#DASANI AIR

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_1197 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally. (2013)

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

BOYCOTTING FOR PALESTINE

The Official BDS Boycott Targets

Consumer Boycotts - a complete boycott of these brands

Cisco

Axa

Puma

Carrefour

HP

Siemens

Chevron

Intel

Caltex

Israeli produce

Re/max

Ahava

Texaco

Sodastream

Intel

Organic Boycott Targets - boycotts not initiated by BDS but still complete boycott of these brands

Disney

Macdonald's

Dominos

Papa Johns

Burger King

Pizza Hut

Wix

Divestments and exclusion - pressure governments, institutions, investment funds, city councils, etc. to exclude from procurement contracts and investments and to divest from these

Elbit Systems

CAF

Volvo

CAT

Barclays

JCB

HD Hyundai

TKH Security

HikVision

Pressure - boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure.

Google

Amazon

AirBnb

Booking.Com

Expedia

Teva

Here are some companies that strongly support Israel (but are not Boycott targets). There is no ethical consumption under capitalism and boycotting is a political strategy - not a moral one. If you did try to boycott every supporter of Israel you would struggle to survive because every major company supports Israel (as a result of attempting to keep the US economy afloat), that being said, the ones that are being boycotted by masses and not already on the organic boycott list are coloured red.

5 Star Chocolate

7Days

7Up

Apple

Arsenal FC

ALDO

Arket

Axe

Accenture

Ariel

Adidas

ActionIQ

Aquafina

Amika

AccuWeather

Activia

Adobe

Aesop

Azrieli Group

American Eagle

Amway Corp

Axel Springer

American Airlines

American Express

Atlassian

AdeS

Aquarius

Ayataka

Audi

Barqs

Bain & Company

Bayer

Bank Leumi

Bank Hapoalim

BCG (Boston Consulting Group)

Biotherm

Bershka

Bloomberg

BMW

Boeing

Booz Allen Hamilton

Burberry

Bath & Body Works

Bosch

Bristol Myers Squibb

Capri Holdings

Costa

Carita Paris

CareTrust REIT

Caterpillar

Coach

Cappy

Caudalie

CeraVe

Check Point Software Technologies

Cerelac

Chanel

Chapman and Cutler

Channel

Cheerios

Cheetos

Chevron

Chips Ahoy!

Christina Aguilera

Citi Bank

Codral

Cosco

Canada Dry

Citi

Clal Insurance Enterprises

Clean & Clear

Clearblue

Clinique

Champion

Club Social

Coca Cola

Coffee Mate

Colgate

Comcast

Compass

Caesars

Conde Nast

Cooley LLP

Costco

Côte d’Or

Crest

CV Starr

CyberArk Software

Cytokinetics

Crayola

Cra Z Art

Daimler

Dr Pepper

Del Valle

Daim

Doctor Pepper

Dasani

Doritos

Daz

Dior

Dell

Deloitte

Delta Air Lines

Deutsche Bank

Deutsche Telekom

DHL Group

David Off

Disney

DLA Piper

Domestos

Domino’s

Douglas Elliman

Downy

Duane Morris LLP

Dreft Baby Detergent & Laundry Products

Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream

eBay

Edelman

Eli Lilly

Evian

Empyrean

Ericsson

Endeavor

EPAM Systems

Estee Lauder

Elbit Systems

EY

Forbes

Facebook

Fairlife

Fanta

First International Bank of Israel

Fiverr

Funyuns

Fuze

Fox News

Fritos

Fox Corp

Gatorade

Gamida Cell

GE

Glamglow

General Catalyst

General Motors

Georgia

Gold Peak

Genesys

Goldman Sachs

Grandma’s Cookies

Garnier

Guess

Greenberg Traurig

Guerlain

Givenchy

H&M

Hadiklaim

Huggies

Hanes

HSBC

Head & Shoulders

Hersheys

Herbert Smith Freehills

Hewlett Packard

Hasbro

Hyundai

Henkel

Harel Insurance Investment & Financial Services

Hewlett Packard Enterprise

HubSpot

Huntsman Corp

IBM

Innocent

Insight Partners

Inditex Group

IT Cosmetics

Instacart

Intermedia

Interpublic Group

Instagram

ICL Group

Intuit

Jazwares

Jefferies

John Lewis

JP Morgan Chase

Jaguar

Johnson & Johnson

JPMorgan

Kenon Holdings

Kate Spade

Kirks’

Kinley Water

KKR

KFC

KKW Cosmetics

Kurkure

Keebler

Kolynos

Kaufland

Kevita

Knorr

KPMG

Lemonade

Lidl

Loblaws

Levi Strauss

Louis Vuitton

Life Water

Levi’s

Levi’s Strauss

LinkedIn

Land Rover

L’Oréal

Lego

Levissima

Live Nation Entertainment

Lufthansa

La Roche-Posay

Lipton

Major League Baseball

Manpower Group

Marriott

Marsh McLennan

Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Mastercard

Mattel

Minute Maid

Monster

Monki

Mainz FC

Mellow Yellow

Mountain Dew

Migdal Insurance

Marks & Spencer

Mirinda

McDermott Will & Emery

Motorola

McKinsey

Merck

Michael Kors

Mizrahi Tefahot Bank

Merck KGaA

Micheal Kors

Milkybar

Maybelline

Mount Franklin

Meta

MeUndies

Mattle

Microsoft

Munchies

Miranda

Morgan Lewis

Moroccanoil

Morgan Stanley

MRC

Nasdaq

Naughty Dog

Nivea

Next

NOS

Nabisco

Nutter Butter

No Frills

National Basketball Association

National Geographic

Nintendo

New Balance

Nutella

Newtons

NVIDIA

Netflix

Nescafe

Nestle

Nesquick

Nike

Nussbeisser

Oreo

Oral B

Old spice

Oysho

Omeprazole

Oceanspray

Opodo

P&G (Procter and Gamble)

Pampers

Pull & Bear

Pepsi

Pfizer

Popeyes

Parker Pens

Philadelphia Cream Cheese

Pizza Hut

Powerade

Purina

Phoenix Holdings

Propel

Ponds

Pure Leaf Green Tea

Power Action Wipes

PwC

Prada

Perry Ellis

Prada Eyewear

Pringles

Payoneer

Procter & Gamble

Purelife

Pureology

Quaker Oats

Reddit

Royal Bank of Canada

Ruffles

Revlon

Ralph Lauren

Ritz

Rolls Royce

Royal

S.Pellegrino

Sabra Hummus

Sabre

Sony

SAP

Simply

Smart Water

Sprite

Schwabe

Shell

Soda Stream

Siemens

StreamElements

Schweppes

Sunsilk

Signal

Skittles

Smart Food

Sobe

Smarties

Sephora

Sam’s Club

Superbus

Samsung

Sodastream

Sunkist

Scotiabank

Sour Patch Kids

Starbucks

Sadaf

Stride

Subway

Tang

Tate’s Bake Shop

The Body Shop

Tesco

Twitch

The Ordinary

Tim Hortons

Tostitos

Timberland

Topo Chico

Tapestry

Tropicana

Tommy Hilfiger

Tommy Hilfiger Toiletries

Turbos

Tom Ford

Taco Bell

Triscuit

TUC

Twix

Tottenham Hotspurs

Twisties

Tripadvisor

Uber

Uber Eats

Urban Decay

Upfield

Unilever

Vicks

Victoria’s Secret

V8

Vaseline

Vitaminwater

Volkswagen

Volvo

Walmart

Wegmans

WhatsApp

Waitrose

Woolworths

Wheat Thins

Walkers

Warner Brothers

Warner Chilcot

Warner Music

Wells Fargo

Winston & Strawn

WingStreet

Wissotzky Tea

WWE

Wheel Washing Powder

Wrigley Company

YouTube

Yvel

Yum Brands

Ziyad

Zara

Zim Shipping

Ziff Davis

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 2

A Homelander x F! Reader fanfic

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this and hope the lenght is enough of an apology, yeah this is gonna be liek 4 parts i got too engrossed btw. hope yall like it here's the previous chapter:

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

word count: 3.4K

Part 2– Calf

As he’d mentioned before the house was an escape proof cage– every window had its hinges super glued or welded shut, glass panels thick enough to prevent shattering but thin enough to allow sound in. That night as he’d left you for the first time you kept your composure, perturbed more by the earlier events that nothing had time to sink in, you venture across the 3 bedroom home, each room old taken straight out from a vintage furniture catalog, the master bedroom smelled just like your grandmother’s, the bathroom walls covered in tacky pink tiles that you told yourself will never get used to.

By the time you explored the whole building you understood the following: The size felt deceiving, without a way to see the outside this building could’ve been 35 floors high and you wouldn’t know, the east-wing of the building at the opposite direction where you’d emerged was cut off from you by a thick metal door, an eye-scan request made its unpickable lock, looking at how it cut on the hardwood floors you’d guess this is where in the kitchen and perhaps the garage and entry hall could be found, this overall felt like an architectural nightmare, the only other oddity of this was the piles and piles of bottled water– Vought branded water… you much rather drink Dasani than this crap… It was by far the worst one in the supermarket.

There were indeed no phones or even ethernet ports on the wall, the TV was bolted in its place and so was the VHS player (and all the furniture too), there were at least 350 titles on the walls (something you bothered to count on day 5), an extremely old vinyl player your only other company... whoever had supposedly lived here was a big fan of Cab Calloway, ABBA and Bruce Springsteen, here you and Bruce could become intimate friends it seems after all you had all his vinyls, alongside an expansive jazz assortment, nothing in this selection went past 1989.

You also learned a very useful fact on day 3 you stared at one of the 18 cameras that you’d found.

“I really want some Mcnuggets! Like just a 12-pack and a large Sprite! Maybe an Oreo Mcflurry too!” You yelled into the camera waving your arms as if the circular lense would reply somehow.

Barely few minutes later the air was filled with the roaring sounds of a bike burning tires seemed the forbidden end faced some road which made you giddy, about 50 minutes later a small door at the door itself opened smoothly where the first strange hand you’ve seen in the last 3 days popped-out leaving a bag with a familiar logo… it wasn’t maccas tho, it was Vought-a-burger which was okay but that wasn’t the point, you picked your meal and your oversize ice-cream and drink and begun connecting lines– Your prison was in Pennsylvania, based on the area code on the phone number on that old pizza box, located close enough from both a pizza chain and on a 15 to 20 minutes drive from a Vought-a-Burger, the library held no maps for you to try to find your location but give or take about an hour or two by foot from any civilization… Yet as you drank the mostly melted caramel churro sundae you smiled thinking of how to steal a bike.

That Night you picked two tapes from the wall not caring one bit about what you were going to see, you stared at the camera.

“Hey can one of you check like an underrated 80s movie list from IMDb ‘cuz I seen a few of these already… at least bring me something new!” 

As always no response was ever given, you dragged your feet towards that ornate bedroom of yours, pink walls, flowery quits, a matching chaise lounge, a hardwood coffee table bolted to the ground and your private TV and VHS player, it took you an hour to remember how to use these thing that second day here. You put on a movie, curling in your bed in the dark, smelling the sweet flowery smell of fabric softener, this didn’t smell like home, pillows too soft, mattress too soft everything here was made to bring you comfort but it was making you feel like a squatter.

The cold light of the screen enveloped every surface and you slowly faded away as ‘Lady in White’ began to wrap up, eyes glued to the screen so firmly you screamed when the faint red light peeked from the corner, clutching the quilt across your body as the red faded away and all you saw was a vaguely illuminated shape.

Blurry colors with no clean shapes, standing facelessly enough blue to let you see it was humanoid, Homelander creeped closer, his body blocking the light and like a shadow he devours everything, he turned around to pause the player, draping his gloves on the dumb box as he turned around once more, your heart caught in your throat, each breath quick and sharp as he took another step closer, hushing softly and he’s there swallowing you whole he kneeled into the bed the mattress squeaked and chimed sinking under his weight pulling you in, only the faint outline of gold eagles and soft blonde locks told you with absolute certainty that he was here… that 3 days ago you indeed met The Homelander, far from the pretty blue-eyed hunk from the movies more ghoul.

You swallowed as his head rested on the pillow next to your hips, his nose burying in the cushioned pillowcase.

“I was busy with work” He mumbles softly, staring at you with the same playfulness of a guilty pet owner who’d ran out of their cat's churu treats– "I promise to visit, I got you something… left it downstairs for you.” 

He stared at your white knuckled hands and without uttering a word you understood his demands, fingers moved by psychic force alone, you welcomed him into your lap as you came undone, burying your digits into his hair, soft like cotton, so smooth you dreamt of cat’s bellies as you scratched him, he took the remote from under you lifting you with so much ease your brain struggled to compute it at first, the movie played and all he wanted was petting.

“Security told me you’ve been good… nothing crazy… am glad, "he said with a tired tone.

“What good would that do me…?” You replied with your eyes focused on the screen.

If you wanted to survive I had to get on his good side, no? you though

“I like it when you people understand your place” He chuckles softly.

‘You people’? You could easily discern the meaning behind his words by tone alone, your finger stopped suddenly, his eyes flaring up immediately.

“I think this would be more productive if you told me exactly what’s going on… I won’t try to run or scream… am just confused and scared…” you spoke bluntly as his gaze met yours in the dark.

“This is my private speakeasy and you’re the bartender… tap too… is hard being on top… and I want some relief… and a sanctum–

“To express your socially unacceptable inclinations/interests? Fair enough I can imagine the press would eat you alive if they found out you liked breastmilk.”

“You’re cute and smart too.” He pushed himself into your stomach, your body sinking to the shape he wanted, holding you tight– I’ll be a good owner and let you asks me absolutely anything you want”

“Why me?”

“Dunno.” His lips tightened into a flat line– the doctors picked you, I asked for a good provider… but all the women downstairs and you did have one thing in common” He sounded awkward as he spoke listening to your increasing heartbeat– you kept producing… I asked to have easy access to my treat but somebody downstairs came out with all of this” his hand lazily gestures around– bit extra I know.”

How simple, he didn’t even care about this to begin with, glaring at him gave you no answers or comfort.

“My family…?”

“They think you killed yourself, I've been told… your ex-hubby been on twitter acting holier than the virgin mary, absolutely devastated for likes” You bit your lips, face scrunching up ready to shout and cry– everybody suspects he murdered you even the cops”

“I'm going to kill him!!” Your tears flowed regardless – god fucking dammit!”

Your whole body rejected the news, twisting your stomach and filling you with needles

“How would you do it?”

“Bash his head in with a hammer…?? I don’t know but fuck him! I wasted 5 years of my life with that bastard!” You cried.

Homelander buried his face into your stomach, hiding the smile on his face. as you cursed outloud for a little bit, he paid no attention to your words.

“Sorry…” You cleaned your tears trying to stop this embarrassing display, the mere thought of him acting like he cared made you sick when he wouldn’t even come to his own son’s funeral– are you gonna hurt me?” you cleaned your nose against the pillow.

He moved so quickly before you knew it he’s face to face and even in this dark room only lit by rolling credits he appeared serene as a painting… It makes your blood run cold.

“Why would I hurt my comforter?”

That night he only slept for a couple hours, never moving from your stomach, holding you regardless, he snored softly, mumbling half-spoken words, lips twitching and brows furrowing, you petted him gently watching his hardened frown melt.

Some days he’d come once, others he’d come five times and then there were the days were you didn’t see him at all, leaving you awkwardly aware about how odd these exchanges felt… for it never felt truly sexual, your fears of molestation and ‘real’ assault dissuaded as you accepted that all this man was doing was come here to whine and bitch about work and suck on your titty– like right now, Homelander has been shouting, talkign so much shit about his coworkers you started to wonder if it was made up for nobody could certainly be that allegedly incompetent, about how stressful it was to do 20 plus media interviews all day, about hoq\w his latest film “Justice Serve” was a fucking nightmare already despite being only half-way thru pre-production.

“Do you even know what it's like to deal with idiots who think they’re better than you because they have an award!?” He put your nipple back in his mouth with a frown– who does Villeneuve think he is” He mumbled into your skin.

Yet he didn’t only bring petty grievances and thirsty lips– he showered you with gifts, perfumes you couldn’t pronounce filled with soft fragrances: sweet but not sugary, warm tones without too much spice. Brought you beauty products to pamper you… to watch you play with from the many cameras in the house, and dressed you like a doll in clothes you honestly wouldn't have bought in the first place, too flowery and tradwifey.

You did so with a fake smile, you’d be pretty for him if you must, keep your tongue in-check and swallow the ever increasing knot in your throat for he at least wasn’t loud towards you, he didn’t yell, he didn’t make scenes… you were just living like his newest pet.

His miniature cow standing in the living room instead of the evergreen pastures outside, VHS tapes and steel food trays made your fence.

You keep busy cleaning this house making stories of who had lived there, Bruce the only one who spoke to you.

Analysing the house inch by inch, there had to have been a spot they’ve missed you kept thinking, you figured that somehow they monitored your sleep cycle, only entering to remove dirty clothes and trash in the death of night, they knew if you were obviously awake, on day 14 you stayed up till around 5 am and not a peep was heard accross the house but as you woke past noon all your trash had been cleaned up, on day 16 you stayed awake all day felt sick passed out and same thing, you would find a way out, you would force them to take you out, all the furniture was glued in its post but if you had to cause a fire you fucking would… as you stared at your clean bedsheets you figure you could force them to come in and drag you outside but as you postulated the possibility of a faux-suicide attempt Homelander’s face flashed accross closed eyes– dare dissapointing him and lose all the goodwill you’d been building, trust, even presents more extravagant than anything your ex ever did.

Had he not kidnapped you, hold you against your will in an underground bunker, used you as a milk fountain and terrified the fuck out of you with his invisible steps in the middle of the night you would had found him charming… endearing even… at least he was still handsome… frightening but handsome.

Day 18-19-20 were the worse so far, days went by and your isolation only grew he had not come by, your meals delivered so quietly you missed them and found them cold, birds either too loud or gone but Homelander never came, every hour the anxiety only grew as you found your throat aching to speak with somebody other than a non-present 80s musician.

You made a stack of the movies you’ve seen yelling to the camera demanding more to watch, abandoning the cause to focus on the obscene collection of Danielle Steel books in the library… at least 30 books, at least it was a distraction as you woke up for the third day in a row without hearing from Homelander. 

You talked to yourself, prettier views didn’t make up for human interaction, you had isolated yourselves before… you didn’t eat, shower, answer calls, simply left yourself to rot in your bed, sinking deeper and deeper into your mattress, the calm heartbeat of the machine keeping you alive until the phone battery died, now here you were curling in the couch feeling that endless void inside you screaming back at you, nothing to distract you from it any longer.

How ironic that those days locked in the basement had been the firsts since the funeral that you’d hadn’t thought about it.

Now every sleep came with dreams of distant cries, empty halls that cooed back, and a sense of urgency as time slipped from underneath you, nothing here smelled like him, yet in your sleep you held your pillow as you once held him, swearing it smelled like him, in the silence the singing birds sound like babies, but there’s nothing but creaking floorboards, old pipes and foreign ghosts in this place.

In this endless silence your mind told you this was limbo, jazz solos disguised the pandemonium of a silent afterlife, but as your heart anguished once again you buried yourself in paltry distractions, reading out loud as to keep your vocal chords warm and delude yourself that there was some company in here, mostly to hide the nonexistent crying.

It took you by surprise when half way thru ‘The Ghost’ you heard the buzzing of the steel door, your ears perked up stretching your neck before falling into the floor, shaky knees picked you up once more with a brave kick, quick steeping into the living room– Homelander stood staring at the messy pile talking to the camera to have this sorted and for the first time since you’d been here you sawn another human, who answered his call almost immediately, a man in kevlar rushed in his gun bouncing on his back alongside a young man dragging an ikea bag.

“Homelander!” Your voice was hoarse but he still turned to smile at you.

“We got you some new movies Ms. L/N” The young man spoke dropping the bag with a heavy thud.

“Watch it!” Homelander growled and you saw a slight stain dribble down his pants– just go wait in the library kitten while these ones sort this out for you.” 

Your feet moved anyways, too excited by the presence of new faces, had he not cleared his throat you would’ve said anything just to make sure this wasn’t a dream, you looked away and that big steel door was wide open, an armed guard by the exit tho… it was an office, painted white with cool fluorescent lights. 

Run, the voices scream.

Run.

For fucks sake run!!\

but...

You stay still.

It’s a test. Run and die, run and he’d snap your spine in thirds before you understand what happened your brain would be separated from your cranium no doubt, you swallow and take a step back, slow heavy agonizing steps lead you to the library.

Homelander’s gaze softens as he watches you sit by the unlit fireplace, he follows you soon after leaving the staff to work behind, you lift your head with a stiff neck, your tongue swollen inside your mouth, he smiles gently dropping to your level, carrying a small box.

The pretty bow doesn’t catch your attention in the least.

Not that dashing smile and ever so blue eyes either.

He tickles your nose without touching.

Chamomile and oat, a pale scent, subtle and clean…

As he scoot closer to you urging you to take the meaningless box held by nude hands, he pets your chin, leaving you to catch nutty tones… his hands smell of almond oil and cream.

He’s talking as he guides your hand into opening the present but you aren’t hearing a single word spoken… all you care about is his aroma…it invides you carving an aching hollow chest, making you dizzy and the world is squeezing your whole body with a thousands of pounds of violent force but you’re still held in one piece, wrapping your neck with the necklace he’d got you, touching every exposed inch leaving traces of sweet almond on you, resting his chin on your stiff shoulder so close whispering sweet nothings to you… hair smells so creamy… milky coconut, it makes you ill– You could name every brand he wore if asked.

“You like it?” He asks into your neck.

‘Like’ what? You guessed he meant the necklace.

“Where have you been?” You asked, wanting to think of anything but that bitter scent.

He pushes you down into the carpet, your hair drapes everywhere so he moves it to give himself no chance to pull it, you can’t even argue but your surprise and discomfort still paints your face, before you can say anything he drops his head on your stomach, nuzzling your dress and pulling your hand towards his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it” his muffle words sound angry, he whined into your stomach a quiet order demanding affection.

Obeying orders before he could whined even more for now you wanted silence again.

Staying like this for as long as he needed, leaving you to speculate what brought him such distress that caused him to abandon you as a result, a part of you stared in awe as you realized you how long this man could stay still without making a sound for.

How long did you lay there in a shared repose that your eyes shut? you wondered as the orange glow of afternoon sun warmed your cheeks, his hand cleaned a falling tear off your face as you woke up with a headache.

“Had a nightmare?”

Your hand unconsciously pulled him close to you, burying his face under your chin he’d awkwardly smiled as he adjusted to your demands, talking to you but it was white noise, your kept him still bridging an arm across his neck locking him in position, your other hand buried in blond, closing your eyes as you got high on shampoo.

In your mind much like your dream you hold him so close, he was plump and giddy, his hair more than a thin tuff, you laughed with him, as you dried his back, you swore to never love the scent of coconut, you held back your pain as you held him with all your might.

“I don’t want to talk about it…”

[a-clown-with-wings]

🍉🍉🍉 VERY IMPORTANT!!! 🍉🍉🍉

I know that I usually post about silly robots and my OCs, but for once, this isn't a silly fun post about my hobbies.

Palestine and Gaza are still very much under attack, and their people need our help in order to survive the malicious and hate filled violence that's claiming lives every day. It hurts to know that literal children are being torn apart and being separated from their parents, their homes for nothing. There is no reason for any of this to be happening, but since it still is, it's never too late to take action and help out. Whether it's donating to Palestinian charities to help with removing them from the hostilities being forced on their homes, or if you simply repost this post, you are helping with spreading a message and are bring us one step closer to helping these people and free them from this one sided war. It's not over until they are safe.

For those with money to spare, here are some charities to donate to in order to help out:

Every penny counts, so don't dwell on only donating so much. One dollar is better than nothing.

Slight relation: Companies that support Israel.

(I get that it's impossible to boycott everything, but even reducing the amount of money you give to these companies is spreading a message.)

KFC

McDonald’s

Starbucks

Pizza Hut

Dominos

Kit Kat

Burger King

Häagen-Daz

Costa Coffee

Aroma

Subway

Nestle

Walmart

Hardee

Mars

Pepsi

Coca Cola

Minute Maid

Fanta

Carnation

Smarties

Nerds

Laffy Taffy

SweeTarts

Alpo

Lipton

Tropicana

Dasani

Perrier

Sprite,

Twix

Nike

Addidas

Puma

L’Oréal

Estée Lauder

HP

American Eagle

The Body Shop

Tommy Hilfiger

Lancôme

Ralph Lauren

Johnson and Johnson

Chanel

Kyle Cosmetics

Garnier

Olay

Clinique

Urban Decay

Neutrogena

LifeBuoy

Wix

Motorola

Nido

Giorgio Armani

Victoria Secret

Maybelline

NYX

Revlon

Siemens

Skims

Goop

Marks & Spencer

Smartwater

Aveda

Tom Ford

Covergirl

Nesquik

Papa Johns

MAC

The Ordinary

Disney

Bobbi Brown

Honest

Sabra

Nokia

Nido

Walls

Tom Ford Beauty

Summer Fridays

Soda Stream

Ahava

Keter

Strauss

Danone

Tivall

AXA

Teva Pharmaceuticals

Airbnb

TripAdviser

Again, our society relies on most of these companies, so I'm not expecting you to just live off of air and hopes, but consider your favorite brands you like to shop from and think to yourself if it's worth the harm they are causing. Remember, at the end of the day, they only care about your money, not you.

[whokilledjared]

the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)

Hi.

I'm lonely.

The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.

Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.

Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.

The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.

Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.

Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*

God. What the fuck are we doing???

“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung

Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.

I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.

yay.

There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?

At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.

Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.

And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:

What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?

Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?

What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?

Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.

Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.

At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.

Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.

My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.

To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.

This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.

Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.

We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.

So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.

Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.

And I have the time to breathe.

And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.

When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.

How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?

That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride

Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."

* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)

[spamtoon]

Fearsome Five Epcot trip headcanons:

This is a complete shitpost they're not robbing the place they're just kinda there

Negaduck had the alarm at the hotel set to the sound of his chainsaw (which is still in his suitcase) because it's the quickest way to get the four's attention. Rather than taking a shuttle or anything they figure they can just hijack a car. After trying several cars until they found one big enough.

They paid for everything they didn't steal with Quackerjack's fake money and if staff didn't notice Negaduck made one of the four pay. Usually Bushroot. I don't think they bought anything at the gift shops though, the only real money spent not from Bushroot was to Liquidator, who carried the bags and as a result got people to charge him for his bottled water when they started sweltering in the Florida humidity. I mean lord knows they drink Liquidator's stupid water all the time but it's way better than stooping to drinking Dasani

Highlight of the trip for Negaduck was getting to crash the ship in mission space. It's so easy you press two buttons but I guarantee he would have just sat there and cackled while the others experienced so many lateral g forces and after so many opportunities to opt out. The four were getting scared but Negaduck likes pushing them. Off a cliff

Highlight of the trip for Liquidator was making a profit but Liquidator's other best moments were on the various boat rides, particularly Frozen. He can just merge with the water and go off track and it's not like any staff is there to tell him he can't do that. He made it look like Elsa endorsed his water to the next boat down and when the others were going down the small drop he had a bit of revenge and made the drop steeper for them. Ever since Negaduck parted the red sea with his powers he's been experimenting with them. Going in the jumping fountains and becoming a puddle to move faster and I think he can have fun with the various slow moving boat rides.

Highlight of the trip for Bushroot was Living with the Land, not because it's not anything he didn't already know and not because he missed the greenhouse after a long vacation (though he did enjoy seeing all those plants in one place) but because Liquidator insisted on "protecting him from garden employees" by holding him the whole time. Quackerjack and Megavolt spent the whole ride joking about the two of them. The whole trip he had been bordering on wilting it was so hot and the indoor sunny but air conditioned greenhouse is just what he needed. His favorite ride as a ride however was Soarin though I can imagine him being swayed by the music.

Highlight of the trip for Quackerjack was getting to see Megavolt's face during Journey to Imagination with Figment. He has a soft spot for the original as a work of art (and has some distain for Disney's merchandising as toy competition) but damn it. There's so many stupid effects in that ride and there are so many colors Megavolt was not processing any of it and Quackerjack laughed his head off the whole time. He also has a soft spot for the goofy dated kids play areas after a lot of the rides, with dumb little quizzes and spinny things and interactive things that are NOT video games.

Highlight of the trip for Megavolt was... Well, he thought it would be Remy's because of how cool and new the track vehicle was but he didn't actually get to see it very well up close before he was on and off it. The real highlight was Spaceship Earth, and all the dozens of animatronics in that attraction as well as others. He will infodump about hydraulic fluid and trackless ride vehicles and he just loves learning how these things work and seeing them in action. Figment was too much for him though he could not stand Figment.

[dabisbratz]

What is your Favorite way to drink water? What is your favorite brand of water? Dasani? Aquafina? Smart water? Al Hada? VOSS?

-🚰 anon

akshsjdhsjs this is such a goofy question!! where i live!! you can’t really drink the tap water (well you can but it smells n tastes funny) so i drink bottled (dasani) water!! but fiji water s’like drinkin air… highly recommended if you have an extra two dollars t’spend!!

[lucanadesign]

La genialidad de Liquid Death

El agua puede ser aburrida. Pero no tiene por qué serlo.

Liquid Death está demostrando que el agua puede ser genial y divertida. Aunque Liquid Death comenzó en 2019, se ha convertido rápidamente en una marca de agua de muchos millones de dólares.

Cuando Liquid Death comenzó su andadura, había algunos pesos pesados en el sector del agua embotellada en Estados Unidos: Dasani (propiedad de Coca Cola), Pure Life (propiedad de Nestlé), Evian, Fuji y muchas otras, es decir el mercado del agua estaba saturado.

Y aún así, Liquid Death ha sido capaz de entrar en el espacio y perturbarlo por completo.

En el podcast "How I built this" sobre los orígenes de Liquid Death, el fundador dijo algo como "En realidad no vendemos agua, ya que puedes beber agua del grifo. Y tampoco vendemos agua enlatada: si lo hiciéramos, Coca Cola nos desbancaría porque consigue latas muy baratas. Lo que vendemos es nuestra marca irreverente y atrevida".

La marca es lo que hace que Liquid Death sea tan valiosa. Su marca puede expresarse a través de estos elementos:

Personalidad de marca: Toda su personalidad de marca es "no me importa nada", y funciona. Su mantra oficial es "asesina tu sed, muerte al plástico". Algunas palabras que utilizan en su marketing son: asesinato, matanza, tortura, muerte, etc. Es extremo y llama rápidamente la atención.

Tipografía: Si nos fijamos en los tipos de letra de la mayoría de las empresas de agua, notamos que suelen ser suaves, puras, limpias y sencillas. En cambio, Liquid Death ha optado por todo lo contrario: utiliza una fuente gótica Blackletter que tiene un aire más de whisky de la vieja escuela.

Colores: Mientras que la mayoría de las grandes marcas de agua utilizan envases claros con toques de azul, Liquid Death optó por la oscuridad. Sus cajas son negras con grafitis cubiertos de calaveras. A primera vista, su paleta de colores recuerda más a una bebida energética o a una cerveza artesanal. Pero no, siguen siendo una marca de agua.

Liquid Death es una marca que sabe quién es y ha creado una hoja de ruta para destacar en cualquier mercado, primero sabiendo quien eres y después utilizando el diseño para compartir tu personalidad y atraer a tu público.

[1800ligmaballzhigh]

Dasani Chapter 9

When Dasani-chan woke up he had a raging boner because he was excited about his first day of special ed classes so he quickly jerked off while thinking about 40oz Stanley cups (Christmas edition.) He got ready by lathering himself in a thick layer of rose-scented hemp lotion so his plastic skin would stay extra wet and moist. He then walked out of the house naked because he didn’t care about public indecency laws. As he walked to the bus stop he let his micro penis swing around like a heliacopter. He was then quickly chased down by a cop because he was flashing everybody he walked past. He made it onto the bus before the cop could arrest him and he was on his merry way to school.

When he got to school he waddled to his class and of course, he was late because he was, yup, you guessed it, jerking off in the middle of the hallway to Ben Shairo’s portrait. His first class was a(cunt)ing. It was like accounting but you served cunt. His teacher for the class was the slay version of Andrew Tate. He was super flamboyant and gay. “Alrighty daddio’s! Who’s ready to learn about account- I mean a(cunt)ing?!?” “MEEEHHHH! MEEEEHHHHH!!!” Screeched the water bottle with enthusiasm. He began to jizz everywhere and when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere. He jizzed on the floor. He jizzed on the walls. He jizzed on the ceiling. He jizzed on the board. He jizzed on the desks. He jizzed on his classmates. He jizzed on and in the teacher. “Golly gosh! Looks like someone is excited to learn about a(cunt)ing which is kinda concerning because a(cunt)ing is actually very boring to most people who aren’t extremely stupid.” Mr. Slay Tate started his lesson plan and Dasani began to take notes with his special pen which had cum for ink.

When the bell rang Mr. Slay Tate said in a gay tone “And I opp! That’s the bell, now if you excuse me class I have to go do human trafficking, rape, and forming an organized crime group!” He then proceeded to skip towards the window and jump out. He somehow managed to do a flip mid-air and land on his feet. Now here’s the thing, Dasani-chan was really super duper tired so instead of going to his next class he decided to go home and snort a copious amount of glitter glue. He was too cool for school anyway.

[jellojolteon]

Seriously though don’t put your feet on the dash, if you get in an accident your legs are absolutely fucked and they also might be in your driver’s way anyway

[mollymauk-moved]

every little thing is making me want to have a meltdown tonight huh

[phaeton-flier]

Yes, for any number of reasons:

This bottle used to hold X but is now empty (my water bottle is empty because I drank it all)

This bottle was designed to hold X and thus is an X bottle even if it has never held anything but air (This is an unfilled Dasani bottle fresh off the production line)

This bottle can hold many things but in this context is typically used to hold X (This is where we store the canisters used for holding gas; make sure the empties are stored separate from the ones we use for water and the ones we use for rubbing alcohol)

[butchniqabi]

Here’s my special announcement: me and two friends of mine started a podcast! “Going Up?” is a pop culture, cinema, and literature all through the lens of Black creatives who are exhausted with the mainstream content out there. Our podcast is biweekly with our debut episode “Stan Culture” airing tomorrow, Saturday (10/17/20) at 3pm PST on Spotify! And on All Hallows Eve our next episode talking about Black cinema will be up, so make sure to mark your calendars!

Socials:

Evangeline: Twitter / Instagram / Tumblr

Me: Twitter

Dasani: Twitter

All listening links will be posted tomorrow! Make sure to tell your mama, daddy, AND your cousin, your neighbor too for good measure

EDIT: Check out this clip!

[writers-worst-nightmare]

No brains (Dabi x reader)

Ask: Daddy Dabi s/o is a crackhead with zero brain cells

Pairing(s): Dabi x reader

Warning(s): large amounts of cussing (there are lyrics of WAP for most of it what did you expect?), crackhead energy, Dabi just giving up, 18+ themes (minors dni please), deaf Bakugou

A/N: absolutely anon! I would love to do this! (I have so many ideas running through my head rn lol) AND ignore if it says “Aishi” instead of you I got this from my oc x canon fanfiction

Request are always open!

“Hahaha look at your face!!!” You exclaimed, pointing towards Dabi as he tried to open a champion bottle and helplessly failing.

“You wanna try?” Dabi challenged, still struggling to open the bottle.

“No.” You admitted, just when the League couldn’t possibly get any more chaotic the whole bakusquad came.

“SUP BITCHES!” Mina yelled on the top of her lounges, popping open some wine with Denki, Sero, Jiro, and Kirishima following closely behind.

“How the hell did you do that?!” Dabi asked as he finally popped the lid off, the corkscrew went flying in the air and hit Bakugou. Bakugou smacked Dabi across the face and sulked in the corner.

“I don’t need to know sign language to know what that means.” Jiro stated, her index finger flicking in the air like something was going to fall out of the roof on her command. Dabi flipped the purple haired girl off, Jiro rolled her eyes and focused on getting the food out of the way. She gently laid down some pork and smiled at the villains.

“Why the fuck did you bring pork?” Shigeraki asked, finally un-glueing himself from Deku and going right in front of Jirou.

“Pork means good luck and wealth if you eat it on New Years.” Jirou answered carefully.

“We’re going to need that considering that you guys keep attacking us!” Kirishima added, not wanting to be left out on the conversation.

”we attack you guys so much because it’s fun!” Toga cheered, her yellow eyes scanning the bar. “Is Izuku here?” She inquired, Bakugou just the door open and scoffed at Toga’s attitude.

”No, he just jumped out the window.” The ash-blond teased. Toga growled before leaping forward and trying to stab Bakugou, Bakugou skillfully dodged and tripped Toga with his feet. Toga scowled before leaping on top of him, but she was stopped by Dabi holding her torso.

“LET ME AT HIM DABI!!! I’LL TEAR HIM APART!!!” Toga screeched as she tried to get away form his grasp. Dabi rolled his eyes as he held Toga back, bored out of his mind.

“Later.” He responded, chucking Toga on the couch. Toga landed on Spinner and the two then argument amongst themselves.

*later with Y/N*

”Come oooooon!!!” You whined, dragging Dabi out and getting him in the car.

“Champion, you know I love you right?” Dabi asked, you nodded her head as she started the car and buckled yourself in.

“Yep!” You exclaimed, putting a lot of power on the ‘p’ sound.

“But we talked about this…not driving.” Dabi stated more sternly. You rolled your y/e/c eyes and started driving anyway.

***

”Y/N/N YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE ME THROW UP!!!!” Dabi yelled, you shrugged her shoulders as you broke every speed limit there was imaginable.

“Oh look the cops are chasing me.” You commented as you pointed to the back window of the car where several police cars were chasing after Dabi and you.

“OH GOD!!!!” Dabi exclaimed, rolling brown the window and throwing rocks at them.

“Since when do we have rocks in the car?” You inquired, your calm and squeaky voice not even comparing to Dabi’s frantic and deep voice.

“SINCE YOU STARTED DRIVING!!!” Dabi countered, you hummed and started playing “WAP” on full volume as she started singing along.

I said, certified freak Seven days a week Wet-ass pussy Make that pull-out game weak, woo

”y/n you bitch stop singing to tiktok songs and help me!” Dabi begged, you ignored your boyfriends cry for help and kept driving. Pushing the speed limits a little further each time.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy

You ignored as the cops yelled some gibberish and kept singing. The citizens turned and saw the police-chase, some laughing at you and some joining in on your singing.

Beat it up, nigga, catch a charge Extra large and extra hard Put this pussy right in your face Swipe your nose like a credit card Hop on top, I wanna ride I do a kegel while it's inside Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes This pussy is wet, come take a dive Tie me up like I'm surprised Let's role play, I'll wear a disguise I want you to park that big Mack truck Right in this little garage Make it cream, make me scream

Everyone in the sidewalks soon joined in your singing as the younger teens pulled out their phones and recorded her to put it on their tiktok’s. Dabi was still having a mental break down as he screamed on the top of his lounges that the cops where still after him.

Out in public, make a scene I don't cook, I don't clean But let me tell you how I got this ring (ayy, ayy)

”You where fine at first until you forced me to date you then you showed your true colors.” Dabi answered, everyone in the crowd berth into laughter along with you. Soon, Dabi reluctantly joined in on the singing.

Gobble me, swallow me, drip down the side of me Quick, jump out 'fore you let it get inside of me I tell him where to put it, never tell him where I'm 'bout to be I'll run down on him 'fore I have a nigga running me Talk your shit, bite your lip Ask for a car while you ride that dick (while you ride that dick)

the cops started slowing down and the cool cops joined in in on the singing while the grumpy cops yelled at the citizens and threatened to arrest them.

You really ain't never gotta fuck him for a thang He already made his mind up 'fore he came Now get your boots and your coat For this wet-ass pussy He bought a phone just for pictures Of this wet-ass pussy Pay my tuition just to kiss me On this wet-ass pussy Now make it rain if you wanna See some wet-ass pussy

as the chorus came around again everyone sang even louder. Laughter filling the area as they saw the funniest nonsense that belonged to the villains.

Look, I need a hard hitter, I need a deep stroker I need a Henny drinker, I need a weed smoker Not a garden snake, I need a king cobra With a hook in it, hope it lean over He got some money, then that's where I'm headed Pussy A1, just like his credit He got a beard, well, I'm tryna wet it I let him taste it, now he diabetic I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp I wanna gag, I wanna choke I want you to touch that lil' dangly thing That swing in the back of my throat My head game is fire, punani Dasani It's going in dry and it's coming out soggy I ride on that thang like the cops is behind me I spit on his mic and now he tryna sign me, woo

Everyone practically screamed the ‘dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat’ part, the music from the radio now drowned out by the people who have memorized it word-by-word either eagerly or reluctantly.

Your honor, I'm a freak bitch, handcuffs, leashes Switch my wig, make him feel like he cheating Put him on his knees, give him something to believe in Never lost a fight, but I'm looking for a beating In the food chain, I'm the one that eat ya If he ate my ass, he's a bottom feeder Big D stand for big demeanor I could make you bust before I ever meet ya If it don't hang, then he can't bang You can't hurt my feelings, but I like pain If he fuck me and ask, "Whose is it?" When I ride the dick, I'ma spell my name Ah (whores in this house)

Dabi started recording on his phone while people sang the bridge and sent it to the ‘League Of Villains’ group-chat.

Yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, you fucking with some wet-ass pussy Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy Now from the top, make it drop That's some wet-ass pussy Now get a bucket and a mop That's some wet-ass pussy I'm talking WAP, WAP, WAP That's some wet-ass pussy Macaroni in a pot That's some wet-ass pussy, huh

As the song came to and ended some people stopped recording but to there kept recording. Dabi got a text from ‘Ash Child’

Ash Child: What the fuck?!

Dabi: y/n started running from the cops and out on this song

Chapstick🧴🧴🧴: I already heard this song enough!

Blood rat 🐀🩸: I said certified freak!

Spinner: That’s it I am removing Toga from the group chat

Blood rat 🐀🩸: but whyyyy

-blood rat🐀🩸 was removed from the group chat-

People starting listening to the blasting radio as the song came to an end.

(There's some whores in this house) (There's some whores in this house)

[gamergirl929]

Scare Tactics (USWNT x Reader)

@heathtobination Request: A tour through a supposed ‘Haunted Hotel’ ends up giving the team more than they bargained for. As for the reader? She just wants to go to sleep.

Utter chaos and comedy ensues. 

You weren’t just exhausted; you were incredibly grumpy.  

You hadn’t slept well for the past few nights, stressing over making the Olympic Roster, so needless to say when team bonding meant going to a supposed ‘Haunted Hotel’ for a tour, you were even grumpier.  

“Seriously… I could be sleeping right now.” You gripe, following your teammates as they enter the ‘Haunted Hotel.’  

“You’re not even scared a little?” Sonnett mumbles and you shake your head.  

“I’m so not scared, that at the first couch I see, I’m taking a nap.”  

The front door slams shut behind you and everyone lets out a shriek, except you, instead, you turn to the door with an impassive face.  

“This is stupid.” You mumble, yawning loudly.

“You seriously aren’t even scared, are you?” Megan asks and you shake your head.  

“I’m too tired to be scared.”  

Just then the light above you starts to flicker, your teammates jumping while your eyes narrow.  

“I could be asleep right now.”  

                                                          ***

Your tour guide had ‘mysteriously’ disappeared, leaving you and the team alone in a ‘haunted hotel’.  

“Ughhh, she wasn’t kidnapped, she’s probably hiding in one of these locked rooms.” You knock on one of the locked doors before trying to shoulder it open.  

“Jesus Christ Y/N, don’t break the door down.” Kelley snorts and you shrug.  

“I’d be willing to smash a window if it meant I could go back to the hotel and sleep.” You stretch, shaking your head when you see someone round the corner a few feet away from the group.  

“DID YOU SEE THAT!?” Ashlyn shrieks, hiding behind Ali who nods, swallowing hard.  

“UGH.” You groan, turning to walk down the hallway, ignoring your teammate’s pleas for you to come back.  

“If you’re really a ghost, please come back and murder me.”  

You glance into the doorway the supposed ‘ghost’ walk through and grin.  

“A COUCH! SANCTUARY!” You yell, running to it and flopping down on top of it with a lengthy yawn.  

“She seriously doesn’t give a fuck, does she?” Kelley mumbles as she and the rest of the team look into the room you just entered, finding you already fast asleep on the couch.  

“No, no she doesn’t.”  

                                                          ***

The team decides to leave you behind, considering if they woke you up you’d probably be a lot scarier than any ghost in this hotel could be, they decide to continue their trek upstairs.  

Luckily for them the hotel wasn’t all that huge and when the power had gone out they could simply take the flight of stairs upwards.  

It’s when they reach the last floor, the third floor that Ashlyn feels a presence behind her.  

“Decided to come after all?” She asks, getting no response.  

Ashlyn lets out a terrified screech when something grabs her shoulder, she and her teammates all jump in fear.  

Ashlyn meanwhile is terrified, looking up and down the stairs for any signs of you, but you’re nowhere to be found.  

“I... Someone touched me!” She shakes her head, Tobin snorting.  

“Seriously?” She asks, unconvinced and the goalie nods.  

“YES!”  

“There’s nothing here to touch yo-

Ali lets out a high-pitched squeal, shuffling backwards against her wife’s chest.  

“THERE’S SOMETHING HERE.”  

Downstairs, you’d been woken from your peaceful slumber, your eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, a group of scaredy cats who won’t let me sleep.”  

Just as the words leave your mouth, you see someone peek around the corner into the room you’re currently lounging in.  

You snarl, grabbing for something blindly and throw it at the ‘ghost.’  

“Fuck off, I’m tired.”  

                                                          ***

“Is Y/N just sleeping downstairs? It must be nice to be an unaffected-

Emily screams when something flies off a nearby shelf, crashing to the floor.  

“BITCH!” She yells the rest of her sentence, earning a slap in the head from Kelley.

“She’s not a bitch, she just hasn’t been sleeping.”  

Alex ducks down behind Kelley when the door the group had just entered through loudly slams shut.  

“Protect me.” She mumbles, Kelley turning around to look at her with a blush before grinning cockily.  

“I am a defender.”  

Emily smirks, stepping in front of Lindsey.  

“I am too.” She grins charmingly, but when the sound of a woman crying penetrates her ears she ducks behind Lindsey.  

“I’m a mid-fielder.”  

Alyssa surprisingly, is using Julie as a human shield, holding her effortlessly in the air, the blonde grimacing.  

“Seriously?” She asks, Alyssa shrugging with an apologetic grin.  

Meanwhile, further down the hall, Ashlyn and some of the others, Megan, Ali, Christen, Tobin and Mallory are slowly making their way down the hall, peeking into each room nervously.  

“Why do I have to go first?” Ashlyn grumbles and Megan grins.  

“You’re the largest.”  

“Why not Christen? She runs the fastest...” The goalie mumbles, but before Christen can even open her mouth to speak she remember both Tobin and Mallory are basically hanging off her back.  

“That’s why.” She whispers, pointing over her shoulder at the two of them.  

“What? Us?” Tobin snorts. “We aren’t scared.”  

Mallory steps on a creaky floorboard and Tobin lets out a literal blood curdling scream that makes everyone else scream.  

Everyone turns to Tobin, the woman chuckling nervously.  

“Uh, sorry?”  

                                                          ***

“Look, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for what... Why do you have a broom?” Carli turns to Sam, the Tower of Power shrugging.  

“I think you mean why-

Rose lets out a screech, stopping midsentence when someone peeks out of a nearby room.  

“NOT.” Crystal finishes her sentence for her, ducking behind Sam along with Abby.  

Sam glances around, realizing Carli has vanished, but when she turns around, she realizes she too is ducked down behind her.  

“Y-You go right ahead. You’re armed.”  

The women jump when they hear someone yell, but quickly relax when they realize it’s you.  

“CAN YOU GUYS SHUT UP!?”  

Sam shakes her head.  

“How the hell is she unaffected by this...” She mumbles, slowly inching into one of the empty hotel rooms.  

“Is that blood...” Rose whispers, nodding to the ceiling where blood is seeping through.  

Becky winces.  

“I feel sorry for whoever is up there.”  

                                                          ***

“Please, please, please tell me that isn’t blood.” Julie whispers over and over again, Alyssa peeking over her shoulder to see the massive puddle of blood on the floor.  

Kelley turns around to give Alex an apologetic grin before sliding behind her.

“I’m retiring, you’re the defender now.”  

Alex scoffs.  

“Thanks Kel.”  

“No problem.”  

Slowly, Emily approaches the puddle of blood, her head turning back and forth as she kneels down, touching the sticky substance.  

“I swear to god Dasani.” Lindsey mumbles, grabbing her and pulling her away from the blood.  

Emily grimaces before reaching over and wiping her hand’s on Alex’s shirt, the woman scoffing.  

“Are you fucking serious?!” She squeaks, Emily shrugs.  

“Maybe.”  

Sonnett leads the charge towards the next room, slowly pushing the door open.  

It’s in that moment that utter chaos ensues, Sonnett isn’t even able to scream before something connects hard with her face and she’s sent sprawling, the women behind her shrieking in terror.  

“CHRISTEN!” Kelley yells and everyone goes silent, the forward’s green orbs wide.  

“Seriously!? You punched me in the face!” Emily yells, holding her nose.  

Alex snickers.  

“Serves you right.”  

                                                          ***

You’re stirred from your slumber by the heavy breathing of someone nearby, so close you can feel their breath on your face.  

“Jesus Christ, you need a mint.” You grumble, swatting your hand at them, it’s only when you open your eyes that you see the grossly disfigured man standing before you.  

You quickly realize you aren’t in the same room as you had been, now resting on a fairly comfortable bed that brings your exhaustion into stark relief.  

You simply roll over, your back now to the ‘ghost.’  

“Go away.”  

The ‘ghost’ taps your shoulder and you growl, scooting away from it.  

“Look buddy, you are your crew are doing great. I’m not in the mood.”  

You yawn when he pokes you again.  

“Listen, if you touch me again I’m going to turn you into a real ghost. Fuck off, I’m tired.”  

Much to your glee, the ‘ghost’ shuffles away sadly, unsuccessful in its attempt to scare you.  

“That’s better.”  

                                                          ***

“Wait, where the hell is Y/N? We can’t leave without her!” Mallory cries, glancing around worriedly.  

“She’s probably still downstairs.” Ashlyn whispers, the group of women heading towards the room where they last saw Y/N.

“SHIT!” Emily yells when she’s smacked hard in the stomach with what looks like a broom handle.  

“SAM!” She growls, the taller woman grinning apologetically.  

“Sorry?”  

Everyone glances around, eyes wide in horror when they see the room now has blood on its walls.  

“Where’s Y/N!?” Christen yells, swallowing hard, terrified at the thought of what could’ve happened to the young forward.  

“We have to find her.” Kelley whispers, abruptly leaving the room in search of one of the babies of the team.

Everyone freezes at the sound of a snort, Kelley turning to Alex with narrowed eyes.  

“She’s still fucking asleep, isn’t she?” She asks, pushing the door open where the snoring is coming from, shaking her head when she sees you fast asleep on the bed.  

“Someone, grab her so we can get out of here.” Becky whispers, Ashlyn rushing into the room and lifting you into her arms.  

“Ugh, if it’s the ghost again, I told you to fuck off.” You yawn, humming tiredly.  

“It’s not the ghost.” Ashlyn whispers and you smile tiredly.  

“Good, because you smell nice.” You nuzzle into her chest, the blonde shaking her head.  

The team rushes down the hallway, rounding the corner that leads to the entry way when it falls from the ceiling.  

Everyone let’s out a blood curdling scream as the bloody body falls to the floor, the team all rushing out the front door and out into the sunlight.

                                                          ***

“We’re all running around the damn house scared out of our minds, and you’re lying in bed telling a ghost to fuck off?” Kelley snorts and you shrug, watching on the television as Ashlyn carries you out of the ‘haunted hotel’ after they’d all decided they’d had their fill.  

“I’ve seen Scooby Doo, I know my shit.”  

Inevitably, it turned out that the ‘haunted hotel’ you’d toured was in fact set up to scare unsuspecting guests, much like yourself and your teammates, recording your reactions in real time.

Ashlyn throws her head back, scoffing.  

“I knew it was a TV show all along.”  

Ali snorts.  

“You screamed when the TV crew approached us outside.”  

“I did not!”  

Just then on the TV it shows Ashlyn letting out a horrified scream, the woman ducking behind Sam.  

Everyone turns to Ashlyn, brows arched.  

“I was in character.”  

You shake your head, smirking when you watch yourself send Ashlyn a glare, the woman waking you with her terrified scream.  

“I’m still too tired for this shit.”  

You nod, agreeing with your past self.

“Agreed.”  

“You’re always tired, you slept through a haunted house for fucks sake.” Emily mumbles voice a bit altered thanks to the bandage on her face.

You nod.  

“And I’d do it again.”  

[humanslikeme]

Batman and Grandma huffing Dasani Air (Lower East Side—2nd and St. Marks Place)