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mattzerella-sticks · 1 year

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my special day (ao3)

Dean never liked his birthdays. For a day that was supposed to be about him, it never was. Until one person decides to do exactly that.

I never liked my birthday. Worse, I didn’t have a good reason not to.

Sure, January wasn’t the best month out of the twelve. But that never bothered me. Nothing traumatic had ever happened to me on my birthday that made it different from any other; my life was a Frankenstein of bad days that somehow wouldn’t quit. Nobody ever forgot my birthday, either.

On the contrary, everyone seemed to remember it. Which was why I hated my birthday. For no reason other than I was born, every eye would turn towards me, and the intensity of their focus made me wither like some flower left defenseless against the harsh, unyielding sun. Birthdays took on a life of their own. They became less about you, and more about the people around you.

Dad would try and do something for my birthday if he was in town. When he wasn’t, it’d always be the day after he came back. He’d pick some odd activity he scraped enough money together for and take me and Sam, because it couldn’t just be me, and then we’d pile into Baby and drive off while every five seconds he’d try to catch my eyes in the rearview to make sure I was enjoying myself. Dad wanted to see me smile. He needed to know he had done a good job, that he was able to cram good parenting into one day. Dad wanted me to have good memories on my birthday. Which was the problem, really. It was only a single day. How was I supposed to smile knowing tomorrow I’ll probably wake up to a scribbled note and a wad of cash, hamstrung by loose rubber bands, on the nightstand? I was a hostage to his whims, and the ransom was recognition that he could pretend to be normal when the situation demanded it. Sometimes I wanted to cry, to throw a tantrum, to go blue in the face from holding my breath so long I faded into the darkness and didn’t wake up until the twenty-fifth.

I wasn’t that brave. I always managed to force any type of smile onto my face, whenever he looked my way. It was easier that way. Besides, he was the least of my worries. There were the kids in school, who couldn’t understand why I never handed out swag bags of candy wrapped in see-through cellophane and tied with the kind of ribbon you have to curl using scissors, and invitations to a party at the most popular cash vacuum in town for every kid in class, because you had to invite everyone otherwise the teacher took you aside and asked ‘did you forget to give Dean his card?’ Then, as we get older, the assumptions changed. Word gets out about your birthday and people ask if your parents are going away, can you host a party, do you want me to host it I think my parents are visiting family out of town that weekend, are you getting a car, you look old enough can you buy booze, can you get a fake ID – always asking what you could do for them, for permission to celebrate themselves in the guise of doing it for you. We keep getting older, and I learned to adapt. I tried to steal as much for myself during my birthdays while the people went about their selfish whims. I’d casually mention it was my birthday at bars and the drinks start coming to me. People were less angry when you take their paycheck on an unlikely hand when you say you’ve had birthday luck on your side. They promised that the sex would always be special, despite dressing me down in bathrooms or truck beds or behind dumpsters like I’ve had many times before. That helped me survive my birthday in my twenties, but it was unsustainable. Duct tape over a bullet hole.

I had a crazy idea that maybe, if I stopped going out, I’d be able to kill my birthday once and for all. It could’ve worked, but there was always Sam. He meant well. Cupcakes. Diners. Roadside attractions. Things he researched between cases he thought that I’d like that I had to pretend to because he was exactly like dad even though he’d never admit it. I would have liked them more, for real, had we done them any other day. On my birthday, I just went through the motions.

But it’s not like Sam knew about my feelings towards my birthday. Nobody knew. I didn’t need to deal with everyone’s concern, their judgments about why I would hate my birthday and who was to blame. Any declaration I made against my birthday would be seen as a challenge and make the ordeal ten times worse than it already was and already had been. I swallowed my truth with a too-big bite of pie and some Southern Comfort and played the part of the beaming birthday boy with practiced ease. Until Cas.

I didn’t mean to tell him. I should be used to it by now, staring at him, thinking of what I wanted to say and then saying nothing of the sort. I had to mess up at some point.

He asked me if I was excited about my birthday coming up. Birthdays are exciting for you, aren’t they? Cas hadn’t meant me. That ‘you’ was a wide net cast across the planet. Maybe I was disarmed because of how he asked it, with a flash of teeth which had become a more common sight these days and the crinkle around his eyes that made me forget the power thrumming beneath the surface of his body. Perhaps I’d been on edge the past few days as I counted down to my birthday, the date riding up on me like a tight pair of shorts. Or, most likely, I was tired. I hadn’t withdrawn to my bedroom yet, lingering in the kitchen nursing a lone bottle of El Sol, all that was left since I put off running to the market. I fought sleep, knowing that the longer I denied unconsciousness the farther my birthday would stay. Cas found me with my knuckles denting my cheek and my eyes fluttering every few seconds. I needed rest. Cas was as good as that, maybe more. Which was why I set my head down and rumbled out, Maybe for other people. Not for me. Of course I had to explain myself after that. Fucker skewed his head to the side and asked me what I meant. I’d already started. Might as well finish digging my grave. Cas stayed silent once I hit the necessary six feet, undoubtedly taking this new information and comparing it with all the other generalities he’d learned over the millennia. When he did speak, it was to ask me a question I’d never heard in my life. What do you want for your birthday?

What did I want? I hadn’t thought of it, let myself the luxury of considering my own wants. Especially on such a day. I watched Cas tease the seam of his mouth with his tongue, and suddenly I could picture exactly what I wanted. That wasn’t what I ended up telling Cas. I want it to not be my birthday, I said. I want to wake up like nobody had been born, especially me. I want tomorrow to be like any other day, where I can just do my own thing, by myself. Again, Cas considered my words. He dedicated more time to it than I did, the El Sol in my hands nothing more than an empty glass by now, making the fog that flooded my mind denser. The brand was weak, but given my state it was like drinking whiskey straight. I was half asleep when Cas responded. He startled me. Go to sleep. I didn’t fight him.

Not a second passed between when I closed my eyes and opened them in the morning. I glanced at my bedside clock. It was too damn early, but I was up. I couldn’t linger there and tempt Sam to make me breakfast in bed. Instead I dragged myself out of my covers and went about getting ready for the day. It was like pushing a boulder up a hill. I got it to the top of that damned hill in the end.

Except, as I entered the kitchen, I noticed it was empty. I went to the library. Nothing. The main room. No one. After checking a few more rooms, I made a beeline to Sam’s and knocked on the door. Formalities. I barged in without waiting for a response. Everything from his bed to his closet to even his personal toilet looked sterile.

I raced out of his room and towards the exit, keys burning a hole in my fist. My phone was out, thumb rapidly dialing Sam’s number, when Cas met me halfway on the stairs with bags in his hands. He wouldn’t budge. Cas, Sam’s missing. Cas frowned. He’s not missing, I sent him away. You sent him away? Why? So he wouldn’t celebrate your birthday, Cas explained.

By then, I’d pocketed my phone. I glanced at the bags Cas carried and noticed they were packed to the brim. I went to the grocery store, so you didn’t have to. He guided me to the nearest table and set the bags down atop it. Cas reached inside and grabbed a six-pack, ripping one free from the cardboard for me. It was Margiekugel. I don’t understand.

What’s there to understand? Cas blinked at me, owlishly, as if waiting for me to look away for him to spin his head in a full circle and signal my brother, wherever he was hiding. Because he couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t be that simple. You said you wanted to spend your birthday by yourself. Which was true, in the moment. When I told Cas that. So you kicked Sam out for me? I gently suggested that maybe his energies would be better spent elsewhere.

Cas reclaimed the bags. It sounded like there was a lot of weight to them, with how they slammed into the table. He carried them as if they were stacked with cardboard silhouettes of groceries. I followed him into the kitchen. And you got me groceries, too? Cas shrugged. You said you wanted to be by yourself. Going into town might defeat that purpose. Except, I drawled, leaning against the fridge, peeling the label off my half-drunken beer bottle while Cas replaced the bags on the counter, I’m not by myself. Cas grunted.

I watched him work with keen interest. I could help, but I was curious. I wasn’t sure if he knew where everything went. It’s not like he ever needed to eat. I expected him to pick an item from the bag, stare at it, squint as if he could smite it into the correct pantry, then ultimately surrender and turn to me. He never did. And, more surprisingly, he had gotten every purchase into their respective places. Cas finished by returning our reusable bags to the cabinet underneath our sink, then stood with another grunt. I’ll be on my way now. Cas passed me, not bothering to even peek in my direction, as though he assumed I wanted that. If he had, I’m sure he’d have noticed my pout. You’re leaving? You said you wanted to spend your birthday by yourself. Cas finally turned his blue gaze onto me, a little furrow creasing the ridge of his brow. I’m fulfilling your birthday wish. I scoffed, Yeah… well…

It was my turn to surprise Cas, by taking his hand in mine. His lips pinched as if he were tasting a flavor he’d never tried before. Mine tingled with the sensation of one I hadn’t tasted in years. Maybe I don’t want to spend it all alone, now that I know I can. That was the best I could offer. All my confidence went to my hands. Cas didn’t need more than that anyway. If that’s what you want?

I thought about it. I thought of making breakfast, teaching Cas how to cook scrambled eggs. Of cocooning ourselves in my parlor as we binge a marathon of whatever happened to be on until my stomach roared with hunger. Then, after lunch, bringing Cas into the garage so he could fiddle with the portable stereo I left there while I mess around in Baby’s guts. There wasn’t any denying this. It’s exactly what I want, I told him. He nodded and squeezed my hand.

I still hated my birthday. But Cas helped me hate it less.

#dean winchester birthday #dean winchester #spn fanfic #spn #destiel #castiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 11 months

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Managed to obtain wifey's computer chair but finally got outbid on the luggage kit (should have known $10 was too good to be true lol, I'll wait til we're more liquid and try again with a larger budget on a different lot). Hopefully going to be able to pick up the kitty bench tomorrow if it's still available (here's to hoping it doesn't get snagged today) but if it isn't I'll just keep my eye out for new opportunities there too, probably on Saturdays instead of Fridays so I can schedule pick up immediately the next day.

I need to get ahold of some fabric with decent stretch to it, so maybe some old shirts or dresses with decent prints but some wear and tear that can be upcycled. A button jar would be nice too if I can find one, but I'm not too fussed, I can order buttons if I that's the only thing I need new.

The biggest thing that still needs buying is new clothes for wifey, and some of that I can take care of myself with fabric and my sewing kit, and some can be managed with thrifting and time, but at least a couple of items will need to be purchased newly tailored, so we'll have to save up a little for that one (next paycheck I think should have room for it). I may go through some of my clothes and see which ones can be turned into fabric or upcycled for wifey into something new. I know I have an undershirt that I can use, and I think a pair of leggings which would work well for something.there's a dress that doesn't fit me anymore with a black and white gingham pattern that could be good for upcycling into a blouse for wifey I think if I go about it right. I'll definitely have to ask her to let me use her as a model while I drape the pattern though and she'll HATE that lmao, my love does not enjoy standing still long enough for me to drape a blouse. I can picture it though, with a nice deep neck, a little pop of crepe and color at the cleavage, maybe a racerback or thick shoulder but sleeveless straps to make it a nice summer blouse and so it wears well under short jackets or fall sweaters, a scooped hem at the waist so it tucks well or wears gently at the tummy rather than being constricting.

So that's probably 4 items or so I can make with what we have at home. Not quite a wardrobe, but a start! And we'll see what else I find in our closets that can be put to use. I have a skirt that needs badly to be upcycled but no idea what to do with it. The underpinnings could probably be repurposed for...well more underpinnings, and the skirt itself is a breezy cotton, so maybe another blouse? It has a lot of pink, which really isn't wifey's color, but maybe I could pull it off. Maybe for the color pop on that shirt with a matching bonnet for her to wear with her twists once we put them in? We'll see what I manage. There's a lot of skirt to work with, I could probably pull something fun off. Oooh. A matching pullover. That would be cute as hell, and real summery. Maybe I can pull off all three if there's enough fabric and give her a whole set.

Okay, so that's 6 items to go for, largely shirts and underpinnings, which is good and important. But we still need to figure out some pants and a few more shirts before I'll be ready to set this project down, so we'll see what else comes of it. I think I'll take the weekend to break out all these pieces I'm going to alter and break them down to the fabric I'll need so I can just sew when the time comes. Maybe Monday since wifey and I both have the day off we'll do some draping if she's up for it and she and I can listen to podcasts while I get started on the shirt at least. I might be able to make two of the shirt in different iterations if I'm lucky and sizing works out the way I think it will. We'll see. If not, I'll see if any of wifey's old shirts are in a state enough to be upcycled.

I may look into the idea of a patchwork shirt? Scraps from various smaller or damaged garments that wouldn't be able to make a whole garment alone but can be fitted together into a neat design? And some sheet slacks. Those would be nice to do for wifey. Easy to buy sheets for cheap from the theift store and turn them into tailored slacks if I have enough buttons.

Okay. I have my plan. I have enough fabric to work with between now and the end of the month, and then at my end of month payday, we'll go thrufting and I'll get more along with a good button jar so I can start expanding into more complex garments.

#sewing plans #personal notes

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queerlycarter · 9 months

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god im so sick of being fucking broke all the time

literally just got paid this past friday and im already $40 in the negative just from paying my bills and getting gas and one of my bills slapped me with a $30 returned payment fee

my job has an option to pull money from your paycheck early and that's how i've been getting by the last couple months but for some reason it's saying my bank acct is ineligible now. i'm working on picking up a second job but it's slow going

i will need at least one more full tank of gas to get to next friday and i need to pay for my medication ($20). the medication is more urgent than the gas right now, if anyone has anything to spare, i really need my meds tomorrow at the latest

pypal or theres a ko-fi link in my bio

#i really hate to keep having to fucking do this #i literally buy nothing but bare minimum food essentials and gas #that's it #my bills are killing me #im finally caught up with late fees that i had no choice about over the last couple of months so hopefully it'll be better soon #carter speaks

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marcholasmoth · 1 year

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OSRR: 3099

if someone wants to give my blog a crab army, i would not object.

anyway, today was a big day. i got up early, worked, worked out with nancy that i'll now be coming to them earlier on saturdays, picked up lunch, went back to joel's to pack and eat, left to go to the airport in boston, picked up james, realized the sumner tunnel was closed for construction so we had to take a detour which was traffic-logged and miserable, so we went north to go southwest to get back home. we stopped at the chocolate shop and the whop for dinner before making the way back to the house so we could sit and eat. james is home and safe and i am tired as fuck and i still had dinner three times. would that count as three meals? hm.

oh well. at least i get to see joel again tomorrow - it's a big fight day for our campaign and im both excited and indifferent. probably because i'm exhausted.

and my feet hurt from the new shoes - because of the weird dimensions of my feet, i have to let the laces be looser than i wanted them to be, and there isn't enough arch support to keep my foot without pain.

i'm ready to not be pain.

and i'm wanting to see the joel. he was very affectionate today, so i am wishing for more affection tomorrow. i'm also hoping my paycheck gets deposited soon. and i gotta fill out my hours sheet.

but the good news is mom and i worked on my résumé today and it's significantly better than it was before or how it could have been. thanks to analytics, i can now see my success as a tutor, yknow? i can see those numbers.

i need to set aside time to talk to the new tutors to show them the ropes and stuff. sheesh. when did i become the tutoring department parent? 🤣

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #3000s #3090s #sunshine boy

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cats-mayhem · 1 year

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Stronger Than That

Thunderstorm at the Savannaclaw dorm and Ruggie notices Jack is rather tense.

(ao3 link)

Tags: Fluff, light angst, platonic relationships (+ small headcannons for Jack’s parents) Words: 1,388

The clouds darkened over the savannaclaw dorm and light rain began to haze onto the typically dry land of the dorm room. Ruggie was just doing his normal duty of cleaning up Leona's room as the lion slept. He picked up clothes off of the floor and threw them into the hamper that was starting to get a bit full. He makes a mental note that he'll have to do laundry sometime tomorrow since it's raining outside now. Honestly, rain gave him some mixed memories, from how he had to take care of the homeless children and try and entertain them while they were scared out of their minds every time a big boom of thunder happened. Fun, but stressful.

The low rumble of thunder was heard before two flashes of light and a crackling boom of lightning was heard. It was loud, yes, but Ruggie didn't even flinch nor did Leona even wake up. Thunderstorms are common in the Sunset Savannah, typically in the summer seasons but it can still happen whenever. Who controls nature? No one, probably. The rich haven't gotten their hands on it yet.

Ruggie just kept doing his chores for the lazy prince without much thought into it. He knew no matter how many times he'd clean Leona's room, it would always end up a mess in no less than a week. It was truly a futile task to do, but one that gave him a paycheck, so he did it. After he was mostly done, he just left the room, no need to wake up Leona on a Sunday. Walking down the stairs, he bumped into Jack on his way to his own room.

"Hey." Was what Ruggie said, nonchalantly. He didn't really want to deal with Jack right now. He has other things to do. He's a busy hyena, y'know?

"Ah, hello sir." Jack said, although something seemed off about it, like a tinge of nervousness. Was Jack nervous?

"Something up?" Ruggie asked, his curiosity now a bit peaked. He's a curious hyena, y'know? And besides, Jack is almost never nervous, so it was a rare moment.

"Um, no. Just going to my room to finish up on homework. That's all."

"Don't you normally finish your homework ASAP?"

"Yeah... But it's a project for Professor Trein I'm having issues with. I want to make sure I didn't mess anything up."

Well, this was peculiar. That small nervous tone never left Jack's voice, and he's worried he'll mess up on a project? The model student of Savannaclaw? Interesting. Ruggie will put a hold on those things for now.

"Hmm... Y'know, how about this: I'll help you out with the project."

"Y-You don't have to do that."

"Ah, c'mon, didn't you want me to mentor you? This is a rare occasion where I offer, y'know?" Ruggie laughed that hyena laugh.

Jack sighed, "Alright, fine." He gave into Ruggie's logic. It was easy for the hyena to trick the wolf into doing stuff.

Ruggie followed Jack to the wolf's dorm room, putting his hands behind his head. He didn't think that this day would go, but he is curious what's wrong with the model student. Maybe it's a super embarrassing secret he could tease the wolf with, that'd be fun, can never have too much teasing material. Teasing Jack was always funny because of how uptight the wolf is. Although part of him wonders if he caught Jack at a bad time, maybe he'll be a therapist today and that was not in his budget right now.

The two finally got to the dorm room. Ruggie simply plopped on the bed as Jack walked over by his desk and started to dig through is backpack for the project. The hyena just looked around the room just to admire how clean it was, at least Jack picks up after himself unlike a certain lion. Wow, Ruggie can't believe he's appreciating the bare minimum now. He needs to be in other people's room to restore the faith he had for people picking up after themselves. Jack got out a few pieces of paper along with his notebook and sat next to Ruggie on the bed.

Then, another low rumble of thunder happened. Ruggie couldn't care less about it, but he saw that Jack tensed up tenfold as he heard it. 'No way...' Ruggie thought as the flashes of white happened followed by the loud boom of lightning, causing the wolf to obviously flinch.

"Shyeheehee." Ruggie couldn't help but laugh.

"Wh-What? What is it?"

"You're... Scared of lightning aren't you?" Ruggie managed to say in between breaths of his laughter.

Jack tensed up more, "What?! No I'm not!"

"You flinched... Wow, the big wolf is scared of some lightning, shyeheehee." Ruggie was having a grand old time watching Jack's face go red with embarrassment.

"I'm not! I'm not scared!" Jack kept saying, "I'm not scared... I can't be..." He mumbled a little. A bit of, desperation in that tone maybe?

Ruggie's laughter died down as he looked at Jack, who was still tense. "What do you mean by can't be? Being scared of lightning ain't no big deal."

"It's not- Ugh. It's nothing." Jack sighed in defeat.

"Nah, you can't just say that and NOT give me context. Go on, or I'll tell everyone that Jack Howl is scared of lightning."

Jack groaned, "It's just... My parents didn't like me scared of little things like that. They'd get mad at me if they found out I was cowering under the covers from lightning or clinging to them... So I just wait it out alone."

Ruggie blinked. Not the answer he was expecting, and it seems like this is treading outside of his budget of the day. "Why'd they get mad at you for something like that?"

"They want me to be stronger than that."

Ruggie sighed. "Well, you don't gotta follow their dumb rules here. You can be alone and scared here all you want."

"Their rules aren't dumb! They're just sorta strict, that's all."

Just then, another low rumble, another strike of lightning, another flinch. Ruggie wasn't going to pry into this anymore. "Well, it's up to you to follow what ya want. I won't tell anyone about your little fear." Ruggie then giggled, "Of course, you can be scared around me, that'd be a fun story to tell to the kids back at home."

"I- Ruggie!"

The hyena laughed, "Anyways, do you really need help with the project?"

"...No, not really."

"Aw, so you lied to me. Here I was thinking I was gonna start my mentoring career." Ruggie giggled.

Then a massive lightning strike was heard. Ruggie was caught off guard, not by the sound, but by the sudden grab. Jack clung to Ruggie's arm and put his face on Ruggie's shoulders. "Uh- Jack?"

It took a few moments, but Jack realized what had happened and quickly let go of his seniors arm. "S-Sorry. Sorry."

The hyena couldn't help but giggle at Jack's childlike reaction. "It's fine. That one sounded like it hit nearby, so I gotta check if it set off a fire."

"A fire?!" Jack sounded a bit panicked before he cleared his throat. "I mean. A fire?"

"Shyeheehee, yeah, a fire. Thunderstorms are common in the Sunset Savannah and since this place is sorta based on that, they happen here too. Lightning sets off fires on the dry grass that spread like crazy. If it happens near here then we just get the third and second years to use some water magic to put it out before it can cause any harm to the dorm."

Jack stared at Ruggie blankly, but he could tell that the wolf was really nervous with what he had learned about his dorm. "Don't worry, I'll go deal with it. You stay here or something, I don't care." Rugge said as he got up to leave, but couldn't. Looking back, he noticed that somehow teh wolf grabbed his hand without him noticing. "Uh... Jack?"

Jack paused, looking at his hand, and let go, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't realize I did that."

"I'll come check on you after I scout the area for a fire."

"Ah- Sir you don't have to."

Before Jack could say anything else, the hyena left and shut the door on him.

#twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #twst ruggie bucchi #jack howl #twst jack #twst jack howl

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strayfriend · 2 years

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My car has been at the dealership for repairs since Monday evening. I missed a call early Wednesday morning and have called them back at least a dozen times since then, these fuckers will not return my calls. I don't even have an estimate! They haven't even started working yet. I used the online "contact us" chat twice to make sure they have the right information to contact me. If they don't call me first thing in the morning tomorrow I'm going to show up before work and have a fucking meltdown.

The only way I can get home if they don't fix my car is taking the fucking thirty dollar Amtrak, which I would need to take BACK later this week to get to work and pick up the car. I was off last weekend for a wedding halfway across the country and got half a paycheck as a result and I have a feeling the car itself is going to eat all my remaining funds. My bills are due this week. I'm gonna fucking lose it. Just having them look at it is going to cost 200+ dollars and they can't even call me back.

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jimmycartersufo · 26 days

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this is me having the Tuesday foh museum employee version of Sunday scaries. I love using tumblr as a sort of diary right now especially when writing my hand causes pain!

the last two weeks of work have been especially rough and this week I have some tough stuff to get through that I'm nervous about but it'll be OK. I just struggled with the unknown. time always moves too quickly this time of year and I'm desperate to hold on to my days off because I am so burnt out. the problem is when you're in between those biweekly checks and you're broke as hell but also it's been pouring down rain. I can't help but feel bad and guilty when I do nothing. I didn't do just nothing, I took care of my mom today and I've rested a lot but it still feels weird and bad.

I'm almost back to being in the green for my sick time. I used up all my sick time and my boss had payroll give me negative sick time which was a life saver. I miss my boss so much. everything has gone to shit without her. but she deserves so much better. clearly. anyway, in a couple weeks I'll start to see actual sick time build up again. and on July 1 I'll get more pto 🤡 but thankfully at least Juneteenth falls on a Wednesday so we will have a three day weekend. The museum won't pay it's workers more or respect their security dept (which is historically and systematically Black) but they will do land acknowledgements if they happen to put up a work by a Native person (aka no permanent land acknowledgement lol) and they'll give us Juneteenth off with pay. oh and back of house gets more pto than foh but I'm not here to list alllllll of my complaints rn. but we as a team are counting down the days so we can have a three day weekend. like yeah holiday pay on a day we already have off (every gov holiday that falls on a Monday) but would rather have a floating holiday for more pto. abyway I should hopefully have some sick time built up in a couple months to take a day off for rest.

falling behind on chores again. desp need to spring clean dust because ofc I have to be a maximalist autistic. still need to wash my beach combing finds from a few weeks ago. still need to hang stuff up. the most I can do is pick up a little. do a load of laundry but share the labor with my husband because we don't have the capacity for either or alone. do dishes maybe. make breakfast, lunch, and John makes dinner. take care of mom which is hard sometimes but more than anythjng it has to be done and I can trick my brain into not being an asshole about it. make the bed but in a more "lazy" way. take care of myself and stick to my barely there routine. medicine with alarms, brush teeth, set out the clothes I want to wear at least a day ahead but two days if possible. shower when it's been too long. lotion on my face and my arms and my legs if I can tolerate it. drink water. try and keep my salt levels up. stretches even if it's in bed. my daily puzzles. learn something new (read an article and or a wiki page).

at least tomorrow we get paid. I have to save money for when we go to an Orioles game soon. need to figure out when and how and where we are viewing the eclipse. grocery shopping. taking care of mom if dad is working late/in traffic. look over what bills are do this check. thankfully we get paid I think three times this month? JK it's may we get three paychecks but thankfully I get paid the week of my mom's birthday!!!!!!

I work on late shift this month. bad because no extra money but good because I am so fucking exhausted. I'm basically a sorta manager without all the manager roles and Def not the pay. but that's basically what I am now. thinking about it makes me sick. I goofed up somewhere to end up here with this responsibility. but also it was happenstance. I understand that. and that I have been masking so well for so long.

it's autism awareness day. I am autistic. I am finally feeling right with that. it's been over a year now, and I've spent that time reflecting on my life and the way I am. I was lucky that my sister has been in programs and I basically knew a guy that knew a guy that knew a guy. but I don't have like, a therapist or anthring to guide me through the realities of hey you're autistic and this is why you think and do xyz. I wish I listened to autistic friends years ago that said hey you're autistic and I was like no not me, I don't do this thing but the thing is a lot of those things I didn't think I did I literally did not understand the questioning which is funny. I can't really think of a good example but like you read a question like do you struggle to make eye contact and irs like yes but only in certain circumstances like when I don't know someone but you don't have the way to answer with nuances so you just say no. not the best example but it's like that. what's so interesting about being diagnosed late is you start to kind a breakdown the safety nets of masking and then it seems like you're faking because you're doing all this stuff not in private anymore, like you're regressing or something and it's like no I was just playing a role.

today for dinner I had chicken nuggets and heinz pickle ketchup and we watched a video about being in wdw on 9/11 and I was like oh

rigut now I'm trying to follow my night routine but I'm so anxious to sleep. I did sleep in really late today after sleeping poorly and then getting up to take care of mom in the morning. I woke up just before noon after going back to bed about nine???? so I'm not very tired. I'm going to go figure out my lunch for tomorrow so I don't worry about it in the am and then I'm going to check the laundry and if it's dry enough get my favorite pair of undies (tomboyx boy shorts) and my favorite pants (green!!) and find a top and then make the bed comfy and then I'm gonna use my new neck massager even though I've probably used it too much today and I hope to find a nice wiki article to read :)))))))

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psychameron · 2 months

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Untitled Apollyon Fanfic

Vikram was jerked out of his dream by someone sitting on his bed. Blinking in the light of his room, he peered blearily “The hell?”

Aditya was sitting on his bed. “Your mom sent me to get you; it's almost eight.”

Vikram blinked a few more times at the silhouette of his friend, information still tumbling around in his head. “Mom? Wait, did you say eight? As in, 8 am?”

“What other eight would I mean?” Aditya said, rising. “Why're you still asleep? You've been up and ready by 6:30 for the last few days.”

Vikram swung his feet around to the hab-block unit's floor and pushed out of bed. “If I ever sleep this late again, don't wait for mom, just come get me.”

“About to not be my problem, or so you say,” Aditya commented as Vikram rummaged around for clean clothes and started dressing. “Your mom says you're still gonna quit studying and get a job.”

“Tomorrow I'm 20 and they can't use my age to keep me out of the mines,” Vikram said, snatching up a brush off the floor and tilting the salvaged chunk of chrome metal that served as his mirror. He ran the brush through his hair and took the opportunity to break eye contact with Aditya. “I get a job, I get my own money, and I don't have to live with my mom anymore.”

“She doesn't like that,” Aditya said, stepping into the angle of mirror so he could hold Vikram's gaze again. “Thinks if you work the mines you'll wind up just like your dad.”

“I want my own money and my own place,” Vikram said.

“You mean you want somewhere you and Komal don't have to creep around.”

“It's different when you got a girlfriend,” Vikram said, fishing his mala off the repurposed vehicle chock that served as his night table. “I want to do what I want, and give Komal things. Like gifts. And maybe somewhere to live.”

“Man you are two kinds of crazy. You know anyone who got married at twenty that's happy?”

“I am tired of living in this hole in a wall studying some biochemistry crap on the hopes that maybe some day I'll get to shine some topsider's shoes while he calls me a good boy while I do 90% of his work and he gets 100% of the credit.” Vikram coiled the mala around his wrist, and pulled the guru bead to its proper position, to the right of his arm.

“Hey, in a few years that topsider might be me,” Aditya said.

“Gonna leave us cave bats for some penthouse apartment, drive a fancy car and go blind from all the sunlight?”

“If they pay me enough,” Aditya smirked. “I know you're sick of hearing it, but maybe at least finish school? The mines are always gonna be there and you'll get two years of peace from your mom before you can throw your hands up and say 'well I tried.'” A pause. “Not having to pay rent would be pretty nice, too. And who's to say you don't actually do well and get a real job where you get to sit down for a living.”

“Nah, I'd rather do real work.” Vikram picked his bag off the ground. “We ready to go?”

“Yeah, let's get moving.” Aditya shouldered his own bag. “Take some of the breakfast your mom made on the way out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vikram said, shooing him forward. “Let's get to school.”

Vikram sat in the light of central thermal reactor of Pahalagufa. Almost ten thousand people in the caverns used it for heat and electricity, but today Vikram used it for light, as well. Pages and pages of chemistry disappeared under his eyes as he pored over pages he'd been over dozens of times before. To the casual observer, he might seem to be studying. And after a fashion he did study. But his mind lingered on where his new home would be once he had paychecks from work in hand. From his vantage on the third sublevel of the cavern, Vikram could see nearly sixty percent of the habitation blocks like the one he grew up in. Most had the soft red glows of occupancy, but quite a few the green glow of an empty unit.

Most of them were barren metal cubes with little to recommend them to the average inhabitant of Pahalagufa, but a variety of factors made them the only option for the last three generations of workers laboring in Apollyon's massive mineral mines. Of which Vikram would soon find himself one, as soon as he could secure employment.

I'll need chairs, Vikram mused. Mom probably won't let me take any of hers. Bed probably won't be a problem. Or will it? I'll need a bigger bed for both of us. His brow furrowed as thoughts of nucleotides and phosphate bonds disappeared under logistical concerns. Beds are expensive here. At least, proper ones are. I should ask Komal if she knows a way to get a bigger bed.

As if conjured by his thoughts, Komal appeared out of the teeming throngs of people making their way through the avenues of the third level of Pahalagufa. Vikram pushed his textbook to the side and rose to greet her, but her posture and gait put him on edge. “Komal?” he ventured, reaching out to her.

Komal took Vikram's hand and tolerated his brief kiss on the back of her hand before sinking onto the same bench he was seated on. “Ugh, what a day,” she lamented.

“What's wrong?” Vikram asked, concern coloring his voice.

“Nothing,” Komal said. “Classes at my level are a nightmare. You'll see the same when you get to your fourth year.”

“You can handle it,” Vikram stated confidently. “Anything I can do to help, you say it and I'll have it to you before lunch.”

“I volunteered for the biochemistry track, it's my problem,” Komal said. “You said something about getting your own place soon?”

“Yes,” Vikram said. “My birthday is tomorrow, and once I'm twenty, then I can legally work in the mines. Once I have paychecks, I can afford my own place.”

“I don't understand,” Komal said. “Mining shifts and school are incompatible. You can't be in two places at once. You'd have to stop studying.”

“I know,” Vikram replied, preparing the spiel he'd rehearsed for days prior to this. “I will have to take a break from school in order to get the hours in, but once I've saved up enough I can quit working the mines and finish the biochem track, just like you. Depending on the pay that could easily be done in two years, maybe four if things are tight. Besides all that, once you have a big fancy science job you won't need me to support you.”

“Vik,” Komal said, her tone shifting to admonishment. “Do you know anyone who quit work in the mines and went back to school?”

Vikram blew out an exasperated sigh. “You sound like Aditya. Some people get sucked in and make it their lives but that won't be me. I know what I'm doing. I'm smart, and I have the most beautiful woman in the world to keep me on the right path.”

Komal smiled briefly at the compliment, but returned to her previous tone. “It is not worth it. Finish school. Once I have work in a laboratory I can recommend you for employment, too. It's only two years.”

“Don't, do not say 'it's only two years.' Two years is a lot different when it's under my mother's roof.”

“Your mother is watching the little boy she taught how to use a spoon learn about pheromone biosynthesis and G-protein dissociations,” Komal commented. “She's probably having a time, thinking about how she's going to be alone sooner rather than later.”

“It's an ending for her; it's a beginning for me,” Vikram protested.

“It is, but there's only one reason for you to do this, and that's because you want to be away from her.”

“She treats you like trash.”

“Don't change the subject,” Komal chided. “Whatever problem the two of us have, it's not worth you risking your future. I can deal with your mother hating me. I am not gonna deal with you fouling up your education just because you don't want to live with her.”

“Komal-”

“No, I've made my position clear. I'm done talking about this. These are next week's problems. We should be talking about your party.”

Vikram sighed. “I don't want a party,” he said, trying not to visibly pout.

“Well, too bad. There's going to be a party and sweet cakes and we're all going to tell embarrassing stories about you.”

Vikram released her hand. “I only want one thing for my birthday and apparently no one thinks I should get it.”

“Don't pout,” Komal ordered. “I have to go see my own mother about something. Try to pretend you're surprised and delighted tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Vikram surrendered. “Did you make sweet cakes for me?”

“No, your mother did. She's a better cook.”

“All right. Will I see you again tonight?”

“Probably not. After I can get away from dad tomorrow for the party, okay?”

“See you then,” Vikram said, leaning in for a hug. Komal embraced him, and then disappeared into foot traffic of level once again.

Vikram watched her walk away, thoughts stewing furiously. Had he been any deeper in his mind, he would not have seen Komal drop something from her bag. Realising there was a very real risk of it getting kicked into a gutter and disappearing forever, Vikram sprang into action to recover it from crowd. Twice it was kicked by pedestrians and once more by Vikram himself, but a desperate dive allowed him to catch it. Cognizant of the possibility that he might also wind up being kicked, Vikram regained his feet and hurried back to his own bag before someone could decide an unattended bag was there for the taking.

On his way back, he turned the object over in his hands trying to puzzle out what it was. It had a clear plastic case, and inside he could see a disk that refracted blue light when another light source hit, turning a sharp purple in the red light of the thermal reactor's cycle. Resolving to ask Komal about it tomorrow, he stuffed it in his bag and made his way to Aditya's.

A half-hour later, Vikram sank down on Aditya's bed while his friend labored at a net terminal, punching calculations in and occasionally modifying an on-screen schematic.

“What're you working on?” Vikram asked, lacing his fingers behind his head and crossing his legs.

“Practice test for exams in a few weeks,” Aditya said. “I'm almost done.”

“Don't rush on my account,” Vikram said.

Several more minutes passed in silence. Vikram sat up and pulled the item Komal dropped out of his bag. He probed it further, eventually finding a latch along the meridian that would pop the case open, exposing the blue disk inside. His contemplation came to an end when Aditya said “Holy shit.”

Vikram looked up from his reverie to see his friend staring at the disk in his hands, slightly agog. “Where did you get a DORD?”

“You know what it is?” Vikram asked, anticipating Aditya reaching out for it.

Aditya took it from him. “Yeah, DORD stands for 'Digital Optical Retention Diskette.' It's a fancy recordable media. We've used a few in my CAD classes. You don't really see them down here in the caves, they're more topsider tech.”

“So not anything Komal would have normally?”

“I mean, maybe, she's on her last year of school, maybe they trust fourth years with this kind of stuff, whereas us engineering guys have to use them sooner.”

“And you said it's a readable disk?”

“I mean, it should be. If someone recorded something on it I could read it with a mod drive.”

“Do you have one?”

“Sure do, hold on...” Aditya said as he flipped through a few metal components jacked in to his net terminal, reading their serial numbers one by one. “Here we go, mod drive Escal-2, compatible with all DORD marks.”

Vikram inserted the disk in the Escal-2 drive, watching the intake actuators take in the disk and begin spinning it. A few clicks of the reading armature sliding into place, and preloaded program on the disk started.

A video player appeared on Aditya's terminal, opening on a scene from Apollyon's surface, far above them. “Welcome to the Almarta Laboratories, a subsidiary of Alandalus Biotech!” a spritely voice announced from the video's audio track. “We are proud to welcome you,” and it momentarily flashed the name 'Komal Mudaliyar' before returning to the view of the previous building. “to the Almarta family! An exciting career in biotech production awaits you.” The scene wiped away and another began, but the video fragmented and stopped abruptly as Aditya ripped the disk out of the mod drive.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Aditya cursed, staring at the disk in his hand. “This is...probably private.”

“That was a surface-level biotech lab,” Vikram said. “I know the Almarta name. They were mentioned as a corp that doesn't discriminate against cave-district graduates, and thus a good place to work after graduation.”

“So...maybe Komal was looking at working for them?”

“Past tense. Looked. That video looks like something they send to new hires. As in, already hired.”

“We don't know that.”

Vikram shot his friend a look. “Komal already accepted a job with a surface-level lab. With a corp that provides on-site housing for employees. No way she'd sit through a three hour commute to and from work.”

“Vik,” Aditya began. “I thought the two of you were going to get a block.”

“I wouldn't be able to live on the surface. No way to get down here for classes.”

“We'd have to be apart for two years, except for holidays.”

“Or maybe...ah shit, I'm sorry. Maybe she's gonna move topside and then break up with you when there's 3 hours of funicular transport between the two of you in case you take it poorly.”

Vikram held out the disk's case, and Aditya replaced it. Vikram relatched the case. “Sounds like she and I have something to talk about before my party tomorrow.”

Sleep had some difficulty finding Vikram that night.

The habitation blocks of Pahalagufa would've been nightmarish for non-natives, constantly transmitting the dull hum of machinery and any raised voice from the neighbors, but to someone like Vikram, born there, listening to his neighbor scream at her husband about money spent on liquor that month was normal. Vikram's thoughts were occupied with how to confront his girlfriend about what was most likely an attempt to abandon him.

It took hours, with several breaks to watch shows on the hab-block's terminal but after 4 am his exhausted body finally silenced his restless mind.

Sleep was not restful, though.

Vikram walks the halls of Pahalagufa, but unlike the teeming throngs of workers commuting between work and home, he's used to, the halls are empty. He clutches his bag of books, trying to sling it over his back, but it gets incrementally heavier with each step until it unbalances him and he must drag it. He reaches out to Aditya, but his friend drags his own burden, a similarly overbalanced bag of books. Ahead of him, other students labor, some so weighted down by their books that they are resorting to pushing them along. At the end of the hallway, completely unburdened, floats Komal, less a student and more a goddess, untethered by gravity, one hand in the vitarka mudra and the other in the vajra mudra as radiance poured out from behind her, both her and the central reactor, the blinding light of the sun and the searing red of the thermal coils, at once both combined and also oscillating.

“Where I go, you cannot follow,” the Komal goddess stated, and though she did not address Vikram directly, he knew her words were meant for him.

“Wait!” Vikram cried, dropping his bag and making to sprint to her. As soon as he released the strap, creatures bubbled up from the hallway's floor, human in shape but heavily modified, with masks and hoses coiling around their waists, like someone had surgically implanted mining saftey gear to them. With each step forward, more of these miner-shades came forth, locking plastic-wrapped hands around Vikram's legs and dragging him down into the floor with them. “I won't go with you!” Vikram protested, trying to push them away, but there were so many that he had no hope. In an attempt to escape them, he turned back to his bag and seized the strap. The miner-beasts reacted as if struck, recoiling and re-submerging into the netherworld from whence they came.

Vikram tried to pursue the Komal goddess while clutching the bag, but its weight prevented him from making significant progress. And if he tried to abandon his bag once again, the miner-beasts would surge forward to drag him down again. A look to his left or his right would reveal his fellow students in similar straits; some of them dragged fully beneath the hall's surface by the miner-beasts. Vikram felt he should cry from frustration, but he could not. He kept trying to push forward while clutch his bag. The Komal goddess continued to rise, now almost past Vikram's reach. “Wait for me!” he called desperately.

Very suddenly his bag became even heavier, as though it was pinned down by something. Vikram looked back at it, and found himself staring up in to blazing red eyes and a mane of fire. The creature squatting on his big was enormous and yet also delicate, a massive humanoid form of fire and gold, yet it balanced its considerable bulk on only the single point of Vikram's bag.

THERE YOU ARE, it thundered, apparently not speaking and yet the words arrived in Vikram's ears just the same. TRYING TO HIDE FROM ME IN YOUR OWN DREAMS? It paused, as if waiting for an answer. NO MATTER. YOU ARE MINE NOW.

“Wha-what?” was all Vikram managed to stammer before the creature snatched him up effortlessly and dropped him into its yawning red maw.

Vikram was snatched from a sea of boiling oil by his mother's voice. “Vik, wake up! We have a million things to do and you cannot spend all morning in bed.” Bhairavi busied herself with scooping some of the chaos of her son's room into a managable pile. When Vikram groaned and curled further into his sheets, she pulled his pillow out from under his head. “This minute,” she insisted.

“Why does my face hurt?” Vikram asked, burying his face in his hands.

“You stayed up to late at Aditya's again,” Bhairavi stated. “Now get dressed, we have to eat breakfast and go to the supplier. If I'm going to make your favorite dinner, we need to get things.”

A half-dozen memories of his dreams, having his skin peeled off by tanners' knives rose in Vikram's mind and he sprang out of bed, only to hit his head on his mirror and go down in a heap.

“Vik!” Bhairavi exclaimed, rushing to her son's side. “You look like death. Go wash up and get dressed. I will check on breakfast.”

Pleased to be away from his mother so that he could reorder his thoughts, Vikram spent a moment on the floor trying to sort his memories from his awareness from the dreams he was just in.

Hot nails pounded into his forehead, bamboo stakes prying up his fingernails, cast into pit to be ripped apart and devoured by pigs-

None of it was real, all dreams. But his face burned, worse than how he imagined a sunburn would feel if he'd ever spent long enough in the sun to get one. His fingers itched like sand grit was pushing against the inside of his skin. He found his feet and trudged to the lavatory, scrubbing down his face washing his hands furiously, but nothing he could do would chase away the burning or the itching. Pushing down the immediate sense-memory of the boiling oil ocean, Vikram dried his face ran a brush through his hair, only to look down at it and see more hair than he was expecting to be pulled by the brush's bristles. “Is my hair thinning?” he wondered, compulsively checking his reflection in the lavatory mirror again. “I can't deal with this,” he said. He returned to his room and dug through his closet for clean clothes and scooped up his bag before heading out into the wider hab-block.

And he was greeted by a dozen faces, all smiling broadly, and shouting “Happy birthday!” The main area of the hab-block was decorated modestly, and significant amount of food was laid out.

Dozens of leering faces reciting Vikram's sins, while a figure in a smiling mask lashed his back into a bloody mess-

“What?” Vikram managed weakly, looking around in his still groggy state.

“We're having your party early,” Bhairavi stated. “Aditya I'm sure has something planned for later, but for right now you're going to have a party here.”

The next moments were a blur as a few of Vikram's cousins shook his hand and teased him about being twenty, as he undshouldered his bag, and some of his school friends telling him about his mother had been planning this for weeks and tracked them all down individually. All of this passed in a haze as Vikram tried his best to smile and be polite even though he was still stunned.

One thing cut cleanly through the haze, though. Komal was here, prudently far away from Bhairavi, but amongst the guests. All the sleep in Vikram's head melted away like a butter pat on a hot griddle, and the burning in his face increased an order of magnitude. Vikram's teeth clenched and every muscle in his arms and legs tensed at once. Vikram strode over to his discarded bag, pulled it open and obtained the disk he and Aditya viewed the previous night and crossed the room instantly, the party and his friends and family melting away until all he could perceive was a long red tunnel with Komal at the end of it.

Vikram stepped within arm's reach of Komal and brandished the disk's case where she could clearly see it. “What is this?” he demanded, tone making it evident that the situation was about to escalate.

Komal regarded him with confusion at first, then realization. “My DORD! I thought I'd lost it.”

“Your job offer from a topside corp,” Vikram said. “That you accepted.”

By this point, everyone present realized the situation developing. All eyes were on Vikram and Komal. “Vik? You're scaring me.”

“You'd have to live topside, a long way away from me,” Vikram continued. “What was the plan? Wait until you're in corp housing and then break up with me? Or just keep stringing me along and hope I lose patience with only seeing you four times a year?”

“Vikram Mehrotra,” his mother called, in the tone she reserved for correcting misbehavior.

“Vik, please, this is not the place,” Komal said, trying to move away from Vikram.

“I think this is exactly the place,” Vikram said. The itching in his fingers was nearly impossible to ignore. He reached out to Komal, intent on preventing her from moving away.

He never got the chance, because two of his cousins grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him back.

Gigantic demons beating him with canes-

Vikram tried to pull away from them, but they had the advantage in positioning and numbers. Vikram's teeth clenched once again and the burning in his face was unbearable.

Thousands of maggots writhing beneath his skin, eating his muscles and defecating on his bones-

Vikram tried to twist out of their grip, but they held him fast. Until the skin on his fingers split and blood-soaked claws emerged, allowing him to rake his cousins' faces.

A crown of red-hot iron laid on his head by cackling imps-

Vikram's normally black hair fell from his scalp, making way for mane of thick red hair, somehow both dancing in flames and yet unburned. The burning in his face subsided as new fangs ejected his previous teeth from his jaw, causing them to fall to the floor of the hab-block with bloody clicks. Vikram tried to say “Don't touch me!” but all that came out was a primal scream.

Chased by horseback demons, lacerating his legs with sharpened sling stones as they approached-

The gravity of the situation had dawned on everyone by this point, and this time Vikram was borne down six assailants, who pulled him off his feet and down onto the floor of the hab-block.

Again, Vikram tried to say “Let me go!” but could only manage a snarl. He struggled against those restraining him, but against six other people he could not get the leverage necessary to free himself.

A cocoon of chains as he was lowered into a sea of boiling oil-

As the memory of sea of boiling oil cross Vikram's mind, one of the people restraining suddenly loosened his grip, abruptly trying to get away, screaming as he went. Vikram looked to another and thought of the red-hot iron crown, and he also recoiled, trying to claw a crown from his head. Any torture he could remember from his dreams he could inflict on another, or at least the sense-memory of it.

Now free from those dragging him down, Vikram rose, chest heaving, head still coruscating with red flames, claws scoring the floor of the hab-block. His eyes darted around, looking for Komal but not seeing her. The door to the hab-block still swaying on its hinges seemed to indicate where she'd gone. Stepping over the bodies of those who sought to trap him, Vikram picked up the disk again and made for the door.

Before stepping out into Pahalagufa proper, Vikram again heard his mother's voice. “Let go of me, I don't care, he is still my son!” Bhairavi rushed to her son's side. “Vikram, please, do not follow her. If people see you like this, they will call the police.”

“Mother,” Vikram said with a voice like green wood popping in a bonfire. “I hope they do.” He reached up his clawed hand and cradled the side of his mother's head, then inflicted the Hell of Bamboo Skewers on her, leaving her clutching her fingers in agony on the floor of the hab-block.

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