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Pile ou face?

@makeshiftdhole / makeshiftdhole.tumblr.com

Hello! My name's Scrap, and my fursona is a dhole. It's a type of animal, and you can find out all about them in one of the handy links below!
HERO OF LIGHT
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topoillogical

I drink at the massive, pulsating, loving teat of costco

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topoillogical

I dont have a membership but I get my meds there, which already is enough (to me this is like. Wire mother. Provides the necessities but not the love). But then also you just... don't need a membership to buy their food? Every time I get their cheap pizza and cheap fries and 89 cent soft drink I feel like either this cant POSSIBLY be sustainable, or I'm being ripped off everywhere else. Anyway cheap fast food is cloth mother to me. I love you costco

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topoillogical

(Tags via @handmedownpocketpussy)

I'm Canadian, hehe, but I think it might work this way in the USA too

USA mutuals weigh in: free to drink at the teat of costco there?

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theravenchilde

They are starting to require a membership at the food court at some Costcos I think on a rolling out basis, starting with ones with outdoor food courts.

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d1zzypaw
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ukrainian-groove-metal

I think it's a sign of good media when you have to reread or rewatch it to get the full experience. First time is for getting your brain blasted by the story and being confused second time is for knowing who's who and what's what and willingly getting your brain blasted again.

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orcdorc
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putris-et-mulier
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runcibility

Not only is this true, it came out of a discussion with Stan Winston on how to work through some plot critical tensions:

During the writing process, he was in his living room excitedly explaining the T-1000 to his friend and collaborator Stan Winston when Winston raised a concern. “I don’t know who the bad guy is,” Winston said. “I need a specific character, a specific image.” To Winston, what Cameron was describing sounded like a blob of goo, not an iconic evildoer. “From a story standpoint, I thought it was a problem,” Winston later recalled in an interview for the picture-book history of his story, “The Winston Effect.” Cameron respected Winston’s instincts for creating memorable characters, and he started reconsidering how he would shape this one. Later that same night, the effects artist got a phone call from his friend. “I’ve got it!” Cameron said. “He’s a cop!” The form the T-1000 would take for most of the movie was a Los Angeles police officer. This solved the storytelling dilemma Winston had raised and also gave Cameron an opportunity to underline a central theme in both of the Terminator movies - how people, especially those in violent jobs, like soldiers and cops, can become barbarized. “The Terminator films are not really about the human race getting killed of by future machines. They’re about us losing touch with our own humanity and becoming machines, which allows us to kill and brutalize each other,” he says. “Cops think all non-cops as less than they are, stupid, weak, and evil. They dehumanize the people they are sworn to protect and desensitize themselves in order to do that job.”
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bananonbinary

there are some internet friends where eventually you start calling them by their real name and then there’s times where its like nah son your name is crispy forever

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bananonbinary
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inkskinned

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

#no reason to recover#i know i've been especially annoying lately#trying to fix that
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abalidoth
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foone

Idea: a young man realizes his "imaginary friend" he had through all his childhood was just his future self, appearing to him intangibly as a guide to help him. He didn't realize they were themselves, because she looks quite different in the future.

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