I Think I Found The Perfect Sweater-boyfriend Equation. I Lent Him My Sweater, He Was Me-branded For

daily affirmations 💫

- i am so silly

- i am the silliest

- i am okay with being cringe

- i love being goofy

soooo today i learned that back in the early 90s, coca cola tried making this thing called “ok soda” as a marketing stunt to beat out pepsi since they had way more of a hold on the “younger/rebellious” generation at the time, and their way of doing that was naming it “ok soda” so that they could copyright the word “ok”, the most popular word in the world, and at the same time brand it as an…ironic soda??? like the whole thing with it was that they tried to brand ok soda as a counterculture soda but instead of making it about typical 90s RADICAL EXTREME!!! fodder the theme of it was uh. unsettling capitalist brutalist dystopia. instead of being bright and colorful the color scheme was only stark whites, grays and reds and the cans looked like this. bold shapes and labels stating ominous, robotic things with a figure always staring dead into you on the front, no coca cola branding on it at all.

sometimes there would be “prize cans” of this stuff where instead of having soda inside it there would be hats. and they didn’t sell this option in boxes by the way they just put prize cans in random vending machines. and put like 25 cents in it so hey. you could get an actual soda that isn’t just hats. maybe.

did i mention that this soda also had a fucking MANIFESTO??? because yeah it sure had that printed on some cans and it goes as follows

and there’s these things called “coincidences”, which… yeah it doesn’t make it sound any less ominous

and you might be wondering how the soda itself tastes like does it taste good? ok? well apparently it was just a regular “citric” tasting soda but somehow they fucked it up so bad that it was compared to “carbonated tree sap”, and instead of trying to make the drink taste better they included that it tasted like shit, INTO THE ADVERTISING SCHEME ITSELF. they would literally advertise that it tasted like ass as a part of the ironic marketing, no i am not kidding.

but if you thought that’s where it ended there’s one more curveball and without any exaggeration, you will not expect what i am about to tell you.

take a look at this guy.

this guy is the “face” of ok soda, as in he was printed on the most cans and technically served as a mascot of sorts for the entire thing. his face was a major part of the branding, and this design for the cans was one of if not the most common.

okay. cool. no issue there right?

take a guess on who this guy is based off of.

the artist’s coworker? a generic guy? the artist himself? a relative? some random reference model they hired?

CHARLES MANSON. YES, THIS IS REAL. MEANING FOR A BRIEF MOMENT IN TIME, CHARLES MANSON’S FACE WAS USED AS A MEANS TO SELL COCA COLA.

the lead artist himself has even come forward to say this is the case. and now you may be asking wait. how’d he do this? how’d he possibly get away with this, years after the crimes had been committed?

well according to him, it was simple. apparently none of the contracts he signed said anything against putting a mass murderer on the can. so. there’s THAT.

unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you look at it, ok soda never really caught on since *surprise surprise!* teens really don’t want to buy soda that looks like a brutalist art museum, and it never had a wide release so it was only a thing for like two years between 1993 and 1995. but from what i’ve heard there’s still people who are giving this soda a small modern following, collecting all the cans and merchandise and even coming up with stand in recipes for the soda formula itself.

so yeah! that was ok soda.

what the fuck

AU where the Dream SMP is literally just. Dream’s house, and everything else is the same. He invites his closest friends to be roommates. He invites a few people over for a party and they don’t leave. Wilbur announces the attic is claiming independence and won’t move out. Tommy and Tubbo steal Dream’s i-pod even though it only has two songs and become outraged when he tries to take it back. Dream can’t make anyone leave but he can exile Tommy to the spare bedroom closet. Jack Manifold has somehow been stabbed, buried in the garden, and crawled back out alive and well. Snowchester is the kitchen and Las Nevadas is the room with a pool table and Techno and Phil sleep in tents on the front lawn. Sam and Quackity conspire to lock Dream in a shed they built out back. It doesn’t occur to anyone that they shouldn’t murder each other over a house

i had to write something for this LMAOO this is such a fucking funny prompt - that being said, enjoy absolute crack and c!dream having enough!! please send me more asks like this because this is the funniest fucking thing KJEFKJNL i love writing crack i miss doing it so much

tag for this au is > l’houseberg au !!

warnings: fire, violence, fighting, alcohol + smoke mentions, pure crack LMAO

“Hey man,” his neighbour says conversationally, “so how’s things?”

Dream doesn’t even wince at the sound of screaming coming from his house. He’s used to it by now. “Oh, hi Techno, uh, you know-” He ducks under a flaming book thrown at the back of his head by a yelling Tommy, watching it land in his lawn and start burning freely. “Uh, things are a little quiet recently-”

“Quiet?” Techno’s eyebrows fly into his hairline. “You’re callin’ this quiet?”

“Um, well, things are better than they were last week,” Dream says optimistically, “so, um, the attic has been taken over by some guy I let into my house because he said he was homeless and had two kids with him, but you know, I’ve decided that’s fine. A few other people have showed up, for some reason, I don’t really know who they are, but-”

“Is- Is that the guy that stole your attic?” Techno points to Wilbur, who saunters by with a peanut butter sandwich from the kitchen while two others scream at him. “Wilbur Soot?”

Dream blinks. “You know him?”

“Yeah?” Techno scoffs. “Dude, he’s not even homeless. He lives with Phil. You know, like, the guy who lives next door to me?”

“He’s not homeless..?”

“You’ve been exiled!” A man in a beanie yells at Wilbur. “That means you can’t come into the attic again! Stop trying to break back in!”

“Let me talk to Schlatt,” Wilbur demands, “he’s been keeping the peanut butter from my people. I want to talk to him. He needs to treat my people better.”

“He’s passed out drunk in the attic, dude, I don’t know what you want from me-”

“Dream.” Techno interrupts their listening with some concern. “I hate to pry, but when was the last time you slept?”

“Oh, you know,” Dream laughs, voice cracking, eye twitching at the sound of something being smashed from the inside, “uh, like, a week or so ago!”

So that explains why he’s so calm. Techno winces, and then eyes the blanket and pillow in his hands. “I didn’t wake you as you were tryin’ to sleep, did I?”

“No, no,” Dream claps him on the back as he heads outside to a deckchair in the front yard, putting the pillow down and putting on sunglasses, deliberately ignoring the dismal weather and the fact his window cracks very suddenly behind him as someone is flung into a wall, “I decided to take a break for a bit. It’s like... vacation, you know?”

“Have you considered therapy?” Techno asks politely, as the sound of screaming gets louder. “This is pretty rough luck, man.”

“It’s okay,” Dream says absently, pulling the blanket over himself, already half asleep, “wake me up if they burn down my house, please.”

“TECHNOBLADE!”

Techno finds himself being yanked inside, and by the time he gets his bearings, the door is firmly shut and locked behind him. Heart sinking, he turns round to see a hyperactive TommyInnit and a very tired looking Wilbur Soot, one of them beaming, the other scowling.

“Hey,” Techno greets warily, “what’s goin’ on?”

“We’re taking back L’Attic,” Tommy says dramatically, throwing his arms out and shattering a photo of Dream and his friends that had been on the wall, “and you’re going to help.”

Technoblade glances upwards, where he can smell the faint stench of alcohol and smoke. “You mean Dream’s attic?”

“Revolution,” Wilbur stresses, crossing his arms, “we’re rebelling against the government, Technoblade. Are you in?”

...Techno turns to the door, still very firmly locked, and then to Quackity and Tubbo, who are yelling at each other over Dream’s bills.

“Yeah,” he sighs, resigning himself to his fate, “yeah, I’m in.”

Me: *including Peter in a marauders post bc he is a marauder*

Anyone: *pissed I included Peter*

How dare u. Peter betrayed the Potters

Me:

I have curly hair and I cut them myself. Those two facts are not a problem until you combine them with the straightening I just gave them. Now it's very visible that I have not made a clean cut (but who cares, I have curls, it doesn't usually show. Emphasis on usually)

this will be my legacy

*writing in my diary using a glitter gel pen* I'm losing my sense of humanity

Romance isn't dead, Emily Henry is alive.

pizza delivery straight to hell

based on this tweet:

version without the flames: