#and with this one i get to vent about my job

[atomic-waste-of-time]

ok, maybe I get excited over being turned into a robot, or a pet. Maybe I get super excited thinking about staring into a partners eyes as they help me take my dehumanifier shots, while petting me softly, and telling me I'm doing a good job.

Maybe I just wanna be treated as an object, because objects are treated better than me by everyone I know. Maybe I hate being human because I never got treated as a human, but my entire childhood was rather spent crying and watching nature documentaries while repressing trauma I had in kindergarten when I was 7 years old.

Maybe I was only able to realize what I actually was when I was 14, by remembering the repressed memory of looking in a mirror and saying "I want to be a girl" before getting laughed at by everyone, including the teacher, and as a result my entire school life was spent in a state of panic and survival, being hurt for the amusement of others, never being heard, and often getting into detention for defending myself when I absolutely had to.

Maybe I was yelled at as a child for having a hard time remembering things, or understanding "basic" things, like 3rd grade math, or essays. Maybe I realized too late that I was actually transgender, that there were more people like me, that I wasn't a monster, just misunderstood.

Maybe I'm so sick and tired of fighting for myself, in a world that's hellbent on torturing my very existence. Maybe I dream of being something that isn't human because they don't have to suffer under laws, or currency, or conflicting emotions. Maybe I was treated as a monster my entire life, and adulthood is just adding a crashing burning flame to the comedic tragedy that has been my life.

Maybe I want to be a monster. Maybe I was labelled as a monster so much I learned to adapt to the role, scaring people away, being alone, even though I've always hated it. Maybe I never wanted to be human. Maybe I was born as a monster, labelled a freak by doctors, and told I wasn't special at all, just another cog in a machine everyone seems to hate, but nobody wants to do anything about except for me.

Maybe I want to be treated as an object, as an animal, as something that isn't human, because at least that way I'll feel loved. I'll be accepted. I can be happy, if I give away the thing I hate the most.

Maybe all these are true, maybe one or two, maybe none at all, and maybe you, the Reader, feel the same way.

Maybe we were mistreated and horribly abused, verbally and mentally. Maybe we both feel guilty for our trauma because it isn't as bad as someone else's trauma. Maybe we both hate the world, maybe we both want to change it.

Maybe we grew up in a manipulative home, maybe you grew up without a home, maybe you didn't even think about any of this until now, or maybe it's been a question bugging us our entire lives.

Maybe my family says they care for me, but they treat me like a slave and a freak. Maybe you understand how that feels too.

Maybe we both suffer, maybe we both hurt. Maybe we come here to get away, only to see more people in peril and pain. Maybe we just want to be happy.

Maybe you put everyone else before yourself because you were mentally abused and trained to do so. Maybe you wanted everyone else to be happy because you thought it was impossible for you to be happy. Maybe situations worsened when you showed up, like the universe itself hated your existence. Maybe you feel the same way I do.

Maybe I'm just venting over a silly post about dehumanization, maybe I'm overthinking, maybe I'm spiraling in on myself again.

Maybe I'm trying not to cry. Maybe I'm shaking and sobbing, my fingers move instinctively across the keyboard to communicate while I sob. Maybe my head aches from life crashing down around me.

Maybe I'm losing my home, my life, everything I worked so hard for. Maybe I'll never get to Britain to see my girlfriend. Maybe I'll never be good enough and I'll have to suffer forever, like I have been my entire life, tortured by happy memories that are far outweighed by the negative emotions and swirling hatred for myself, my mind and body in a constant war while I'm just a civilian casualty.

Maybe I can't cope with the fact all I'm doing is venting about my problems in the form of a long text post on tumblr. Maybe I just want to die, but I know I can't yet, when the world still needs someone like me. Maybe I have a greater purpose, maybe I matter. Maybe I don't, and the voices that scream in my day to day life are all right. Maybe I should just end my story before it gets any worse. Maybe my story will get better. Maybe I'll be ok. Maybe we'll all be ok.

Maybe I'll be loved as an object, or a pet. Maybe I'll feel cherished and appreciated. Maybe I'll be able to cry when my girlfriend holds me close. Maybe I'll be able to open a cafe just for us, where we sell tea and play music, and live out our dream. Together.

Maybe I'll be happy. Maybe I'll be better off.

Maybe I'm being too sincere. Maybe not sincere enough.

Maybe you have a lot to think about. Maybe you should reflect on yourself as a person. Maybe we all should.

Maybe I'm being too sincere.

But that's what you wanted, right?

dehumidifier? no. you misheard. i said deHUMANifier

[rottenpumpkin13]

there's a racoon in the vents, stealing all the snacks

The Raccoon Incident? The Raccoon Incident.

For once, Sephiroth overcomes the shyness and anxiety that usually comes off antisocial, slipping out of his office when someone mentions cake in the break room. It's one of those lavishly delivered to SOLDIER as part of a corporate partnership—complete with a gift basket, flowers, the whole ordeal.

He picks out a generous slice, retreats to his office, and sets the plate carefully on his desk. But then be shifts his hand, accidentally knocks a pen to the floor, bends down to reach for it, and when he springs back up—the cake has vanished.

Sephiroth: ………..?

*Zack walks in*

Zack: Did you hear we got cake in the break room?

Sephiroth: Yes, I even went and got myself a slice. But the moment I set it down and turned my back for two seconds, it vanished. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this.

Zack: Aha! You got swindled by the elusive vent raccoon!

Sephiroth: ……

Sephiroth: Like I said, I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this.

Zack: No, seriously! There's a raccoon loose in the vents. It steals food the second you look away. My first encounter was two weeks ago—I set down my sandwich, went to the bathroom, came back, and there it was, paws-deep in my lunch!

*Sephiroth walks towards the door*

Zack: Where are you going? Are you gonna tell Lazard? *gasp* Are we finally gonna capture the greedy bastard? Are you assembling a raccoon capturing squad??

Sephiroth: I'm going to get more cake.

Zack: ....

Zack is dead-set on capturing the raccoon now, and tires to alert Angeal and Genesis about it. They don't believe him either.

Zack: I'm telling you, it was a raccoon! I saw it in the men's room last week too. It was fluffy and had dark circles under its eyes, kept washing it's hands and wanted snacks!

Angeal: Are you sure you didn't just see Genesis before his morning coffee?

Genesis: You may think you've insulted me, but I actually appreciate raccoons. I'd be devastated if something happened to the poor creature.

Zack: So you believe me?

Genesis: Naturally. Just last week, I had a jelly donut on my lunch tray. I leaned down to pick up my fallen fork, looked back up, and it was gone. The raccoon must've taken it.

Sephiroth, raising a hand: Actually, that was me.

Genesis: !?

Sephiroth: Angeal gave me that emotional healing book, remember? It says not to deny myself things I want, so I'm applying it to everyday life.

Angeal: I'm proud of you.

Sephiroth: Thank you.

Genesis: 💢

Since Angeal doesn't believe him, Sephiroth is doubtful and Genesis is more concerned about the jelly donut Sephiroth owes him, Zack decides he needs backup and enlists Kunsel for the mission, sending him on a reconnaissance sweep through the vents.

*Kunsel drops down from the ceiling, dusting himself off*

Zack: So? Did you find it??

Kunsel: No raccoon…but I did crawl over Angeal's office and saw him venting to his plants about the price of milk in Midgar. Then I passed Genesis' office—caught him aggressively making a Sephiroth bobblehead and an Angeal bobblehead make out. Then I slipped over Sephiroth's office, where he had stolen the rest of the cake from the break room. And when I hovered over Lazard's office, he was updating a giant bulletin board titled "Plans to Take Over Shinra."

Zack: But no raccoon?

Kunsel: Not a whisker.

Zack: Damn it! Never send a boy to do a man's job.

*Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis approach Rufus and Tseng, both watching Darkstar as she barks up at the vents*

Sephiroth: Is it the alleged raccoon?

Rufus: She's definitely unsettled by something.

Angeal: Hm…maybe Zack was onto something after all. If there's a raccoon raiding the vents and stealing food, we should've taken him more seriously.

Sephiroth: I agree. A raccoon loose in the vents could pose a health risk.

Genesis: The raccoon didn't steal my jelly donut.

Sephiroth: I told you I'll replace your donut.

Genesis: Hm.

*Darkstar keeps barking and growling*

Tseng, sighing: Since you're all informed, I'll entrust you to handle it. Just imagining that thing crawling through the ducts, spreading who-knows-what, is already giving me a headache.

*Zack pops out from the vents, covered in dust*

Tseng: !?

Zack, breathless: You're not gonna believe this, but I saw the raccoon and chased it! It has stolen the cake Sephiroth stole from the break room.

Angeal, turning to Sephiroth: You stole the cake from the break room??

Sephiroth: No, I just didn't deny myself the things I want. Just like your book said.

Angeal: I should've gotten you a coloring book instead.

Genesis: Or perhaps a jelly donut so he wouldn't feel inclined to steal mine.

Sephiroth: LET IT GO.

Genesis: NEVER.

*Lazard strolls by and catches the group setting up a makeshift cage trap lined with snacks, with a long string disappearing behind their hiding spot*

Lazard: ...What exactly are you all doing?

Zack: We're setting a trap for the elusive vent raccoon.

Lazard: Is that why Sephiroth has the VP's dog?

*They glance over to see Sephiroth, who's cuddling Darkstar*

Sephiroth, unfazed: I wanted a dog, so I didn't deny myself one.

Lazard: You stole the VP's dog.

Sephiroth: It's called self-care, Director.

Lazard, exasperated: Fine, do what you want. I have enough on my plate. Speaking of which, that executives' brunch I was organizing? All the food vanished at the last minute. Every last bit.

Genesis: Most likely the work of the raccoon. Unless jelly donuts were stolen. If so, that was Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: .....

Lazard: As convenient as that sounds, I find it hard to believe a raccoon could swipe an entire banquet's worth of food from within the vents.

Angeal: Our working theory is that it escaped from the labs, another one of Hojo's experiments gone rogue.

Sephiroth, still giving Darkstar enthusiastic belly rubs: Yet another curse of Hojo's. Rest assured, Director, we'll handle this.

Genesis: And once we catch it, you can finally get me another jelly donut.

Sephiroth: Why are you emotionally attached to that jelly donut??

*Suddenly, a loud scuffling noise sounds from the vents above. They freeze*

Zack: It's the raccoon! Hide!

*The group dives behind the corner just as a massive, fuzzy creature plummets down from the vent. It's definitely not a raccoon. Zack yanks the cord, trapping it inside the cage.

Genesis: OH. IT'S A RAT.

Zack: IT'S A GIANT, MUTATED RAT.

*The rat snarls then rips open the cage door with an unnatural strength*

Angeal, horrified: AND IT'S FREAKISHLY STRONG.

Zack: RUN!

*Angeal, Genesis, and Zack bolt, shrieking down the hall as Darkstar barks furiously, darting after the rat*

Sephiroth: .....

Sephiroth: And to think we're all supposed to be highly trained operatives. We shouldn't scream, lose our cool, and flee from harmless creatures. And most of all, we should respect each other.

*Genesis sprints back around the corner, still screaming*

Genesis: YOU STILL OWE ME A JELLY DONUT!

Sephiroth: IF YOU MENTION THAT DONUT ONE MORE TIME GENESIS I'LL PERSONALLY RETURN YOU TO THE GODDESS!

[fuck-customers]

I just have to vent to someone about this: I work in a convenience store. It gets real slow sometimes, so there's a few customers I'll chat with to pass the time. But I have an annoying customer that comes in almost everyday, sometimes multiple times a day, to complain about his dog. He used to be totally silent and honestly pretty rude to me, but one day I was talking to the woman in front of him while I was checking her out and I casually mentioned that my mother and grandmother both trained dogs, so I picked up a lot from them. Since then he's decided I'm supposed to help him with all his dog training woes.

Apparently his old dog passed away a few months ago and she was super easy and calm, so he decided to go out and get another dog. He showed me a picture of her and she looked like some sort of cattle dog mixed with dalmatian, maybe with some malamute or husky thrown in. He complains that she's nothing like his old dog, she's constantly whining and barking and never sits still and she's destroyed his furniture. And I try to be sympathetic but like... buddy. Your old dog was a senior dachshund and your new dog is a nightmare amalgamation of high energy, high maintenance dogs. I'm surprised she hasn't torn your house apart board by board. I tried telling him as gently as possible that high energy dogs like her need a job to do, or at least lots of exercise to get her energy out, but apparently he doesn't want to listen.

He also acts like the dog has like.. a personal vendetta against him? He says things like "(old dog) knew I have to get at least 6 hours of sleep every night or I can't function, but (new dog) wakes me up on purpose every night. (old dog) would never treat me this way." I eventually had to be like "You.. do know nothing a dog does is personal, right? If she's acting out it's because her needs aren't being met or she hasn't been trained properly. I think you're anthropomorphizing her too much."

He just stared at me blankly before being like "What did you just say?"

"Uh. You're anthropomorphizing her too much?"

"What does that mean?"

I proceed to tell him that animals aren't people and it's useless to prescribe certain human emotions or thought processes to them. Like.. the dog isn't trying to disrupt your sleep because she hates you, she just probably has to pee. Or she's feeling pent up because she didn't get walked enough. He was quiet for a little bit again before being like "I never thought about that. You're actually kinda smart, I didn't expect that."

I awkwardly fake laughed and was like "What, did you think I dropped out of 3rd grade or something?" and he, with the most serious look on his face, said "Well you work here for a reason."

So he basically admitted to my face he's been bothering me for dog advice for WEEKS but hasn't been taking any of it because he thought I was stupid and beneath him. Just... why. 😑

Posted by admin Rodney

[nortromthesilencer]

A low hiss, fingers from one hand massaging his scalp while he looked down with mounting frustration. At the edge of the room, a lone guard shifted awkwardly, not liking the lapse of words that forced him to wait for orders, watching the older man quietly vent his annoyance with calm but obvious intent. Finally the waiting ended, and the other looked up, hand pulling from his face and blue eyes now intently staring his way.

"To hell with this- Assign him to the pit and clear his room for another. I don't have the patience to deal with this right now."

Nortrom indeed, did not have much patience lately. Between the Quorum, his own mounting doubts, Rizzrack being--- well, Rizzrack, and evetything else: If a prisoner was going to cause shit, he was going to get zero slack. All because of the warden's mood. One thing he didn't do, however, was take it out on the poor guard chosen to deliver the news and update on whatever issue had cropped up now.

"Yes sir." The guard's armor clinked as he shifted, finally able to release the breath he had been holding. The pit. Prisoners didn't get sent there for things like this, at least not first offenses... Their boss was indeed in a bad mood and it wasn't worth questioning and attracting potential ire.

***

"This will be easy for you, as all I need is for you to sit back and relax. Let your mind flow like water, parting and allowing whatever breaks it's surface to freely swim about."

Pulling at his gloves off one finger at a time and carefully pushing them into a pocket, he realized that his subject likely wasn't given any details prior. The guards never care enough to make his job any easier by educating them ahead of time.

"Ah, yes, where are my manners? I am Gerard; And you are in my care for the next couple of hours."

The small-keen stayed immobile where he sat until finally the food items caught his attention. Just not in the way one would think.

He grabbed the tin of water and proceeded to dump the contents onto the floor before giving it a few drying shakes. Then taking the bread, he began to crush and tear it, collecting the crumbs with the cup. This will do. He ignored the jerky for now. He didn't want to touch it. Rizzrack sprinkled the crumbs into small piles and lines across the floor. Without any writing medium, he was left to tumble his thoughts about in his head. Now that he had something to use, he could finally write out his proof! It began small, covering an area no wider than his palm. It began with a point. Then lines. Then borders. He thickened intersections with more crumbs, then borders. Dimensions flowed from one order to the next, and each had a fundamental truth. One truth. One order. One universe. One mind. There! The radiant eye. All-seeing. All-knowing.

And within it was all he's ever known. And beyond? The Foe. That caught in the eternal pull of Oblivion seeking to pull in everything else in with it.

Ah-hem. Rizzrack.

At first he paid no mind to the voice. It was a second, more persistent humph that pulled Rizzrack up from his pattern. Through the bars he saw a woman, that one from earlier that visited with the Silencer. Luckily there was no Silencer. He had also been looking forward to seeing her again, as that would be a sign that things were finally going to be moving.

"Rizzra-" Elowen was cut off by the small-keen's exclamations. "Finally, we're going somewhere! Time might be meaningless but it's still a preci-" "Keen!" She snapped. "It would be wise of you to cooperate if you want to have any chance of something going your way. As of right now, very little is in your favor."

"Geesh, when does it end?"

"It can end as soon as you can tell me everything you know."

[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Jeongin🖤

Pairing: Jeongin x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 1026

Summary: Next on your list is Jeongin, remembering a day where the younger came home devastated after a mistake on stage.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst

A/N: Hii, I'm so sorry, life kept me busy and I had no chance finishing this little post. I hope to be back on track with the four remaining pairings and an eventual bonus chapter of how the boys react if you're interested in that🤭🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you scroll through your photo library, searching for the right image of Jeongin. When you find it, a wave of tenderness washes over you. The picture is from a few nights ago—one of those nights that left your heart aching for him and full of pride all at once. He’s sitting on the floor of the dressing room, his hair tousled and slightly damp with sweat, his makeup smudged around his eyes, staring down at the floor with his lips pressed tightly together. You’re beside him, one arm around his shoulders, your other hand resting gently on top of his. In the photo, his expression is one of frustration and self-doubt, brows furrowed, eyes downcast. But even in the midst of his struggle, there’s something undeniably beautiful about him—something strong and resilient.

You remember that night vividly. Jeongin had messed up a part of the choreography on stage. It was a minor mistake, something no one else probably noticed, but to him, it was huge. You’d seen it the moment he came off stage—the way his shoulders slumped, his gaze averted as if he didn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes. He’d forced a smile for the fans, held himself together until the lights went down, and then quietly slipped away to the dressing room, shoulders tense with self-reproach.

You’d followed him, heart aching, knowing how hard he can be on himself. He’d been sitting on the floor, looking so small and lost, shoulders trembling slightly as he tried to hold back his frustration. When you sat down beside him, he didn’t say a word—didn’t even look up. But you knew what he was feeling—the disappointment, the anger directed inward, the overwhelming need to be perfect.

“Hey, Innie love,” you’d whispered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He’d flinched slightly, then let out a long, shuddering breath, still not looking at you.

“I messed up,” he murmured, voice strained, like the words were clawing at his throat. “Everyone else was perfect, and I… I ruined it.”

Your heart had tightened at the raw pain in his voice. “No, you didn’t,” you’d said gently. “Jeongin, it was just one tiny mistake. No one even noticed.”

But he’d just shaken his head, fists clenched on his knees. “I noticed. It’s my job to get it right, and I couldn’t. I’m supposed to be better than this.”

You’d stayed quiet, letting him speak, letting him vent. Then, without another word, you’d wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. He’d resisted at first, his whole body stiff and tense, but then the dam broke. He’d sagged against you, his face buried in your shoulder, his hands clutching desperately at your shirt as if holding on for dear life. His breathing was harsh and uneven, each exhale filled with a mix of anger and helplessness. All you could do was hold him, murmuring soft, comforting words, rubbing his back gently until the storm inside him started to calm.

“It’s okay, Innie. It’s okay to mess up sometimes. It doesn’t change how amazing you are. Not even a little.”

For a long time, you stayed like that, just holding him, feeling his body gradually relax against yours. He didn’t say anything, but you could sense the shift—the way the tension slowly drained out of him, replaced by a heavy, weary kind of acceptance.

Eventually, he’d pulled back, his eyes red but his expression softer, more resigned. “Thank you,” he’d whispered, voice still rough around the edges but steadier now. “I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize,” you’d cut in gently, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be perfect, Jeongin. You just have to be you. That’s more than enough.”

You attach the picture to a new message, feeling the emotions from that night all over again. Fingers trembling slightly, you begin typing, knowing exactly what you want to say to the boy who tries so hard to be perfect, when all you want is for him to see just how perfectly imperfect he already is.

Message to Jeongin:

Hey Innie love,

I know this picture isn’t from your best moment, but I wanted to send it to you anyway because I think it’s a reminder of something important. That night, you were so frustrated with yourself, and I know how much that tiny mistake hurt you. But to me, this photo doesn’t show someone who messed up. It shows someone who’s strong enough to keep going, even when things don’t go perfectly. It shows someone who cares deeply about what he does, who wants to give his best every single time.

But you know what, Innie? It’s okay to stumble sometimes. It’s okay to have moments when things don’t go the way you planned. That’s what makes you human, and that’s what makes me love you even more. Because you always get back up, always push forward, always try to be better. But please remember—being perfect isn’t what makes you special. It’s your heart, your determination, your courage to show your vulnerable side.

I’m so proud of you, not just for your talent, but for your resilience. So, even on the days when you feel like you’ve let yourself down, I want you to know that I’ll always see the amazing person you are. No mistakes could ever change that.

Happy anniversary, Innie love. Here’s to more moments, both perfect and imperfect, and to loving every single one of them because they’re all a part of you.

Love you so much,

Your biggest fan and supporter.

You send the message, your heart aching with tenderness. You can already picture his reaction—how he’ll probably read it in silence, his eyes growing soft and misty. He might not say much in reply, might just send a quiet, heartfelt “thank you.” But you know it’ll mean everything to him, because Jeongin isn’t someone who needs grand gestures. He just needs to know that he’s enough, just as he is.

And that’s what you’ll keep reminding him, every single chance you get. Because he’s your Innie love—the one who shines brightest, even when he thinks his light is fading.

Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

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[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s)

Part 1/? Read on AO3

Omegaverse modern au where steddie are both teachers. Eddie is teaching single omega Steve's son.

Eddie let out a satisfied sigh as the latest parent left his classroom. Parent/teacher conferences were always a tad stressful, even if there was no tangible reason to be. Most of his kids were doing well in all their subjects. There were only a couple behavioral outliers but Eddie knew that those parents rarely showed up but from professional and personal experience.

The main reason he didn't look forward to these was how selective kids could be with the information they shared. More than once in his years, a parent would arrive with a bone to pick about a problem that was apparently happening in the classroom that Eddie had no idea was occurring. These kids came up to him ten times a day to tell him what their little sister had for lunch two days ago but god forbid they admit when they have a problem with another student.

Today's appointments had mostly been smooth, though. It typically wasn't the quote unquote problem children whose parents showed up anyway. He just had one more person to go and then he could run out the clock fixing up his room until he was allowed to go.

He double checked the name. Shawn Harrington. Good kid. Bright, active, and it sounded like their parent had arrived.

"Mr. Munson? Hi, I'm Shawn's dad."

Eddie looked up to see a total smoke show.

"Hi", he cleared his throat when it squeaked out. "Nice to meet you, come in, have a seat." Eddie had Shawn's folder ready, like the other kids to show any work that should be highlighted, as well as his grades up on his laptop. "So did you have any concerns or worries about Shawn?"

Eddie quickly went in autopilot. It was the only way he was going to get through this. He was going to keep his eyes from drifting to that smooth sweep of this man's hair. He wasn't going to hyperfocus on his pretty lips. He wasn't going to gaze deeply into those chocolate brown eyes. He wasn't going to flare his nostrils to take in more of his scent. And he definitely wasn't going to check his fingers for any rings.

Bare hands.

Very nice hands.

They had a nice, brief conversation about the student's progress, and Eddie couldn't help but give him a glowing review. Even if Mr. Harrington wasn't totally hot, his kid was a wonder at times.

"He listens and pays attention well, always raising his hand to answer questions. If you don't mind me saying so, he just seems really prepared for school."

Which was saying something when many of the other first graders were still asking things like 'do we have to do math?' or 'are we going home today?' Eddie remembered being little and having pretty much no control over his life, so he could relate to the tiny ones still getting the hang of school. But kids like Shawn were a breath of fresh air.

"He did pretty well in kindergarten and I put him in daycare pretty early", Mr. Harrington said. "He gets really excited for school and I can tell he really likes you so far."

His smile could have blinded Eddie. He wanted to gush on just to keep seeing that smile.

"That means a lot, thank you." It wasn't a strong stigma but sometimes people got iffy over an alpha teaching children so young. It was thought they needed the 'gentler' hand of an omega. His eyes drifted back down to Mr. Harrington's hands. Yep, there was no ring there.

Now Eddie would never ask out or even flirt with a parent. That was off limits. But you know, if he got a little creative with his fantasies... well, you can't go to jail for thought crimes.

They said their parting words and Eddie was definitely not watching that ass in those khaki slacks. God, was there anything more cliche than him being a teacher and having the hots for a parent? He tried to keep his mind off it as he fixed up his classroom. He wouldn't even be seeing the guy that much. Not unless something came up with Shawn. And that kid was kind of an angel.

It was Friday, so once he was done, he went home to enjoy his weekend. Come Monday, there was a cacophony of voices. Half talking to each other and the other half trying to both greet him good morning and get right into another conversation. Eddie took it all with a smile.

"Mr. Munson, did you tell my mom about my butterfly!?", Theresa exclaimed, pointing to their bulletin board where their work hung.

"Mr. Munson, I got cheez-its in my lunch today", Victoria said, opening up said lunch box.

"Did you really talk to our parents?", Walker asked, arms crossed.

"Most of them", Eddie answered once they gave him a breath to speak.

"He talked to my dad", Shawn said. "And he said you said I was good."

"That I did", Eddie nodded, watching them as they put their coats and bookbags away. Theresa and Walker were known to fight over hooks.

"Mr. Munson, did you know my dad is a teacher too?", Shawn asked.

"I did not know that. Explains why you're so ready for school."

"Yeah, we practiced", Shawn said as he sat down to get started on the warm up.

Eddie raised a brow, wanting to ask what he meant by that, but his attention was grabbed when there was a shriek and a cry from Yasmin. He steeled his nerves for the day. He would need the fortitude.

-------------------------

When Steve walked into the classroom to meet Mr. Munson, he didn't know what to expect. He regretted missing Back to School Night, but his had been on the same evening and as a teacher, he couldn't miss it. But Shawn had nothing but good things. So he went in with optimism.

And was met with a gorgeous, gorgeous man sitting at the teacher's desk. For a second, Steve was sure he had the wrong room.

"Mr. Munson? Hi, I'm Shawn's dad."

His hair was pulled back in a bun and Steve's first thought was how it must look when it was down. Honestly, Steve couldn't tell you exactly what he had said. His tongue felt twisted the whole time as did his stomach. But Mr. Munson was smiling through it all and hadn't brought up anything bad about Shawn, so Steve must really be selling it.

He wanted to say that Mr. Munson's praise meant the world to him. That it wasn't always easy to bring up a kid as a single omega parent. But that felt too personal for a first meeting. And mentioning he was single would probably be too forward. When it ended, they shook hands, allowing Steve to get just a little close. He caught a whiff of his scent and instantly wanted more. At least enough to pinpoint what it reminded him off.

But he had to let go just as quickly and then leave without lingering. He was NOT going to be the type of parent that made goo-goo eyes at his child's teacher. It wasn't like Shawn needed the leg up and Steve was done with his slut era. So even thought Mr. Munson could definitely get it, he was absolutely off limits.

And if Steve went home and immediately put the rest of the school year's events in his own calendar, that was simply because he was an amazing dad and for no other reason.

Part 2

[romatito]

coloring experiments with some displeased españas 🍅 i always love digging beneath his optimism to find the negativity underneath thats Just as passionate -- its one of the most fascinating things about him to me

closeups under the cut

[glow-and-vamp]

If you donated and I haven't personally thanked you, please message me so that I can worship you!!

My family was able to help, and we moved the rv to a place with a much cheaper rent, thank god. Only 790 compared to the 1000, so we are covered for this month in terms of housing!!

Dad is still living with the skilled nursing facility. Insurance has decided that he no longer qualifies for PT, but we are appealing that because HE LITERALLY A STROKE PLEASE EXPLAIN HOW HE IS NOT BENEFITING FROM PT??? But at least the state insurance is still letting him stay there where he can be seen to around the clock. We don't think he'll be able to walk again.

I'm trying not to vent about this more than I already am, but I'm the one that has physical proximity to him so I'm still making long driving trips to bring him things. It's exhausting. And diesel is like 5 bucks a gallon.

I am looking into a second job, they're hiring elves at the local North Pole and I'll be interviewing for it. But that doesn't start till late November.

My situation is still strained but no longer dire, thanks everyone that's donated so far. I wept for like three days straight when I was able to get by, thank you all so much!

I need help.

I'm sorry for asking, and I'm ashamed to ask for it, but I can barely keep my head above water.

My dad had a stroke and things have been falling apart since. He has state medical insurance, but taking care of things at home have been on me, as well as gas to go four hours round trip to visit my dad at the stroke unit he's at.

I've been working gigs on craigslist to get by, but last week my car's brakes failed and it's totaled. I got out of it with only bruising all over my abdomen and thighs, thank god, but now I'm using my dad's diesel truck which exacerbated the gas issue.

I've used all my sick hours already so if I miss anymore I'm just not gonna be paid for it. Dad's stay is going to be long term, I'm borrowing money to scrape by, and I just... I'm embarrassed to be asking for help, I'm terrified to fall into debt again but I'm relying on my credit card for gas. My sister thinks we can get some money from our relatives, but at this point I'm just trying to make sure rent's covered in time.

Any amount you can give is appreciated, I can't offer anything in return so I'm under no delusion that I'm entitled to anything. Here is my ko-fi, I just made it for this

I need 100 by the end of the week to cover payments, and 1000 by the 31st if I want to be able to pay rent for November.

[0m3g45n1p3r4lph4]

Modern day job hunt really helps me understand why people would rob banks

[inkly-heart]

please don’t be sad little sprout, you are loved 🌱 🖤

🌱

[valtsv]

the more i learn about the mortuary profession the more i'm convinced everyone else is weird about people who work with the dead and i'm the normal one. of course i understand why people find corpses and the decay process and the end of life in general upsetting, because being reminded that you and everyone you know will eventually cease to exist and there's nothing you can do about it isn't something you can really take any comfort in, but it's just death? it's just inevitable and the way things are? people who work with the dead aren't creepy horror movie mad scientists cooking up frankensteins and draculas, and they're not immoral sickos even if they do have a fascination with the grotesque and macabre. they're just people providing an important service. a lot of them are very compassionate, passionate, hardworking people who want the best for the memory of the deceased and their loved ones. i genuinely don't understand what's so bad and scary about that, but whenever i bring it up there's always at least a few people who look at me like i'm crazy and call me a creep and make a show of shuddering and backhandedly complimenting my "bravery" and "unique career goals" while laughing as if my genuine interest in death and the dead is all just some inappropriate joke. i swear it's more unsettling how many people are unwilling to even acknowledge death as a natural inevitable part of life than it is to talk about it.

[shwinlsol]

Yess I've had fun these past few days just attempting to structure this bizarre company in my head. Based on the fact that Pony Express is the only name we ever see for it in the ship, it's likely just a delivery company—perhaps operating under some other big conglomerate—but it's weird because it has so much merch and paraphernalia scattered around everywhere, like it's marketed to kids (maybe a recruitment tactic of some sort?). Then again, I'm not the most familiar with shipping companies, so maybe stuff like that is normal. It was just kinda weird and Disney-like (especially with how Disney is always treating their employees. The PE propaganda posters with vaguely threatening regulations captioned under the silly cartoons really reminded me of that for some reason).

I've thought that it probably makes sense that there would be ships with different layouts in the company fleet; when Curly and Jimmy are talking about Daisuke's situation, Curly says he "should've made a bigger stink about that" in regards to how the ship is only built to accommodate four people. Whether that means he should've refused Daisuke's internship or pushed for a bigger ship is up in the air, but I'm really leaning towards the latter.

I think I saw an animatic a bit ago with someone's interpretation of how the ship would look from the outside, and the cargo hold took up most of the space while the rest of the ship where the crew would reside in was just sticking outta the side like an afterthought. I thought that it was very fitting—PE would build ships that could hold as much product as possible, but wouldn't spare any unnecessary expenses or space for the crew themselves. It certainly matched with how, in the game, the cargo hold is just some unfathomably huge space with rows and rows of boxes fading into the void. I imagine that every single ship would be like that.

Also the rest of the ships having the same sort of themed names is such a cool thought!! Although I don't know if they'd run out of names to choose from eventually. How many ships would PE even have? Based on how many corners they cut in just the Tulpar, I can't imagine they have very many more. And is the crew confined to just one ship for every job or do they get to switch ships for different deliveries? It's implied that that single crew had been together in the same ship for years: they reminisce about past surprise birthdays that Daisuke wasn't there for and Swansea says that the vent in Utility had been broken "for forever", which implies he's known about it for longer than just the current job they were on. There's also the fact that Anya was familiar enough with the ship to know that there was a gun stored in the cockpit, which could be attributed to Curly's honest nature (telling the crew where a lethal weapon was stored onboard so as to make them feel a little safer seems on-brand) or the fact that they've been there long enough that she'd figured it out/seen it on her own.

Maybe I'm just overthinking things again tho, idk haha. There were so many open-ended things in the game (which was valid, seeing as they really had nothing to do with the plot), and it leaves so much room for speculation :'D hard not to think about it

The ship being called the Tulpar is so fitting actually. It's essentially just a big flying pony filled with mouthwash and dead dreams

[infamouslydorky]

Me: *gets scolded by my boss for not doing my job even though I've been doing everything in my power to do my job*

Me: Fine. We blog instead, buckaroo

[nell0-0]

Too tired to draw, what is this curse. I wanna draw so badly but can't even focus on the screen, augh

[megumi-fm]

.

[clowningcrows]

it’s crazy how much having a safe place to be yourself and express your identity and personality and interests, both online and irl, can change your will to live. honestly.