You Never Knew Your Birth Parents, Growing Up Across The Country In Orphanages. While Alone You Learned

You never knew your birth parents, growing up across the country in orphanages. While alone you learned to cook and shared your meals across the world, eventually owning your own business. One day you suddenly find out what your parents were. They were Fae… you’ve fed thousands Fae Food.

😀🥝

I think I'm a happy flightless bird endemic to New Zealand

@crownamedblue @energylessartist @sir-ramic @theultimatefloorskittle

tag game!

Your last emojis are your gender

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Uh

@erikaskblog @fymo-blogs

Every day, I make the hike.

Over the river of poisonous fish and deadly waters. Through the maze of thorns. Past the lair of something too ominous to describe.

Only to push a button.

And then I go back. I retrace my steps, hoping to get home before the fog sets in. Nobody wants to be near the fog without protection in the form of magical shields and a very, very sharp greatsword.

No wonder the job pays so well. I come within a hair's breadth of death every single day. If it's not the river, it's the monsters, and if it's not the monsters, it's the fog.

Only twice, I asked what happened to the last guy. I'd been here for two weeks by that point. The first time, my employer sighed and evaded the question. The second time, he told me.

"He died of old age."

No wonder he said I wouldn't believe him. The mere possibility is ludicrous. To go through this gauntlet for years upon end, and die of something so common as natural causes?

I enquired further - perhaps the person was one of the magical races that suddenly drop dead for seemingly no reason? But no, the man explained. It was something very different.

"You know the route you take. Over the river, through the thorns, through the jungle with the lairs. And you know exactly what lies at the end."

I nod. The clearing with harmless creatures and the button.

"Our second-last guy trained one of the pokipoks to do her job. It was amazing. I'd never seen anybody get close enough to feed them, let alone train them. But then the pokipok - which, if I remember correctly, she called Ball - died of old age."

That... made sense, but for a few questions (why treat the pokipok like it was human? Why call it an employee and yet not pay it?), only one of which I decided to ask. "Why didn't you get the girl to come back and train another?"

"She's in the army. We can't just up and steal any of their recruits."

Ah, the army. This success at getting answered made me ask another question. "What does the button do?"

My employer gained a devilish grin. "You aren't on the internet, right? So you haven't seen the latest trend."

The internet was a cesspool of people all clamoring to make their voices heard. I might hate it for that reason alone, if there weren't so many other things wrong with it. I had an email for contact purposes and that was it.

"No," I responded.

My employer chuckled. "There's something 'bout the pokipoks that make people smile. They're round and fluffy, and their fur squishes into the ground in this adorable way. Their legs are tiny and stubby and their tail is half the size they are. And their head has the most adorable ears paired with the biggest little eyes."

I nod, not sure where this is going.

"So we installed a few cameras to watch them. They're harmless, and yet, have no natural predators. And have you seen what they get up to all day? They bounce around on their tail and bump into each other. It's amazing!"

"What does the button do?" I repeated.

"Right, right! The button sends the last 24 hours of footage to us. Then we watch it, clip it, and release it online for people to watch and enjoy."

So I was somehow being paid off of ad or subscription revenue, which generated enough income for them to pay me $4000 per day on average.

Good lord.

"Why pay me so much then?" I asked, fairly certain I knew the answer.

"Buddy," my employer's smile fell off his face, "you put your life in danger for the cute animal videos. I'm not paying you any less when we have such a money surplus."

I rearranged my facial muscles into a smile. I'm not sure if I did it right, but it felt good to be wanted.

"Now, you wanna see our recent footage?" asked my employer, and his smile seemed so genuine that I agreed.

“Alright. You’re paid $1000 an hour, full benefits, full international accommodations of all types, and more. All you have to do is push 1 button, at a specific time, once a day.” “What happened to the last person?” The man sighed and started shaking “Um… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Remember: Suicide is cowardice. Outlive your enemies.

Satan, probably

Also. Murder is against the law. Don't murder yourself or you'll get arrested.

@sir-ramic @energylessartist @theultimatefloorskittle @twoarrsandonesea @stargazer-luna @stonerwizardsandwitch @queermarzipan @crownamedblue

sigh. i cant believe im doing this.

if this gets 8k notes by the first week of october ill promise to stay alive one more year.

my advice to you is to never waste your time trying to fit into a club or hobby or any community who makes you beg for acceptance and approval just to participate when you could do the alternative—get involved in a niche and endangered hobby run primarily by old people.

i wanted to learn how to hunt ruffed grouse and train bird dogs so i sent an email to my local chapter of the ruffed grouse society explaining that getting into wildlife groups is intimidating to me because I’m trans

and all they saw was that someone under 60 wanted to learn to hunt grouse & several months into my mentorship I was told that like 7 old guys argued over me until they had to pick a number between 1 and 100 to decide who got to personally mentor me.

imagine vying for the acceptance of some gatekeeping weirdos when your mere interest could be inciting verbal combat among retirees