me as a child: this "$4.99" sales stuff is idiotic, anyone can instantly round this up to $5 in their mind, no one is falling for this
me as an adult: oh wow only $4 (with some additional numbers behind it), that's great because if it was a single dollar more that would have been the last straw for me in my miserable life
its so crazay how being in a transitional period will have you obsessively reevaluating every decision in yr life to the point of actual insanity…hello
I've been replaying Portal 2, and I've been thinking about it a lot, and I think my ideal Chell/GLaDOS relationship is this:
Months after escaping Aperture, Chell is living. Maybe she’s living alone in the ruins of civilization. Maybe she's found other humans in the post-apocalypse and has found a life in the little commune they've formed as they try to rebuild society. Either way it's a very simple life but it's hers and she tries to live it well.
And then one night an Aperture drone shows up outside of her house with a boombox and starts playing In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel.
Chell makes a face and closes the blinds. A thousand miles away GLaDOS pushes a button to firebomb Chell's house so that nobody will know she had a moment of weakness, but Chell's already grabbed her bugout bag and has jumped out the other window. This is the third time this has happened this month.
(SOUND IS CRUCIAL) this video is has murdered me dead the music the editing the way information is slowly revealed about the two of them the plot twist the breaking bad images. WILLIAM WILLIAM WILLIAM. all over minecraft parkour someone help im seizing
thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.
one of the legendary copypastas of the russian internet, courtesy of 2ch
translation:
My dad creates some fucked up dishes.
Here’s an average recipe, since there are a lot of variations.
There’s soup, the soup isn’t heated, heating isn’t what my dad is all about. He takes this soup, dumps it into the pan and starts frying. Adds tons of onions, garlic, bell and black peppers, FLOUR!! for viscosity, tomato sauce on top. This is all fried until it starts smoking. Then it’s taken off the fire and cools down on the balcony. Then dad brings it back and, after generously pouring mayo over it, starts eating. He eats it directly from the pan, scraping it with a spoon. Eats it and half-whispers “oh fuck”. While he’s doing all that he even starts sweating. Sometimes he graciously offers me some, but I turn him down. Do I even need to say what wild farts he has afterwards? The stench is so bad, it peels the wallpaper off the walls.