#coca cola structure

[thatscarletflycatcher]

*looks at the notes on this post*

You were right, OP, people were not ready for this conversation.

Edit: reasons why I hardly ever talk economics/politics/ethics on this website.

I don’t think you’re ready to have an adult conversation about politics until you’re able to admit that there are things you love and enjoy that would not and should not exist in a just world. $8 billion dollar budget movies every other month don’t exist in a just world. New 900 GB AAA video games every year don’t exist in a just world. Next day delivery doesn’t exist in a just world. 80 different soda brands don’t exist in a just world. 

All of those things come from exploitation on some level, and if you wouldn’t trade those for a world where everyone can eat and have a home no matter who they are or what they do, I don’t know what to tell you. 

Edit: I made this comment a few days ago, but since it’s been buried in the 40k notes this post got since then, I’ll repeat it here. I agree that delivery of  medications and other vital supplies are essential! The “Next day delivery” I’m talking about is shit like Amazon that relies on incredibly awful national supply chains. If I had known this post was going to get this much attention, I would have been more explicit. 

[grantmentis]

PWHL 2024-2025 Primer

It's that time of year again folks. PWHL starts on November 30th.

The sections of this primer are: What is the PWHL, Where can I watch, Rules/League Structure, Official league pages, journalists to follow, and an introduction to each team (what they did last year, who's on the team, notable players, you should root for them if you..)

What is the PWHL?

The Professional Women's Hockey League was created in 2023 and launched in January 2024. It is currently the sole professional women's hockey league in North America.

Heading into the 2024-2025 season, the PWHL has six teams: The Toronto Sceptres, Boston Fleet, Minnesota Frost, New York Sires, Montréal Victoire, and Ottawa Charge. Each team plays 30 regular season games per team. You can find the full season schedule here.

Where can I watch?

Disclaimer; We don't have an official 100% confirmation on the American and non-North American ones yet, just reports from journalists who I do deem trustworthy. I will edit any changes and highlight them in bold if necessary.

On Television/Streaming

Canadian fans will have games on TSN and its affiliates (such as TSN+) primarily, with select games on CBC and Prime video.

French broadcasts of Montreal games can be found on RDS (18), Radio-Canada (6) on ICI TÉLÉ and ICI TOU.TV

Full streaming/television schedule for Canada

All fans not in Canada are available to stream on the PWHL Youtube regardless of location (so if you're "in market" there's no black outs like there is NHL games)

Last year regional games were held on: Bally Sports North in Minnesota, NESN/NESN+ in Boston, MSG/MSG+ in New York, Sportnet Pittsburgh has carried select games. Not 100% confirmed this will be the case last year. Even if your regional sports network carries it, however, you should be able to access it on Youtube in America

In Person

Toronto and New York (sort of) have new locations this year

Toronto Scepters play at Coca-Cola Coliseum

Ottawa Charge play at TD Place

Montréal Victoire play at Place Bell

Boston Fleet play at Tsongas Center (Lowell, MA)

Minnesota Frost play at Xcel Energy Center

New York Sirens will play at Prudential Center (Newark, NJ)

There are also many neutral site games this year including Detroit, Quebec City, Raleigh, Vancouver, Denver, Buffalo, St. Louis, and Seattle that you can read about here

What are the rules? The League Structures?

Who makes the playoffs and what do they look like?

Please keep in mind that with such a young league, it's possible this will be tinkered with.

Each game is worth three points: 3 for a regulation win, 2 for an overtime win, and 1 for an overtime loss

Last year, the PWHL had 4 of the 6 teams make the playoffs. The number one seed got to choose their opponent between the third and fourth seed.

All series were best of five series, the two semi finals and then the finals.

Rules

If you are an NHL fan looking to jump in, here are the differences in the PWHL. The rulebook is also here.

Bodychecking is allowed in the PWHL, so long as it is done in an attempt to play the puck or gain possession. While women's hockey has always been physical, bodychecking at this level is fairly new, the SDHL in Sweden started to allow it just in 2021 and then the PWHL last year, so refs and players are adjusting in how they're going to draw the line between legal and illegal. This is also not the case in international competition, so it is a little different than the olympics or worlds if you are used to watching those.

The PWHL has a "jailbreak rule" which means that if you are shorthanded and score, the penalty ends.

In shootouts, a player can go as many times as they'd like.

New this year is the "No Escape" rule where players of a penalized team are required to stay on the ice to start the penalty kill.

Coaches can challenge delay of game puck over glass penalties.

Hits to the head, headbutting, and grabbing an opponents helmet strap, throat protector, or hair is an automatic major penalty and game misconduct.

What are the official social media pages? Who are good people to follow?

Official league pages:

PWHL: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

There's also a unofficial bluesky bot that re-posts all of the PWHL X content

Sceptres: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Fleet: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Victoire: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Frost: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Sirens: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Charge: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

News and Journalists:

This is not a comprehensive list, just a starter pack! feel free to add any recommendations in the comments.

Kyle Cushman: Works for the score, covers the whole league (as well as some nhl), keeps public statistical information. The Score author page / Twitter / Bluesky

The Ice Garden: Long time women's hockey publication. I'd also recommend going through their contributor/author page and following them individually! Website / Twitter / Bluesky

Hailey Salvian: Long time reporter for the Athletic for women's hockey Twitter

Kenzie Lalonde: TSN reporter based in Montreal covering PWHL among others, also does play by play Twitter

Rick Menning: Local reporter for the Sirens Twitter

Kelsea Durham: Local reporter for the Boston Fleet for Inside the Rink Linktree

Christine Roger: French-Canadian reporter, who posts in French, mainly about Montreal Twitter

PWHL Report: Content aggregator for if you don't want to follow a bunch individually and really the only one i've seen post stuff to Instagram Twitter / Instagram

Who are the Boston Fleet?

The Boston Fleet were last years runner up in the league.

Their roster can be viewed here, with updates to be expected in the next few days as training camp cuts and contract being signed, the waiver period starting for teams to sign players that got cut from other teams training camps, and final rosters are made.

Notable players: Hilary Knight (captain), Aerin Frankel (Star goalie), Alina Müller (Swiss hockey star), Hannah Bilka (first round pick this last draft.)

You should root for this team if: You like defense-first hockey, strong New England college hockey connections, rooting for the youngest ice hockey player to win an olympic medal (Alina Müller), a player who got a custom outfit for pride night (Jamie Lee Rattray), Jewish hockey icons (Aerin Fankel), and players who are also podcasters and make a lot of tiktoks (Lexi Adzija and Taylor Girard)

Who are the Montréal Victoire?

The Montréal Victoire finished second in the standings last year, where

Live roster viewable here with expected updates the next few days

Notable players: Marie Philip-Poulin, Laura Stacey, Erin Ambrose, Ann-Renée Desbiens (all four are long time Team Canada legends), Lina Ljungblom (young Swedish superstar), Mikyla Grant Mentis and Kennedy Marchmand (both former PHF MVPs)

You should root for this team if: You love two way defensive minded centers, rooting for the league favorite, star players who are married to each other (Poulin and Stacey), short defenders (5'1 Amanda Boulier and 5'2 Cayla Barnes), post game victory dances, I dont even know how to describe this but heres grant mentis and Lásková watching golf i have to put it here

Who are the Toronto Sceptres?

The Sceptres were the first place team in the PWHL last year.

Roster here, once again will change this week

Notable players: Natalie Spooner (league MVP and long time team Canada player), Sarah Nurse (Olympic record holder for points and top scorer), Julia Gosling (first round pick), CJ Jackson (backup goaltender, social media darling, and LGBT activist), Renata Fast (top defender for both PWHL and Team Canada)

You should root for this team if you: love all the Team Canada players who grew up outside Quebec and also the coaches (all but three players are Canadian and many have played internationally for Canada, the coaching/management also largely from team canada and shares stylistic similarities), are interested in Nursey Nights (Sarah Nurse's collaboration with Black Girl Hockey Club during Toronto Sceptres games!), want to root for the other league favorites, love noted pancake enthusiasts (Kali Flanagan), or if you're more on the savory side, love a hot dog enthusiast (CJ)

Who are the Ottawa Charge?

The Ottawa Charge finished fifth in the league last season

Roster here with updates to come

Notable players: Brianne Jenner (team Canada and captain of Ottawa), Emily Clark (top scorer), Kateřina Mrázová (top scorer and Czech national team icon), Danielle Serdachny (second overall pick), Ronja Savolainen (Finnish national team mainstay and SDHL icon)

You should root for this team if you: Have an interest in Czech players (Mrázová, Vanišová, Tejralová), you like podcasting players (but gay this time), enjoy a team that regularly updates their youtube channel and does a fan fest and has some of the best player created content, like a team that is not afraid to make bold roster moves

Who are the Minnesota Frost?

The Minnesota Frost are your inaugural PWHL champions!

Here is a live, updating roster

Notable players: Kendall Coyne (Captain, Team USA), Taylor Heise (last years #1 overall pick and one of the leagues scorer), Grace Zumwinkle (also a top scorer), Nicole Hensley (star goalie and also Team USA starting goaltender typically), Michela Cava (extensive experience as top player in PHF, SDHL, and Russia.)

You should root for this team if you: Have a lot of midwest pride and like teams in the WCHA, value speed when watching hockey, like players with unconventional paths to stardom (Hensley, who played at Lindenwood in college and made team USA only after college finished), want to root for the ultimate playoff sicko (Michela Cava, who has 4 championships across four leagues, two finals MVPs, and is over a point per game combining all playoffs), like franchise cornerstones who are besties and call each other 'the dog to their cat" and vice versa (Heise and Zumwinkle)

Who are the New York Sirens?

The New York Sirens finished last in the PWHL last year

Roster with updates to come

Notable players: Abby Roque, Alex Carpenter (both team usa and PWHL top scorers), Corinne Schroeder (had the best goaltending season in PHF history in 2023 and followed it up by having one of the best PWHL seasons despite a tough workload), Sarah Fillier (first overall pick this year, team Canada star), Maja Nylén Persson (round two pick, SDHL best defender of the year last year, team Sweden's #1 defender), Noora Tulus (finnish national team star and one of the best SDHL players of all time.)

You should root for this team if you: want to see a team really build itself up from the ground floor, as theres a lot of roster turnover this year and a new coaching staff, with a lot of exciting draftees. like a team that has a little more physicality/grit. want to maximize the number of crossovers with other professional sports teams possible, like the nickname pizza rats. Want to enjoy some of the best mic'd up content (Roque)

[cimtee]

Actually. Here’s a thing.

Below: all canon physical descriptors of the characters. That I remember. And likely some that are made up bc my brain doesn’t have a working file system.

If any of them are incorrect please do let me know! And if there is anything significant I missed out, let me know that too! It will be very helpful as I finalize their designs 🙏

To be clear, my intention is NOT to be canon patrol. I love love love seeing all the different interpretations of characters. They are all so wonderful and distinctive and personal.

My own design development has been based on given details + incorporation of my own ideas, imaginings, etc. (Oft they are self-indulgent too. Always fighting the urge to put freckles and diastemas and prominent noses on every single person I ever draw)

Without further ado. A masterpost of sorts.

Edits in blue!

Blue

Race/ethnicity unspecified (personally imagine her with Desi roots, through Maura ofc. Artemus is her Welsh half. Presumably. His DNA may just be chloroplasts…) See @transronanlynch’s reblog about this. Btw all these green edits are thanks to their infodumping I LOVE INFODUMPING

Short (5’?)

Brown eyes

Short dark uneven hair, often held in place with clips

Doesn’t shave

Both her and Maura are “compact, athletic, and hard to tip over.” Strong enough for the fair bit of manual labor she does on page

Weirdo clothes (affectionate). Lots of self-made or secondhand items and layering. Look at reblog for some specifics!

Gansey

Anglo-Saxon poster boy

Average height

Light brown hair

Hazel eyes

Contacts mostly, round gold wire-rims otherwise

Straight nose

Straight white teeth

High cheekbones. I think he’s even described as having a “regal” face structure but I could’ve pulled that outta my ass

Dimples!!! How did i forget to write this. I marked it as Extremely Important the moment i read about them

Tanned and fit. Described as muscular several times and was also on the rowing team, so at the very least his upper body is strong. Apparently rowers have a pretty square build lol. Mentioned in trb that he has square shoulders actually!!

Good hair (usually styled)

Not very hairy, Ronan makes fun of him for not being able to grow a beard and Blue remarks as much at toga party

Golf club clothes fr🪦 often in brightly-colored polos. khaki slacks. boat shoes🪦🪦 fancy watch.

Adam

“White trash.” Really he is just some Creature

Tall and slim and “wiry” shoulders

He’s beautiful but it’s unconventional enough that he refuses to believe it

Dirt/sand colored hair that he cuts on his own (“close-cropped” in cdth. Nice. Always imagined he keeps it short for practicality). Perhaps he is the Sandman (google just told me the Sandman controls dreams. Idk what fucked up esotericism I just unearthed. Haha ‘earth’ like Adam’s hair. I am sleep deprived dawg what was i on about)

Blue eyes

Tanned

“Barely there” eyebrows

Prominent cheekbones

Hands - yess all these details are ringing a bell: they’re quite knobby, prominent knuckles and “thumbs that jut out boyishly” (still thnx Ronan for being rlly gay and supplying us with these highly important details)

Straight teeth (thnx Ronan?)

Alas the freckles are NOT canon but they might as well be

Secondhand uniform. Washed out/frayed. Always wears a cheap wind-up watch until he gives it to Opal in TRK. In TDT he has a dreamt watch that shows the time of wherever Ronan is

Casual: basic tees (infamous coca cola,, I think he looks so good in red tho) and jeans and cargos (wore a camo pair with the coke shirt). Has been described wearing boots. Probably sneakers too but I don’t remember a specific instance

Work: mechanic overalls for the most part. He’s often streaked and greasy from fixing cars

These three canon descriptors highly influence how I draw him: elegant, gaunt, sepia

He inherited Persephone’s tarot deck, whose cards are illustrated in pencil “vague, scratchy, and dark”

Ronan

Irish ancestry (again, presumably. He wasn’t exactly bred)

Tallest of the bunch. “Built” shoulders

Dark brown hair. Buzzed. Naturally curly

Icy/shark blue eyes

Pale skin

Thick brows

Misses one shave and looks like he crawled out of the backrooms (also affectionate)

Back tattoo (later: left arm)

Scars on forearms

Niall clone. They look the same

I believe Declan has been described with a Roman nose, and the Gray Man notes some of the brothers’ facial similarities, including their noses. In conclusion Ronan’s nose is arched in some sense. But in general his features are narrower/sharper than Declan.

Mostly black clothes. Tanks and jeans and boots and leather jackets (on the jackets: pretty sure he wears one in TDT when he’s on the run with Hennessy and Bryde. Also found a paper from when I first read trc that I wrote a bunch of descriptors on, and it said “has a biker jacket.” Not that I particularly trust my past self much). Leather bracelets that used to be Niall’s.

Incapable of wearing uniform properly. Loose tie, untucked shirt, just imagining him in the suit jacket is an atrocity

Noah

Czerny is a Slavic surname

Short

Pale. Light hair, eyes, and skin

Small eyes

Large ears yay!! I thought so but wasn’t sure enough to write it originally

Pointed, crooked nose (wonder if it was broken when he was killed?)

“Smudge” over his left cheekbone

Timid disposition, often slouching/making himself smaller. His hands often hang at his sides (it’s making me think of the typical socially-anxious “what do i do with my hands”)

Perpetually disheveled Aglionby uniform that is also perpetually on him

My guy wears Topsiders… (this makes sense but it also makes me uneasy. He’s a Vans kid in spirit. Is it even possible for him to change clothes, I have no idea. Weekends wearing Aglionby uniform would raise questions, but then again many other things should’ve raised questions too)

When he’s feeling particularly ghosty he becomes transparent/blurred/difficult to focus on. His eyes look dark and empty. The smudge on his cheek looks like an obvious injury.

Close to the end he starts lookin dead dead without Blue’s amplifying. I think bones n rotting flesh n stuff? “Soul threaded through naked bones.” Though I think what Blue perceives to be a terribly dead Noah is mainly metaphysical

Henry

Many thank to @robobee for all the Henry details (and some others above). I wrote this post at 3am and by the time I got down to Henry I was crashing out. I knew I had too little on him

Korean/Chinese

Tall!

“Glittering black hair.” Spiked but in a very deliberate Aglionby way idk

Can’t believe I for got the WICKED EYEBROWS they are literally my favorite part of his face to draw TT

And prominent cheek bones? What’s with all these boys and their chiseled faces

Wears showy clothing/accessories. “Snazzy jacket” I also could’ve sworn he wore Gucci glasses once but again my memory has a history of being fallible

Has been caught in HD in a Madonna tshirt

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Where the Flowers Don't Grow - Chapter 7

Word Count: 7.8 k oops

Warnings: basically everything you should be warned about with TLOU, honestly

Notes: Ladies and Gents, welcome to Jackson

Fic Masterlist

Faith had never been in a town like Jackson.

She’d seen cities before—places that used to be cities, anyway. Empty husks crawling with infected and worse things. Kansas City had been the worst. Oppressive, suffocating, full of screams you could hear even in your sleep. She’d dreamed about it for weeks after they left. The broken glass, the blood-stained windows, the way even the sky over it had looked wrong.

But Jackson… Jackson was something else entirely.

The wall came into view first—a towering structure of metal and lumber that curved around the community like a protective spine. Armed guards stood along its top, rifles in hand, eyes watchful. There was a gate up ahead, built like a fortress door from a storybook, and when it creaked open at their approach, it felt like stepping into a different world.

Ellie tightened her grip around Faith as the horse carried them inside.

Snow crunched beneath the hooves. They passed under the arch and into a town that looked like it had been plucked from a memory. Or in their case, a dream.

A wide street stretched ahead, dusted in soft snow, with buildings on either side—sturdy, well-kept, full of color and life. There was a warmth to the place that didn’t come from the cold sun overhead, but from the way people moved, spoke, lived. Strings of lights hung between buildings, gently swaying. One structure had a faded wooden sign swinging above its door: Tipsy Bison. There was also a school, and a row of other shops followed—one had an old Coca-Cola sign still hanging out front, others flew an American flag that looked recently stitched. In the distance, they could see a huge Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments and lit with string lights, like straight of a fairytale.

Children ran between the buildings in coats and mittens, some of them even building snowmen with their friends and families. Laughter echoed somewhere near a large communal fire pit. Faith stared. She couldn’t help it. People were smiling. Actually smiling.

She didn’t even know towns like this could exist anymore.

Joel rode just behind them, but his eyes were darting everywhere. Watching for exits, threats. He hadn’t relaxed, not yet.

They passed by a building in mid-construction, planks stacked outside, people working on scaffolding with actual tools—real tools, not makeshift pieces of metal scavenged from ruined garages. A man walked by with a level balanced on his shoulder, whistling under his breath. Faith blinked.

This wasn’t a trap.

This was real.

They stopped in the middle of the main street. Several people had come to a halt nearby, some curious, some wary. Faith couldn’t blame them. Three strangers brought in by patrol? She’d be staring too.

Joel’s horse slowed. He slid down from it as one of the riders dismounted. His brows were drawn, like he couldn’t quite make sense of what he was seeing—until his eyes locked onto someone just across the way.

Faith followed his gaze.

There was a man there. Tall, lean, with familiar posture and the same set jaw as Joel. Dark hair pulled back, a moustache over his lip. He’d been giving orders to someone on the construction site, but now he’d frozen. His eyes widened as they landed on Joel.

Joel’s breath hitched.

“Tommy!”

The man turned fully to face him. Faith and Ellie saw instant recognition graze his features.

“Joel?”

Joel didn’t wait for confirmation. He was already moving, pushing past the horse, through the snow, faster than Faith had ever seen him move.

“Tommy!”

Tommy stepped forward just in time for Joel to grab him.

It wasn’t just a hug—it was a desperate, bone-deep clutch. The kind of hug someone gives when they’ve been carrying grief too long. Joel wrapped both arms around his younger brother and pulled him close, eyes shut tight. Tommy didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Joel back just as hard, one hand clapping his shoulder, voice catching somewhere in his chest.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Tommy asked him, smiling like a madman. It’d been too long, too damn long since they’d seen each other.

“I came here to save you,” Joel breathed.

Faith smiled before she even realized it.

She’d never seen Joel like that. Not this soft. Not this open. He was always guarded, even when she could see cracks forming in his armour. But there it was, right in front of hers and Ellie’s eyes—pure, genuine relief, with a full belly laugh hugging his brother back. She didn’t know the whole story between them, not really, but it didn’t matter. The emotion on Joel’s face said everything. All the miles they’d crossed, the blood they’d spilled, the cold and hunger—they’d all led here.

Tommy finally pulled back, blinking rapidly, brushing snow off Joel’s shoulder like it mattered. “Come on,” he said, his voice still thick with shock. “Come on, man. We’ll get you warm.” He looked over at the girls he didn’t know, smiling politely at them. “I’m Tommy, Joel’s brother.”

Faith helped Ellie get down from the horse and she smiled at Tommy, introducing herself and Ellie, who was uncharacteristically silent.

Tommy nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at them. “You’re all welcome here. Come on, let’s get you warm. I’m sure you’ve all had a long journey to get here.”

“You could say that,” muttered Ellie. “I’m starving”

“Let’s get you some food, then.”

(…)

The food hall was huge. It had a dozen tables in the centre of the room, and many more by the windows. On the opposite side, there were different food bars with more food than Faith had ever seen all at once, keeping it warm under a soft orange light.

They got themselves a plate each, full to the brim, unable to resist the delicious looking feast they had at reach.

“There’s more if you need it.”

The woman who had found them and taken them to Jackson was seated with them now, next to Tommy. Joel was next to her, across from Tommy, and to his left he had Ellie, and then Faith. They were too hungry to eat any slower, but neither Tommy nor the woman said anything. They probably understood their desperation, probably havin’ felt it too more than once in the last twenty years.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Joel. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

Faith had to smile at his politeness. It wasn’t everyday she got to see Joel like this. It was also a reminder that he had been born into a society were manners were still taught before how to shoot at an infected to stay alive.

To put it simply, he was old school. Austin, Texas old school.

A cowboy with manners.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” said Ellie now, taking another bite. “This is fucking amazing.”

Joel looked at her, his eyes widening a bit at her comment. He looked at Tommy and the woman apologetically:

“Sorry,” he turned back to the girl, “Ellie, let’s mind our manners. Do like Faith, huh?” he gestured at the girl, who was silently eating – more like devouring – her plate, but still, silently.

“She’s right, though,” Faith couldn’t help her smile now. “Food’s fucking delicious.”

Joel had to give up after that.

Tommy and the woman only smiled back, clearly amused with the girls.

“It’s okay,” Tommy said, “I’m glad you like it.”

Ellie nodded at him, but then some movement caught her eye. She saw a young girl a few feet away, looking at them hiding behind a thin column, clearly visible.

“What?!” Ellie almost barked at the girl, who quickly turned around and left the food hall.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What about her manners, huh?”

“Ellie, she was only lookin’ at us,” tried Faith, nudging her softly. “You’d be starin’ too if someone new came around your town.”

“Exactly,” the woman next to Tommy said. “She was just curious. Kids around here… Don’t usually look or talk like you two.”

“Maybe I’ll teach them,” mumbled Ellie, a bit bitterly. “And I want my gun back.”

Faith grimaced. She wanted her weapons back too.

“Kids around here also aren’t armed,” added the woman.

She was basically holding a staring contest with Ellie now. Joel just kept eating, his preferences clear as day, but Tommy and Faith noticed and tried to intervene: Faith gave Ellie some extra bread, while Tommy began to talk:

“You know what? Uh… I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

He wasn’t wrong, really.

“She was gonna have her guys kill us!” Ellie exclaimed, pointing at the woman.

“Well… we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place,” replied Tommy, calmly. It seemed like he had experience with talking to a teenager. “But it’s all bark. We’re just tryna’ scare off those who might wanna try us, is all.”

“You gotta’ couple of ninety year olds shitting themselves out there…” Joel tried to stop her with a firm ‘Ellie!’ but she kept on talking. “They say that you leave dead bodies around?”

“Those are the people who tried us,” answered the woman.

“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad.”

“Not always, at least,” added the woman. She looked at Joel, then at the girls, like she knew something about them they didn’t.

The woman hardly blinked. It was kinda disturbing, to be honest.

“Ma’am,” Joel spoke up, his tone polite again. “We’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here… maybe just for family.”

The woman didn’t move. Tommy did, though. Faith watched as he went to grab the woman’s hand gently, seeing they were wearing matching golden rings. “Well, uh… Maria is family, actually.”

“Oh shit!” exclaimed Ellie, sarcasm still noticeable in her tone.

“Congrats,” said Faith, trying to smile politely like Joel had before.

“Yeah, congrats,” added Ellie. She looked at Joel to her right, still silent, and she whispered. “Joel, say congrats.”

“… Congrats.” He said, with the same flat tone Faith had ever heard of him when they met in KC.

The silence was heavy after that. Ellie didn’t know much about family reunions, but she didn’t imagine them being this tense.

Faith and Ellie were beginning to eat their dessert when Tommy tried to lift the mood again:

“How about a tour?”

(…)

Apparently, they’d settled in Jackson about seven years ago. That was one year after Faith and her family had left the QZ. Maybe if they’d headed west instead of east… they could’ve had ended up here too.

Faith didn’t give much time to that thought. She had learned to avoid those who gave her a feeling of regret and despair for something she couldn’t change anymore.

She marvelled at the Christmas tree, unable to hide her excitement at seeing the hand made ornaments and the small twinkling lights wrapped around the branches.

“It’s beautiful,” she told Maria, sincerely. The woman smiled at her, saying something about how they did Christmas workshops for kids at the school in the afternoons.

“Maybe you could stop by later,” she told her, as they headed down main street with the others. “There’s lots of kids, it can be fun.”

Faith glanced at a little boy and a little girl playing in the snow nearby with their mother, giggling carefreely. When they saw her looking the little boy went still, but the girl waved at Faith, who blushed a bit at getting caught and awkwardly waved back.

She picked up her pace, walking next to Joel now. He didn’t say anything about her pink cheeks. Just glanced at her quietly.

“You okay?” he asked, instead.

Faith nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s just a lot of people, at once. Haven’t been around this many in forever,” she let out a nervous laugh, before adding: “Not unless you count KC, which… we better not count.”

Joel made a small grunt of agreement, keeping close to her side as they walked.

“So there’s no infected in the area?”

“Just smaller colonies,” said Tommy, “wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700…”

Faith didn’t hear the rest—she was distracted again, eyes roaming the buildings they passed.

It was almost eerie, how… normal things looked.

Not entirely, of course. It was rough around the edges. Weathered. But it didn’t feel broken. People waved to one another. Doors were left open. Smoke rose from chimneys.

Society—real society—felt like a story people used to tell to comfort themselves. But Jackson was society. And after everything, after years of surviving like a stray, Faith didn’t know what to do with the stillness. With the safety. If felt… Unsettling.

So she stuck close to Joel and Ellie. That, at least, felt real.

“How do you keep this place quiet?”

“Carefully. Being in the middle of nowhere helps. Not advertising what we have, staying off the radio…”

Joel clanged at Tommy then, but his little brother refused his look. Faith remembered something about Joel telling her and Ellie that Tommy hadn’t been answering back on the radio. It was actually the reason why Joel had accepted leaving Boston with Ellie in the first place: to get to Tommy.

Turns out, Tommy had been staying off the radio on purpose.

Maria kept on telling them about their community. “… Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”

They stopped in front of a large pole that had a big generator on the very top, where many of the string lights that decorated the streets were connected to.

“You draw power from the dam?”

Oh, the water dam they’d seen.

Damn.

“Got that workin’ a couple years ago,” answered Maria. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights… Got everything goin’.”

Ellie glanced around, speaking up for the first time since they’d gone outside. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

Close to main street were the stables and animal pens. There were also small white tents, actual greenhouses, for growing food. Faith really wanted to glance at some from the inside, and when Tommy caught her looking he actually invited her in:

“Come check it out,” Tommy offered, noticing Faith’s curious glance toward the greenhouse tents.

Faith looked to Joel without thinking. He gave her a small nod— a quiet permission.

She stepped off the packed snow path and followed Tommy inside.

The greenhouse air was warmer than outside, misty and thick with a clean, earthy scent that hit her senses right away.

It was bigger on the inside than she’d expected. Rows of raised beds lined the floor, lit with grow lights hanging from the cross beams above. Some of the beds had leafy greens—kale, chard, even romaine lettuce—thriving under the artificial warmth. Others had root vegetables, she guessed, judging by the leafy tops. There were vines climbing trellises along one wall, the faint promise of tomatoes even in winter. Shelves nearby were lined with trays of microgreens and seedlings, carefully labelled in neat handwriting.

“Holy shit,” Faith breathed without thinking.

Tommy chuckled, brushing his gloves off on his jacket. “We keep ‘em running year-round. Takes some coordination, especially in the winter, but the dam’s good for the energy, and we’ve got a few folks here who really know their stuff.”

Faith moved closer to one of the trays, fingers hovering just above a line of tiny spinach sprouts. “You’re growing real food.”

Tommy glanced at her, smiling. “That’s the idea.”

She didn’t know what compelled her to speak again, but it slipped out anyway. “You’ve got ladybugs, too,” she said, pointing at the small red dots near the base of the leafy greens. “Good for pest control. And those yellow cards—that’s for tracking whiteflies, right?”

Tommy tilted his head a bit, chuckling. “You know your plants.”

Faith hesitated, instantly self-conscious. “… A little.”

He nodded, not pressing her. “Well, if you ever want to help, we always need hands in here. Or even just someone to keep the seedlings company.”

She gave a shy half-smile, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe.”

Tommy didn’t push. He just gestured to the exit with a tilt of his chin. “C’mon. Joel’s probably getting itchy out there.”

Sure enough, Joel was exactly where they’d left him, standing just outside the greenhouse, snow crunching faintly beneath his boots as he shifted his weight. He hadn’t moved from his spot. His eyes landed on Faith the second she stepped out, and only then did he relax the tight line in his shoulders.

Ellie was beside him, brushing snow off her coat. “Took you long enough. Did you get lost in a maze in there or something?”

Faith snorted under her breath. “They have plants. Food. Like… A lot.”

Ellie’s brows lifted, but before she could make another comment, Tommy was already leading them further along the tour.

They approached a sheep pen next, and Ellie smiled, calling for Joel:

“Hey, Joel, check it!”

His sheep farm dreams seemed to be closer than they thought. There were also horses, a lot of them, peacefully standing close by.

Ellie turned to Maria then, “So are you, like, in charge?”

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answered. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving 300 people including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, huntin’, harvestin’...”

“Everything you see in our town,” added Tommy now. “Greenhouses, livestock… It’s all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So… communism?”

Faith looked from Joel to Tommy now, not entirely sure what that word meant. Tommy seemed a bit offended, though.

“Nah. Nah. It ain’t like that – “

“No,” interrupted Maria, “It is that. Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy seemed to need a moment for self-reflection, so they left him there as they approached one of the stables where Ellie had spotted a young horse, a brown foal with a big white spot between her eyes.

“No way!” Ellie exclaimed, rushing to the horse.

“That’s our newest one,” Maria went with her, as did Faith. “Couple months old. You wanna’ pet’er?”

“Yeah!”

Faith approached the foal too, smiling softly as the young horse leaned into their touch.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“Shimmer.”

“Shimmer,” Ellie repeated, petting the horse. She rubbed her nose against the foal’s snout, giggling, making Faith giggle too. “Shimmer, you’re so beautiful.”

Joel and Tommy stood close now too, a bit awkwardly, although the girls were too busy with the foal to notice. Maria did, though:

“Well, I’m sure they’d like a shower,” she said, talking to Tommy. “And some new clothes. We can put them in the empty house across the street from us?”

He nodded, agreeing: “Yeah. It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it.” He shrugged. “Could do worse.”

“Oh, trust me” Ellie added, still smiling because of the horse. “We have been.”

Faith didn’t say anything at first. She glanced at Joel.

He was standing a little stiffer now, eyes flicking between the others. Something about Ellie’s comment had hit a nerve—it wasn’t anger exactly, but it lingered in his jaw, the way it tightened slightly. He seemed vulnerable… and a bit hurt.

“We’ve been doin’ fine,” Faith said quietly, without looking at anyone but him.

Joel’s eyes met hers then—just for a second. Something in his shoulders eased. He gave a small nod, almost like a thank you, and she knew he’d heard her.

That was enough.

“Well,” Maria added now, a bit awkwardly at the silent exchange. “I can take the girls over there if you two wanna… catch up?” She glanced at the two brothers, Tommy especially.

Tommy seemed uncertain. It was Joel who nodded then, agreeing with a small ‘okay’.

Ellie looked at Faith in a small moment of concern, not entirely comfortable now with leaving Joel’s side. Faith wasn’t all too sure about it either, to be honest, her eyes fixed on Joel as if her pleading and nervous look would be enough to make him stay.

 “Joel,” Ellie called out for him, a bit urgently.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, already walking away with Tommy. He had his own troubles to attend to.

The girls stood there in silence watching him leave’em, until Maria spoke again:

“Shall we?”

(…)

The Tipsy Bison looked like a bar straight out of a western movie.

Joel sat on a stool at the clean, lacquered bar while Tommy poured them both glasses filled with ice and whiskey.

Nothin’ like grabbing some drinks at a bar with your long lost brother to get some sense of normalcy back.

“’Been a long time,” he muttered, caressing the sleek bar softly, as if he wasn’t sure it was really there. He looked at Tommy then, at his black shiny hair pulled back from his face, longer than he usually kept it, and a grown moustache over his upper lip that made him look more serious than Joel remembered him to be. “Doesn’t seem like you aged much.”

“You on the other hand…” Tommy smiled, handing Joel his drink, grabbing his own to toast. “Thanks for still givin’ a shit about me.”

Joel took a sip of the drink, his eyes widening a bit. It just hit him how long it had been since he’d done something so casual as sipping on a drink in a bar with his brother. And the drink itself surprised him too, it seemed homemade.

Tommy smiled, confirming it. “Workin’ on raisin’ some hogs too,” he said, proudly. “Once we get bacon, I mean… what’s even left?”

Funny thing to ask in the apocalypse.

Joel stood up taking his drink with him, walking around the room to get away from Tommy’s gaze meeting his own.

“Christmas trees and bacon?” he took a look at an old piano against one of the walls to Tommy’s right, and a picture hung above it of the community. “Pretty decent setup.”

“So… How’s Tess?” that question caught him off guard. He hadn’t talked about Tess since she died months ago. He had forbidden Ellie to do so. They hadn’t even told Faith about her. He masked the pain of losing her, though, with practiced ease sayin’ she was fine, all right. “Good then,” Tommy glanced down at his drink, looking for the courage to ask the next, “and the kids?”

Joel faced Tommy again, thinking about the girls. They were probably taking a warm shower now, and putting on some fresh clothes Maria had promised them. He was glad, even happy, that they could get some rest while they were here. It had been a long three months.

“Yeah, uh… Ellie’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-much, tryna find her family somewhere out here. I was headin’ in this direction, so…”

He couldn’t tell Tommy about her immunity. There was something about him… Joel couldn’t bring himself to do so, not yet, at least. Not when Tommy had been ignoring his radio calls for weeks because his wife told him so, not when they were the only family they had left.

Well… the only that Joel had left.

“Really? Goodness of your heart?”

He couldn’t deny that part. Tommy knew him too well. “There’s a payment.”

“Knew it,” he smirker, sipping from his drink. “And the other girl? The older one?”

“She’s, uh… Found her in Kansas City. She’d been alone for a while, so, uh… Told her she could tag along.”

“She’d been alone?” Tommy’s eyebrows frowned. The girl didn’t look older than fifteen. “How old are they?”

“Yeah... Doin’ fine, though. Faith’s sixteen now, Ellie fourteen,” he let the words sit, then went straight to the point, “So you know where they might be? These Fireflies?”

“Well, uh… They got a base down at the University of Eastern Colorado,” Tommy recalled, walking around the bar to join Joel up front, sitting on a stool, “It’s, uh… A week’s ride south. But it is severely fucked up between here and there.” He poured himself and Joel some more whiskey. “Infected, raiders… It’s not exactly an easy trip.”

“It’ll be easy for us, seein’ as how you can headshot infected from half a mile away,” Tommy had said something earlier about that. Total bullshit, in Joel’s opinion.

Tommy’s answer, though, wasn’t what he expected. “… I can’t go.”

“Come on,” Joel scoffed. “I made it across the country. The two of us can make it from here to Colorado,” Tommy only glanced at him for a second, shaking his head. “What, ‘cause your wife won’t let you?”

“Joel…”

“She the one who kept you off the radio? Is that why you stopped messaging me back?”

Tommy sighed. “After I ditched the Fireflies, Maria and her crew found me,” he explained. “They’re good people. They didn’t have to take me in… but they did. Like you with the girls, huh? And all they ask is that I follow their rules.”

“I’m your brother–!”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he cut him off. “They’re very protective of this place, okay? And for good fuckin’ reason. If folks find out we’re up here–!”

“ – No, I heard. Wrong people might show up,” Joel said. “So is that what I am? Am I the wrong people?”

“Joel…”

“Those things I did, Tommy, those things that you judge me for… I did those things to keep us alive.”

“We did those things, not just you,” Tommy was growing mad too, mirroring Joel. “And they weren’t ‘things’, Joel. We murdered people. And I don’t judge you for it. We survived… The only was we knew how. But there were other ways. We just… Weren’t any good at’em.”

Joel knew, deep down, that Tommy was right. If only a bit. But he wasn’t having it.

“If you knew the shit that I’ve been through, Tommy, tryin’ to find you these last few months–“

Tommy interrupted him again, leaving him silent this time. “I’m gonna be a father.”

Oh.

Oh.

So that was what this was all about.

“Maria’s a few months along now. So I just gotta be more careful,” he shifted his position slightly on the stool, feeling the nerves creep on each of his limbs. “To be honest, I’m scared to death,” he laughed a bit, and took a sip from his whiskey. “But I don’t know. I feel like I’d be a good dad.”

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He only managed to grab the bottle of liquor Tommy had left in front of them, and pour them some more of it. God knew he needed it.

The only clear thing going through his mind at that moment where memories he hadn’t dared to look back at in a long time. Feelings he had tried to bury where the light wouldn’t find them. He recalled how it was like, the first time he had held his baby girl, how he had felt, how he had sworn to protect her forever… And then, as always, it hit him how he had failed her. And that was something he had never let himself forget.

So he was bitter now because of it, he knew.

But sometimes, like right now, he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Tommy frowned, looking at Joel confused and rather offended.

“I guess we’ll find out? That’s all you got?”

“What else am I supposed to say?” he knew he was being unfair to Tommy. He knew he should feel happy for his brother and his wife. But all he could feel was old and rusty anger born from twenty long years of grieving.

Tommy stood up, eying Joel seriously. He was still the little brother, yeah, but he wouldn’t let Joel make him feel little again. “Just because life stopped for you doesn’t mean it has to stop for me.”

It was probably one of the hardest things he’d ever had to tell him. But Joel had to hear it, even if he didn’t want to.

“We’ll grab some supplies and be outta your hair in the mornin’–“ Joel spat back, clearly not having this. He gestured to the drinks, “Enjoy the rest by yourself.”

He grabbed his jacket then, and left.

(…)

The house was a little farther from the center of town—still within Jackson’s walls, of course, but off the main street, tucked between a cluster of quiet trees and other modest two-story homes. The snow had been cleared from the walkway, but the wind still rustled dry branches above them as Maria led Faith and Ellie toward it, the crunch of their boots on snow the only real sound for a few moments.

It was a bit of an awkward walk. No one really spoke, and Faith found herself once again looking around at the buildings they passed—houses with lights in the windows, smoke curling from chimneys, dogs barking somewhere in the distance. The kind of silence that didn’t feel dangerous. It felt… lived in. She didn’t quite know what to do with that yet.

Maria finally approached a well-kept dark turquoise coloured house. “Here we are,” she said, opening the door with a set of keys she had tucked in her coat pocket. “This one’s just across the street from ours, so if you need anything, it’s not far.”

Faith stepped inside and was immediately hit with a sense of stillness. The air smelled faintly of dust and old fabric—like time had stopped in this house.

“It hasn’t been touched since before the outbreak,” Maria explained as they climbed upstairs, her voice low, almost apologetic. “We cleaned it up, got the heat running. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm. And private.”

At the top of the stairs were three bedrooms, each with a small, adjacent bathroom. One of them had the walls covered in pink and white stripes, and some band posters of groups Faith didn’t know. The other had pale yellow walls and shelves filled with old books, half-covered in dust. Both rooms were surprisingly cozy. A little frozen in time, but comforting in a way Faith didn’t expect. She’d never had her own room.

“There should be everything you need—towels, soap, that kind of thing. Take your time.” Maria smiled gently, and Faith caught the way she glanced at both her and Ellie. Like she was checking for something—maybe signs that they were okay. “When you’re done, I’ll be at my place. Come over when you're ready.”

And then she left, walking back downstairs and pulling the door softly shut behind her.

The house went quiet again.

Ellie had already chosen the room with the music posters and disappeared into her bathroom with a, “Fuck yes, hot water,” as she turned on the tap. Faith lingered for a moment in the hallway, staring at the door, then at the other room.

She finally stepped inside and shut the door gently behind her.

The shower was everything she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. Long. Hot. Clean. She stood there for a while, head tilted back, eyes closed as the water pounded down her spine. She washed away the dirt and blood, the dried sweat of days spent traveling, the bite of cold wind, the invisible layer of fear that clung to her skin like smoke.

When she got out, she found a bathrobe hanging behind the door. It was soft. So soft. She touched it cautiously at first—suspicious, almost—and then slipped it on and was immediately overwhelmed by how warm and comforting it was. She’d never worn anything like it. Not even close. She caught her reflection in the fogged mirror and blinked. For a second, she didn’t quite recognize herself. Damp hair clinging to her face. Eyes no longer shadowed with grime. A little less tense in her own skin.

Back in the bedroom, she realized Maria had been back while she’d been in the shower. She didn’t really know how long she’d been in there, but she hadn’t heard anyone coming it. It had been a long time since had been able to let her guard down like that.

She found clothes laid out neatly on the bed, her old ones gone; Maria had probably taken them, she figured, when she had laid out for her a thick-knit cream coloured sweater, a pair of dark jeans, clean socks, underwear and clean boots. Faith quickly checked that her backpack was still on the stool by the window where she had left it, breathing a bit easier when she saw it intact.

Beside the new clothes, a small cloth pouch containing a menstrual cup, and a note in Maria’s handwriting on a square of lined notebook paper:

"Figured you might need one of these. I'm just across the street—come see me when you're ready."

The clothes didn’t just fit—they felt like something someone would’ve worn before the world ended. The jeans were a little worn at the knees, the sweater soft with age and smell of clean laundry, was one of the most comfortable things she’d ever worn. Whoever they’d belonged to, Faith didn’t know. But she was grateful, in her quiet way.

Dressed and warmer than she’d been in weeks, she wandered around the room slowly, her fingers grazing the dusty spines of the books on the shelf. There was a faded Polaroid tucked into the corner of the mirror—a snapshot of two teenagers, grinning with arms slung around each other’s shoulders.

On the wall above the small desk was a corkboard with pinned-up notes: song lyrics, torn-out magazine pages, a faded to-do list with ‘college apps’ scribbled at the top. Someone had left that room in the middle of planning their future. A future that no longer existed.

Faith stood there for a moment, just taking it in—the arrested momentum, the stillness.

Then her gaze dropped to the desk itself.

Tucked into the corner beneath the corkboard was a small, chunky CD player, the kind with built-in speakers and a few smudged buttons. A wire trailed from the back, plugged into the wall outlet. On impulse, Faith pressed the power button.

To her surprise, the screen flickered to life. It still worked. A soft hum crackled from the speakers.

She pressed play.

The machine whirred and clicked, then suddenly music burst out—louder than she expected, a little warped with age but still clear. The opening chords of a song she didn’t recognize rang through the room.

Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find…

Faith blinked, startled—but not in a bad way. The voice was bright and aching at the same time. The beat was catchy, poppy, but there was something sharp under the surface.

I try to reach for you, but you have closed your mind…

It felt like a time capsule had cracked open. She didn’t know this song, but the melody caught on something in her chest.

She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed again, eyes drifting to the walls, the corkboard, the shelves. Her damp hair left a small dark patch on the sweater’s shoulder, but she didn’t care. She let the music wash over her.

So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me…

The song seemed a bit too personal. Faith didn’t cry. But for the first time in a long time, she let her body rest without armour. Without tension, letting the music fill up the empty corners.

That was when she heard a knock.

Three light taps on the doorframe, followed by Ellie’s voice: “Dude. Are you seriously listening to ABBA right now?”

Faith glanced up. Ellie leaned against the open door, damp hair down curling at the ends, wearing the clean clothes Maria had left her.

Faith frowned, “What’s ABBA?”

Ellie snorted. “The group singing the song.”

Faith stood, stretching her arms over her head, the sweater lifting slightly with the movement. “I like it,” she shrugged. “I guess not all music is so bad.”

“So… is this your song now?” Ellie asked. “I haven’t forgotten the promise I made. I’m gonna find you a song that’s you through and through.”

Faith laughed a bit, nodding, “I remember, yeah. And no, I don’t think this is ‘my’ song. It’s good, though.”

Ellie nodded, smiling. “Maria left a note that said to come see’er when we’re done.”

“Yeah, I got one too.”

“Did she also leave you one of those menstrual cups things?” she wondered, wide eyed. “I think that’s one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen.”

“But useful,” she also thought it was a bit strange, though.

“Guess it is,” she shrugged. “You ready to go?”

Faith glanced back at the CD player. The chorus kicked in again, bold and a little mournful.

When you're gone, though I try how can I carry on…

She turned it off gently.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go.”

(…)

Ellie and Faith crossed the quiet street side by side, their new boots crunching softly over the snow-dusted pavement. It was still early afternoon, but the neighborhood was quiet—peaceful in a way that felt both unfamiliar and a little unreal.

Maria and Tommy’s looked similar to the rest: two stories, wood-paneled, with a porch light flickering softly against the snow gathering on the steps.

Faith reached the door first, knocking gently.

“Hello?”

Ellie pushed the door by the handle, not finding any resistance. It was unlocked, so they stepped inside.

“Maria?”

The difference between this house and the one they’d been given was immediate.

The air inside was warmer, but not just in temperature. It smelled faintly of something cozy and real—maybe wood polish, maybe someone’s shampoo, maybe the trace of a cooked meal earlier that day. A small rug was slightly askew in the entryway, like someone had kicked their boots off in a hurry. A jacket was hung over the banister instead of neatly on a hook. The soft hum of the heating system was accompanied by the occasional creak of settling floorboards.

This was a home, a place that was lived in, not just a house.

They stepped cautiously into the living room, which branched off the front hallway to the left. It was modest but welcoming. Mismatched cushions on the couch. A half-knitted scarf resting in a basket near the coffee table. On the mantel above the fireplace, there was a small chalkboard, worn but carefully cleaned. And on it, written in careful blocky handwriting, were two names along with different dates underneath:

Kevin: 4/3/00 – 9/29/03

Sarah: 7/20/89 – 9/27/03

Faith’s breath caught.

Ellie tilted her head. “Huh.”

They didn’t say anything else for a long moment. The names on the chalkboard stood out starkly, white on black, like a memorial. Faith didn’t know who Kevin or Sarah were, nor did Ellie. They assumed they had been the couple’s children.

The sound of the back door opening made both of them turn.

Maria stepped into view, brushing snow off her shoulders and carrying two bulky coats folded over her arm.

“Ah, good,” she said, spotting them. “Just traded for this.”

Maria approached the girls, handing each of them a coat to try on. Ellie’s was deep purple whereas Faith’s was a deep forest green. “Managed to get you both something a little thicker for the cold,” she said. “Fits?”

“Uh, yeah…” Ellie glanced down at herself, clearly unamused. “It’s super fuckin’ purple.”

“Eggplant. Fits right?” Maria asked again.

“… Yeah.”

“Yours?” Maria looked at Faith with her eyebrows raised.

“It’s all right,” she answered a bit awkwardly. “Uh… Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” the woman nodded. “Shoes are good too?”

Both girls nodded.

“Where’s our other stuff?”

“Rag pile,” she answered simply. “Did you get the things I left you both?”

“Yeah… Probably the weirdest gift ever.”

Maria laughed a bit, then reached out to touch one of Faith’s long strands of hair.

“Who’s been cuttin’ your hair?”

“World-class salons, obviously,” answered Ellie quickly. “Only the best of the best.”

The woman chuckled, saying something about going to grab her scissors to give them a trim. No room for debate.

That’s how they found themselves in Maria’s kitchen fifteen minutes later, Ellie sitting with a towel on her shoulders while Maria stood behind her trimming her locks, Faith sitting at the table close by sipping on some warm tea. Sweet and tasteful tea, for once, not like the raw pine needle or hawthorn berries tea they usually had for the last few months.

“So this was like, your job back then or something?”

“No,” answered Maria, carding her fingers through Ellie’s hair softly. “I was an Assistant District Attorney out of Omaha, Nebraska. I put bad guys in jail.”

Ellie hummed, “Cool, I guess.” Faith thought so too.

“I always liked doing hair, though,” added the woman as she kept on snipping the ends of Ellie’s hair even. “Maybe it was a mom thing.”

Faith glanced over at the living room, at the memorial board they had seen.

Oh.

So she had lost someone, too.

“Sorry about your kids,” she mumbled, her hands gripping the warm tea cup for comfort.

“It’s okay, thank you,” Maria smiled warmly at her, in a kind of maternal way Faith could clearly recognize. “And kid. Just Kevin.”

There were two names on the memorial, though. Maria quickly cleared it up:

“Sarah was Joel’s daughter.”

Both Ellie and Faith went completely still.

The soft snipping sound of the scissors paused, and for a long moment, the warmth of the kitchen was eclipsed by the shock that fell over the table like a weighted blanket.

“ –Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“No—” Ellie was the first to speak. She kept still in her chair, soaking in the new information. “It’s okay.”

She looked at Faith, but she was staring at her tea, her hands suddenly cold despite the warmth of the cup.

Sarah was Joel’s daughter.

She didn’t look up. She felt like she couldn’t.

In her chest, something was moving—shifting. Sliding into place.

All this time. All the little moments. All the ways Joel had looked at them—at her, at Ellie. The way he always walked on the outside of the sidewalks even if there weren’t any cars, or always going ahead of them when clearing a house or abandoned shop. The way he always made sure they had food before he touched his own. The way he’d wordlessly stepped in between them and danger, every time. The way he flinched when Ellie had gotten sick. The way he’d cared for Faith when she was nearly dying from pneumonia, jaw clenched like the pain was his.

The way he’d looked at them when he thought they weren’t watching.

She’d known Joel was carrying something heavy. Had felt it like a shadow around him since the first day they met. But she had never known what it was. Never asked.

Now she knew.

Sarah. A daughter. Gone.

Faith pressed her hand to her chest without thinking, as if that would calm her breath. She swallowed, hard.

Joel had lost a child.

No wonder he’d been so cautious. So guarded. So reluctant to get close—and yet, somehow, unable to help himself when it came to them.

No wonder he seemed to understand Faith’s pain when she told him about losing her sister and her mother. This entire time, he’d known what it felt like to love someone like that—and to lose them.

Faith blinked quickly and looked up, her voice quieter than before. “She… she must’ve been really young.”

Maria looked over at her. “She was fourteen.”

Silence.

Ellie let out a breath through her nose, finding it hard to keep still. “Jesus.”

She could picture a younger Joel, a little less worn down, maybe smiling a little more. Carrying a girl on his shoulders, holding her hand as they crossed the street, tucking her into bed. She could picture the moment it all went wrong. And she didn’t want to. She really didn’t.

Joel wasn’t the type to talk about pain if he could keep it buried. They knew that pretty well by now. Faith understood. She did the same… until she had met Joel and Ellie.

“Guess that explains him a little,” said Ellie, thoughtful.

Maria looked at both girls, sighing heavily, “Look, I’m not gonna ask you what you’re doing with him–“ Ellie interrupted with a small defensive ‘good’ but Maria kept on talking. “But there are clearly things you don’t know about Joel.”

It was again Ellie who spoke up first. “Like how he used to kill people? We know all about that.”

“So then you understand my concern about two young girls travelling alone with a man like Joel…”

“– He doesn’t do that anymore,” intervened Faith, finally.

“He stopped killing people?”

“Innocent ones, sure,” both her and Ellie had seen Joel murder infected and fight off the crazy people in Kansas City. Each one of them deserved to end their days the way they did.

“Tommy did it too, didn’t he? Are you worried about him?

“… Tommy was following Joel.”

“That’s some shitty argument –” said Faith, growing defensive.

“– Just the way you two are now.”

Both Ellie and Faith had had to kill people to survive, too. Did that make them instantly bad, too?

“Well maybe we are smarter than Tommy, no offense.”

Maria finished cutting Ellie’s hair then, leaving the scissors on the kitchen counter. She leaned against the sink, looking at both girls with an intense gaze.

“There’s a whole lot you’re not telling me.”

“No offense, but we’ve just met you today,”

“Good,” Maria smiled at Faith. “Therein lies the point. Be careful who you put your faith in. The only people who can betray us, are the ones we trust. You understand?”

Ellie hummed, Faith too.

“Now come on then,” she took the towel around Ellie’s shoulders off, looking at Faith. “Your turn.”

Faith didn’t move an inch. She did shake her head at the woman, though.

“No thanks,” she refused. “I can cut my hair myself.”

“There’s no weakness in accepting some help from time to time.”

It wasn’t about weakness, though. It was about so much more.

The last time someone had cut Faith’s hair, it had been her mother. After she died, her father didn’t bother with it. They were too busy not getting killed by raiders, infected or FEDRA, anyways. Soon after, he and Dahlia died too… And from then on, only when her hair got too long would Faith cut it with anything she could find, resulting in the uneven rough ends she had now.

She couldn’t let someone else touch her hair, not just like that.

So she refused again.

And even though Maria was a very practical woman, she was not heartless. When she sensed Faith wouldn’t give in, she nodded, accepting her defeat with grace.

“Let’s go get your coats on then,” she proposed, nudging Ellie out of her chair. “We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“The movies,” she answered simply.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @kitdjarin1@christinamadsen@abtjudex@hongjoong-titties@cokoladasljesnjakom

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserve in our archive

By Julia Doubleday

(About a lot more than covid, but talks a lot about it later on)

This week, The Guardian reported that the 1.5 degree climate target agreed upon at the 2015 Paris talks is now “deader than a doornail.”

This will come as little surprise to the public, which has watched as loathsome politician after grinning salesman after equivocating lawyer has steered us ever closer to catastrophe as years and promises fade.

Decades ago, upwardly mobile people in the West were living in a happy delusion. As the Greed-is-good 80s gave way to the Dotcom 90s, the ruling class sold their vision of the future: a rising tide lifts all boats. More money for me means more money for all. Let’s all get rich and happy.

Globalization, neoliberalism, and capitalism, the three ingredients of prosperity everywhere, for everyone, forever. Cut regulations, let businesses thrive, let the markets reign. National borders should constrain people, not capital. In 1991, the USSR collapsed. In 1992, Francis Fukuyama published The End of History. As big business thrived, the Democratic party sprinted toward the center, with the Clintons pioneering “triangulation” and The Third Way. The markets roared. Then in 2001, 9/11 kicked off the 21st century, and a new era of global instability and warfare; the rest, as they say, is (even more) history.

The moments before- the moment where capitalists’ fantasies looked poised to come true- weigh heavy in the minds of our political elite. In the 90s, it all seemed possible; you could denude the rainforest because the rainforest was, after all, infinite; Coca-Cola could suck down all the clean water it desired; big ag could monocrop the hell out of the land; no two countries with a McDonalds would ever go to war; and meanwhile, the middle class would grow, standards of living would increase around the world, everyone would be better off! It was win/win/win/win/win! All those environmentalists and communists were passé; they’d been wrong. The best way to save the Earth, and the people on it, was through economic development.

But capitalism sows the seeds of its own destruction, and now, in 2024, we all watch in horror as the planet heaps punishment after punishment on the species too arrogant to understand the warnings we’re generously given. Every emergency light is flashing red- change course or perish. Our feckless leaders seem incapable of understanding.

It’s not only the Earth that has suffered as the decades of exploitation accumulate. The workers, too, feel the crush as the ruling class cannot resist taking more, more, more for itself. Although distributing its ill-gotten gains more fairly would preserve its own position for longer, those at the top are too deluded, too greedy, too loyal to the belief system of their cult to understand this. Leftist, environmentalist, indigenous voices that were once marginalized now gain audiences through social media.

So, we come to the point that the contradictions of capitalism are intensifying. Workers in the West can no longer envision themselves getting a college education, making a decent living, buying a 4-bedroom home, retiring with a pension. Workers around the world, meanwhile, who manufacture our things, continue to suffer inhumane standards of living. Although the most extreme poverty lessens, over half of workers still live on less than $10/day. The global middle class doesn’t materialize anywhere other than, arguably, China, free from the clutches of the IMF and its predatory structural adjustment programs.

It is against this backdrop that the Democratic Party attempts, every two years, to defend the status quo.

The Democratic Party is a party ferociously committed to looking backwards. They yearn for 1995, when the future was neoliberal deregulation, triangulation, and the Clintons. When Fukuyama announced that history had ended, it seems like a lot of Democratic officials stopped reading.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself, what the hell does this all have to do with the election just passed? Surely, you’re not arguing that the Republican party is the counter-weight here, the anti-capitalist foe? Not at all. No, the Republican party is capitalist, hyper-capitalist. They have, however, faced the reality that the status quo will not continue as is. There won’t be a future where a diverse, global family shares in the wealth produced by capitalism, where the poor are raised up to become the global middle class and globalization saves the wretched of the Earth.

The communist, socialist, or leftist alternative vision of our future is to dismantle the machine of exploitation that destroys, kills, denudes, and steals resources and workers. In order to have a planet, and workers who share in its bounty, we need to rethink the way we govern ourselves and our resources, drastically. And allowing a teeny tiny group of people- billionaires- to have outsize influence over political and economic policy flies in the face of democratic governance itself.

The fascist vision of the future is to buckle in, turn the machine up higher, and kill anyone who gets in the way. Protect the billionaires at any cost, while understanding very well that it is billionaire vs humanity itself. Get your followers to identify with the former and hate the latter. Build walls, keep out climate refugees. Deport people en masse. As things get worse, blame minorities. Distract people with culture wars, misogyny, racism, transphobia; same as it ever was. As the extinction-level outcomes of climate change materialize, shove your followers into a bottomless vortex of conspiracy, let them be dragged to the bottom, sputtering, swearing, soaking and drowning. Republicans, now led by Donald Trump, don’t act as though there will be enough to “go around”; they act as though they are going to divide society into “winners” and “losers,” with the “losers” condemned to low-wage labor, prison, deportation, or death.

This is how feckless liberalism condemns us to fascism. It offers us no future, while silencing the leftists who try. It’s no longer believable to say you represent workers and donors, oil companies and the environment. You have to pick one. When the chips are down, you have to pick a side.

The public is living through the collapse of what briefly appeared stable: a globalized, capitalist economy, deregulated in accordance with the principles of neoliberalism. This global economic system, little-bound by the laws of individual states and thus more powerful than pseudo-democratically run states, is running up against the physical limitations of the planet. Oil is not infinite. Polar ice caps melt. The methane in the permafrost is a climate bomb. Monocropping degrades the soil. More climate disasters mean less arable land for agriculture. Continually overusing groundwater means water shortages.

You can’t run a global society on the principle that what makes money for a private company today is always beneficial, and what harms the collective in the long-term is never detrimental.

The Democrats’ problem is that they will not acknowledge what has become clear to so many of us: that their “triangulation” 90s-era compromise, their brilliant idea of representing both big business and workers is simply not possible. The interests of these two groups diametrically oppose one another, and the capitalist mythology that rich people getting richer helps everyone get richer didn’t turn out to be true. As rich people and corporations have gobbled up an unprecedented proportion of American wealth, they’ve also grabbed up all the land and property, pushing homes out of reach for ordinary workers. When rich people own all the homes, how can poor people own those same homes? Capitalist dogma refuses to acknowledge constraints on resources, refuses to blink as we watch our homes flood, our fields turn barren, our cities begin to suffer water shortages.

The growing dissatisfaction with Democrats’ doublespeak came to a head in 2015. Democratic Socialist Bernie Sanders launched a longshot Presidential campaign against pre-selected nominee Hillary Clinton. What happened next shocked political analysts and observers. Clinton came into the race with the support of every major player in the Democratic establishment, every media endorsement, and a billion-dollar war chest. Sanders, conversely, boasted nothing but a straight-talking style, a refusal to accept corporate PAC money, and a few oft repeated talking points about the billionaire class.

Fueled by $27 donations, Sanders’ campaign went on to win 23 contests, but was dragged down by the unanimously hostile response from Democratic insiders, political commentators, media outlets, and, unsurprisingly, the donor class. A party that was interested in winning vs. the powerhouse Trump campaign would’ve taken seriously a grassroots campaign that was able to perform so well with so many disadvantages. Instead, the Democratic party and its Superdelegates repeatedly put its finger on the scale for Clinton, leading to the disastrous first win for Trump in 2016.

Now, finally, I’m getting to COVID.

A big part of the Democrats return to power in 2020 was COVID. That’s not my opinion; that is what exit polls tell us about voters’ decision to turn out for Joe Biden. The top two reasons Democrats had for turning out to the polls in November of 2020 were racial justice issues and the pandemic.

Democrats never seemed to understand how reluctantly the public returned them to power. It wasn’t an, “oh, thank God, Joe Biden is here,” vote. It was a “we have to get this fucking guy [Donald Trump] out of here” vote. A good chunk of the party was still angry at the way Sanders had been treated. Workers were still suspicious that Democrats were promising to represent them during campaign season, then going on to represent donors. But frankly, the country was in crisis.

In November 2020, vaccines were not yet available for COVID-19. The nation was headed into a winter wave that would kill hundreds of thousands. And, importantly, the media didn’t downplay these deaths, it emphasized them. When a hundred thousand died, their names made the front page of the New York Times. The Democrats capitalized on the gore. When 220,000 had died, Biden announced that “no one” who had overseen that kind of death should remain President. 800,000+ Americans have died of COVID during his Presidency, which he has yet to resign.

Yes, yet again, Democrats pulled a bait and switch. Just like with immigration, racial justice, police violence, climate change and indigenous land rights, Democrats cried their crocodile tears right up until the Inauguration, then dried their eyes. AOC famously went and sobbed at a detention center during Trump’s Presidency, which she did not do again during Biden’s term. Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer wore Kente cloth and kneeled in solidarity with George Floyd in a roundly mocked photo op before going on and giving the police more funding under Biden. I always thought it was a nice touch that Nancy’s mask was around her chin.

And Biden, Harris, and their spouses held a memorial at the reflecting pool for the 400,000 Americans who died of COVID under Trump the night before their Inauguration, only to never again mention Americans dying of COVID en masse again when they actually had the power to do something about it.

In short, Democrats went Back to Brunch, in a big way. The politicians, the analysts, the media allies, the donors, the pundits, and upper-middle-class Karens, the people with “I’m With Her” bumper stickers on their BMWs, the consultants, the actors, the data guys, the people who don’t notice the cost of groceries, they all together, astonishingly quickly, said thank you immigrants, Black people, disabled people, indigenous people, trans people, we won’t be needing you anymore, and went right back to pretending neoliberal capitalism isn’t about to hurl us all over a cliff.

My focus is COVID. I followed closely as, in the delusional world of the Biden liberal, getting COVID (a virus which damages the brain, heart, and immune system) twice a year became a totally okay and in fact laudable thing. I watched as wearing a mask went from being socially positive, to being socially ok, to being socially negative, as Bidenism reverted from anti-Trump to its true form; pro-capital. To protect capital, people need to accept this new condition of employment: more, repeated sickness, zero protections and ongoing risk of disability.

Their catchphrase for accepting this new, degraded quality of life was “back to normal.”

But while I focused on COVID, this wasn’t the only arena where Democrats pushed people “back to normal”. While Trump was in office, the Democrats succeeded in riling up their base about immigration, climate, and racial justice. As soon as they got power back, they tamped it all back down. As far as Democrats were concerned, Trump was in the rearview. So now everyone could go “back to normal.”

No more crying in front of detention camps.

No more kneeling in Kente cloth.

No more masks, COVID tests, or memorials for hundreds of thousands dead.

Donald Trump won this election because 19 million Democrats who turned out for Joe Biden failed to vote. Everyone has their own opinion about why. To me, it seems that in 2020, the public pushed Democrats back into the White House not excitedly, but reluctantly and conditionally. Instead of understanding that they owed the voters, particularly the most marginalized, this last chance at power, Democrats smugly swaggered back into the Oval Office and slammed the door behind them.

“See ya next cycle!” they called over their shoulder. Is it a wonder they didn’t?

For four years, the Biden Administration and “resistance libs” have been acting as if Donald Trump was a bad dream, fascism creeping across America a bad dream, COVID a bad dream. None of it was “real,” we all woke up and wanted “normalcy”, everything went “back” to what it should be, we all threw our masks away and returned to brunch. But that was never what the voters, who elected Biden in desperation, asked for.

We asked for a party, for leaders, who were ready to confront the crises brought into sharp relief under Trump, not bury them.

So wake up now, liberals. Trump was never your nightmare, Biden was your silly little fantasy. Dark Brandon can’t save us. The donor class can’t save us. Triangulation and deregulation and big legislation with giant handouts for oil companies can’t save us. And anything that can’t save us now, will doom us.

Because normal isn’t coming back. The crisis isn’t over. It’s only getting started.

[splashdacat]

☆★☆ALNST INCORRECT QUOTES★☆★

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Till: Coca Cola can remove rust from metal, imagine what it’s doing to your body. Ivan: Pfff, getting rid of the rust, idiot. Till: THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS! Mizi: Hmm… I've been drinking soda and my body's rust free… not sure where you're getting your facts from…

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Mizi: There is no future. There is no past. Don't you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every fact. Hyuna: …All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.

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Hyuna and Luka are texting Hyuna: Please bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste. NONE. Luka: I got spring water. Hyuna: NO! Luka: With EXTRA minerals! Luka: It’s like licking a stalagmite! Hyuna: DON’T COME HOME! Luka: Mmmmmm, cave water.

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Till, passing their phone to Ivan: I'm passing the phone to someone, who if I had to choose between hanging out with them, and having my organs removed one by one, I’d choose the organs. Ivan, passing the phone back to Till: I'm passing the phone to my crush!

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Hyuna: I printed up a bunch of fake safety inspection certificates. Go slap one on anything that looks like a lawsuit. Mizi: Hyuna, is that legal? Hyuna: When the aliens aren’t around, anything’s legal!

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Mizi: Do you love me? Sua: We’re literally married. Mizi: Yeah, but as friends or—

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Mizi: Sua, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean? Sua: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later. Mizi: Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Ivan. Sua: Wait- Mizi, no-

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ran out of motivation

[mariapaula350]

From The River To The Sea •Fanart• [Wow Wow Wubbzy]

I never thought to talk about politics in my art account but we ALL should know about the great GENOCIDE that Israel is causing to Palestine, I have decided to make this drawing to help with 4 steps that we can do to help Palestine (Make the topic known/ Donations/boycott/marches/)

Basically they have committed so many crimes against Palestine such as taking away electricity, water and other resources. Bomb houses, hospitals, schools, even destroying structures in different cities. They don't care about KILLING CHILDREN AND CITIZENS They excuse themselves saying that it is "self-defense" when they were already doing this before but now it is much worse...

I leave links to donate to Palestinian citizens!

arab.org Daily clicks (see ads to give income to trusted organizations) /Free/

DONATIONS

[ daily donation links for palestine ]

- gazaesims.com - purchase e - sims gofundme.com/f/careforgaza - sends funds to displaced families in gaza piousprojects.org/campaign/2712 - provides hygiene kits for women

boycott

Chains such as Starbucks, McDonald's, Burger King, Coca-Cola, KFC or Pizza Hut admit the impact of the campaigns, carried out on social networks. Some are pointed out by local initiatives or misunderstandings; others, for the West's support for Israel. Try to reduce consumption for these brands

Marches

Mexico, Chile, Japan, the United Kingdom and more countries continue to hold Pro-Palestine marches, if we do more in our countries we will cause pressure on politicians to close contracts and relations with Israel and stop falling into censorship

[happyllamaglama]

Alpacas from across the country will be in Oklahoma for the 36th annual Mazuri Alpaca Owners Association National Alpaca Show.

The competition grades alpacas on physical structure and fleece quality, with winners being crowned in several categories.

The Coca-Cola Southwest Beverages Porch visited Chickasha to learn more about the competition.

Jennifer Hack, owner of Triple H Ranch and AOA president, said she owns 70 alpacas, and loves them for their calmness.

"We raise them for their fleece, and they just have this really calming aura, I guess you could say," Hack said. "It's great to go out in the field. I have goats and I have horses, and they're just very relaxing to be around."

Hack said sometimes people confuse alpacas with llamas, which look similar in appearance, but the two have notable differences.

"They're in the same category, as far as you know, they're all camelids, but a llama is about 400 pounds," Hack said. "They're probably predominantly raised for guard animals. I have a couple myself for that purpose. You can use their fleece, but they have a lot of guard hair, and it's much coarser, whereas alpacas, we raise them for their fleece, they're a much smaller animal, average is 150 pounds."

Hack said the event is open to the public for free, and there are several days of competitions to come and see.

"There is a halter competition, where we judge them both on conformation and their fleece characteristics," Hack said. "Then we have youth participants, where they show for halter, they have a performance class where they have to go through obstacles, and then the best is their costume class, and that'll be [Saturday] afternoon."

Hack also said if anyone is interested in alpaca education, the event will have several opportunities to learn more about the animals.

For more information about the event, visit the Alpaca Owners Association's website to learn more. __________________________

looks like it's pilgrimage time

[rarephotovintage]

Coca-Cola on the Move: A Journey Through Time

In the early 1900s, Coca-Cola was still a rising brand, but its delivery trucks were already making an impact. A 1900 photograph captures a Coca-Cola delivery truck with three young boys sitting on its side, symbolizing the brand’s early distribution efforts. By 1910, Coca-Cola’s operations had become more structured, as seen in an image of two men standing beside a delivery truck, reflecting the company’s growing scale and logistical advancements.

By the 1920s and early 1930s, Coca-Cola had built a nationwide delivery network. In 1921, drivers proudly posed beside their Coca-Cola trucks outside a bottling plant, showcasing the brand’s expanding fleet. A 1931 photograph of a Ford Model AA delivery truck, branded with the name Crawford Johnson & Co., highlights the importance of regional bottlers in Coca-Cola’s franchise system, which played a key role in its rapid growth.

As vehicle technology improved, so did Coca-Cola’s fleet of delivery trucks. A 1931 panel truck in El Paso, Texas, illustrates the shift toward more efficient distribution vehicles. Around the same time, a 1936 Model 704 Coca-Cola delivery truck, featured in a sales booklet by The White Motor Company, demonstrates how the brand’s logistics were recognized as an industry standard. These advancements allowed Coca-Cola to reach more consumers than ever before.

By the 1950s, Coca-Cola trucks had become a global symbol of refreshment. A 1953 image of a Coca-Cola truck crossing Westminster Bridge, with Big Ben and the Parliament buildings in the background, showcases the brand’s deep-rooted presence in British culture. Meanwhile, a 1957 photograph of Coca-Cola being loaded onto the Endeavor, the New Zealand Antarctic supply ship, underscores the company’s ability to distribute its products to even the most remote locations on Earth.

Coca-Cola’s influence stretched across continents, making its way into diverse cultures and landscapes. A 1950s Coca-Cola truck in Egypt, parked beside a historic statue, represents the brand’s expansion into the Middle East. In Scotland, a 1953 image of a Coca-Cola truck beneath Edinburgh Castle highlights the beverage’s widespread popularity in Europe. From local deliveries to international distribution, Coca-Cola delivery trucks have not only transported soda but have also carried the brand’s legacy across generations and borders.

[oleworm]

Any magico-religious beliefs I've had are based on aesthetic preference--when I found out that in Spain they believed in el ratón Pérez, the mouse who exchanges money for teeth, I accepted it as a story even though I didn't actually believe it, and this was because I thought he was cute. I loved animals, so even though it wasn't true, I wished it had been. I would have liked to meet such a creature, but I would not have liked to meet a fairy, for example, whose designs I thought ugly and affected.

But with Santa Claus, even though I had never been tricked into believing it: 1) Most people don't have chimneys in any place that I've lived. 2) If Santa Claus existed in the material plane it didn't make sense that he would be able to visit every child in the world. And this is so obvious it is often the first step in the journey of the child atheist. 3) A blue-eyed man in Coca-cola furs would be an incoherent addition to any aesthetic or theological structure I could have come up with or accepted.

[elevenenthusiast]

Season 3 is my least favorite season of Stranger Things, and honestly, I think it’s the most overrated. I’ll never understand why people defend it so hard. I’m not saying it’s completely devoid of good moments Robin’s coming out scene was genuinely heartfelt, the cast is always giving their best, and the soundtrack is fun but on a story level, it feels hollow. Season 3 is where the show started to unravel into a glossy, corporatized version of itself.

It stopped being eerie, emotional, and grounded. It started becoming a theme park ride.

The tonal shift is jarring. The entire season is soaked in American consumerism, and instead of critiquing it in a meaningful way, the show indulges in it. The mall aesthetic, the excessive product placements, the New Coke ad disguised as a character moment it all felt like a love letter to capitalism rather than a clever takedown of it. When Lucas starts praising Coca-Cola like it’s a Super Bowl commercial, it doesn’t feel satirical. It feels like actual marketing. And that’s the issue.

On top of that, the portrayal of the Russians as the new cartoonish enemy felt lazy and outdated. The evil foreign villains trope has been done to death, especially in American media. It would’ve made way more sense if the American government was the one operating under Starcourt Mall. That would’ve been a stronger metaphor. Imagine discovering that the same shady lab from season one didn’t go away it just went underground, disguised beneath the very symbol of American capitalism. That would’ve been brilliant. That would’ve been a statement.

But instead, we got… Russians. In Indiana. Building an underground base. Under a mall. And no one noticed.

The contrast between the first two seasons and season 3 is stark. Season 1 had nuance it tackled grief, loneliness, trauma. It used the supernatural as a metaphor for real emotional experiences. Season 2 dug deeper Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer, but he was also emotionally isolated, and people around him started treating him differently. Billy’s racism, especially toward Lucas, wasn’t subtle it was brutal and uncomfortable, and it was meant to be. Season 2 still understood what it meant to be a “horror” show rooted in a real-world emotional experience.

Season 3 just… forgot all of that.

It feels like a caricature of what Stranger Things used to be. The horror got dialed down for more action and jokes. The characters became tropes of themselves. And for a show that once prided itself on heart, season 3 became weirdly empty. Even Hopper, who had one of the most compelling arcs in the first two seasons, was suddenly turned into this loud, aggressive caricature of American masculinity. And it’s all set during the Fourth of July, a decision that only amplifies how patriotic and propagandistic the whole thing starts to feel. It’s hard to ignore that it plays like a commercial for America and this is all happening during a time period (the ’80s) when the country was deeply embroiled in racism, homophobia, the AIDS crisis, and Cold War paranoia.

And then they had a little Black girl talking about how she loves America like it’s the best country in the world. That moment just didn’t sit right. It was weirdly sanitized and tone-deaf, especially for a show that once allowed itself to confront hard truths.

But the most frustrating thing is that season 3 had potential. The core idea, the mall, the facade of comfort hiding something sinister could’ve been amazing. If they had leaned into the consumerism, if the mall itself was the enemy, if the threat had come from within from American power structures the story could’ve been a meaningful exploration of identity, trust, and institutional corruption.

Instead, they turned it into fireworks, evil Russians, and Coca-Cola ads. The horror was gone. The intimacy was gone. The message was gone.

Season 3 is where Stranger Things stopped being thoughtful and started being marketable. And once you see that, it’s hard to unsee it.

[galexystern]

butterfly wings

chapter eleven; summer 1986 - 18+

pairing; steve harrington/eddie munson/reader aka steddie/reader

rating; E

warnings; fluff, smut (MDNI), oral (f & m receiving), jerking off, p in v sex, unprotected sex, double creampie, reverse cowgirl, spooning sex, au - canon divergence, fucked up the timeline a bit

word count; 3.5k

desc; you and your boys get together.

a/n; we're pretending adventures in babysitting came out in 1986 and not 1987 because i didn't realize and had already structured the chapter around it :)

read on ao3 / series masterlist

"Boys, can you please chill?" You're whispering. "I actually want to see this movie."

On either side of you, Steve and Eddie drop back into their seats. Steve pouts with puppy dog eyes, while Eddie whines quietly. The three of you are at the movies, seeing the latest release, Adventures in Babysitting. You're in the middle holding the popcorn Steve had bought and the candy Eddie had snuck in. Each boy has a drink, since they apparently can't agree on a soda to share—Coca-Cola for Steve and Dr. Pepper for Eddie. Girlfriend privileges also mean you can drink from either one during the movie. You also have a water bottle in your bag, in case all this junk food gets to be too much, or the boys start whinging about their stomachs hurting (but refuse to blame it on the junk food).

They'd both been kissing your neck, preparing to just all make out and not pay attention to the movie, which you do half the time. You've never understood it—why pay for the tickets if you're not gonna watch the movie—but when they drag you to a boring movie you don't want to see, how could you complain? They were much more interesting. But you want to watch this one, like you'd told them, so you push them back. They’re trying to make you feel bad, but it’s a fruitless endeavor.

"Come on," you continue at their looks. "I'm not stopping you two from making out." Eddie actually moves to stand, but stops when you add nonchalantly, "Though I think you'd like it too."

Knowing what you really mean, he sighs and sits back down, getting comfortable. You give him a grateful look and hold out your hand, which he takes. Steve hooks his foot around yours, and rests his arm on top of your seat, lightly placing his fingers on Eddie's shoulder to placate him further. With both of you touching him in some way, he relaxes. You hold back a giggle.

"Thank you," you say gently, meaningfully. Both of them lean over to kiss your cheek, and this time you giggle out loud.

And you turn out to be right. Both of them do like the movie—Eddie for its action and crazy plot, Steve for its love interest Dan (you thought he would identify with him)—as do you, for lead Chris and the romantic story. On the way home, you talk animatedly about the events in the city, and speculate whether it'll be like that when you move to Providence in August, though you do point out that it's much smaller than Chicago, where the movie takes place. Eddie and Steve wave away your comment, and feed off each other to propose more and more wild things that could happen. You just watch and listen, amused.

You're attending Rhode Island's Johnson & Wales University in the fall, pursuing a degree in event management. Nina's wedding had been fun to plan and manage, and your friends had convinced you to apply for a program in event planning. You hadn't actually planned on going to school for event management, but J&W had surprised you by offering the most scholarship money, and you'd fallen in love with the campus when Nina had driven you on a college tour during the winter.

You'd voiced your hesitation to the boys once you'd gotten together, but they didn't wait a second to encourage you to go. Neither of them had concrete plans and so you mutually decided you would all go together—Eddie could do music anywhere, and Steve was still searching for what he wanted and thought traveling could help. Robin and Vickie were pretty upset that both you and Steve were leaving—someone had used the word “devastated”—but you'd both promised them there would be plenty of visits home and in Providence. Nina was just relieved you were in the same timezone—though she was happy it was her wedding that caused all this.

Steve pulls up to the apartment complex and hops out, still theorizing with Eddie even as he gives you his hand to help you out of the car. They keep it up all the way upstairs and into Steve's apartment, where you leave them in the living room and check if Robin is home. Looks like she's out—probably with Vickie. They'd officially gotten together a little after you, Steve, and Eddie had, to your delight.

You wander back to the boys, toeing off your shoes and dropping your bag along the way. You lean against the doorway and stare at Steve and Eddie, still talking chaotically. You smile, in awe and wonder and joy, as you marvel that they're yours and you're theirs.

Eventually they taper off and notice your distance. They look at you curiously, blissfully silent. You smirk. "Well, boys, looks like we're here alone. Should we pick up where we left off?"

Before you can finish the question, both of them are stalking towards you, but Steve comes too fast and you knock foreheads.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he jokes, making you giggle. Then he pulls you towards him and kisses you hungrily, while Eddie plasters himself against your back and starts sucking at your neck. You kiss Steve back with a passion, still grateful you got a second chance to get it right, even after all this time. Even after every kiss they have given you since.

When you need to breathe, Eddie forces your head to the side and kisses you too, licking inside your mouth with a domineering tongue. You let him take what he wants, wanting him to do what he likes with you.

"Well, pretty girl, how would you like us this evening?" Steve asks as he nibbles on your earlobe. Ever mindful of your confession that you want to save yourself for love, either he or Eddie asks a variation of that question when it gets spicy, letting you set the pace. It makes the butterflies that are always in your stomach when they're around move in double-time.

You hum, enjoying as Eddie presses hot kisses to your jaw on his way back to your neck, where he starts sucking a hickey into the skin. You've been ruminating lately, wondering whether it was the right time. You hadn't been entirely sure, but in this moment, you know it is. It's what you've been waiting for.

"I wanna—" You break off into a moan as Steve grinds his hips into yours. Breathily, you try again. "I wanna do it. Wanna go all the way."

Both Steve and Eddie stop their ministrations, and you whine at the loss of sensation. "Baby," Steve says gravely, lifting your chin so you're looking him in the eye. "Are you sure?"

You nod firmly.

"Come on, sweetheart," Eddie prompts. "Gotta hear you. What do you want?"

Presence of mind back, however briefly, you state, "I want both of you to fuck me." Sweet and to the point.

It works too, because your boys groan in sync and dive back in to taste you again with a feverish fervor. You squeal at the suddenness of their actions, but it soon turns into small whimpers and moans as they ramp up the mood again.

Steve pushes you backwards gently, and Eddie gets the point, tugging you with him into the hallway and down to Steve's bedroom. Thankfully he has a king-size bed, and so whenever you tumble onto it, no one goes falling off. Eddie sits, keeping you on his lap facing the room, making you sit directly on his crotch and hardening cock. He grunts at the friction and chases after it, moving your hips so you keep grinding against him.

Steve stands in front of you, kissing you again, fresh desire lacing his movements. When you need to breathe, he leans back, both of you panting. "So our beautiful girl finally wants to get fucked, huh?"

You nod and hum a yes, words taken away by Eddie's cock starting to hit your clit through your underwear.

"Think she's wearing a bit more clothes than she should, don't you think, Harrington?" Eddie asks, the air brushing against your ear and making you shiver.

"You know what, you're completely right, Munson," Steve agrees. "Okay, honey. Up and clothes off."

Eddie helps you to stand and you step away so you can undress as quickly as you can. But your hands stutter as Steve slips into your previous position and kisses Eddie, who reciprocates happily. You can't tear your eyes away as their lips move against each other, haphazardly removing articles of clothing as you belatedly remember how to take them off. When you're finally naked, Steve is mouthing at Eddie's neck, whose head is thrown back in pleasure.

You walk to the other side of the bed and climb on, tangling your hands in Eddie's hair and tugging his face towards yours. You kiss him, swallowing the whimpers he releases as Steve nips at his skin playfully.

"Who do you want first, angel?" Steve asks breathlessly, leaning back from Eddie but not going far. You wrench away from Eddie to look at him, making Eddie whine as you still have a hold on his hair. You let go and rub his shoulder apologetically, all while making searing eye contact with Steve. "Well?" He prompts again.

You shrug helplessly.

Steve chuckles. "Personally, I would like to go first, if that's okay with you, baby," he says, cupping Eddie's cheek. Secretly, despite knowing you're on the pill, he can't stop thinking about fucking you full of his cum and imagining you pregnant with his baby.

"Fine with me," Eddie replies. Secretly, there's something that thrills him about the idea of fucking you while Steve has already cum inside.

"Such a good boy," Steve coos as he leans forward and kisses Eddie. After, Eddie rolls his eyes, but you see the way he swallows heavily. He's got a praise kink just like the rest of you.

You drop your chin and put on a shy face. "What is it, princess?" Eddie asks when he notices.

"Can I..." You trail off, and both boys nod encouragingly. "Can I pick the arrangement?"

"Of course, my love." Steve is melting. "Whatever you want."

"How do you want us, baby?" Eddie rubs his hand on your thigh soothingly.

"Mm, I want Steve lying down." Before you can add more, you're being moved, lifted off the bed as Eddie stands and Steve does as you asked. You motion him farther up, and he scoots back until his head is on the pillows. "And you're here," you point to a spot in between Steve's spread legs, looking at Eddie. He follows directions, kneeling there obediently. "And I'm here." You clamber onto the bed and swing your leg over Steve, facing Eddie. "And no more pants."

Eddie scrambles to take his off, as you unbutton Steve's for him, pushing until Eddie takes over and pulls them off, boxers included. Shirts had been discarded long ago; you don't even remember when they were removed.

You stare at their cocks as they're revealed. You've seen them before, of course—you've done many other things that aren't penetrative sex—but they take your breath away every time. They're both big and gorgeous, Eddie just a little longer but Steve a bit wider. You never thought you'd be into blowjobs, but they do make your mouth water.

You start to move down Steve's body, towards that beautiful cock, when he catches your hips and stops you. He tuts. "Haven't you learned by now, honey?" He asks a tad condescendingly, making you flush. "You cum first."

"Every time?" You whine, as you accommodate his desire for you to slide back on him.

"Every time, princess," Eddie says with a mean smirk. The reassurance makes your arousal flare brighter and he knows it.

And then you're whining for a completely different reason. Steve wastes no time as he plants his lips on your pussy and makes you sink down against him. He tongue moves magnificently, immediately searching out and finding your clit, teasing it before moving lower and licking inside you. You're so wet that the dirty sounds are pronounced in the quiet room.

Eddie notices too. "All that for us, sweetheart?"

You nod, moaning loudly as Steve's mouth moves back up and closes around your clit, sucking harshly.

"How'd we get so lucky?" Eddie continues. "Prettiest girl in the world, all ours." He then wraps his hand around Steve's cock, making his hips jump against Eddie's grip. He starts a lazy rhythm, hand tight but going so slowly that it must be driving Steve crazy. That's confirmed when Steve moans against your cunt, making the vibration shudder through you deliciously. "Prettiest boy, too. Right, angel?"

"Yes," you pant as Steve takes you apart with his mouth. "My beautiful boys, both of you."

Eddie leans forward and kisses you for that, a short one as most of your attention is on how good Steve is making you feel. Eddie then bends over and places his mouth on Steve’s cock, sucking lightly but insistently, making Steve groan into you again. He doesn’t do it for very long—he can tell when Steve is close and knows how turned on he gets by eating you out—but keeps jerking him off, slow and steady.

Steve reaches up and grabs your waist, encouraging you to grind into him, chase your pleasure using him. You take the suggestion and run with it, Steve's mouth just there for you to get yourself off with.

And you do, moving quicker and quicker as the tight ball inside you tightens and then shatters. You close your eyes and keen at the feeling, Steve and Eddie holding you up as the waves keep coming and crashing within you. Steve keeps licking at your cunt to prolong the bliss, only slowing to a stop when you twitch in overstimulation. Eddie's watching you with wide eyes filled with awe.

"That'll never get old," he murmurs. "Gorgeous as ever, angel."

You breathe heavily, trying to get feeling back in your limbs. You smile tiredly. "Your turn," you croak out.

"Steve first, baby," Eddie reminds you as he helps you down, desire growing again at the prospect of both Steve and Eddie finally being inside you. Separately...for now. Maybe you can get them at the same time in the future. There's a fresh wave of pooling arousal as the thought flashes by. "You ready?"

You stare into his eyes and nod seriously.

"Okay, on your knees then." You do as directed, and Steve runs his cock through your folds a few times, bumping your clit teasingly on every pass. Finally, he lines up and Eddie urges you to sit down.

"Slowly, sweetheart," Steve says, voice strained as the tip breaches your entrance. You listen—despite wanting nothing more to sink all the way down and have him split you practically in half—and inch lower. It's a little painful, but there's more pleasure than discomfort, and you love how he feels inside you, so full and all-consuming.

Eventually, you sit down fully on him. He moans at the sensation, but you're speechless, mouth hanging open and eyes closed to really focus on it.

"Feel good, baby?" Eddie asks with a knowing grin. You nod wildly as Steve answers, "Oh my god, yes." He squirms underneath you. "Can you move for me, beautiful?"

Eddie coaxes you into lifting up until Steve's cock is barely inside you. Then you drop down, both of you groaning this time. Knowing what to do and how good it feels, you start a hard and slow pace, using all your strength to raise yourself up and letting go to fall back down. You stay there for a while, just enjoying, but eventually Steve whimpers and stops you. He then holds you up and fucks himself up into you, fast and rough. The stretch is delicious and your jaw drops again at the new rhythm.

Pretty soon, Steve is gasping, "Gonna cum."

"Yes, yes please," you beg, and with that, he stops and lets go. You can feel as his cock pulses, painting inside you with stripes of his cum. You squeeze around him to make it better and he whines at it, lifting you off of him slowly when it becomes too much. He collapses backwards and Eddie gently pushes you until you're lying on the bed next to him.

Steve looks over and smiles at you. "You feel amazing, sweetheart."

You blush but still smile back. Eddie comes up and lays behind you, but you weren’t expecting it and so you startle a little. He chuckles. “Should I take it as a compliment that I can still surprise you?”

You nod, feeling a little sheepish. "Sorry," you mumble.

He softens. "No apologies necessary. This okay, baby?"

"Mhm," you reply happily. Steve leans over to kiss you and you gasp into his mouth when Eddie rubs his cock against your cunt, moaning at how soaked you are with your and Steve's cum.

"Ready?" He whispers when you lean back from Steve, and you nod. Your eyes close as he pushes in, hitting deeper than Steve had by just a little. He goes slow, and the new stretch stings for a few seconds, until it fades into pleasure. He pulls out and then thrusts back in, groaning as he starts fast right off the bat. "You weren't lying, pretty boy."

Steve smirks. "Told you."

He sits up on his knees and leans over you to kiss Eddie, feeling like he was lacking in kisses during his round. With Steve's neck presented to you, you can't help but flick your tongue against his throat, feeling proud when his Adam's apple stutters. You continue to lazily kiss at his skin, mostly focused on how Eddie is ramming into you, hitting a spot inside that makes you see stars. You've never managed to hit it yourself, and though Steve has brushed it with his long fingers, this is the first time it's really being pressed, and it's brilliant.

Then Steve snakes a hand between your bodies and starts to rub your clit in tiny, quick circles, making you gasp away from his neck and throw your head back against Eddie's shoulder. That ball inside you is constricting and you're galloping towards the edge fast.

"Gonna—gonna cum," you stammer.

Eddie breaks from Steve with a moan, hitting into you with new vigor. "Yes," he growls, "cum for us."

"Yeah, baby," Steve breathes. "Let go."

That's what you do: let go, dive off the cliff into your second climax. You wail with it, feeling like the world is floating away from you as you ascend to cloud nine. You clench around Eddie repeatedly, making his hips stutter and jerk, making him groan and bite your shoulder lightly. A couple thrusts later and he's cumming too, adding his cum to Steve's. Steve switches between you as you both let it overwhelm you, kissing, licking, sucking where he can, keeping his fingers on your clit until you've become jell-o in between him and Eddie.

Eddie slides out gently, kissing your temple messily, and turns onto his back. Steve stands and goes to the bathroom, bringing out a rag and cleaning both of you sweetly. Then he's pulling back the covers and throwing them over you, sliding into his previous spot.

He sidles up to you and coaxes you to lay on his chest. Eddie follows and spoons you, leaning up to give Steve a goodnight kiss before settling back against you. You give Steve your own kiss and then turn your head, whining softly until Eddie kisses you too. Satisfied, you get comfortable between your boys, sighing in happiness as they both tighten their arms around you.

"G’night, my loves," Steve murmurs.

"Night," Eddie mumbles into your hair.

I love you, you think. You don't say it, not yet—it's not the right time. You know you really mean it, so it's not for post-sex afterglow.

So you reply, "Goodnight." For now.

[digitaldetoxworld]

Coca-Cola Case Study: Social Media Strategy

 Coca-Cola Case Study

Coca-Cola, one of the maximum recognizable brands in the world, has long been a pacesetter in innovative advertising marketing, and branding. In the virtual age, Coca-Cola's social media strategy has played an important position in keeping its worldwide dominance. By leveraging a combination of creativity, target audience engagement, and facts-driven insights, the organization has successfully navigated the complexities of modern-day social structures. This case takes a look at explores Coca-Cola’s technique for social media, highlighting key techniques, campaigns, and classes found out.

Overview of Coca-Cola’s Social Media Presence

Coca-Cola operates on almost every important social media platform, such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, LinkedIn, and TikTok. With thousands and thousands of followers throughout those systems, the organization specializes in engaging audiences through content material that is amusing, relatable, and reflective of its emblem values: happiness, togetherness, and refreshment.

The logo’s international attain is complemented through localized content material strategies tailor-made to precise areas and cultures, ensuring relevance and resonance with various audiences.

Key Elements of Coca-Cola’s Social Media Strategy

 Emotional Storytelling

Coca-Cola has a grasp of storytelling, and its social media content frequently evokes emotions like pleasure, nostalgia, and connection. This method aligns with the logo’s overarching message of making satisfied moments.

Example: The "Share a Coke" marketing campaign leveraged emotional storytelling by encouraging people to hook up with friends and loved ones through personalized Coke bottles. This marketing campaign generated sizeable person-generated content on social media, as clients shared pix of bottles with their names or those of their friends.

 Consistent Branding

Coca-Cola’s social media content is unmistakably on-logo. The use of the long-lasting purple-and-white color scheme, the acquainted logo, and the conventional contour bottle guarantees that posts are right away recognizable.

Visual Elements: Whether it’s a picture on Instagram or a video on TikTok, Coca-Cola keeps a cohesive aesthetic across all systems, reinforcing brand identity.

User-Generated Content (UGC)

Coca-Cola actively encourages lovers to participate in its campaigns by way of creating and sharing their very own content material. UGC now not only most effective will increase engagement but additionally fosters an experience of network and authenticity.

Example: During the "Taste the Feeling" marketing campaign, Coca-Cola invited customers to share their glad moments with a Coke. The business enterprise highlighted selected posts on its reputable channels, celebrating the creativity of its fanatics.

 Influencer Partnerships

Coca-Cola collaborates with influencers, celebrities, and content material creators to enlarge its attain and appeal to more youthful demographics. By operating with personalities who align with its emblem values, the employer ensures credibility and relevance.

Example: On Instagram and TikTok, Coca-Cola has partnered with lifestyle and health influencers to promote its low-sugar and food plan product strains.

Data-Driven Insights

Coca-Cola makes use of social media analytics to recognize target audience behavior and options. By tracking metrics including engagement fees, click-on-thru fees, and sentiment analysis, the organization refines its content strategy to maximize effect.

Local Adaptation: Data insights additionally guide Coca-Cola’s local campaigns, making sure they resonate with local audiences. For example, holiday campaigns in Latin America frequently feature culturally specific elements that range from those in Europe or Asia.

Multi-Platform Strategy

Coca-Cola tailors its content for every social media platform, leveraging its precise strengths:

Facebook: Long-form storytelling and network-constructing.

Instagram: Visual storytelling with first-rate photos and short movies.

Twitter: Real-time updates and customer interaction.

YouTube: Long-shape video campaigns and in the back of-the-scenes content.

TikTok: Trend-driven and playful content focused on Gen Z.

Notable Campaigns on Social Media

 Share a Coke

The "Share a Coke" marketing campaign is considered one of Coca-Cola’s maximum successful social media initiatives. By changing its brand with famous names on Coke bottles, the organization created a fantastically personal and interactive enjoyment.

Social Media Integration: Coca-Cola encouraged enthusiasts to share pix in their personalized bottles on systems like Instagram and Twitter using the hashtag #ShareaCoke. This brought about an explosion of UGC, with thousands and thousands of posts shared globally.

Impact: The marketing campaign boosted sales and social media engagement, solidifying Coca-Cola’s popularity as an emblem that brings people together.

Happiness Campaign

Coca-Cola’s "Open Happiness" marketing campaign targeted on spreading positivity. The brand used social media to percentage uplifting tales, inspiring prices, and feel-excellent motion pictures.

Example: On YouTube, Coca-Cola shared heartwarming advertisements providing random acts of kindness, including a vending device that disbursed free Cokes when humans hugged it.

Social Engagement: The campaign encouraged lovers to proportion their very own "happy moments" the use of the hashtag #OpenHappiness.

FIFA World Cup Campaigns

Coca-Cola has been a protracted-time sponsor of the FIFA World Cup, and it leverages this affiliation closely on social media.

Engagement Tactics: During World Cup seasons, Coca-Cola shares football-themed content material, engages enthusiasts with predictions and trivialities, and runs contests.

Example: The #TasteTheFeeling marketing campaign for the duration of the 2018 World Cup featured videos of fanatics celebrating goals whilst drinking Coke, connecting the excitement of the occasion with the brand.

 TikTok Challenges

Coca-Cola has embraced TikTok’s trend-pushed tradition with the aid of launching challenges that encourage creativity and participation.

Example: The #MakeItHappy mission invited users to create movies showing how they flip negative conditions into high-quality ones, aligning with Coca-Cola’s subject of spreading pleasure.

Results: The task garnered thousands and thousands of views and bolstered Coca-Cola’s relevance amongst younger audiences.

Lessons Learned from Coca-Cola’s Social Media Strategy

 Authenticity Matters

Coca-Cola’s success on social media stems from its capacity to connect authentically with audiences. Whether through storytelling or UGC, the emblem continually promises content that feels authentic and relatable.

Engage, Don’t Just Broadcast

Rather than virtually pushing promotional content, Coca-Cola actively engages with its followers. This involves replying to comments, resharing user posts, and growing interactive campaigns.

Leverage Global and Local Strategies

Coca-Cola balances its worldwide logo message with localized campaigns that resonate with precise cultures. This twin technique ensures consistency whilst ultimately applicable.

Adapt to Trends

Coca-Cola stays ahead of the curve by fast-adopting new social media systems and trends. Its presence on TikTok, for example, demonstrates a commitment to engaging younger audiences.

Use Data Wisely

By reading social media's overall performance, Coca-Cola refines its method to the consciousness of what works. This records-pushed method guarantees the most reliable aid allocation and content material effectiveness.

Challenges and Opportunities

Challenges

Sustaining Engagement: In a crowded virtual landscape, preserving high stages of engagement requires consistent innovation.

Managing Negative Feedback: As a worldwide emblem, Coca-Cola faces scrutiny and grievance, which have to be addressed tactfully on social media.

Opportunities

Emerging Platforms: New systems like BeReal offer opportunities for Coca-Cola to reach untapped audiences.

Sustainability Messaging: Consumers an increasing number of value manufacturers that prioritize sustainability. Coca-Cola can use social media to focus on its green initiatives.

[bogusfilth]

i wonder where in the sort of corporate structure the like coca cola hiring mercenaries thing kind of occurs and like who in particular knows. how exactly that plays out.

[bimboficationblues]

"I would argue that broadly, even the socdems you are aligning yourself with here still aren't basing their position necessarily on reality but because it aligns with preexisting beliefs about political strategy." please do. how is pointing to structural rather than individual moral failings helping socdems or reinforcing their worldview? also, re: your third paragraph, do you think there is a similar "perversity" to someone who accepts a job in the meat industry or a company known for doing lots of bad shit internationally e.g. coca-cola?

like, some socdems might adopt a structural analysis on this question, but socdems aren’t immune as a group to confirmation bias, etc. There are going to be plenty for whom “people aren’t evil for joining the military they’re just driven by economic anxiety” just intuitively appeals because it fits with their ideas about the ability to reform corrupt/dysfunctional institutions, not alienating the nationalist masses with inflammatory rhetoric, etc.

re: the second point - I mean, it depends, but could be! There’s a reason I don’t work in Big Law lol. I mean, I don’t think there’s any ethically uncompromised work, and I think that we are collectively dominated agents whose deliberative and practical reasoning is being distorted by capital and other fetishes. but I don’t think that’s a reason to toss out ethics entirely even if it’s inadequate and not a substitute for politics, and to me it seems like a bare minimum to not sign up for the child-murder factory. if you do that and don’t pull a Chelsea Manning or similar then I am probably not gonna think well of you.

[im-an-anthusiast]

OKAY SO

like you've yourself mentioned in the tags! Males can't sting since a stinger is a modified ovipostor. However, some species can't really sting at all (or only very poorly), because their ovipostor is simply not a stinger! A great example would be many species of woodwasps, which, despite their fearsome looks, can't do much stinging-wise with that big ol' thing. And, if you take a look at them, you might actually confuse the ovipostor with the source of their other, lovely namesake: horntail! Now, they use this spine-like structure to drill through bark and wood so that they can insert their ovipositor into the fashioned hole and lay their eggs inside! Fun!

On the other uh. Side we have, well. A wasp that truly needs no introducing, right? The one and only Cazadore, the Orange and Blue Menace, the Tarantula Hawk. Now, as funny as its latin name - Pepsis Grossa is, (I get it dude, you prefer Coca-Cola) this beauty is no thing to laugh at. It is a parasitoid wasp, the likes of which use their sting to paralyse their prey, and then use their ovipositor-stinger to lay their eggs inside of them. (Or of they're less dramaric right next to them but, well, I'm all about the drama queens of the entomological world.) And, judging by its name, I'm sure you can figure out its favoured prey. Yes indeed, they hunt tarantulas, laying their eggs inside of their still-alive, paralysed bodies, before sragging them into their own nests. Many species of parasitoid wasp brood, once they hatch, actually know to devour the vital organs very last, so that the flesh is fresh the longest. Yum.

Some other fun ovipositor weilding wasps are fig wasps, which, if pollinating, enter the fig themselves and die inside too, alongside their brood, while if parasitoid, simply lay their eggs inside using their ovipositor. I will not continue further along their life-cycle and gladly avoid the in-depth explanation of incestuous mating of non-hatched brood and mature individuals, in what is truly a pregnancy any% speedrun.

Another great ovipositor-er is the fariryfly. It's a parasitoid and nothing about that it too special, aside from, I guess, the fact that they can be smaller than the eggs they are parasitoids of. I mean, come on, they can be as small as 100 micrometers!! That is about the average size of a human cell!!!! They're eenie meenie teeny tiny!! They're even considered as a sort of pest removal thanks to the species they parasitoid off of! Imagine that!! An army of tiny wasps to fight the pests!

*stares pointedly at mud dauber wasp* you know what you did. Airplane accidents aside...! Great wasp! They're the kinda parasitoid wasp that lays its eggs merely next to their unmoving-but-alive prey, but they do the fun thing of sealing them inside a mud tube/nest. That's fun!! Seal em inside the catacomb queen!! Really Jigsaw of you.

Anyway I'm sorry if I missed any interesting ones but these are all that immediately came to mind. Love 'em.

mm fulled of eggs