#costco business membership card

[masamunearts]

The funniest part of Blue Exorcist reviving is realizing I'm not only gnawing at the bars of my enclosure but my humor has not matured in the slightest and I'm already cooking up posts

[apathyfairy]

soooo sick of companies acting like they dont make 1 million dollars every millisecond and that sharing your membership with your friends is bankrupting them

[sandersstudies]

Things to gift when somebody you know if having a hard time:

If you know an individual or family who is handling grief, illness, injury, a new child, or other extenuating circumstances and you aren’t sure how to help, here’s some thoughts. (Sincerely, somebody going through a hard time who experienced the generosity of my community in a new way.)

Food. This one is probably both traditional and obvious. Bring something that’s easy to prepare or reheat, and easy to store. (If you want to be extra kind, consider portioning out meals for easy storage and freezing, or gifting them in few extra freezer bags or Tupperware containers, if it’s appropriate.) I’ve heard other people mention it can be especially helpful to include a food that can be eaten ambient or cold over a few days, like a snack tray. Consider if the current situation has any obstacles to eating (Is the sick person on a special diet? Are the people in the household low on time, energy, and/or attention to themselves? If a parent is pregnant or breastfeeding, have they removed certain things from their usual diet? Are there small children in the house?)

Alternatives to food. Grocery, delivery, and restaurant gift cards may be appropriate depending on the situation. They can have some choices about what they eat with the ease of delivery, or stock up on essentials. (There might be a casserole for every day of the week, but do they have bread, eggs, or cereal for a simple breakfast?) One person even gifted me a year-long grocery membership.

Plates, bowls, utensils. Save them from having to do dishes by offering plastic and paper alternatives.

Household essentials. We had a family member with a CostCo card drop off bulk amounts of toilet paper, paper towels, trash bags, etc. This is one less thing for the family to think about.

Children’s “busy” items. Coloring books, puzzles, or quiet toys are a boon to parents who are under the pressure of dealing with illness, injury, funeral planning, or a newborn. Children can feel confused or lost in the shuffle even under the care of good families, so a small gift both makes them feel special and buys parents a few minutes to breathe. If you’re close to the family, you can even offer to take children with you to the park, the library, or a film when parents need some time.

Favors. If you’re very close to the family and it’s appropriate to the situation, you might offer to serve as dog walker, laundress, or dishwasher for a day or two.

Something they love. If the household’s basic needs are covered, consider giving something thoughtful that they enjoy in whatever way is most appropriate.

[wickedsmille]

Oh, look what I found tucked away in my notes:

-----

"Do you really have a Costco membership?" Tim asks, equal parts delighted and horrified.

Like a man finally succumbing to hours of unrelenting torture, with his voice quiet and strained, Jason admits, "Yes. Fuck, yes."

He can't even imagine the pain Jason is going through. The sheer humiliation of giving voice to his inability to withstand American capitalism and the allure of cheap, bulk goods. Tim is never going to let him live it down. Jason Todd, charismatic in his arrogance and drama, the man who stands on simple principles while angsting so loudly no one escapes the echo of it, has a Costco card and it's probably right next to one of the sticky notes in his wallet with the name of the next degenerate soon to meet the business end of Jason's gun.

[spidercookie18]

I've had this idea in my head that Paul uses M&M tubes to keep his joints in! They're perfect, they start out having candy AND they're air tight! If you can make anything out of that for the love of all that lives, you gotta.

Summary: Paul is a fiend, and makes it grandpa Emerson's problem Word Count: 2.5k

Great ask! I love this one a lot, you’re gonna get a crack response, but it’s a good response. Cause I’m smoking a crack pipe full of these fruity little bitches!

So, I’ve been toying with the idea of the boys going to COSTCO; hear me out. Any TLB AU where everyone survives, means Lucy will take the boys in; no if’s and’s or buts about it. She is the best 80’s mom ever, she’s for sure adopting them. Which makes the whole David x Michael thing weird bc they would be…stepbrothers? Whatever, vampire relationships are complicated. She would also have to be feeding like 10 people. Hold on, lets actually count. It’s the boys, that’s 4 + Lucy, Sam, Michael, Grandpa E, another 4, then Star, and Laddie, which is 2 AND maybe Max, and the Frog brothers… depending on how that goes. Anyways, that’s still at LEAST 10 mouths to feed.

So, Lucy, being the mom that she is, would get a COSTCO membership to get all the things that her new, big family would need. Now, you’re probably wondering, “Ari, where the fuck are you going with this?”

WELL

Lucy would get a COSTCO card so she could get these rambunctious fuckers what they need. Max would foot the bill, and everyone would be ‘happy’ about it and shut up forever.  (FYI, Costco in the 90’s looked more like a Home Depot, which I hate).

Lucy notices, IMMEDIATELY that her new sons have some interesting snack choices to say the least.

David is waaay too into eggs, to the point where she doesn’t know if he’s even eating them, or if he’s just hiding them somewhere. Marko goes through wheels of cheese like they’re apples. Dwayne likes… pickled fish and marshmallows. And Paul… well, she’s concerned for all of them, but she’s most concerned for Paul.

He’s quickly becoming her favorite. He always helps with chores, even if he doesn’t want to.  He changes light bulbs for her, even catches and releases the bugs that get in the house for her. Sure, he’s screaming and yelling the whole time it takes him to get the damn bug outside, but it’s the thought that counts. He's a mama’s boy through and through.

Lucy started worrying for him though, the second she noticed he would go through candy so quickly.  And not just go through candy, he would go through the damn candy. Paul could eat a whole box of candy, within a few minutes. When she got trick or treat candy for one Halloween, Paul went through several hundreds of dollars’ worth of candy within a few hours. Specifically, she noticed, he would tear through the mini m&m tubes like nobodys business.

Which, if you asked Paul, he’d say it really was, “nobody’s business.”

She would buy the giant COSTCO boxes that had 24 tubes and he would just walk off with the whole box. After he’d done that three or four times, she brought it up to David.

Lucy: I’m worried that Paul is… going to make himself sick.

David: *Leaning against the kitchen counter* We’ve been worrying about that for a lot longer than you have, he’s just like that.

Lucy: No, I mean, he keeps stealing these… little… *gestures with her hands* tubes of candy and I don’t know what he’s doing with them.

David: Oh, *rubs his chin* well that would be concerning… if it wasn’t Paul.

Lucy: Can you just make sure he’s not eating all that candy, can you boys process sugar fine like that?

David: *shrugs*

Michael: *walks into the kitchen, and grabs something from the fridge*

Lucy: OH, oh, Michael, *waving her hands* tell David about the thing.

Michael: *closes the fridge* Oh, no, not this again. *To David* Is she bothering you with this? *To Lucy, pointing with the soda bottle* Are you bothering him with this?

David: *snorts* This is a real hot button issue, eh?

Lucy: I’m worried about him, is no one else worried about him?

Michael: He’s a weird guy, mom. He’s just like that.

Lucy: But-

Michael: Mom if it’s that big of a deal why don’t you ask him about it?

Lucy: I TRY. But every time I try to ask him about it, he bolts. And, *pointing at Michael and David* with all that damn candy, I might add.

David: *laughing* Yeaah, that sounds like Paul.

Michael: Don’t encourage her.

Lucy: *glares at Michael*

David: Listen Ms. E, I wouldn’t worry about it making him sick. But if it means that much to ya, I’ll talk to him about it.

Lucy: Thank you, David, *pats his back*

David: *already halfway out the room* okay byeeeeeeeeee

What lucy didn’t know, was while, yes, Paul was a fiend for sugar, he was hoarding the m&m tubes for a much more nefarious reason.

Paul was like a pack rat. Step one foot into the cave, and you’d think it was just a mangled mess of shit. But, if you looked closely, you’d notice all the little things hidden away.

Paul had been, for the last several months, eating, emptying, and refilling the plastic, airtight containers with grandpa E’s marijuana. He had been sneakily snatching the sticky green buds in the middle of the night and stashing them away for safe smoking.

Albeit, not as sneaky as he thought. Cause, on more than one occasion, grandpa E had been waiting outside in the garden with the spray hose for Paul. Whenever Paul would slosh into the cave the boys knew he got hosed again, and they’d laugh at his ass.

But, Paul, the ever persistent, learned grandpa E’s habits, and how to better sneak the weed away undetected. He’d crawl on his belly across the roof of the house with a bag slung across his shoulder (think army style, when they make them crawl through the mud; that’s Paul). He would peep his little face over the side of the roof and watch for grandpa in the garden. The first few nights, grandpa E stood outside for a few hours with the hose, waiting for the wild blond.

His persistence paid off, after a few days, grandpa E thought it was safe, and Paul snatched up his goodies. Paul thought he was being sneaky by hovering above the ground and not leaving boot prints; but the next morning, when Lucy, Sam, and Michael were having breakfast and they heard a string of old man cuss words, they knew ‘smokey the bandit’ struck again. Lucy didn’t believe for a second that sweet Paul could steal from her dad, so she chalked it up to her dad smoking too much and being old.

The next night when the boys went to visit for ‘pizza night’ grandpa E railed into Paul. He would not stop ranting and raving about how he was, “going to hog tie his ass,” and, “turn him into the ugliest taxidermyed vampire there ever was.”  Lucy gave the boys some money and sent them to get the pizza to let her dad cool down, but when grandpa E insisted he didn’t want Paul back in the house until he apologized, she told the boys to just go out for pizza.

Marko: Paul, you asshole, just apologize so we can go back.

Paul: If I apologize, then that proves I did it- which I didn’t.

Dwayne: Dude, we all know it was you.

Paul: Hey, he’s getting old, that’s 100% not my problem.

David: You know, if you strip the stalk, that kinda makes it more obvious, dumbass.

Sam: You shoulda heard him this morning,

Michael: Yea, it was pretty bad. I’ve never heard him blow up like that.

David: Really? What happened

Sam: He went crazy! He wouldn’t stop screaming!

Marko: *giggling*

Sam: It’s not funny dude, okay? He said words I’ve never even heard before!

Dwayne: Like what? ‘Dagnabbit?’

David: *snorts*

Michael: *Pulling Paul’s jacket by the sleeve* You know if he catches you, you’re dead.

Paul: I’m already dead, also, I’m so not scared of your ‘pappy’.

Michael: Hey, it was a fair warning.

After that, grandpa E went through with operation: catch that flying asshole. He brewed pots of coffee to stay up all night and traded in his hose for a shotgun. Grandpa E sat outside with a chair and his shotgun across his lap, just waiting for Paul to show.

Paul, the ever persistent, waited over a week for his prize. Lucy watched from the kitchen window, as her dad sat outside and stared at the night sky. Her, and Sam were beginning to worry about his mental state. He’d been forcing himself to stay away for hours, and whenever he did fall asleep, Paul would chuck pebbles at him to see if he’d gone to bed for good. Grandpa E would immediately wake up, startled, and one time he’d rang a shot off into the night. Lucy scolded him, saying what if he’d hit a bird, or one of the boys. And his response was, “good! Those fuckers need to learn to stop stealing my stuff!”

One night, after almost 10 nights, there was an opening.

Paul laid on his back, staring at the night sky, rolling the little grey pebble around between his fingers. He was getting sick of waiting, and if he wasn’t worried about what Lucy thought of him, he would have just gone and taken the whole damn garden already. He stared up at the stars, watching the clouds roll in.

Clouds.

He listened to the water as it began to fall softly onto the roof. The pitter-patter came slowly, then faster, then it came in a downpour.

Grandpa E: LUCY!

Lucy:

Grandpa E: LUUUCYYYY!

Lucy: What dad?

Grandpa E: Lucy! Bring me the umbrella!

Lucy: No Dad!

Grandpa E: WHAT?! But it’s a downpour!

Lucy: If you want the umbrella, you gotta come get it yourself!

*Lucy had had enough of her dad’s shenanigans and was determined to get him to come inside from the cold. She hoped this rainstorm was the wakeup call he needed. *

Grandpa E:

Grandpa E: SAM! MICHAEL!

Lucy: They’re not here dad!

Grandpa E: LUCY, YOU BRING ME THAT DAMN UMBRELLA BEFORE I CATCH MY DEATH OUT HERE!

She was done entertaining the notion that Paul, her sweet, kind, always there to help anyone, Paul, was stealing from her dad. He would have to come inside one way or another.

Grandpa E grumbled as his button-up shirt started to get soaked.

Paul turned to lay on his belly and watched his nemesis shift around, trying to determine what to do next. “Go inside, you old bastard,” Paul mumbled to himself. The rain was coming down hard now, if it wasn’t for his vampire eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see anything through the rain. Paul could stay out in the cold and wet forever if he needed to, but he knew grandpa E had to go inside, “go in,” Paul insisted.

He watched as grandpa E pulled the shotgun off his lap and scampered inside. He could hear him mumble something about an umbrella as he ran through the screen door into the kitchen.

Now was his chance!

Paul quickly flew down to the garden. He planted both feet firmly on the ground, what did it matter if his boot prints were in the ground, grandpa knew he was there, and also the rain would wash them out. Paul’s boots squished under him in the wet, burbly mud, he squatted down and grabbed the plant from the base of the stalk and ripped it out of the ground. The roots of the plant dripping down with mud and rain. He repeated his process a few more times. “Fucking old bastard,” he grumbled, as he pulled another plant up by the roots, “making me come out here in the - *grunts* FUCKING RAIN.”

He grabbed a few stalks, tucked them under the strap of his bag and flew off into the night.

Grandpa E heard the “woo-hoo” as he was reaching for the screen door. He ran outside, looking for the umbrella was a flop, it took him too long to search in the cramped closet, so he gave up and decided to return to his green patch of goodness. He scampered back to the kitchen and saw a hurried mess of hair shifting around in the garden.

Grandpa E: Look! There he is! *Pointing out the window*

Lucy: *Walking to the window* Dad, I don’t see anything?

Grandpa E: What do you mean?! He’s right there!

Lucy: *straining her eyes* Dad, it’s a downpour, I can’t see anything.

Grandpa E: *running to the screen door* I got your ass now!

But, as we all know, by the time he got out there, it was too late. Grandpa E, stared at the ground in defeat. He watched as the holes where the stalks used to be burbled and filled with mud and water. The boot prints were fading before his eyes. He knew no one would ever believe him now, and he knew Paul knew that too.

If he didn’t hate him so much by this point, he’d might have applauded him. But for now, he just fell to his knees, the mud sloshing under his pajama pants, and he wailed into the night.

Paul laughed the whole way back to the cave.

When he finally landed, he happily stomped down into the cave. He leaves of the stalks rustling, mud dripping off the stalks and the roots.

His boots squelched under his weight and the mud tracked in behind him.

The other boys and Michael watched as the cocky, rain washed out blond walked into the cave.

Marko: No fucking way.

Dwayne: Oh, Paul you didn’t

David: Atta boy!

Michael: Oooooh, I’m not here.

Paul hummed happily to himself; he ignored his brothers’ jeers as he walked to his alcove. He slung the bag off around his head set the stalks down next to his bean bag chair. He sat down on the tattered, ratty thing with an oomph. He looked at the stalks, he’d clean em and prep em for use later. Paul intended to pluck the seeds out and plant them near the cave, entirely done with being ‘smokey the bandit’.

He shifted to one side and reached a hand under the bag. He rifled around under the chair for a second before he produced what he was reaching for, an m&m tube. He patted his jacket for a lighter and popped open the blue plastic container. He wafted the open container under his nose and turned the tube upside down. A joint slid out into his open palm.

Paul plucked the twisted white paper and set it in his mouth. He flicked the lighter on and lit the end. He took a deep inhale and laid back further in his bean bag chair, still ignoring his brothers half-assed remarks.  

Victory never tasted so sweet.

[nuthin-up-my-sleeve]

Jen went to Costco for gas today after having a tooth fixed. It was lunchtime and insane busy. She was next in line with several cars waiting behind her. From the line at another pump set comes some impatient old cotton top boomer in his brand new Forester, cuts Jen off as she was pulling around to the next pump. So she fucking lost her shit. She got out and asked what entitles you to go around everyone that’s been waiting. He told her to shut up and wait her turn. Not the right thing to do dude. She cussed his old dusty geriatric ass and told him Karma is an ugly bitch and she’s coming to visit his sorry entitled ass. He said “so are you so mind your own business and fuck off”! He dragged the gas hose across his car and scratched the fuck out of his car. Then his fucking card was declined because his membership had expired so he had to go inside to renew it without getting gas. Jen said he lost his shit and had an old man temper tantrum. Jen said she looked behind her and all these people were laughing at him and were yelling for him to hurry up and move. Jen said a girl said “that purple haired crazy woman just told that old fuckhead what’s what huh”? Everyone clapped. The old bastard floored it from the pump and almost hit a car leaving.

And people say “how has she put up with his shit all these years”? 😏

[fantasticsandwich]

Assorted snippets from Pi.G.Mo

I feel bad for not posting in a while, so have some short stories! These take place in the same universe as Stockholm in Oslo, so again, some context is missing, but Darcy's is the "good ending," while Milan's is the apocalyptic/worst possible outcome.

tw: dub-con/coercion (in Milan’s), NOT CILLIAN content bcuz dude is in purgatory rn 😞

DARCY

Most of his classes are either online or at night and you're still juggling freelance gigs, so time isn't the reason you haven't met up in over a month. Ever since your favorite cafe closed down, you and Darcy have been struggling to find a new point of rendezvous. Houses are too personal. Parks and bookstores are too date-y. The mall is not an option because neither of you can choose stores you both want to visit, but you desperately need to torture yourself with his presence.

        After days of back-forth, Darcy concedes to your foolish offer. He decides that for now, the local Costco will suffice as host to the newly anointed Cost-Brunch. It goes without saying that neither of you have memberships, so you borrow a card from someone at the co-working you frequently. You arrive an hour early to get some shopping done. Wholesale prices are incomparable, so you stock up on toilet paper. Most snacks aren't to your liking, but you enjoy cycling through the sampling booths, indulging in just enough scraps to ensure that you won't pig out on Darcy's dime.

        Living alone has it perks. You can finally stock the fridge as you please, walk instead of traipse, and spend however long you need in the bathroom without being rushed. The one unexpected pitfall no amount of advice and sermons could've prepared you for was how you'd have to spend every day of the rest of your life deciding what to eat. Fortunately, you're fond of meal planning and dedicate Mondays to preparing your meals and completing other chores. Sometimes, you invite Darcy on these excursions. The anonymity of living in such a large town is enticing but despise how much you rely on his company. Meeting once a week for over a year now has caused the chemicals in your brain to broil and bubble over, sending your emotions askew.

        You must be a masochist, because you love nothing more than torturing yourself with his presence. Is it right to feel such a longing for a mere friend? Are you even more than acquaintances? Suffering through similar hellscapes doesn't make for a strong foundation, but when you're drowning at sea, you can't help but cling to the first piece of driftwood that floats by. Desperation makes every coincidence a miracle, every act of kindness a declaration of his undying devotion.

        Platonically, of course, because friends spend their weekends grocery shopping and reorganizing each other's pantries. What's friendship if you can't do that for each other?

        Sighing, you pile items from your list into the cart, shuffling along. On occasion, you struggle to wrangle an oversized box from the shelf. Buying in bulk isn't ideal nor optimal for your limited, but in the long run, it's more cost-efficient. You'll fork over a large sum now instead of having several micro-transactions.

        "Y/N?"

        In all your pyjama-clad glory, you turn around and discover Darcy, poised in business casual, curly coils askew beneath the Texan heat.

        Before you can mutter a response, he's approaching, taking the hefty load from your arms. Straining, he crouches down and slides the case onto the bottom rung of the cart. When he stands, you find yourself stuck between him and a looming shelf. Standing this close, you see beads of sweat dot his forehead, glistening. His long eyelashes reflect the fluorescent lights.

        "Oh, hey," you casually say, diving to the side to avoid his gaze. You drape yourself across the basket, but in your carelessness, the cart creeps forward, causing you to eventually smack your chin against the handle. Recoiling in pain, you shield your chin and stare straight ahead. With your gaze finally directed at him, you notice something peculiar. "How the fuck did you find a handbasket? What do you even shop for with something that small?"

        Lifting his arm, the basket slips from his grasp, nestling into the crook of his elbow. "I don't strive to live in gross excess."

        You give him your signature frown as you inspect his meager supply. A pack of chips, cotton swabs, and a comically large soap dispenser. "We're in Costco, buddy. There's no need to limit yourself."

        "Right," he says, somewhat dubiously.

        An unwanted lull cleaves the conversation. You hadn't intended to meet with him just yet, but now that you're here, you might as well prolong the day. Darcy agrees when you propose finishing your shopping together. Or rather, you relent your cart to him, allowing him to push it along while you snatch items from the shelves. When you approach the checkout counter, he separates his shopping from yours. Instead of queueing with you, he waves and waddles into the line running parallel to yours.

        Standing side-by-side, you stare at each other. An unamused worker passes between you two, pallets shuttling along.

        "Wanna get hotdogs now?" you ask in unison.

        You roll your eyes. He smiles. Mentally, you wonder how much that careless response of his would cost in gold.

        Shuffling to the food court, you shoe your way into line while Darcy plops his pathetic harvest into your cart and parks it at a table. He rejoins you, and you both pretend to ponder the limited choices before ultimately ordering two hotdog-and-drink combos. Side-eyeing him, you decide to tack on two strawberry parfaits. He moves to retrieve his card, but you grab his wrist to stop him. Perplexed, he tilts his head. You dismiss him with a huff and reach into your bag. You're so happy to see him. Anyone who makes you happy shouldn't have to pay in anything but time, which you will gladly take.

        "Nah, let me. I'm the one who wanted to come here, anyway."

        "Thank you," he says. Then, he adds with a strange, practiced cadence, "Very polite. Very considerate."

        "Shut up."

        You stop his nonsensical jabbering before it can ruin your mood. Grabbing the trays, you feign contempt and stomp away. Easily acquiescing, he grabs your elbow, allowing himself to be guided by you. With Darcy to protect, you effortlessly glide between oversized carts and distracted patrons, reaching your table at the end of the row. Darcy doesn't release you until you hand the plates over. Retrieving napkins and utensils, he sets the table as if it's fine dining, and not the Costco-feteria.

        "What a gentleman," you say, scoffing as he pulls out an imaginary chair.

        "For all I've done, it's the least I can do."

        It's a simple enough statement—perplexing, if you're considering his typical concise communication—but it warrants an eyebrow raise. For all he's done? Darcy has done more favors for you than you could ever dream of returning. That time he spotted you cash for rent when you were running short, the times he brought you food to fuel you out of a depressive spell, the countless more occurrences when he picked you up roadside when your car broke down, and all the times he was too social and friendly and nice to stay at your side and left you alone at that party when she was looking for you when the world kept spinning and spinning and—

        Upon second thought, maybe it isn't what he's done for you, but what he hasn't.

        But with how much effort you've put into forgetting, you'd rather not drown in the past.

        "Y/N?"

        His voice summons you back to the present, where you're strangling your hotdog. Ketchup oozes between your fingers like viscera. Grabbing a handful of napkins, you wipe it from your skin, but that icky, sticky feeling remains.

        "Yeah, all good. Just in awe of how I'm big balling, shopping and getting us both food," you plainly say, earning another laugh. Your heart melts. You love how he's all smiles and shrugs with you, like nothing bad exists in the world.

        "I don't think that's how that saying goes."

        Shrugging, you return to munching away, but that odd feeling won't go away. Something about sitting there, messy and paranoid, reminds you of college. You'd sit in the studio, wondering what to paint, if anything would be good enough to earn that extra few thousand in funding, if anyone would ever find your art worthy of viewing. But those sentiments hadn't lasted long: uninspired, you painted Darcy, and everyone has always loved harmless Darcy, so he helped you for the umpteenth time and helped you earn that scholarship with his looks alone.

        "Hey, n/n," says Darcy, leaning closer, covering his mouth as he speaks. You flinch away, smelling the grossly aromatic hot dog on his breath. "Do you know that guy? He keeps staring at you."

        A pang of dread strikes you when you see a gleam of that tight-lipped expression, hear the lingering vestiges of Her in his dry tone. You thought he was different, but he was also Hers at some point. It's no wonder that he might have one of her habits. Another person is giving you attention, and instead of ignoring it, you're betraying him by entertaining the notion. Then, with a jolt, you remind yourself that Darcy has no right to feel that way. He wouldn't. He can't. His mind is different from hers. He is only a friend and does not desire to be more.

        "I don't," you say with a shrug, though your hands tremble on your lap beneath the table. Like gears being cranked, you force your head to swivel. Discretion is for socially awkward people, so you stare at the figure despite Darcy's protest. A man in a black hoodie sits hunched over a slice of pizza, picking off the olives. You don't recognize his face, but unmistakable acrylic streaks paint his hands. Faintly, you recall a brush between those slender appendages, that mole on the junction between his index and middle fingers. "But now that I'm looking at him, he looks kinda familiar. I think we might've gone to the same high school. Some of college, too, maybe. I might've had the same time scheduled in the studio with him or something. What was his name? Something that starts with an M."

        "Oh! Then, Minhee, maybe? I think I saw that name, 'Toh,' on the lapel of his jacked, but I didn't really hang with anyone from any of the sport teams." Dragging Darcy into your shameless habit, you both offer the man a sidelong glance. Maybe-Minhee recoils, drawing his hoodie up to conceal his face. For a moment, when he turns away, you imagine yourself in his position, sitting alone amongst the crowds, pretending to be indifferent to your own loneliness.

        Indignant, you turn away, returning to your parfait. You hate people who remind you of those days. Spearing a strawberry, you watch its blood seep into the white. You give it a whirl, rubbing the carcass along the cup's transparent mouth, scraping off any excess yogurt before popping the fruit into your mouth. The ice melts on your tongue, then you devour the ripe berry.

        "Yeah, me neither. They were all sorta weird."

        Darcy releases a small laugh and slips his hand slips into yours. With a fond smile stretching his cheeks, he runs his thumb across your knuckles. You shiver at the contact but nevertheless drag his hand up to graze your lips. His skin is too sun-kissed to blush deeply, but you see how his head dips, causing his hair to sweep down and obscure his face.

        "Seriously, tell me about it. With how everyone else from our graduating class turned out, I think we're the only sane people who managed to escape that insane asylum."

        Most of your small class has taken meandering paths. While everyone's journey follows a different route, it's sad to see people who still cling to bygone moments as if Julimes High celebrated homecoming yesterday. You wouldn't be here if you placed any value in that time, and you don't see how anyone can claim otherwise. Work might dictate your schedule, and you might live in fear of not receiving enough commissions to pay your bills, but you couldn't be gladder that school and the perpetual half-life surrounding it is over. Living for yourself, on your own terms, is all that matters.

        You shiver. Darcy shrugs off his coat and offers it to you. You quickly zip it up and tug the zipper over your nose, hiding your flustered expression. He smells nice, like vanilla and sandalwood. Clearing your throat, you set your mind back on track. "Dude, don't even mention it. That hellhole shut down for a reason."

        Darcy laughs, displaying rows of pearly whites. His eyes twinkle into endearing crescents. Warmth blossoms in your chest. You love this feeling, the casualness, how he never asks for anything more. It's freeing, in a way. You don't know what you are. Friends found in fate, acquaintances bound by circumstance. Maybe something more, but you're too scared to ask and sever these fine threads. For now, he is happy with you, and simply knowing that is enough.

MILAN

Storms abound in sun-kissed paradise; summers in Belmopan are characterized by tropical monsoons. It isn't everyone's idea travel destination and houses too many decent memories, but your fiancée's wallet is loaded, and your pitiful protests are ashes beneath the flames of her cataclysmic will. For most couples, the honeymoon usually came after the wedding, but there wasn't anything conventional about your union, so you saw no reason to protest when Milan had the gall to propose the idea of embarking on one prior to the wedding before accepting the offer on your behalf again.

        The trip was arduous; a procession of suitcases jammed into the car, bidding a tearful goodbye to the Rosettis outside the airport, your own parents nowhere in sight. They didn't have a role to play in any of this. They didn't accept the relationship like Milan's did, so it was better if they had nothing to do with it. Somewhat hesitant, you had agreed: you recall how Milan out of your mother's house to a chorus of sorrowful shouts and shattering glass.

        What did you do to my daughter? You bastard! You should rot in hell alone! You've already caused us enough grief.

        What did she do? What hadn't she done? Even if you're grateful that someone could still love you, you have the sneaking suspicion that if you got a chance to travel back and change it all, you would ensure things wouldn't end up like this. In retrospect, you could see all of your mistakes laid out like dominoes. If only you hadn't offered to let the new girl borrow your fancy markers. If only you hadn't gone to that sleepover in eighth grade. If only you hadn't let her have her way.

        Exiting the taxi, you squint up at the sky. You let Milan pay the fare while you move to silently unload your suitcases from the backseat and trunk. Milan snatches up the carry-alongs. You stare longing at the pocket she's tucked your passports and wallets into. She's relying on you to protect her if someone tries mugging her, but if that fear is ever realized, then you'll find yourselves bleeding out in a gutter somewhere.

        You pile the suitcases onto each other, every finger extending to tug one along. When Milan seizes your face and presses a kiss to your lips, you think of how dead a gutter isn't the worst position you might find yourself in on this trip. You try shaking her off, but she steals your breath until content. You pull away, huffing for air. You're not an affectionate person by nature, but it's always been difficult to reject Milan's advances. Her head, resting on yours during the plane ride. Her hand, clamped around yours, all the way from the airport to your five-star, all-inclusive resort.

        Too dangerous, you say. Milan says she's willing to take the risk, but you are not. When she gets like this, you sigh and suggest leaving the public eye. Still refusing to catch a hint, she intertwines her fingers with yours. Somehow, the judgmental glares of a crowd are less pressing than her singular attention.

        The cool air conditioner hits you as you enter the lobby. The place is decorated with leather furnishing and sleek, reflective columns. You see your reflection on one and tug the hem of your dress down. As you wait for the receptionist, Milan moves to stand behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist. Her fingers run over your stomach. She remains like that even when the concierge calls you up.

        "Reservation for the Rosettis."

        The man hands her a key to a penthouse suite. You want to be surprised, but at this point, nothing she does is novel. The perks of having rich parents, you suppose. At least now, you'll live a mostly carefree life. So long as you comply, the world is hers to parcel out to you.

        Although you met long before, your life with Milan officially began during the final year of college. Right when everything began falling apart, when everyone rejected you and scorned your devotion to your craft, she took you back and pieced you together again. She helped you move out of that toxic household. She opened your eyes to how the world wronged you, and how with her, everything could be alright.

        And she was right. So long as you behave, life with her can be calm. Mostly peaceful, because no matter where you go, you'll never be able to shake the stares. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy an elderly couple, white-haired and donning matching Hawaiian shirts. They stare at Milan's hand around yours. Milan, noticing the way your grip tightens, halts to size them up. You wouldn't put her above being willing to punch anyone.

        Just when you're preparing your heart for the barrage, the old lady's words cause your shoulders to slump. Still, you do not experience relief.

        "You two are adorable," says the lady, face wrinkling as she offers a smile.

        "Thanks." Milan squeals. Nearly forcing your arm out of its socket, she lifts your conjoined hands, proudly displaying the sleek bands. "We're on our earlymoon. The wedding is this upcoming spring."

        "I love this generation, doing as they please."

        "Milan likes trends," you say, using your voice for the first time in a while. "I think her vision is really something else."

        The old man shares a knowing nod with you. Still, he speaks to Milan. "Your wife there doesn't look too happy."

        "Leave the poor girl alone." The old lady jabs him in the side. "The trip over must've been rough."

        Squeezing your hand, Milan plopped her head onto your shoulder. She breathed a shaky sigh against your skin. "I hope we get to grow old together like y'all."

        The couple offers her a final fond smile before she's tugging you along, eager to reach your room. You drag the suitcases along, hearing the wheels turn, then bumble over the lip of the elevator. The ascent is silent. Milan hums along to the bossa nova tunes. You used to like jazz, but Milan doesn't, so you don't listen to it anymore. She's the trust-fund in the relationship, thereby, the breadwinner, and as long as your bills are paid and she only demands your undivided attention once a week, you'll bend to her will.

        Your floor is sparsely populated and has a high ceiling. The halls are large and illuminated by chandeliers. Your room is the third in line. Milan takes the key and taps it against the handle. With a melodic beep, the door pops open. She presses against it with her hip, jamming her foot against the door to hold it open as you ferry the suitcases inside. Expelling the dastardly things from your hold, you flop onto the bed, feeling gooseflesh arise on your exposed skin. The sheets are cool beneath you. You move to tug your dress back down, but Milan intervenes.

        "Stay like that," she says, slapping your hands away. Her hand lingers on your knee. She delivers two resolute pats, then arises, moving to retrieve something from her bag.  "I want a picture."

        Flushing with shame, you turn to hide your face. She doesn't care, not when you're spread out so deliciously.

        The shutter clicks. Pulling away, she scrutinizes your form and frowns. Your heart staggers. Wrinkles aren't good. Milan would rather die than shrivel and prune. She must always look like the timeless portraits adorning the walls of your shared apartment, not a day older nor younger, so she cannot frown. You must fix the world and all its problem for her. You must keep it turning, maintain its precarious balance between the extreme poles on its axis. You must make her smile.

        "What's wrong?" you tentatively ask.

        "Why are you posed so awkwardly? And frowning, too. You're happy to be here with me, aren't you?" Arms crossed over her chest, Milan prattles on with conspiracies. You're only with her for the money. You never loved her. Maybe she's finally catching on, yet too stupid to realize. "Don't tell me you regret getting engaged. I'll make you pay me back for the vacation and ring if you're thinking about breaking up with me now."

        Mangling your tongue to ribbons, you whimper and look to the sky, beseeching an unyielding god. The sun is still too bright. Your bones will melt into microscopic sand particles before you'll manage a smile. You don't want to. You'd rather die.

        But for her? For her, you will become anything and everything because you must. She convinced you to stay. She showed you how she'd live without you, or rather, how she wouldn't. So won't you push it all aside—every blight and blemish—and smile only for her? It makes her feel alive.

        After a lifetime of obeying her whims, it isn't as if you can decide otherwise. Tomorrow is already promised to infinity. For her, your teeth pull back in a grimace. Like a corpse strung up by a cruel puppeteer, your arms jerk upwards. The camera flashes, and your pantomime is sealed into pixelated eternity. Your smile, that soulless, grotesque glean, will belong to her forevermore.

        "God," she groans, a light blush painting her cheeks. "You look so cute whenever you get like this. Wanna devour you so badly."

        She doesn't waste a moment. Setting her phone aside, Milan saunter over, stopping at your side. Leaning over, she slaps a hand around the back of your neck and smashes her lips against yours. Groaning at the sudden contact, your mouth parts. She takes the chance to shove her tongue down your throat. Head dropping, she plants kisses down the smooth expanse of your neck, occasionally halting to pinch the skin between her teeth. When she desires to taste more of you, you feel her lift the hem of your dress. You sit there, head thrown back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as she prepares to take what's hers.

        It wasn't always like this. It wasn't meant to end like this, either, but at some point, you realized it had to. You had to become Milan's. You had to stay at her side because you couldn't stand otherwise. She knew you, heart, soul, body. No one else could touch you like she had. You'd never loan anyone else the sympathy, the unconditional love.

        Being sad in paradise is a travesty. You try to think of anything that makes it worthwhile. You can't feel bad forever. Maybe someday, you'll learn to reciprocate, and it'll all start to feel good.

        For now, if you throw your head back and close your eyes, pretending to enjoy it, maybe you'll convince yourself that this is right, that this—her nails digging into your thighs, prying them open as her mouth and fingers and tongue conduct their sinful ministrations—is what you've always wanted. If you enjoy it now, it won't hurt as much later. Maybe someday, if she tries hard enough, you'll be convinced to love her the way she loves you.

        Sun abounds in fire-razed lands. You await the storm to quench the burn. You await ashen, volcanic saliva to muddle the water, to taint it. Do you want this as your life? Her, as your wife? The ring clamped around your finger says you do, for now and infinity.

[h3llblazer]

Hey. I'm a fella with daddy issues and a Costco business membership card so I can buy alcohol and cigarettes in bulk.

Just saying

Yes.

[fauxspirited]

honestly i’m just venting so feel free to ~ignore and keep scrolling~

i feel like everything i’ve texted to my brother lately has him on defensive mode, or he’s more irritable and on attack mode all the time.

like a month or so ago, he called me during work hours to say my sister in law is at costco and i need to go on the account and switch over my membership to her so she can pay. first off, i don’t know if this is even a thing and second, i was working. and he immediately jumped to the conclusion that i was unwilling to help and started saying he’s going to take his credit card off the costco membership and im on my own so that this never happens again.

and that obviously pissed me off.

then a few weeks later, i got an email saying someone from 3 towns over logged into my disney+. my brother is only in the next town over so i texted him and asked if he signed into disney+ bc i got this notification. instead of just saying yes, he says he did but that it’s his son’s bedtime anyway so i can have it back (??!?). i’m like, i am not even using it, im literally just asking you so i know i didn’t get fucking hacked.

today was a smol one but it pissed me off too cus this has just been accumulating. but he texted me asking when we (bf&i) were free to hang (this is a whole other story tho cus he’s been saying some SHIT about my man without any reason). his wifey had just posted in a group chat stating that they have a busy weekend or two; so maybe it was my fault for not being clearer but i said “seems like August is busy for the both of us! but let’s see. you and SIL are free during the week generally?”

to which he responds “okie dokie. holler when ur free i guess”

like …. i can guess that he thought i only referred to my man and i when i said “both of us” but then he just ignored my question lol. like why do i bother.

[painful-pooch]

🐈🤡 for Bruno!

- Ruth

🐈 - If your OC was an animal what animal would that be? (If already animalistic, what kinda human would they be?)

Bruno chuckles at the question and runs his hand through his, hair, grinning. "So honestly, I think I'd be a dog. Probably some German Shepherd. I think Oscar mentioned to me some like comic called Pixie and Brutus? Apparently I'm the embodiment of Brutus. Some war dog that's finally retired... wait." He sits up and turns his head to look at a blushing Oscar. "Did you just call me *old*???"

🤡 - What is someone most likely to steal of your OC's person dead or alive?

"Definitely not his puns. Dear fuck, not the puns," Miranda groans, glaring at Bruno, who's already reading a funny joke on Facebook (yes, he uses it unironically.... he used to have a MySpace.)

"Nah, they can't steal my charming jokes. Look, if they were gonna steal anything from me, it's my Costco membership card."

"Oh no, here he goes again with this..."

"I will have you know my Costco membership is what keeps food on the table, paper towels in the kitchen, toilet paper in the bathroom, and keeps the team SUV filled with gasoline," Bruno lists off, pointing at the camera. "Look, if you want a Costco membership, go get one. It's worth every penny. The amount of food Lukas eats in a day is terrifying."

Miranda laughs and rolls her eyes. "Sure, blame the pilot boy for the fact you buy crates of Nutella-"

"THAT IS A NECESSARY BUSINESS EXPENSE SHUT UP RIGHT NOW."

[28dayslater]

Company owner came into the office today and in the space of about five minutes he told us all the joke “why is a 9 volt battery like a woman’s bum hole? Sooner or later your curiosity gets the better of you and you give it a lick”, helpfully let me know that I shouldn’t drink smartwater (I’m not trying to be smart I just like the shape of the bottle) bc he once saw a YouTube video where they said it had loads of chemicals in it, and capped it all off with a story about how when he was getting his costco membership card photo taken in the middle of the busy shop his wife (also works here) pulled his trousers down and his pants came down with them

[knottahooker]

An incomplete list of cards I have been handed that aren't library cards:

Credit card

License

Costco Membership

Credit card

Sam's Membership

Insurance

Credit card

Points card for [insert business here]

Blood Donor card for the Red Cross

Credit card

Library in a different state's card

Library in a different country's card

Credit card

A wad of keys, keyrings, and keychains that weighed seriously like five pounds with an "it's in there somewhere"

I went to the library to borrow some DVDs we're planning to watch, but when I handed the librarian my card, it took me a solid 15 seconds to register that I handed her my fucking weed card.

Me, fumbling to swap it out: "OH MY GOD, I AM SO SORRY, I was on total autopilot!!"

The librarian: "It's all good, I just assumed it was a flex."

[magic-content-writer]

how businesses can implement a successful brand loyalty strategy in different ways

Starbucks and Costco are examples of how businesses can implement a successful brand loyalty strategy in different ways. Starbucks focuses on emotional loyalty while Costco employs a more transactional form of brand loyalty demonstrating that true success in retaining customers comes from relationship building.

Costco’s model is based around the effective use of its membership strategy. People who wish to buy at the store are required to pay a certain amount to gain access to its premises, however it promises to sell a low price for certain exclusive products. This type of mechanism increases the value of the membership and in return ensures that they will make more visits to the store. These models are evident in the data shared in the Barilliance article on customer loyalty programs describing how Costco makes use of transactional loyalty tactics such as cheap gas promotions, exclusive private label goods and sale events that increase the probability of their customers returning to their stores. This way Costco ensures that their members are constantly reminded through every interaction that turning to Costco stores means that value for money will be maximized. But that isn't the only strategy used by Costco, the use of branded credit cards with cash back reinforces brand loyalty as Costco restricts its members to orbit its ecosystem and spend more within it.

Starbucks on the other hand, centers on establishing a more profound emotional connection with its clients. The company’s multichannel approach as described in this piece from Barilliance, combines many consumer interaction points including a mobile app and being in the store. This system makes it easy for consumers to sign up and begin using their loyalty program. Through product diversification in the form of Pokémon Go, Starbucks encourages repeat visits by introducing customers to limited time and seasonal products such as the Pumpkin Spice Latte. They also do this using their loyalty rewards program, developed by using campaigns such as “Starbucks for Life” that help customers to spend more time in stores making qualified purchases on more occasions. This makes consumers feel important and that they have a relationship not only with the Starbucks products but with the Starbucks brand.

Considered an effective approach by both the brands, they proceed to elaborate on how exactly data is utilized to improve the strategies of the business. Looking at the case studies presented before us by Punchh and Barilliance, there is a proper argument that can be made showcasing that loyalty programs and their associated perks increase customer engagement as well as lifetime value. Rational shopper would be encouraged to shop at Costco due to the egalitarian's prices while experiences and new ideas would make shoppers feel close to Starbucks. These examples, working together, proved that a wide variety of strategies focused on garnering both emotional & transactional customer loyalty can not only entice customers but also hook them in to remain engaged with the business.

The global augmenting customer is highly incentivized through the case studies which makes it indispensable as a brand to cultivate customer loyalty using the multifaceted and customer oriented strategies on American consumers. The brands construct an incredibly strong bonds with their audiences engaging them through monetary rewards and offering them fun and exciting experiences or simply a mix of both.

[eyashadow]

If you’ve opened TikTok, Instagram, or X (formerly Twitter) even once this year, you probably know what a Costco Guy is. If you too want to go shopping while eating a chicken bake or try the new double-chunk chocolate cookie, then you’ll need yourself a Costco membership. A Costco membership will allow you to shop at over 600 locations within the United States as well as over 800 locations worldwide. You’ll be able to use your card at Costco’s business centers, travel, gas stations, hearing aid centers, optical, pharmacies and, of course, Costco’s website. Lucky for you, it’s only $65 for the year and right now, you’ll be granted a $45 digital shop card with your purchase. See at StackSocial Discover Incredible Savings The real magic however happens right at the warehouses where you can find anything your heart desires. Laundry detergent? Got it. Rotisserie chicken? Oh yeah. 80″ 4K OLED television? You bet. Seven-person hot tub? Yup. And then you can treat yourself after a long day of shopping to a hot dog for one dollar — a price point to which the founder of Costco told a CEO who wanted to raise it, “If you raise the effing hot dog, I will kill you.” The membership can be shared among anyone in your household. Kid just got their license and wants to drive? Cool! Put them to work doing errands. Perhaps you can entice them with the free samples. As someone who moved away from home years ago, I finally bit the bullet and got myself my own Costco membership. I honestly don’t know how I was living without one. Stocking up on snacks in bulk is really the only way you should be buying snacks. Bulk also makes it way harder to eat the entire box of Goldfish in one sitting which, yes, is something I was dealing with. Upon signing up, the $45 Costco card will be sent directly via email from Costco within two weeks after successfully redeeming. The digital credit is not just one-time use, so you don’t have to spend the $45 at once. Good luck with that though. Not because Costco items are expensive, but because there’s so much good stuff you’ll have trouble staying in the double digits each time you go. Note that this offer is only available to customers in the United States and Puerto Rico and can is only valid for new members or for members whose memberships have been expired for more than 18 months. See at StackSocial https://gizmodo.com/app/uploads/2024/12/CosctoHoliday.jpg 2024-12-14 03:59:58

[newshare24]

Cyber Week Savings: Get This Costco 1-Year Gold Star Membership and a Digital Costco Shop Card for $65

Disclosure: Our goal is to feature products and services that we think you’ll find interesting and useful. If you purchase them, Entrepreneur may get a small share of the revenue from the sale from our commerce partners. If you’re busy operating a business or establishing a side hustle, shopping for groceries and managing household needs with trips across town can be challenging. Fortunately,…

[ardhra2000]

CostCo Business Model: Strategic Insights

The primary component of Costco's business model is the membership-based shopping experience. It simply means that to shop at a Costco store; one needs to be a member; else, they shall have to purchase Costco cash cards to shop and get prices that Costco offers.  Each member can also get a complimentary membership card issue for a family member. 

Another important strategy that Costco's business model works upon is giving more discounts and better selling rates on products than its competitors. This is possible due to two reasons. First, Costco sources products directly from the manufacturers, getting rid of the middlemen in the process. 

E-commerce is an essential sales channel for any retail seller nowadays. It has become an integral part of Costco's business model. 

In recent years Costco has entered the e-commerce business and has been consistently performing well in this segment. Costco offers its customers delivery and an option to order online if a product is not available in the store.   

Costco's business model works on various levels and utilizes various channels to engage customers and churn out those huge revenues year after year. Costco's business model leaves almost no room for any loopholes. Costco's willingness to go the extra mile to deliver the lowest prices to the consumer is commendable on the management's part.