversation with a lady).

“I don’t know Soda, she's new, I don't want to scare her off already. And maybe she's a soc.”  Pony fights back.

“Oh come one man. Believe in something. Believe…” Soda looks at Pony with a pleading look. He knew that he was just trying to help his brother. But Soda wasn't Darry. Darry was a charming guy, but not like Soda. Soda had a natural effect on women and never struggled. So when he sees his brother struggling to get anywhere in life romantically, he plays cupid… more or less.

 Pony looks at the window through the diner to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of you. You were a pretty girl and from the sounds of it you were nice as well. Welcoming customers, smiling at them. You had just a nice smile overall, a very bright and kind one. Pony knew Darry needed someone like that. Almost on cue you started walking out with their drinks

“Fine, but we are doing it my way this time.” Pony whispers to Soda but quickly shuts up before you get there. 

“Alrighty boys here you go! Is that all for you today? You say pulling out your pen and pad.

“Yep, Thank you Ma’am. Um, but do you know when you guys close. Me and my friends were planning on coming in later.”  Pony takes a long swig of his shake. “And I-I mean this is the best shake I have ever had. If you are here tonight, would you be able to make me another one?” Ponys' request was sly and smart. Asking the perfect questions, all while keeping it subtle. You couldn't help but smile at the compliment. ‘What a weird thing to say’ you thought to yourself.

“Well lucky you, I'm actually closing today. The best time to come is 10. After rush, but before all them truckers come in. Guess I'll be seeing y’all tonight then” You smiled and handed them the bill and walked off to help another customer. Ponyboy looked at Soda with a smug look. Soda then looked at the clock and panic spread over his face.

“Shoot Pony we gotta go! We're gonna be late!” Soda yelled as he hopped off the bar stool and pulled out enough to cover the bill and a dollar as a tip. Pony and Soda ran out the door of the diner, But Pony hesitated and ran back inside. 

“What's your name Ma’am!” Pony yells in, grabbing everyone's attention.You whipped your head back. 

“Y/N!”  You yelled back. Ponyboy nodded and ran out the door again. You shook your head, and thought to yourself ‘what a bunch of funny kids’.

[emblazons]

Okay listen. LISTEN.

I don’t know what is going on with these goddamn Coca-Cola references in stranger things which people have pointed out several times before (and across seasons tbh), but: can someone PLEASE tell me what the hell a drawing of a red cola machine is doing in one of WILL’S DRAWINGS Mike has in the basement?

Cause I’m watching this on my (rather large) TV screen and noticed this in the scene where Nancy wakes up Dustin when he falls asleep on “Max Watch”, and it doesn’t make a single iota of sense to be here unless it means something…but I haven’t the slightest idea what.

I’ve written it off as product placement most of the time (cue analytical laughter), but this is some next level shit to have a bright red machine in an otherwise black and white drawing Mike keeps hung up as a party memory?

Like we had the “new coke” moment for Lucas and El in S3 + the coke being in Max’s room, plus coke with food + in El’s room (and probably a million other places too)…but this is something else lmao

I’m just. This particular imagery has shown up far too many times to count independent of its association to anything else, and has even been mentioned by name at this point, so I’m really trying to sort out what it means.

wider shot reference + it’s been there since S3 minimum:

[thenaturalfriends]

Peak ADHD Storytelling: "Off Menu" spends six minutes defining the flavour of an Australian soft drink.

James: Your dream drink, Sam Campbell.

Sam: [Surprised] OH. Well, I’m gonna go with Portino.

James: Portino? I so badly wanted it to be something that I knew what it was.

Ed: But why break the habit of a lifetime?

James: What is it? What’s Portino? I don’t know.

Sam: Um, so, um, it’s like a…

Ed: Do YOU know what it is, Sam?

Sam: To me it’s a really luxury soft drink. Wimmers, Wimmers, Wimmers. Wimmers. Wi-Wimmers. Ed Gamble. Wimmers. It’s this amazing…

Ed: What are you saying?

Sam: In north Queensland where I’m from…

James: What were you saying a minute ago? What was that?

Ed: What was all that?

James: What was Widders?

Sam: Just, connecting with other people.

James: Did you say Widders?

Sam: Wimmers.

James & Ed: WIMMERS.

James: W, I…

Sam: Double M

James: Double M.

Sam: E…

James: E, R, S. Wimmers.

Ed: What’s Wimmers.

James: What’s Wimmers?

Sam: It’s a, well thats the, that’s the company that’s making these amazing drinks.

James: Ok. Wimmers makes the soft drinks.

Ed: Wimmers.

Sam: To me the top flavours, that Wimmers… I’d say Portino, I’d say, there’s one, double sasparilla? Do you have that here? But… double? 

James: Not a double, we don’t really even have sasparilla but like I know what you mean, I know those drinks.

Ed: I don’t know what sasparilla is, really.

James: No, we’ve never really been clear on it, I think we talked about it on the podcast before that we’ve never really known what sasparilla is.

Ed: I only know it from The Simpsons.

James: Yeah.

Ed: From the saloon scene in The Simpsons.

James: Yeah, yeah.

Ed: And grandpa drinks it. In The Simpsons.

James: The sasparilla.

Ed: Do you know what sasparilla is, Sam?

Sam: Yeah! [long pause]

Ed: Wha—------------what is it, how do they make it, what’s in it…

Sam: Oh, I couldn’t tell you, molasses? I dunno.

Ed: Yeah, ok, yeah.

James: What’s it taste like?

Ed: So, no.

Sam: It does taste sort of licorice-y, I think.

James: Licorice-y and sweet and yeah, ok, what’s your number three on the top three, even though we still don’t know what Portino is?

Sam: Portino is number one. Number three is one, there’s one called CRAVE and I couldn’t tell you what that is but it’s blue. It’s just called Crave.

Ed: Yeah. 

James: Crave.

Ed: It’s called Crave, but it’s your number three, yeah?

Sam: Of the yeah, of Wimmers. Yeah. I got back into Wimmers soft drinks kind of recently, I was back in Queensland for a little bit and um, yeah, I think it is the most popular soft drink, like the biggest selling.

James: Where? In Australia?

Sam: Not in Australia. Most places in Australia don’t even have it. This is like, there’s even places in Queensland that don’t have it. But if you’re in Nambour or Peregian or Noosa you will get this.

James: Ok, what are any of those places? Where are they.

Sam: This is like, north Queensland.

James: North Queensland. 

Sam: You’ve been to Queensland, surely. 

James: Yeah, but I haven’t been to those places. I think I saw that last one on a sign once, but like, I’ve not been there. Um, so, Wimmers soft drinks are the most popular soft drinks in those three places.

Sam: I reckon they might be, yeah.

Ed: Would they beat Coke as well? Be more popular than Coca Cola?

Sam: Yeah, it’s like how in Scotland, Iron Brew out-sells Coke. It’s amazing.

Ed: So what’s Portino? This is your big favourite.

Sam: This is like, I just remember the first, well, if I could like take you to Mon Repos so I… yeah… so, I…

James: Tell me about it. Ed’s just doing some admin.

Sam: Ok. So I was friends with this kid called Joseph O’Hare, well, our families are friends, he’s got a pigeon chest, juts out, his ribcage, like that, which he’s had fixed.

James: Congrats to Joseph O’Hare.

Sam: And I didn’t even know it was a thing he cared about but you know whatever, yeah.

James: Yeah.

Sam: And so we used to muck around Mon Repos. That’s where the turtles? Lay their eggs? 

James: Is this the Hare and the Turtle… the O’Hare and the Turtle story?

Sam: No, no, no, no, no, no, so this is where turtles go off to to lay their eggs and also the eggs hatch, and that was the best, cause if they went off course you got to actually pick up a baby turtle and put it into the ocean. Amazing. But yeah, we…

James: The thing is, because we got you to tell ‘The Hare and the Tortoise’ earlier, I feel like you’re Keyser Soze-ing us right now with a story you’re just piecing together from stuff we talked about earlier, so your friend Jimmy O’Hare who used to live near the turtles.. It just feels a little bit suspish. Carry on! 

Sam: Why would I… This is my life! Just my reality. But yeah we used to love, we, and you know, we just loved drinking Portino and making up our own [inaudible]

Ed: Bonito, I don’t have enough reception to find out what Portino is, would you google it and put it on the screen for us, thank you. Sorry, Sam.

James: So you and Jimmy O’Hare, Jimmy O’Hare what lived near…

Sam: Joseph O’Hare.

James: Joseph O’Hare lived near where the turtles came and laid their eggs and you and Joseph O’Hare would go and look at the turtles.

Sam: Yeah, yeah.

James: And you would drink a lot of Portino while you were doing that.

Sam: Yeah.

James: Great. What is Portino.

Sam: Well I just remember… like, we were huge into playing like um cricket, but with, not with, just with the lid of the bin, you know what I mean? That’s what we’d do. And I remember this guy coming up to us, and he, he said you–and I don’t know, we don’t even know this guy but he goes, ‘You guys could have fun in a plastic bag.’

[Long pause for audience laughter.]

Ed: [Getting information from the producer.] Um, It’s grape and berry flavour.

James: It’s grape and berry.

[Applause.]

--from the Sam Campbell live episode, released 02-March-2024

Sam has stated he has ADHD, the other two have not AFAIK, but honestly I don't know if these buddies have two dopamine molecules to rub together between the three of them.

[pippin-pippout]

Thoughts on the side stories with the other characters:

I can't believe it was such an ordeal to get to sky island and get off sky island and this weather man that Nami's with just fucking took an elevator and a boat down and up.

I also can't believe the posh-ified Franky. He has tea in his system instead of coca cola. This isn't right. Also apparently tea = pacifist and coke = hentai??? WHAT? And this is where we first meet Vegapunk? Or maybe it's just his lab.

OH THIS IS WHERE THE SANJI IS TRANS HCs COME FROM. Also watching the second episode of Sanji's side story makes more sense after watching impel down and meeting Ivankov. Can't believe Sanji is so overconfident about this fight when he doesn't even know Okama kenpo... I mean he barely beat bon clay.

OF COURSE Chopper who ends up in like subjectively the worst circumstances stranded on an island with giant birds and humans that want to eat him, and winds up helping a baby bird out of the goodness of his little Chopper heart.

I just want Robin to kill these people so hard. She turned herself in to protect these people. Now the revolutionaries are coming and this little girl just wants to give her chocolate even at the cost of her life. And this old man who DOES NOT know that Robin is the nakama/crewmate of his commander's son is like 'yeah we're gonna free her. And then, as they are preparing for an arsenal of assholes firing at them, Robin just breaks all the bad guys' necks. I have further thoughts about how the narrative continues to place Robin with young girls (even tho one at least was anime-only) but I like it. I HOPE ROBIN MEETS SABO. I HOPE I MEET SABO. IT'LL BE SO GREAT WHEN ACE SABO AND LUFFY ALL MEET AGAIN.

Oh wait sorry Chopper maybe Usopp has subjectively the worst he's being eaten by a sunflower as nightmares go that's not great.

Although Zoro has to deal with Perona...

Hmm. Nvm. Perona has to deal with Zoro. She told him where his sword was and has given him a bunch of hints and baby boy still can't find it. Girls just wanna have fun I can't fault that and my love of my life is simply too directionally incompetent. "UP THE STAIRS AND ALL HALLS LEAD TO THE SAME PLACE" and he just doesn't understanddddd. Peak sibling behavior from these two. "Just follow me" *continues in straight line*. Zoro *starts walking diagonally for no reason.*

If Brook were less of a pervert this wouldn't be happening to him...

[luimnigh]

See, the thing about the movie Yesterday, the movie where a guy ends up in a world where The Beatles don't exist, that's a little frustrating is that it keeps adding more things that don't exist in this world.

And some make a little sense: yeah, I can believe that a world where the Beatles never existed might mean a world where Oasis didn't, obviously the Beatles have been a major inspiration for many bands that came after them.

While others are a little weird: Coca-Cola not existing? Well, I guess the divergence point is earlier, and Coke got knocked out in the same domino effect.

But the one they really didn't put any thought into is this: Cigarettes don't exist.

Tobacco was one of the major cash crops that funded the colonisation of the Americas. So like aside from tons of people now not dying of lung cancer, that would absolutely affect how the colonisation of the Americas went down- not stopping it entirely, but it was the major cash crop that originated in the Americas, with sugar and cotton being later introductions from the Old World.

At the very least, the political makeup of Central and South America would be affected, as different areas would probably be colonised at different times, with Spanish and Portugeuse economic exploitation being focused on different factors.

[jamneuromain]

Can you do the slumber party bingo with Coke turner. The wrong number one?

(I love your writing btw)

Yes Ofc! Thank you for your compliment, it means a lot to me <333（and coke turner really has me laughing out loud which inspires me this:

At A Cost

Cole Turner x You (Reader)

Warning: Fluff, Wrong Number, Miscommunication

Summary: Cole is nervous. He is trying to make a reservation at a restaurant, but a wrong dial and a local cell tower maintenance bring him something totally unexpected.

A/N: My fifth entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.

"Hello? Hi. I need to make a reservation for two. Is Wednesday night okay?"

There was a stupid drunk dude who crushed his truck directly into a cell tower this early morning. The tower was not that kind of iron monster on the top of the mountain, rather, this cell tower is a simple pole.

Was a pole, with wires tangled at its base, about seven feet or so.

And now it is down. On the ground. Leaving almost every wired phone in the district unavailable.

Well, unavailable is a strong word. The reality is, since the tower-pole is down, every call towards a landline is directed manually, hence creating a long waiting line and static-buzzing calls.

Cole has been pacing in his room, his balcony, and even the edge of the farm five times, just to wait for someone could patch his call to the new restaurant. He has been on two dates so far and the girl he is dating asked him whether they could go try this restaurant next time.

And of course, he says yes.

"Hello? Hi? Can you hear me?" He has to take away the phone from his ears to make sure that the line is open, and after he is certain that the other end is still on the phone, he re-attaches the phone to his ear, "Hello? Anyone there?"

Static buzz annoyingly irritates his ear, but luckily, he captures someone speaking on the other end of the phone.

"We are fully ... Please hold on, I just saw an... available slot. Does ... work?"

A soft voice rings on the other end of the phone, bringing his thoughts back together. "I'm sorry. When is the slot?"

"Thursday ... pm. Is this okay?"

"I'm sorry, Thursday when?"

"... 7 pm."

"That sounds perfect." Cole lets out a long breath. For a second, he was starting to imagine the disappointment and the frustration of his date, Emily. Who is a very nice girl from L.A., but he accidentally overheard her being mean to someone over the phone after their first date.

He would rather not jump to conclusions without knowing more about Emily. For now, he doesn't want to get on her bad side.

"Can I take ... name please?"

"Yeah, sure. It's Cole. Cole Turner."

"Okay, Mr. Coke."

"Nonono, it's Cole. C-O-L-"

"My apologies, Mr. Cola."

"It's not Cola. It's COLE, COLE TURNER-"

"We'll have your ...-vation on Thursday the 24th, by 7 pm sharp, Mr. Coca Cola. Is this your re-... number?"

This has become extremely frustrating. Even without his date present. He hates dating.

"Just book a table under the name Mr. Turner. And yes, this is my number."

"I'm sorry, Sir. Are you saying you want a table booked under the name ...a ?"

"Sorry?"

"... I'm going to need you ... " static, buzz, "Sir, are you there? I'm ..." buzz "Am I ..."

Before the line goes dead.

Yup, this is going to be perfect.

To add insult to injury, it is not until three hours later that a confirmation text sent to his phone that he realizes, he messed up with the restaurant.

Hi Monica Cola, thank you for booking at restaurant Savory Soiree. Your booking is on 08/24 at 7pm. Enjoy your meal.

Monica Cola??? How the hell did the lady get that name?

And he wasn't intended to book at this Savoir... Something! He meant to call the restaurant named Plate & Grill!

Cole has no other choice but to drive to Plate & Grill, since his phone is completely useless right now, thanks to the idiot drunk guy who crashed his car onto the cell tower-

When he gets there, he is even more speechless when he finds out that the restaurant, which is scheduled to open from 10am to 10 pm today, which is Monday, has a big poster sign outside stating that they are having some problems with the local power grid, and won't be open for another two weeks.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Luckily, Savoir...Savory Soiree is just across the street, but with tinted windows and marble black steps, it seems like a slightly fancier restaurant than the Plate & Grill.

After a few apologies in a phone call, Emily agrees to the change of location.

Which is the start of his more-than-miserable third date.

Before Cole was able to reach the restaurant, he stepped on his toes, tripped himself over once, and banged his arm on the cabinet edge.

He should've taken it as a sign and cancel the date. He really should.

But no. He chooses to wear his nice suit and tie, be there on time despite all odds.

"Welcome to Savory Soiree, do you have a reservation?" A woman at the front desk smiles at him. Even though wearing the white shirt and black bowtie uniform, something about you seems different than the rest of the waiters and waitresses. Cole brushes it off as you look more leisurely working at the reception desk, not needing to take care of multiple guests at once.

Cole hastily takes out his phone, showing you the text message he got, rather than saying his "assigned" name in the text.

"Mr... Ms. Monica Cola?"

You try your best not to laugh, as this was the reservation call you took, and the jumpy phone line only allowed you to capture a few syllables rather than his full name.

"It's Cole-" He explains in a rush to Emily, who is looking at him with a mixture of confusion and doubt, "It's Cole- Bad connection, a drunk guy brought down the cell tower and- Can we get our table please?" Almost desperate, he turns to you for help.

You raise your head from the computer, nodding, "Of course, if you will just follow me."

The interior design of Savory Soiree is similar to its outside. With dim yellow glow and a glass jar of candlelight on the table. Dark tiles and dark leather sofas instead of regular chairs. Simple black-leather covered menu with two sheets of paper, containing the French-Italian fusion dishes with a few words of explanation. White plates with golden rims. Even the knives and forks are warm to the touch.

In a cute floral dress, Emily fidgets on her seat.

"Hey. You look amazing." Cole reaches out to take her hand, calming her nerves, "I heard that the lobster here is pretty good."

Emily looks over her shoulder, but doesn't take away her hand.

"I'm sure it does." She manages a smile, withdrawing her arm from his touch as soon as you approach their table.

"Hi, are you ready to order?" You step near with an iPad, "Would you like to start with some drinks? We've got excellent wine, both red and white. If you would prefer some non-alcoholic drinks, we have soft drinks and water."

"Yeah." "No." Cole and Emily say the same time.

They look at each other. Emily looks down at the menu again.

Cole quickly amends his words, "I think we are going to need a couple more minutes. Thank you."

"No problem." You gesture at the side of the table, where there is a small silver button visible, "If you are ready to order, just press this. I'll be with you shortly."

Then you walk away, leaving Cole and Emily at the table.

For the rest of the shift, you were called to the kitchen to help out with inventory. The tables originally assigned to you were allocated to other waiters and waitresses.

It is after an hour and a half that you finally finish all your work and clock out. "Clock out" is more of an overstatement. It is only eight forty in the night and plenty of guests sitting by the table. But none of that is your concern.

After all, you were only here to help out with this "short-staff" situation during rush hours.

You are waiting for your ride home when you notice the man standing right next to you.

"You're ... Cole, right?" Fairly certain of his name this time, you open up to talk, "I was originally gonna serve your table but I got called to the back. Did you enjoy your food?"

Cole takes a little while to realize who you are.

"Oh sure. The food is great. Excellent. The Osso Buco? Perfect. I haven't had such soft and juicy veal for a long time. Pricey, but worth the cost."

He can't help but sigh at the end.

"Ok-ay. Is it anything else you're not satisfied with, if I may ask?"

Mr. Coca Cola does spike your interest. He doesn't strike you as the type of rich folks who would normally come to your restaurant to eat. His suit and his wristwatch say so. Not to mention his plus-one, looking far from blending in.

Cole chuckles at your persistence, "It's not your place that's the problem. Date gone wrong, that's all."

It has gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

Emily didn't like this fancy place and everyone speaking in a low voice. She moved around on the chair as if she had nails under her ass. And when her dish arrived, she claimed avocado is harmful to the earth environment - even though she ordered the dish herself.

She was worrying over the price of this meal. And at the end of this date, after continuously worrying and fidgeting, she gasped in shock at the bill and told the waiter they must be overcharging.

And ran out of this place as fast as she could.

He eyes you somewhat curiously, "I thought you guys would be working till close, like, 10 pm, if not later."

"Nah, I'm just here to help out." But you feel bad about his date and the terrible choice his date made for her dress.

Sundress and fancy restaurant don't really go well.

So you shrug and give him a sheet of paper with your name and number, "Call me, if you want to eat here again. I can get you a slot."

"Y/N Y/L/N..." He mutters your name. Cole doesn't really believe that a waitress, no offense, can get him a decent booking for Savory ... Savoir, or something. But as your ride stops in front of you, he doesn't really believe that a young waitress could get a chauffer to open the door for her and get on a fancy BMW either.

But he really wants to eat here again. The tasty veal and the marvelous red wine made sure of that.

"You don't look like you work for this restaurant." Cole places the piece of paper carefully in his pocket, tugging at his tie because his throat feels dry all of a sudden. Gesturing at your ride and your coat, he grins, "You're not gonna be Hannibal, are you?"

You choke out a laugh, "No promises."

"As long as veal is on the table," He purses his lips, posing a care-free expression, "I'd do anything for a slot."

"Right." You don't buy that. Not a single bit. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Coca Cola."

"It's Cole-" He snorts at this inside joke.

When you wave and roll up the car window, telling your chauffer to drive.

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[mochinomnoms]

MEXICAN COLA IS THE BEST

Would be cute if yuu made a pin with the bottle cap or something

Now with the ingredients maybe they can recreate coca cola!!! (Now that they see yuu chugging down a glass of the cola they made you need to trust that other people don't think you just made a drug or something)

If yuu isn't from Mexico directly then in that case yuu was full on ranting about Coca-Cola and how one time one of their older family member gave them Mexican Coca-Cola because they went to Mexico and now yuu got frustrated because they were a child when it happened and they didn't got another chance to go to Mexico and get Mexican Coca-Cola "I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THE COCA COLA FROM MEXICO TASTED SO MUCH BETTER AND WHY OTHER COUNTRIES DIDN'T JUST DISTRIBUTE THE MEXICAN COCA COLA SO ALL COUNTRIES ARE HAPPY AND NOT STUCK WITH THE BLAND TASTING COCA COLA" and the twst boys are like "... Yeah.. That sucks so bad" "How energetic.." while they listen to yuu ranting

-Vaquita

Actually, it's quite easy to get Mexican coke in most grocery stores! In the US at least, they're in most major grocery stores in the soda section or in the front fridges. Maybe the more east and north you go the less they're available? Maybe in other continents they don't have them? I've always found them easily in stories, they do have larger packs of them in Hispanic grocery stores, though.

The reason why so many people like the taste of Mexican coke (and their sodas in general) is because they still use cane sugar instead of high fructose corn-syrup, which in America was introduced in 1980. The taste varies, but most people say it tastes more natural and is smoother. I think it's smoother and doesn't have as much of an aftertaste or "bite" as American coke. The American version has more of an aftertaste and tartness to it, while the Mexican version is more juice like? If that makes sense.

I think that most of the guys would get a kick out of hearing about your world and anything you rant about. I mean, it's not often you meet someone from a different dimension, how different is it? Apparently you're very passionate about coca-cola!

If you wanted to recreate it, according to google the recipe is kept secret, but most believe that the natural flavors used in the soda are vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg. There is also most likely an acidic component, so it might include lemon or a bit of vinegar. It's very distinct flavoring, but I'm sure that with the help of everyone and comparing other colas in TWST, it might be easy enough to recreate it!

Now the matter is whooo you can ask to help...

[limjaeseven]

Coca-Cola

Pairing: Jihoon x Mingyu

Genre: Fluff, mentions of Angst

Rating: General

Warnings: Mention of alcoholism

Word Count: 728

Summary: Mingyu crushing over the hot coke (coca-cola) addict at his bar.

[a/n]: Another tipsy drabbles lets go!

“Who comes to a bar to drink that much coke?”

Mingyu had seen all sorts of customers over the years, from melancholic drunks to drinks-after-work types, one drink to one more drink and then one more. He had never expected to see the human incarnation of a fire ball to turn up at his bar and drink coke with the passion of a raging alcoholic, though.

“Don’t know, chief, but that doesn’t seem like a good choice for his teeth or his kidneys,” Wonwoo said as he worked on refilling the customer’s drink.

“I mean we aren’t good for anyone’s liver. At least it’s better than alcohol?” Mingyu’s eyes landed on the customer every now and then. Despite his short stature, he guessed not an inch over five foot six, the man commanded quite the presence.

No one dared to sit by him, seeing his face and just finding someplace else. It was a quiet bar, meant more for professional gatherings and semi-formal dates, not usually greeted by angry solo drinkers, which is what made the man stand out so much.

That or how attractive the man was.

Mingyu didn’t like to use him owning a bar as an opportunity to eye good looking people but he couldn’t always help himself. The man at his bar was undeniably handsome, probably one of his best till date. With his short cropped hair, smudged eye shadow and bright red leather jacket, he looked a lot like a pop star.

It went on for hours, and Mingyu found himself more and more concerned. The man kept sitting there, his head bent low, asking for one coke zero after the next. They would soon start running low on their stock at the rate the man was going. Fortunately they were nearing closing time and the bar had mostly cleared out.

“Sir?” Mingyu asked carefully.

“Another one, please,” the man said, not even looking up.

“I think that’s enough, sir.”

“You’re cutting me off coke zero?”

“No sir, we’re about to close.”

The man finally looked up at Mingyu, having to crane his neck up to meet his eyes, “Where am I supposed to find more coke at this hour?”

“A convenience store, I presume?” Mingyu felt more confused than he had ever felt before in his life.

“Checked every single one in the area, none of them have it in stock for some reason. I’ll just have one more and leave.”

“I’m sorry sir, it’s really late. We have to close right now.”

“Can’t you close while I drink the last one?” The man asked, a sad pout of his face. He was far too attractive for Mingyu to say no to.

“Alright, I guess.” He filled the man’s glass one more time and got his staff to start cleaning up the place. The customer seemed reluctant to finish his drink to the point where there was still some left in his glass by the time everyone had left, leaving Mingyu waiting for him. “You done, sir?”

“Yeah, just a second.” He downed what was left and handed Mingyu his glass and credit card. He quickly rung him up and headed inside to wash up. He thought about the customer and laughed to himself, not knowing what to make of him.

When he was out, the customer was still sitting at the bar, scrolling through his phone.

“You haven’t left yet?”

“What do you think I waited this long for?” The man asked with a smirk

“What do you mean?” Mingyu asked.

“And I thought hot people being dumb was a myth.” The man got up from his seat and stood close to Mingyu. He barely came up to Mingyu’s shoulder but his eyes more than made up for his stature. “Lee Jihoon.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you need a special invitation to give me your name?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

“So, Mingyu, how about you walk me home?”

“What?”

“Are you straight?”

“No?”

“Then?”

“What was with all the coke zero?”

“I enjoy feeding my vices,” He said, a smirk on his face. “One for coke, the other for handsome men.”

Mingyu didn’t know what to say as Jihoon hooked his arm around his and walked him out of the bar.

[tegr1dy]

The Blue Angels Came to South Park

Stan brought two Coca-Colas to school: one for himself, and one for Kyle, stuffed inside of his jacket pocket.

The first time a plane flies over the school they’re in the middle of a lesson. It’s loud, and he thinks the sky is actually breaking, because that would be more in line with something he’s actually experienced before.

The entire school goes outside to watch. They’re watching the planes cross each other in the sky, their engines leaving behind puffy X-shaped trails of smoke in their wake. Stan elbows Kyle.

“Here,” Stan says, and hands him his Coke.

“Oh, sweet!” Kyle takes the soda, his fingers brushing Stan’s around the width of the can.

“I had to sneak this, so appreciate it,”

Kyle nods in thanks and smiles, cracking it open.“Your parents don’t let you have soda?”

“No, they do. They just don’t let me pack soda in my lunch.”

“My mom doesn’t either.” A plane whirrs above them and Kyle looks up at the sky. Stan is still looking at Kyle. “She says it’s too much sugar.”

“But you always have chocolate milk.”

Some kids are beginning to get distracted, looking away, running around on the grass while their teachers scowl underneath watchful eyes.

“Milk builds strong muscles,” Kyle retorts.

“Strong, sure…”

Stan just about jumps out of his skin when Kyle wraps his arm around him and squeezes. He can’t lift Stan up very far, but it’s clear that he’s trying. Their chests are pressed together. Stan stumbles and then they’re toppling over, Kyle’s arms still locked in a death grip around Stan’s waist. Their Cokes spill all over the grass, a little bit of sticky, sugary drink splashing onto their faces, too.

“Told you I’m strong,” Kyle says as he pushes himself off of Stan to lie on his back next to him, holding his forearm over his eyes to block out the sun.

“Stan! Kyle! Quit the horseplay!” Mr. Mackey calls to them from a distance, but they’re already sticky with soda, covered in dewed grass, dirt on their clothes, and they don’t care. Kyle snickers first, and then they both start laughing.

Another blue plane, identical to all the other blue planes, makes a loop-de-loop for the fifteenth time above them. “This is kinda boring,” Stan sighs.

“Better than that Grammar diagraming lesson. Mr. Garrison’s sentences are always so weird. ‘A tea bag helped the the delivery man in dispensing his load.’ Like, what does that even mean?”

“I have no idea. Maybe we could ask Tweek, he knows all about hot drinks.”

Stan and Kyle both look up when above them, a plane begins to nose dive before catching itself and ascending with glory back into the sky until it’s nothing more than a tiny black speck.

“Woah! I thought it was gonna crash.” Stan likes how wide Kyle’s eyes get when he’s fascinated. He splays his left arm out until he’s brushing Kyle’s right hand. It’s Kyle’s turn to eye Stan carefully now while Stan keeps his eyes on the sky where all five planes are flying in unison, synced up in a neat little line. He’s not paying attention, though. Rather, his focus is on the tips of Kyle’s fingers grazing his knuckles, tickling the hairs there and making his wrist twitch away, regretful.

Kyle takes Stan’s hand, holding it still.

When the Angels make their final swoop down to low ground and then back up again, one swift, fluid motion, Stan’s stomach flips and he figures he must have a distaste for flying.

As they drift away to their landing site, Stan closes his eyes against the harsh light of the sun and pictures himself and Kyle drifting among the clouds too. As South Park, everyone, and everything in it fade away into dreams, they’d float along into a new plane of existence made carefree just for the two of them.

[davisexplainableart]

DM 30th Anniversary Show (recap):

(Keep in mind, this isn't actually real. Just pretend that it is)

Wow, what a night that was!

I would say that was the best show I've done this year, but considering all the other shows I've done this year, that's not really saying much.

Still, I enjoyed being back on the stage after several months, and the band played excellently.

Especially Torts of the Glorp Corp on drums, the way he replicates Tony's drumming and rhythm is immaculate!

Of course, Footi, Magnifo and Chao were great too.

For the gig, we made sure to only play songs that were officially released during the Definitely Maybe era.

We were hoping to make a big surprise with a few of the songs (i.e. I Will Believe and Cloudburst), until Liam Gallagher played them himself for his own Definitely Maybe anniversary shows. I mean, we played them anyway, but still.

Also, the reason we didn't play Acquiesce, Headshrinker or Talk Tonight was because they were b-sides from the Some Might Say single. And because Some Might Say was included on their follow-up record, "(What's the Story) Morning Glory?", and not Definitely Maybe, that meant that those didn't count.

Don't worry, when we celebrate "WTSMG?", we'll make sure that Acquiesce and Talk Tonight are on the setlist.

But speaking of which, here's what we did play at last night's show in Southampton:

1. Rock 'n' Roll Star

2. Columbia

3. Fade Away

4. Digsy's Dinner (w/ a little jab during my introduction at the United States for misspelling it "Digsy's Diner")

5. I Will Believe

6. Listen Up

7. Shakermaker (w/ Coca-Cola verse, which is why I dedicated the song to the "Coke drinkers")

8. Strange Thing

9. Bring It on Down

10. Up in the Sky

11. Cloudburst

12. (It's Good) To Be Free

13. Cigarettes & Alcohol

14. Married With Children (replaced "shite" with "tripe")

(Acoustic Set w/ Me & Footi)

15. Sad Song (w/ me on vocals)

16. Half the World Away (w/ me on vocals)

17. D'Yer Wanna Be a Spaceman? (w/ me on backing vocals)

18. Take Me Away (w/ me on backing vocals)

(Rest of Electric Set)

19. Slide Away

20. Alive

21. Live Forever (w/ "take 2 sugars in my tea" during the 2nd chorus)

22. Whatever (w/ Mixies Orchestra)

(Encore)

23. Supersonic

24. I Am the Walrus (w/ Mixies Orchestra)

[bluesidez]

hiiii, hope you're having a great day!! For the ask game 12, 20, and 21 !! <3

HI ALONDRA!!!! 🩵

I literally don't remember which ask game this was...so I'm answering two sets of questions 😭. Although, I feel like it was the soft asks.

Soft Asks!

12. How are you?

I'm ok right now! I've been pretty down the whole day and everything is either annoying me or making me sad. 😭 I think I'll be better once I lift a workload off of my shoulders.

20. What do you want most in the world right now?

I'm not too sure! In a small sense, maybe hug a friend really tight, cuddle with a big dog, or hold a giggly baby! In a big sense, perhaps.....make Miguel O'Hara my real boyfriend 😌. Or you know, have a trailer for Beyond The Spider-verse or Castlevania: Nocturne Season 2.

21. If you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

Start digital art earlier! I am amazed at the digital art that younger (younger than me) artists are putting out. I wish I could have kept up my patience and gotten those skills earlier. Other than that, maybe be more confident in myself.

Weirder Asks!

12. What kind of day is it?

(It is now a new day so my answer is different lol) It's a better day! I hope to be productive and chill today. I feel better! It's definitely a work day, though.

20. Do you say soda or pop?

I have never noticed which one I use more??? People are always like (American) Southerners call everything "coke" which is partly true! My grandma is very serious about her Coke though, so when she says that, I know she means Coca Cola. I think I say soda in front of others and pop sometimes. I don't really drink soda anymore, so if I say it, I'll usually say the exact brand.

21. Something you've kept since childhood?

All of my game consoles! All of them are in great condition because I cherish them. Nintendos, PlayStation, Wii, Joystick, DDR pad....it's never leaving me. It's the way a part of my soul left me when I lost my Style Savvy game. But it came back because a game exchange store had it!!! I bought it so quick and now I'm whole again.

Thank you for the asks Alondra!!! I hope your day is swell and sweet! 🩵

[the1975attheirverybest]

What was the depop thing? You mean her selling stuff on it? And I’m with you about the Starbucks thing, but I also think that these people literally don’t care, like Dua Lipa doing a priv concert for McDonald and then calling for a ceasefire or Matty still drinking Coca Cola even tho everyone is boycotting it, or when the guys sold atvb to Amazon (not that the other streaming companies are better, but Amazon??? Cmon) so I sideye all of them and I try to remember that I can only judge them to a certain degree

Okay; this, in my view, is an important message beyond Gabbriette discourse so I will say this: as a Palestinian who has been involved in protests, encampments at my school and pushing my local community to take a stand, I will say those are not the same thing.

You can participate in boycotts and calls for ceasefire while also drinking coke! You can be pro Palestine and also shop on Amazon! Let’s not conflate all of those things. Please, those takes are the reason that people who want to get involved or participate in boycotts feel intimidated and confused. They feel that if they don’t cut off everything they don’t count as contributors or they’ll get called out/ canceled.

Going from the Starbucks thing specifically that Gabbriette did to all those other things is not sound logic.

As for depop yeah I just think she didn’t need to make 10K on depop off of stuff most of which she got for free. That’s just evil.

[ab4eva]

✨

The word I want to use is “chocolate” 😏 and the person of my choice is of course, Elvis. Take what you will, baby girl! You can do whatever you’d like with it! Congratulations baby girl! 💗

-Daisy (@powerofelvis)

Daisy (@powerofelvis) my love, my wife, my darlin! Thank you for your patience! I finally, finally have your little drabble…and I hope you enjoy, my girl!! 💓 xoxo

-

While your husband was by no means a slouch in the kitchen (his scrambled eggs were the stuff of dreams - cheesy, creamy, fluffy goodness), he was not, in any uncertain terms, proficient. He’d had his mama to take care of him when he was younger, and after she was gone, it had been Dodger. Then the myriad of employees that had catered, literally, to his every whim. Until you had breezed in, unbothered, uncomplicated, and taken over your wifely duties like you were born for it. In a way, you were. You’d always wanted to be a wife, always wanted someone to love and care for. You were good at that -the fussing and the babying. Anticipating his every need, his every request. He thought you the most glorious creature he’d ever come across, and thanked his lucky stars and all the heavens above for you every day.

Which is how Elvis found himself in the kitchen at Graceland, surrounded by eggs and flour and milk and butter, determined to make you the best chocolate birthday cake you’d ever put in your mouth. He’d asked Dodger for her recipe, the one she made for every birthday, every funeral, every potluck. The one that called for a bottle of Coca Cola and way too much butter. The one you’d taken and perfected, if that was even possible. He scratched his head, trying to read Dodger’s looping scrawl on the recipe, muttering to himself.

“Now listen here, boy, you can do this. Ain’t nothin to it. How often does Satnin make this for you? Can’t be all that hard…” he trails off as he measures a cup of flour, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. “This ain’t so bad,” he says with satisfaction, until he glances at the recipe again, suddenly overwhelmed with all the steps, the many details required.

“Aw hell, no harm in just dumping everything in here together, right boy? Easy…and it saves time.” He starts adding all the ingredients to the bowl - eggs, milk, coke, butter, cocoa powder - stirring it together. Peering in, he thinks it looks a little lumpy, and not at all how it usually does. But he shrugs his shoulders and keeps stirring, plopping it all into a pan and popping it in the oven. Setting a timer, he starts on the chocolate frosting, again combining all ingredients at the same time. It’s lumpy but not terrible and the cake is starting to smell good, actually. Doesn’t look half bad either. He pours the icing over the hot cake, feeling satisfied with himself.

And later, when he brings a tray to the bedroom with two slices of cake and two glasses of milk on it, climbing into bed bedside you, you feel a warmth spreading from your chest all the way down to your toes. He grins, and hands you a piece, the boyish gleam of anticipation and approval lighting in his eyes. He holds his breath expectantly as you take a bite. And if it’s all you can do to keep from gagging and making a face, smiling through the salt and the grit, well you’re a good wife. The best, in fact. Because true love is eating a bite of terrible chocolate cake your darling husband made for you, then distracting him with other sweet things.