Never Grow Up! Never Surrender!

You know that temporary amnesia after surgery prompt that’s been going around? I wish fandom would get more creative with it. I mean, hospitals are so limiting.

What if they were in the middle of a fight instead, running away from a baddie, and Stiles was trying to shake off the aftereffects of a spell or something? So they’re dragging him along, trying to dodge bad guys, and Stiles is, like, completely confused and loopy. He has no idea what’s going on. There’s a badass girl with a katana, Lydia Martin throwing molotov cocktails, a coyote running alongside them, and—and Scott! Who has monster entrails all over his claws - HE HAS CLAWS - and he says the guy half-carrying Stiles is—

“Woah, my husband?!” Stiles yells, taking the man in from head to toe. “Are you sure?”

His husband - HOW! - grunts and rolls his eyes at Stiles and eviscerates a goblin with just one hand.

Stiles is impressed. Disgusted, but impressed.

“You married me?” Stiles asks, forgetting all about the nightmare monsters coming after them. “But your eyelashes are so pretty.”

The guy - his husband - lets out another grunt and picks Stiles up - like, literally HE CAN PICK STILES UP - and places him behind a tree.

“Stay here,” he orders, with a resigned expression on his face that says he knows Stiles will not.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says. “You did. You married me. I married you. I married a fireman superhero pornstar!”

“Sweetheart,” his husband says through gritted teeth - holy shit Stiles is in love - “Stay behind the tree and be quiet.” And then he’s back in the middle of the fight, slaying monsters and roaring and basically being the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen in his life.

And then it’s over. The clearing is bathed in green blood, and the people - his friends? - are picking themselves back up, shrugging off bits and pieces of monster from their clothing, and Stiles has a pair of ridiculously strong arms around him, a nose buried in his hair, a kiss pressed against his temple.

He could get used to this.

Which, Scott apparently doesn’t want him to, because he says, “We need to get out of here,” and Stiles is suddenly being thrown over someone’s shoulder and woah, hello.

“Scott, oh my god. Look at my husband’s ass!”

“I’d really rather not, buddy,” Scott says. The katana girl laughs.

“It’s a work of art!” Stiles gushes. “Belongs in a museum! But no! It’s a Stilinski exclusive!”

“I’m going to drop you on your head,” his husband warns.

“Could help with the amnesia,” Scott chimes in.

“You wouldn’t,” Stiles says smugly. “You loooooove me.”

The hands around his legs tighten. “God knows why,” his husband grumbles.

-

Stiles can’t stop smiling, staring around the room. His room! In his apartment! That he shares with his husband!

“This is so cool,” he slurs. “So cool.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” his husband says, tucking the sheets around him tightly, and then climbing over him to take the other side of the bed.

“You’re really real.” Stiles runs his palm down one stubbly cheek. So handsome.

His husband, the handsome monster slayer who wears soft jammies to bed, catches his hand and kisses his palm. “You’ll be fine in the morning,” he says.

They are an Assistant Professor of Media Industries at New York University and literally just finished writing The Apple II Age: How the Computer Became Personal, a book on the history of the computer industry in the 70s.

i think i found my new favorite artist on twitter

Good question, also no that won’t help.

shitty MS Paint 3 minutes doodle, nto entirely accurate: When you have your pinky hooked on the “bottom” edge of the phone for the extra security so it doesn’t slide out of your hand that easily, you’re wreaking damage on your hand, since the pinky is extremely askew from it’s resting position. You might have noticed that when you hold your phone like that for long time it begins to hurt, like when you are gripping a pen too tightly for example.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

And another time some new hot shot leader says Nightwing is nothing but a pretty boy who doesn't have the skills, bravery or experience to run their team during a mission. So Nightwing tells the Leaguer very calmly to go and voice his concerns to Batman instead since that if the proper way to handle it instead of gossiping about him. So the guy goes to Batman with the most demeaning, derogatory rant about how Nightwing shouldn't be on the League let alone running a mission. And within minutes that guy is scared to even look at Nightwing in case Batman decides he didn't show him the proper respect.

Very much did in the sense that I literally do not know where my job is at the moment. But, for the time being I haven't been let go because nobody else including the store owner knows where it is either.

So, I don't wanna risk doxxing myself by posting pictures but goddamn am I tempted because this is not a believable event. This is a cartoon problem. For looneytoons.

But yeah, so, I work(ed?) at a kiosk selling boba tea, right? Freestanding kiosk in the mall with full water and electrical hookups and multiple fridges and sinks and a mini kitchen and the works. Fully functional tea shop. Very important to note that it was there last night, The work chat was discussing another issue last night at closing time. I'll get back to this.

It's been showing signs of being on the way out with how business is being handled lately and I've been considering other options, which is probably why I'm not as torn up about this as I should be, but maybe it just hasn't set in yet, but that's not the point. The point is there's been a lot of shit breaking and not being replaced and nobody mentioning anything about it until I walk into work in the morning and have to figure out why shit like the fucking cash register isn't there today. So I'm kinda used to having to ask questions about big things that nobody bothered to update me on. I was out for two weeks recovering from a surgery, so I came to work this morning assuming there'd be some kind of bullshit, yeah?

So, the question I had to ask the chat this morning was:

Not a text I ever thought I'd have to send in sincerity, but there it is. Because what I found instead was a fenced off patch of discolored tiles and a few holes in the floor where my entire place of employment used to be.

And the answer? Nobody knows! It was there last night when the mall closed, and every single trace of the structure and all its contents including drink making supplies and our safe and cashbox was gone when it opened again. And when I say nobody knows, I mean everyone from last night's closers to the actual (former?) owner of the store jad no fucking clue about this until getting that text from me this morning. For once I am actually the first to know. 🎉.

So. I guess I didn't so much lose my job as had it stolen. Not by AI, but good old fashioned hands-on human beings picking it up and carrying it away somehow. All mall security would tell me was that they were instructed not to tell me anything and have us contact our management. Who also don't know anything. And later on I came across some construction workers around the gravesite of the kiosk discussing filling in the holes, asked them about it, and was told that they "weren't at liberty to say".

So, not only is my job gone in the most literal physical sense of the word, but it was taken in some kind of super secret kiosk extraction in the dead of night without any warning or witnesses and nobody is allowed to speak of it. The store owner said she was gonna figure it out 10 hours ago and still no word back.

My mother in law thinks the FBI took it.

Not any of the other stores around the state. Just the one little kiosk.

Why? Because she loves a conspiracy and is just a little bit extra.

Also because she was around for the massive crackdown on Yakuza-owned businesses in Waikiki (in her homestate) that did actually involve the FBI seizing stores (no confirmation of making kiosks cleanly disappear in the middle of the night though).

Still no word from my job on what's actually going on, but the most likely theory so far is that maybe the kiosk was on lease and got repossessed? The mystery continues

According to the owner, based on what she's been able to find out, the kiosk was not removed legally and they're starting a potentially long process of legal action. I hope she gets to sue the shit out of whoever did it but for now at least I know for sure I'm unemployed.

Really hoping for more details in terms of who/why/how, so I'll keep updating if I learn anything.

For now the summary is: An unnamed entity that is most likely mall management (on account of mall security cooperating with them) stole an entire kiosk and all the contents including money and machinery with barely a trace in the middle of the night grinch-style, with zero warning or explanation, and ensured the silence of both security and the construction crew, in an action that was definitely preplanned and illegal, and as far as I know nobody knows its whereabouts.

Enjoy the unintentionally funniest text I've ever sent in my life

Aaand a close-up:

HEY HI HELLO THIS ONE'S MY FAVORITE