honestly ordering groceries online is really difficult for me even though everyone else seems to have decided that this layout is the optimal one for online shopping. like it works pretty okay if you know exactly what you want, sure, but part of how I actually manage to stay fed is to go in and look for ~inspiration~, something I've gotten to do uhhhhhhhhhh twice in the past 15 months. but I flat out do not have access to a grocery store right now, and even when I do my access is very limited by exposure risk.
but like. arin said to pick out lots of groceries for myself, and she also needed a few things. even then, with a $10 delivery fee and a 15% tip (I'm aware some people feel that's still lowballing but I don't have the option to not get delivery I'm not getting a luxury splurge here), it's about $130 and will probably last me until I leave. because it's hard for me to spontaneously generate ideas just looking at a webpage of food links, and I eat less when I'm distressed, and I'm very good at getting by on only a little even when I'm not Basically Dead. the last $95 grocery delivery was 2 weeks ago, and she's only really filled in with a couple little snack runs since.
*correction: the last grocery delivery was $92 and it was about a week ago, but we only got groceries twice in april, $55 worth in a pickup order and then matt picked up a load of groceries while he was in town. and we're probably not going to get groceries again this month. point being I do not get many groceries and I do not get them often. arin does supplement with picking up like chocolates and stuff from time to time but that's very distinct in my head. and getting fast food once or twice a month is a splurge expense and an unusual occurrence so it's not like we're just eating out instead.
it is not a good thing, because food flat out is not that cheap right now. it means I'm not eating enough, or enough of a variety. she's mostly eating from the work cafeteria which is comped, but still.
I'll be home soon and matt really really wants to cook for me and keeps brainstorming ideas. plus he's shown a willingness and capacity to take a picture of the shelf in the store and let me choose if I can't provide specific items when I send him out.
It Has Been A Bad Year. in so very many ways that all fold in on each other.
0 notes
9 - Adoption Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be - Chapter 9
Words: 1188
Ao3 Link
Previous - Next - Masterpost
Tw: kidnapping, general creepiness, trauma discussion, injury discussion, death discussion
——————————–
The shifting sea of their glances oozed over him, covering him in a substance that he could only wish to be rid of, slimy, sticky, and squirming, finding its way into every orifice, every pore, and burrowing deep inside him, making his skin feel all wrong, like it was too tight and too loose and he was too hot and too cold and his organs rolled in his body and his eyes in his sockets and his nerves curled and twisted and writhed, and it was wrong, so wrong, and then Danny was running, his headache worsening and building into a single point of awful focus all while tears gathered in his eyes. He pivoted fast, pounding feet in rhythm with the pounding of his heart, and he heard the shouts behind him, garbled and unintelligible, and in his mind’s eye he saw the grasping hands, reaching from an impenetrable maw and snatching for his ankles and tearing at his clothing and now, blue-gloved and covered in oozing green, dripping slowly with the consistency of honey. Danny slammed into a wall and quickly recovered, pushing off of it, borrowing momentum, and stuttering to a stop as he came face-to-face with a tall man with dark hair, who grabbed his wrists and smiled.
Others would describe the smile as easy-going. Friendly, calm, inviting. Danny saw the way it stretched too wide, the way it betrayed a sense of triumph upon his capture that was too leering, too predatory; he saw how the man felt fulfilled with the chase in the way his teeth were too sharp and too hungry. Danny saw all of these things, but he was really looking at the eyes. The eyes that scanned and assessed and were all too alert, and the eyes that didn’t crinkle with that mask of a smile, that only showed a coldness and calculation. And Danny was terrified.
The man didn’t let go when Danny threw his weight against his grasp. He didn’t even falter. They stared at each other for a fraction of a second, Danny’s breaths panting and frantic, the man’s slow and calm. And then the smile widened further, until the man’s face split and Danny was left waiting for more cracks in his porcelain-perfect face to appear. Before they could, though, the man dropped his wrists, and before Danny could react, enveloped him in a crushing hug that made Danny’s skin crawl. Danny flinched as the man laughed, a sound that was distorted and much too loud.
He shoved the man off him, hard, and the man let him (and he was sure that the man was letting him). He fell back against the wall, tears finally spilling down his cheeks, stinging as they fell over cuts and scrapes, and settling in the folds of his shirt. The man finally stepped away, finally stopped being so close that he could feel his breath, hot like fire, on his neck. Danny watched, afraid, breathing erratic and hands shaking, and more and more people filled the hallway, coming from all sides, surrounding him, and his already-meager escape routes dwindled until he was stuck, alone, with that sea of predatory eyes boring into him.
“Jason? Are you okay?”, the man finally spoke, not in static and whispers, not garbled and distorted, as Danny had expected, but normal. Understandable. Not in the voice of the monster that Danny knew lurked. In his opinion, the normalcy of his voice might have been worse. This meant the monster was good at hiding. Danny stared at him. And then, not knowing what else to do, he spoke.
“Who are you? Who’s Jason?”, he said, and it was fast and panicked and the words sounded as though he had to force them out of a throat clogged with years of decay. The people donned various looks of surprise, eyebrows rose near-imperceptibly, breath was sucked in all too fast, the man who hugged him even jolted, and they all had the audacity to act wounded.
“You… don’t remember us? We’re your family, come on, Jason,” the man spoke, daring again in an insurmountable arrogance to sound hurt, to sound upset. Danny felt his chest tighten, the panic somehow rising, as did his anger. Fueled by his pain and the man’s words, he managed to spit out in a sputtering flame of fury,
“What the fuck? No, I’m not. No, you’re not. My name’s not fucking Jason, I’m Danny,” his voice softened, and it took on a pleading tone, one that was laced with desperation, “I don’t know who you are. You’re not my family, I know you’re not my family, just, please. Let me go. I won’t tell, I promise I won’t tell, please just let me go,”
“Your act will not fool us, Todd,” the smallest one spoke up, with a tone of superiority and confidence, “We have examined your injuries, they are the same as Todd’s when he ‘died’, and you bear his exact resemblance. You cannot possibly think that your subpar acting skills will convince us otherwise,”
Danny felt his heart sink as his skin crawled all the more, and his expression betrayed every emotion. The tears picked up again with renewed intensity, running in ruts down his face and creating shining trails paved with despair, as he looked up and met the hundreds of shifting eyes.
“Please. I promise, okay, I promise, I’m not Jason, I don’t know who that is, please. I want to leave, I want to go home, I just- ... please, let me go home,” he whispered, his voice scratching and filled with choked-down sobs.
A girl in the back suddenly stepped forward, melting easily from the darkness. She was younger than the first man, it seemed, with eyes that were much too black and sucked in the light around her, leaving her a shadow that was too silent, too empty, too seamless. This monster was good at hiding. Danny eyed her warily.
“He is not lying,” she said, and Danny’s heart swelled, “He truly does not remember,” she finished, and Danny felt his chin hit his chest. The people looked close to doing the same, until a short one with spiky hair snapped up suddenly, too suddenly, with a determination in his eyes that made Danny recoil.
“It’s okay! This is probably a trauma response or something! I mean, his maybe-death was probably pretty traumatic, so he’s probably blocking that or something. He’ll remember. We just have to give him time, and being around us and all his old stuff will probably help,” the boy almost yelled in triumph.
The others nodded enthusiastically, and as they accepted the idea, each one gained a manic tint to their eyes and their smiles widened to curl behind their ears and they all seemed to flicker green. They turned, slowly, their feet making no sound despite the heavy shoes many of them wore, and once again all of their shifting eyes, their warped smiles, their too-sharp teeth, and their twisted faces, all focused on Danny, and their jumbled speech flowed once more, horrible words that burrowed:
“It’ll be okay, Jason,”
——————————–
Next - Masterpost
——————————–
Hey! Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, I wasn't sure if I was entirely happy with how it turned out; I don't think I got the pacing quite right? And I was trying real hard to lean into the unsettling vibe and I think I leaned too hard. Ah well though, it's late, no time to think through decisions about posting. Or editing. It'll be fine, right? Anyway, thank you for reading! Constructive criticism would be appreciated.
——————————–
Taglist: @tkiesai
31 notes
·
View notes