#like he has no bank account no car no license no job and he has no nonfamilial social support | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sailoreuterpe · 1 year ago

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I'm not doing well. I'm spiralling because I'm having difficulty finding a job, even though No OnE wAnTs To WoRk AnYmOrE. Although I understand intellectually that I won't ever be homeless (due to living with my retired parents who get enough in Social Security to keep us all housed), being unemployed is triggering me. I've been poor my entire life; although some periods were more stable than others, I've never been comfortable. This period of job hunting is also unfortunately reminiscent of when I was unemployed in 2013, when I was in danger of becoming homeless.

I was recovering from the debt and trauma of that time for years and now, due to foolishly keeping my brother afloat, I'm in critical debt again. I was debt free in 2020 except for our shared car note on a car that I don't have any access to any longer. I closed my 401K (and had to pay the resulting fees and taxes) in 2017 to buy a car so that he wouldn't lose his job, even though I didn't get my own license until 2023. That car wasn't for my benefit at all, no matter how he tried to spin it or how hard I ignored the truth. That fucking car has been a constant financial drain and stressor, even after he promised to pay the note himself since I didn't have access any longer. This is after I managed to get out from the debt in 2018 that I incurred getting the car out of delinquency--delinquency that he hid from me for months rather than just tell me that he couldn't pay the monthly note. I only found out about the car's impending impounding due to the bank finally calling me after he ignored their calls for months. I cleaned out my entire bank account paying fees and penalties because he was too fucking "ashamed" and prideful to just fucking gut up and admit that he needed help--help that I could have provided without incurring fees!

Then, rather than use his stimuluses in 2020 to pay down the car, he went on trips, paid other bills, and bought weed and energy drinks. Because he refuses to get a job that's "beneath" him and he can't find consistent work as a construction worker, he's chronically behind on his bills and the car is always always always the one that he ignores because, "well, Nikki will take care of it!" He won't get a part-time job in between construction work; he won't get a temporary job to get caught up on his bills; he won't even do remote work like Text Broker. Nope; he just whines about how broke he is while smoking weed, playing video games, and drinking enough energy drinks to destroy his liver.

Now I'm nearly $3,000 in credit card debt with absolutely no money to my name. He already owes me $1,000 for the movers that I hired when we stopped living together because he was working out-of-town. I didn't see any of that extra money, by the way. No; I spent the weeks leading up to us moving out packing his stuff in between working forty hours a week and trying to find a place to live myself. He was fine and dandy, living with his then-girlfriend and making bank--and then he had the absolute gall to guilt-trip me when that didn't pan out and I'd already found a place to live. To him, I was the easy backup. I was the "always there."

This isn't unique to him. I do this with all of the men in my life and I JUST FUCKING LET THEM TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME. Because I'm afraid to lose them, because I'm afraid of their anger, because God forbid I protect my boundaries. Because that's what I'm for: to be the bank and the nanny and the therapist.

Now I'm in massive debt with no money. I'm applying to jobs that will kill me, either emotionally or spiritually, because I actually pay my debts. I'm about to apply to the slaughterhouse, even though I will genuinely lose my mind if I work there, because it's something and I can't be in debt any more. I can't, I can't, I won't.

I don't know what to do. No one will hire me. My credit score is rapidly tanking from the credit card debt. I owe my dad $300+ because I used his money in my bank account to pay the car payment this month. I keep saying, "I'll let the bill default. I'll let the bank take the car. I won't keep letting him treat me this way." And then I don't change anything. He keeps pulling me down and I keep letting him because it's my credit on the line. I just need a job. I would love to be a lazy bastard who just sleeps in and plays video games and gets to be all high-and-mighty about politics and regularly asks for mutual aid but hasn't donated to a cause in years, as far as I'm aware. However, I need to pay my bills. I need to pay my debt. I need to take care of the house. I fucking applied to Walmart. I swore that I'd never work in a department store again. Working at Target genuinely drove me insane: daily screaming anxiety attacks in the walk-in coolers were a feature. Too bad about that; someone has to keep this fucking family alive. None of my older siblings can or will and my younger brother (rightfully) refuses to drown with everyone else. I don't blame him; this family is a cesspit. I just want a job. I don't want to work my ass off for shitheels and shitty pay and no benefits but them's the breaks. And even the fucking entry-level jobs that hire literal children won't hire me. "Now Hiring!" What a crock of shit.

I hate being poor. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate the cold and the dirt and the fear and the heat and the stress. I hate not being able to buy my friends' art or donate to charity or give money to my family or take people out to dinner. I had plans! I had so many plans and I can't do any of them without money! I just want to have nice drinks in my fridge for guests and not have to worry about the cost. I just want to be able to shrug off ten dollars on a grocery error and not have a panic attack because that's ten whole dollars. I just want, for just fucking once, to actually have enough money without incurring more debt through credit cards or fines or loans. I just want to be able to do nice things for people without constantly freaking out about every penny. I just don't want any more nightmares about living in dank, dripping filth or losing all of my possessions or working to the bone. I'm not doing well.

#Notes by Nikki #mental health #mental illness #depression #depressive #mental breakdown #mental problems #emotional breakdown #job hunt #job hunting #work search #work searching #family #emotional pain #I'm doing my best to tag this so people can ignore #mental pain #also I'm sleeping like shit #due to the heat and stress #I have no appetite

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ivoryminitower · 3 months ago

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FFXIV Write 2024 prompt 11: Surrogate

Husband worries about "ID". He says it relates to identity, which we have talked about. Our bodies changed when we left Eorzea, and his body changed when he left Earth, so are we truly the same people we once were?

But ID is different from identity, and has its own worries. We need ID so that people "officially" know who we are. The government here wants to know who everyone is. The government records who was born, who has died, who owns what, who is allowed to do what, where people can go, and how much people must pay in taxes. If one does not have ID, there are many things that are more difficult to do.

Husband showed me his ID, his "driver's license," which he carried with him to Eorzea. It was useless there, and it is now useless here…he no longer looks exactly like the little picture on it. Getting a new one would need a "birth certificate." He says his will no longer work for him either, and I do not have one at all.

He has listed many things this affects. We cannot drive a car because we cannot get a driver's license. We cannot own a car because cars are taxed and licensed, and both of those things are tied to an ID. We cannot have a bank account, or a credit card, or an "eighty emm" card, because those things need ID and can be taxed. We cannot own a house because it can be taxed. We cannot get a "passport," so we cannot legally leave the country, or return to it once we do.

So we do what we can, often involving cash. I always used cash in Eorzea, but Husband apparently often did not even carry cash in Earth. Our inventory will let us carry a lot of cash, but it does not matter since we have so few dollars.

We travel by bus during the day, and fly on goobbues by night. We live in someone else's home, for which we do not pay cash. We do our crafting in a workshop we built but do not own, for which we pay by bouncing at the bar. We do not sell our soft pretzels and fruit pies, since that would take a business license…the diner sells them, but only when we are working there. For which we are not paid in cash.

We do odd jobs sometimes, helping with building or farming or moving. We do not do them "officially"...people approach Sam at the bar, and he tells us what needs to be done, and we do it. He is our levemete. Then people pay off their "tab" at the bar, and Sam gives us cash, keeping some for himself. Husband has wondered about using Sam as a "front" for crafting leves, to let us make and sell unstatted replica accessories online.

"Officially" we are not people. We are no one. We exist only through others.

(Based on Echoes of Home, hosted on Wattpad.)

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv echoes of home

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spacecadetspe · 7 months ago

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Apr. 16, 2024

Last week was hard. I had W for most of the week, and normally that's not too much of an issue. I'm an adult, and most of the time can handle whatever is thrown at me. But this past week, it all broke down.

I have an acolyte in Ohio who is either willfully obtuse or learning disabled, and he is perpetually in his own pity party. That means he doesn't hear my wisdom, glosses over any replies, and then makes himself out to be the victim of his own circumstances. So I got frustrated at him and was leaving him on read for most of the week. He said that was being "discourteous" and "childish," both of which made me mad because that's such a manipulative thing to do. I don't owe courtesy to someone who disrespects me, and there's nothing childish about protecting my peace.

Then there's my apprentice, who for all my training still is resisting leaving her abusive situation. She can't find her social security card or her drivers license. She won't go to the bank to get a new account. And without those things, there's no starting over for her.

Then on Wednesday evening, Fortitude took a potent THC gummy and became violently ill for most of the following day. Which meant, as a partner, he was pretty much useless for 24 hours. And my mom was out of town for the week, which meant I had no other options when it came to taking care of my son.

So even though I got to work at 7, I had to leave to get W to school (late, because Fortitude was out of commission), then again for early pickup at 1. Which means I got stuck in traffic four times before my day was over.

Not only that, but I have a new boss who doesn't seem to have a clue how our job operates. And as I am somehow the second most senior member of the team, much of that weight fell to me, in spite of not knowing how to do his job for him. Not only that, but several of my coworkers decided to drop in on me, either for expertise, to have corrections made to their labor, or to input new work orders. So the stressors kept piling up. And why couldn't I "take a proverbial chill pill" like Fortitude and rest? Because someone has to do the work. Someone has to be there. And I don't want to be like him, deferring my pain instead of trying to find a solution.

So I had a breakdown on the way back from dropping my son off. I didn't know who to call, or who to trust, so I just screamed at my steering wheel and hoped someone, anyone, was listening. Maybe Mother. Maybe an astral guide somewhere. I can't do this by myself! I don't want to do this by myself! I can't be the only one who cares about the work that has to be done! I can't function like this! And when I was finished and had spent all my tears, I let myself be numb and sit in the quiet of the car for awhile.

And there in the silence, I realized two important things; one, that another aspect had separated from me, and two, that what I was so upset about wasn't actually the other people in my life; it was that I couldn't control what was going on around me.

I wasn't upset that my acolyte had disrespected me (though it would be valid to assume so); I was upset at myself for allowing him the notion that that behavior was acceptable. I wasn't upset that my apprentice couldn't find her documents or keep them on her person; I was upset because she wasn't operating on my timeline, and wasn't as pressed about things I thought were important. I wasn't upset that Fortitude had taken a gummy and been incapacitated for an entire day; I was upset because I felt alone and unsupported and overworked. I had told these people over and over what was important to me, and none of them seemed to value that input.

In short, I was worried about half a dozen people who realistically weren't my problem to worry about. If they're not going to value what's important to me, then why am I working so hard for their benefit?

And after that, I calmed down quite a lot.

My acolyte will learn, or he won't have access to me. My apprentice isn't on my timeline, and her welfare is not my responsibility. And Fortitude... we had a nice long chat after that.

He readily apologized for what happened, how he was unable to even function, let alone care for my son. He's aware that the problem lies not with the THC use, but with the job that is slowly hammering him into the ground. It's so grueling that he's having trouble walking without daily doses of anti-inflammatories. And it's finally hit him that he's ready to quit.

"Am I a bad person for not wanting to give that place another chance?" he asked me.

I replied with a question; "Was I a bad person for wanting to leave a marriage that had lasted ten years?"

He seemed taken aback by the thought. "Babe, you're in a much better place now..." And then it hit him what I was asking. "You gave him plenty of chances, worked yourself to burnout, and got to the point where the relationship was doing damage to your mental health. Your only feasible option was to leave."

I nodded. "Exactly." This is what it means to have followers; none of it is about worship or accolades or power. It's about a group of people who are capable of learning from your experiences and growing until they are fledged enough to break out on their own.

With any luck, Fortitude will soon have a different job. And things will settle down once again.

#spicy psychology #shadow work

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kyetalksshit · 8 months ago

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I'm actually so weirded out but struggling to figure out if this is an opportunity for me??

I've been so tuned in with my spirit team lately and was trying to get my car situation settled without a gap in having a car. I need to renew my license but in nc because it's a California license, and then get a new car from a dealership across the street from my job. I was then gonna let my car loan company repo their car. It was supposed to be nice and smooth right?

Well on Tuesday night I went to go visit my friend Jen for the first time in months, at her new apartment in high point. We did some INTENSE spellwork and I called in some favors, including the car situation.

And then on Wednesday, we left the apartment at 330pm so I could take her to work and head home (and renew my license the NEXT DAY on Thursday), but my car was just Gone.

It was a mess - I was simultaneously having a panic attack and feeling a bubble of calm in my gut. I was flabbergasted at the timing - right after successful spellwork (we checked in on the energies and everything went great so???) and the ONE DAY I was almost 3 hours from home. 😭 I thought it was stolen at first, filed a report, etc but found out on Thursday it was repossessed. How they found me I'm not sure, the insurance lady said sometimes they'll contract out tow trucks to just drive around and pick up whatever cars they can find on their roster so it may have been that. But again such crazy timing.

My friend Remi came and picked me up which almost made me cry lol and we ate at Jen's bar before heading home.

Anyway, I wasn't able to get my license renewed on Thursday because I couldn't get there until like 130pm after all the phone calls and stuff, and the dmv had no availability. So I'm going to go on Monday morning before work and pray to my gods that it works out.

I also asked for money, for my taxes to come back early so I don't have to wait until next Friday (my next paycheck), and straight up 10 minutes later it showed up in my bank account. My friend sent me $100 completely unprompted????? I cashed out $25 from a site that usually takes the full 5 business days and it was in my account in 30 minutes????

So as long as I get my license on Monday (because it's illegal to drive on an expired license and also I assumed you needed a VALID license to buy a car), the plan is to drive straight to the car lot across from work and pick up a car. There are a few there for $500 down and they don't check credit and repos are ok so it will work out. I've also heard good things about that place from the people at my job who have gotten cars with them.

But now my roommate?? Who is a used car dealer (with admittedly mixed reviews on Facebook marketplace at least) is so?? Frantic to help me??? He wants to find a car at an auction for like 2K for me, take the 500 down, and charge me 100 a week until it's paid off. And he keeps saying "you live with me, I'm not gonna sell you a car that doesn't run".

And I'm just so confused and conflicted because like. My team WOULD do something like this lmao but at the same time I cannot stand him??? He's a terrible roommate and keeps the place so disgusting that I bought a mini fridge and microwave so my "kitchen" is entirely in my room. I only go downstairs (where he is 24/7) to take my dog outside or to leave the house. He's loud, he's messy, he complains about tufts of my dog's hair building up over the course of a week but leaves literal garbage all over the floor and has been sleeping in the living room even though he has a bedroom with a whole bed?? I've slung some evil eye his way (mostly not on purpose but he's pissed me off countless times in just the 2 months I've been here, and the only times I've slung any on purpose it was to get him to take his company outside or to be quiet) and want to move out as soon as my car situation is settled. But also he doesn't want to charge me interest because apparently it's against his religion?? So it would be paid off in like 3 months-ish and then I wouldn't have to worry about a repo again? And it IS weirdly serendipitous that he owns a car dealership.

The problem is that my personal issues with him and disdain for seeing him at all means that I'd rather not have any ties to him and I immediately was like fuck no. But on the other hand it WOULD be a good deal honestly as long as the car was actually decent. So idfk man.

Time for divination I guess? I told him I need to talk to my parents about it but I've been soured against my parents for the moment tbh lol so what I really meant was "let me talk to my gods (two of who DO assume parental roles hahaha so ig it's not that far off) and my friends and my tarot cards" lol

#car shit

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candiedcolloquium · 1 year ago

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I was dating a guy in my first semester of college, he had a car and I didn’t even have a license. My college campus is a pretty big city, but everything is walking distance so its fine, except now this guy I’m seeing has a car that has to be parked somewhere whenever we go out. We go to this cute diner a couple blocks away one night and park in their lot, go in and eat and when we come out his car is just fuckin gone. Go back in and tell the waittress we think his car was stolen, and she just goes “oh no sorry lol it got towed. You have to pay to park in the lot, it isn’t ours, go check the sign for the number to call.” (this not very obvious sign with no light on it that neither of us noticed) We go back outside and this motherfucker is BACK ALREADY towing another car and we talk to him and he says it’ll be $160 to get the car back and it’s at least a 5 minute drive away, it’s only $80 to get it back if he waits til the next morning though (insane fucking system, would they have just been able to charge even more than $160 the next day if they felt like it, if there’s no actual regulation?? Why are they so cruel to give a “cheaper option” that most people won’t be able to take because they need their car back??). I really like this guy and we’ve been dating for a couple weeks and I’m asking him to just spend the night in my dorm in the tiny twin bed so it won’t cost so much, I have no job and no money, he works part time at Lowe’s. But he doesn’t want to, so I just have to watch completely anxious and upset, bordering on a panic attack the whole time this is happening, while he pulls almost all the money out of his bank account to go get his fucking car back so he can go home. I don’t even know what we would have done if one of my friends didn’t happen to have a car to drive us, call his dad to come down from half an hour away or something? And the craziest thing was telling people about it and some people with cars being shocked to find out that they’d been parking there “illegally” and could have been towed!! Like it wasn’t just us being oblivious it was purposefully not made obvious. It was a huge parking lot near other buildings and restaurants with a line of 7-8 spots right next to the diner but the whole lot was owned by the same company apparently. You’d think this diner would have a sign up inside or on the wall outside, or have the waitress ask to make sure anyone who drove there knew they had to pay, but nah, perfect way to end a meal at a restaurant, can’t wait to eat here again.

it should be illegal to tow a car as punishment and i’m not even kidding

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humansofnewyork · 3 years ago

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(2/2) “Before I left Miami my friend gave me an old Puerto Rican driver’s license. There was no picture back then, just a name: ‘Ramon Alvarez.’ So I decided: ‘My name is now Ray from Puerto Rico.’ In Miami it was warm like heaven. But when I arrived in New York it was snowing. Outside the bus station there was a Jewish guy selling coats for $14. I told him I only have $7, and he says no problem. He hands me a coat. I zipped it up and felt like a million dollars. I walk into a place called YMCA. I tell them: ‘I’m homeless.’ They ask me: “Are you Christian?’ I tell them: ‘Definitely. God bless America.’ And they give me bed to sleep. I go to every bar, every restaurant. I tell them: ‘I need a job.’ Everyone says: ‘No, no. Get out.’ But then one of them says: ‘You are now a pot washer.’ Every day I had to wash 150 pots. But every night the chef gave me a pot of rice. He says: ‘Lock yourself in the closet and eat this.’ Beneath the rice there was steak, and pork, and shrimp! I began to get fat. America, beautiful. One day I walked by an employment agency. I went inside and said: ‘I am Ray from Puerto Rico. I want to be waiter.’ The man tells me: ‘You are now waiter at something called country club in place called New Jersey. You will sleep there. You will eat there. You can use swimming pool, tennis club. And $5,000 a year!’ Oh my God. America, so beautiful. For two years I work at country club. I save every penny. The number in my bank account go up to $10,000. But the manager he has a drug problem. He tells me: ‘Ray, give me $5000 or I call immigration.’ I had no choice. I had to do it. But no problem. America still beautiful. I found a new job parking cars: $5 tip, $2 tip, $1 tip. I spend nothing. I sleep in Volkswagen camper. One day the number in my bank account says $33,000. At the time I had a dream to buy Italian restaurant. But the only restaurant for sale was a place called Andy’s Candy Shop. I knew nothing about candy. But I could learn. So I walked inside, and told the man Andy: ‘I’m here to buy your store.’ He looked at me like I’m crazy. But then I showed him my bank book. And that’s how Andy’s Candy Shop became Ray's Candy Store. America, beautiful.”

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shemarmooresfedora · 4 years ago

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Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #ellesgreenawaybookclub

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Cardigan - Rafe Cameron

Request: heyy for the ts anthology, can u do one for cardigan with rafe? love ur writing🤍

TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

The summer you turned thirteen was the same summer your dad showed up again. Driving the same lemon of a car that he’d pulled out of the driveway in when you were six, he looked like he hadn’t aged. Or maybe you just didn’t remember him all that well because his face felt the same but you were different. When you missed your best friend’s birthday, a trip to the gymnastics gym on the mainland and a towering cake with fondant replicas of all her favorite things, she was rightly pissed.

Thirteen felt monumental, like the movie the two of you had snuck onto your mom’s Verizon bill, and you had both made a pact that you would be there for each other no matter what. That promise included birthdays and, more seriously, dads who showed up after seven years of radio silence because they didn’t want to “miss anything else”. But you didn’t mention your dad because hers was so great and you felt a little like you were floating on an island and no one could understand you enough to reach it. But then you missed her birthday and she swore not to speak to you and that felt more crushing than the dad thing until her brother stepped in. Always the one playing referee in when you fought, Rafe was a few years older and, in your mind, a lot smarter.

It felt pretty important that an older boy would make the time to talk to you, especially when he had to know that his sister was avoiding you at all costs. He’d just gotten his permit and, like any good brother, showed up in the car he wasn’t supposed to drive with a minor in the passenger seat, to take you around the island for the afternoon.

“My mom said she thinks we’re gonna move.” You mentioned, less casually than you would’ve hoped. The windows in the truck were rolled down and you had your legs up, feet placed precariously on the window ledge. There was a particularly nasty bruise on your knee from falling off your skateboard three days ago and a few short hairs you’d missed shaving. You were relatively new to both shaving and skateboarding so there were bound to be mistakes, you just wished they were less visible.

“Off the island?” Rafe asked, concern etched into his tone. You assumed the concern was for his sister, what would Sarah do if you moved? Who would put up with all her antics?

You shook your head, “to the cut.”

“Why?”

“She can’t afford the house on her own anymore and my dad has been lousy with child support.” You repeated back all the things she had said to you. Why she didn’t take him to court like the other kid in your grade with divorced parents was beyond you. Rose told her that it was the only way to ensure he paid what he was supposed to but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to hold him accountable.

Can’t believe you’re gonna be a pogue.” He said it like it meant something worse than you moving to the mainland.

“It’s not forever. My grandma’s house is there, we’re gonna stay with her until we can get back up on our feet.” You shrugged, “at least my dad’ll stay away then.”

But you dad wasn’t the only one who kept their distance. It felt like the distinction over your mother’s life choices held a greater impact on your friends than they had let on. A year into pogue life and Rafe seemed to disappear almost completely. It had always been an odd kind of friendship in the first place but you’d thought that it could’ve withstood a change in address.

Sarah kept in touch, unbothered by labels or mailing addresses. She’d been to your grandma’s a hundred times before you moved and she continued to go there to see you after. The two of you played in the backyard, doing tricks on the trampoline until gossiping about kids at school became more important than cartwheels. You’d lay there whispering as if someone might overhear, telling each other stories from the week that you were separated. Rafe always came to pick her up, staying in the car and honking the horn for her but never coming over to see you.

It felt a little lonely even though you technically retained most of your friends.

In tenth grade you got the role of Eponine in the teen camp production of Les Miserables that the local theatre was putting on. You were technically sharing the role with another girl your age but you couldn’t help being excited nonetheless. The boy playing Marius was in two of your classes, a senior who had lofty city dreams and a nice smile. He flirted almost constantly with you, brushing your hair back, telling you how pretty you were, inviting you out after practice. You told Sarah you were “pretty sure” you were on your way to having your first real boyfriend.

But maybe the ominous casting of Eponine over your life should’ve been hint enough that things weren’t destined to work out that way. The boy who played Marius had an actual girlfriend, home from vacationing with her family in time to watch her boyfriend on stage, and you were supposed to accept that he was just “connecting to the character” when he was with you. Either way, your On My Own struck a different chord in you and after the show was over you didn’t join the other cast members in the lobby to greet people.

“So when you get to New York...do I get to leak all those videos of you and Sarah doing your Genie in a Bottle routine?” Rafe asked, pulling a chair next to you at the makeup table. Yours was halfway off but you’d stopped scrubbing at your face to stare at yourself in the mirror. Self-pity was a powerful procrastinator.

“You’re supposed to be in the lobby.” You pointed out, ignoring his comment, “I look like a ghost raccoon that just climbed out of a dumpster.

“Now there’s an analogy.” He laughed and picked up the cotton pads you had sitting on the counter, soaking one in micellar water and turning your head to face him.

You bit your bottom lip as you tried to keep your composure. It’d been a while since you and Rafe had been alone and last time he was just your best friend’s cute older brother. Too old for you and way out of your league but you were fifteen now and seventeen didn’t feel so far away.

But Sarah was your best friend and she would be mortified if she found out that you had even entertained the idea of her brother, let alone had serious thoughts about it.

“I’m sorry,” you said as he swiped the cotton pad over your cheek.

“What for?”

“I know we’re all supposed to go out tonight for dinner but I kinda just wanna go home.” You replied.

“Sarah might’ve let it slip about-”

You groaned, “don’t even say his name.” You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment at having let yourself totally believe he liked you but hearing Rafe bring it up made you feel even worse.

“Hey, you’re so much better than that loser,” He insisted, “I’ll beat the crap outta him though, just say the word.”

It was that same year, just as school was ending, that you turned sixteen. A short stay in the cut at your grandma’s house had helped your mom get back on her feet. A new job, better than the one that let her go, afforded a moderately sized house back on Figure Eight and a birthday with all the friends that had left the two of you behind.

Sixteen felt a little more important than thirteen had, especially because, for two whole weeks, time suspended and you were technically only a year younger than Rafe. You still hadn’t told Sarah that you liked her brother, though she did seem a little suspicious when the crush on your co-star dissipated almost overnight. The boys of the past had no hold over your growing infatuation with Rafe. Maybe it was foolish but you couldn’t help thinking that maybe it wasn’t.

Especially not when he showed up at your house the same way he had when you were thirteen, though this time he had his actual license and not just a permit. He told you it was birthday drive around the island, that he was in charge of stalling you while Sarah set up a surprise party at your house.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell me that it’s a surprise.” You teased, sipping at the iced coffee that Rafe had brought you when he picked you up. You swished the ice around once before sipping again.

“It’s a party either way.” Rafe replied, shrugging his shoulder.

“So, we’re just driving around until she texts you?” You asked. Rafe turned into the Island Club, circling the parking lot once and then turning back around.

“I’m yours until Sarah says otherwise.” He said, the words erupting butterflies in your stomach. You could practically feel yourself heat up thinking about what those words could mean if he wasn’t just your best friend’s brother.

“Well...then do you wanna go to the beach?” You suggested, “Jaxon showed me this really cool spot on the south side that’s practically hidden.”

“Jaxon?” Rafe sounded judgmental when he said the other boy’s name, whether he meant to or not.

“Yea, we’ve been on a couple dates. You know him, he took me to prom,” you supplied, thinking of the way Rafe had sulked on the staircase while you and Sarah had gotten your pictures taken on the front lawn of Tanney Hill. The last picture in the bunch, despite his sulkiness, was of you and Rafe. You’d asked and he had obliged, coming down onto the porch to take a picture with you before everyone left for the dance.

It was your favorite picture, even more than the countless ones of you and Sarah or the few of you and Jaxon. He was just a place holder anyway, someone to take your mind off the thing you couldn’t have. Not that it was working, especially when you were driving around with Rafe at the moment.

“I remember him.” Rafe replied, “so this special part of the beach?”

“It’s so pretty.” You confirmed, “Sarah and I went there a couple weeks ago but she only ever wants to sunbathe.”

“Don’t say it like you’re surprised.” He said, pulling his car off to the side of the road when you told him to.

You were out of the car first, letting the door fall shut behind you as you headed up the wooden ramp to the beach. The drop off at the top was a little steeper here than anywhere else, the beach mostly desolate. You stopped at the top of the walkway, turning back to wait for Rafe. He was standing at the bottom of the ramp staring up at you.

“Are you coming up or what?” You called.

“Yeah,” he nodded, walking up the path to you.

“I know Sarah’s planning a big birthday for me, but I’d much rather have this...” you admitted, “just like, coming out to the beach with you...”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, grinning down at you.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” you joked, “she’ll be mad-”

“Why, cause I’m your favorite Cameron?”

Maybe it was being sixteen or maybe it was that you were feeling particularly bold, out here on the beach with just Rafe, no threat of prying eyes to interrupt you. Either way, you had been thinking about telling him for a while now and it felt like the time...even if getting rejected ran the risk of ruining your birthday.

“I know I’m just Sarah’s best friend but...I really like you Rafe.” You said, “and I know it’s like a million to one that you like me back but I just felt like I would explode if I didn’t tell you.” You waited a beat for him to say something and when he didn’t you kept talking, “Sorry, I know this is so weird-”

“It’s not weird.” Rafe cut you off, “I’m just shocked that you seriously think I only see you as Sarah’s best friend.” His tone was teasing as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek. “You’re so much more than that.”

It was Sarah who told you, days before your eighteenth birthday. She’d seen Rafe with someone else when her family took a weekend trip out to Chapel Hill to see a game. There was a girl there, hanging all over her brother. He swore she was just a friend, told Sarah not to tell you, but Sarah wasn’t dumb and she wouldn’t help her brother cover up an indiscretion. So she told you flat out that her brother was cheating on you.

When Sarah first found out that you and Rafe were dating, she had been as mad as her thirteenth birthday. How could you go behind her back and date her brother? The anger dissipated slowly, over the course of the summer it became clear that were not going to leave her in the dust for Rafe. She wasn’t wholly supportive of the relationship but she was supportive of you and if Rafe was who you wanted to be with than she’d be happy for you.

But if she had to choose, it would always be you over Rafe.

“I didn’t want to tell you, I really thought about not saying anything but...you deserve to know.” It was the justification she used as your face fell, all the giddiness from planning your eighteenth birthday fading in the blink of an eye.

“He cheated?” And it felt like a punch to the gut. “Are you sure?”

“He said she was just a friend but...I don’t hang on my friends like that.” Sarah remarked.

You fiddled with the phone in your lap, Sarah’s comments turning over in your head. You could refute them, tell her that you’d just talked to him the night before and he told you how excited he was to see you, how much he loved you. He’d used the word love...that had to mean something right? You could call him, ask him straight away if he was actually cheating, but you suspected that he would only lie to you. And if he wasn’t cheating, if he did tell the truth, would you believe him? Sarah was your best friend and once she had planted the seeds of doubt in you, they seemed to flourish there.

You didn’t say anything else about it to Sarah that night and when Rafe called to talk, like he always did, you pretended that everything was fine. But that could only last for so long. A week before your party, on the same special part of the beach that Rafe had first kissed you, things ended. Rafe had sworn to Sarah that the girl at school was just a friend but he couldn’t lie to you, and he didn’t try to either.

“It was a mistake,” he insisted, as if it was the type of thing you could brush off.

“But you still made it.” You replied.

“I didn’t mean to.” Rafe didn’t have any good reasons for why he had cheated on, only that he had and that, since you now knew, he was apologetic. “I don’t even talk to that girl anymore. She meant nothing to me.”

“Obviously she meant more than we did.”

Rafe had been it for you for a long time. He seemed so out of your league and you had thought a million times that you would’ve done anything for him. He was the ideal for everything that you wanted and for a while, when you had it, had him, it had felt like a dream. But now you were waking up to reality and it wasn’t a sunset on the beach.

“I love you.” He said it like it was something you were neglecting to remember.

“Not enough.”

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conradscrime · 3 years ago

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What Happened to Mary Shotwell Little?

August 29, 2021

Mary Shotwell Little was a 25 year old secretary at the Citizens & Southern Bank in Atlanta, Georgia in October of 1965. She was a newlywed, having just married her husband, Roy Little 6 weeks before she disappeared.

On October 14, 1965, Roy was out of town and Mary had plans to have dinner with her coworker at the Piccadilly Cafeteria in the Lenox Square Shopping Center. After the two had dinner they shopped for a few hours before parting ways. Mary said goodbye to her coworker at around 8pm, returning to her grey 1965 Mercury Comet that was parked in a parking lot.

This was the last time Mary was seen, and the following day when she did not show up to work and could not be reached, her boss named Gene Rackley, phoned the shopping centre she had been at the previous night, asking if her car was parked there. The shopping centre did not see Mary’s car.

Gene decided to go to the shopping centre himself in search of Mary or her car, and at around noon he showed up and did find Mary’s Mercury Comet in the parking lot. Gene then reported this to the police.

Many disturbing things had been found in Mary’s car. For one, there was a pair of women’s underwear, a slip and girdle neatly folded inside the car, as well as a bra lying on the floor alongside a stocking that had been cut by a knife. Mary’s car keys, purse and the rest of her clothing were not found.

There were traces of blood on the undergarments and throughout Mary’s vehicle, on the windows, windshield, seats, and even an unidentified fingerprint in blood on the steering wheel. While this seems like a lot to go off of, the amount of blood was actually very minor, with some believing it could of even been caused by something such as a nose bleed.

Another mysterious detail was that Mary’s license plate had been switched with another plate from a stolen vehicle. It was also found that there had been 41 miles put on Mary’s car that could not be accounted for, meaning someone had driven it somewhere and then driven it back to the shopping centre to park it. No one saw the car parked at Lenox Square overnight and there was even a cop who drove by the parking lot at 6am the next morning and did not recall seeing Mary’s car there.

It was found that Mary’s gas card had been used twice in North Carolina on October 15, the day after she had disappeared. The first time it had been used was early in the morning in Charlotte (Mary’s hometown) and the second time it was used was 12 hours later in a place called Raleigh. The credit slips were signed “Mrs. Roy H. Little Jr” in Mary’s handwriting.

During both of these gas trips, the gas station attendant remembered seeing a woman who looked like Mary, and she was avoiding eye contact and looked to be treating a cut on her head. In Charlotte, this woman was with an unidentified man and in Raleigh, she was accompanied by two unidentified men. The men appeared to be controlling her.

Roy Little, Mary’s husband, was of interest to the police as he did not seem extremely concerned that his wife was missing and he also refused to take a lie detector test. It was known that some of Mary’s friends were not very fond of Roy, even refusing to attend their wedding because of him. However, Mary always seemed very happy with her marriage and Roy did have a pretty good alibi on the night Mary disappeared as he was out of town, and he was ultimately ruled out as a suspect.

Shortly after Mary’s disappearance, Roy received a phone call demanding he pay $20,000 for Mary’s return. The caller told Roy to drive to an overpass in the Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina where he would find further instructions posted on a sign. Instead of Roy going to this location, an FBI agent went and found a blank piece of paper attached to the sign and the caller was never heard from again.

Mary’s friends said that in the weeks before Mary had gone missing she had been getting phone calls at her work which would leave her visibly shaken up. One person overheard Mary on the phone one day saying, “I’m a married woman now. You can come over to my house any time you like, but I can’t come over there.” Mary had even received a dozen roses at her apartment from an unknown person and had never told her husband about it.

The bank at which Mary worked had recently hired a former FBI agent to investigate some potential issues with lesbian sexual harassment and prostitution that was taking place on the bank’s property. Mary’s boss, Gene, had said it was only a minor scandal and Mary had not known anything about it, but others said that Mary had mentioned the investigation to them. Whether Mary was involved or maybe knew something she was not supposed to know has never been proven.

Another interesting report came forward from a woman a few days after Mary had disappeared who said that on the night Mary went missing she was in her vehicle in the Lenox Square parking lot when a man with a brown crew cut knocked on her window and told her that her back tire was low, which it wasn’t. This occurred only a few minutes before Mary was last seen walking towards her car.

In 1966, an inmate at Georgia State Prison claimed he knew two men that were paid $5000 each to kidnap Mary. Mary had supposedly been taken to a house in Mount Holly, North Carolina where she was held captive and then murdered. The inmate did not know who had hired these two men to kidnap Mary or what the motive was and he was soon dismissed.

Perhaps the creepiest and most disturbing part of the Mary Shotwell Little disappearance is that the woman who had taken over Mary’s secretary job after she disappeared ended up getting murdered a year and a half later.

On May 19, 1967, a 22 year old woman named Diane Shields, had recently left the bank and had been working at another job. She left her workplace and was found dead in the trunk of her car several hours later. Diane had been suffocated with a scarf and a piece of paper from a phone book which had both been shoved down her throat. She was not sexually assaulted or had anything stolen from her so the motive remains unknown.

Diane’s best friend claimed that she had told her she was secretly working with undercover police to help them solve the disappearance of a woman named Mary but no one was ever able to corroborate this story.

Is it possible that Diane was helping undercover police to solve Mary’s disappearance? Perhaps that’s why she took over Mary’s position at the bank. To this day, no one knows for sure and the disappearance of Mary Shotwell Little and the murder of Diane Shields remains unsolved.

#UNSOLVED MYSTERIES #unsolved murder #unsolved true crime #unsolved #true crime #Crime #homicide #murder #mystery #disappearance #missing person

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

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Damsels, Chapter Three: Interview

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous Chapters Here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is deserted at 4am, which is exactly why she has to be there so early. She arrives at Skinner’s office with nothing but her car keys and the casual clothing on her back. Agent Wiley, a young woman in her twenties, greets Scully warmly. She’s tall and brunette with an hourglass figure, and Scully has the passing thought that she is exactly Mulder’s type. She wonders if they’ve ever met.

“I’ll drive you to your apartment in Philly where you’ll stay for the duration of the undercover assignment, Agent Scully,” Wiley says in an authoritative though very high pitched voice. “We’ll leave your car in the bureau garage for the duration, but you can give A.D. Skinner your keys for safekeeping.”

Scully hands Skinner her keys and he sets them on top of his desk, rubbing his hands over a weary and sleep-rumpled face.

“I’ll fill you in on the case details on the way. Let’s hit the road, we’ve got a two and a half hour drive ahead of us,” she finishes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making for the door.

Scully follows her mutely. Just as she reaches the door herself, Skinner speaks.

“Agent Scully?” he asks in a hoarse voice. She turns to face him. “I…I…” He keeps restarting his sentence, but never gets further than that.

Scully finally interjects. “It’s okay, sir. I understand. We all have a job to do.”

He nods at her with a grateful expression, and she follows Agent Wiley out to the parking garage.

The sun is just beginning to brighten the inky sky as they drive out of D.C. Agent Wiley is chatty behind the wheel as Scully leafs through the case file; once they get to Philly, she won’t have the opportunity to see it again. The only trace of Dana Scully in her apartment will be a burner cell phone, which she is to keep off and hidden in an air duct in the wall. She will call Agent Wiley at least every other day, or as needed, to share any updates. She is to turn the phone on only when she’s sure no one else is in the apartment with her. She is expected to get as close as possible to the other dancers at the club, one of whom they believe to be Mila Chamberlain. In the file, there’s a photo of Mila, a young Asian woman with a short blonde pixie cut and penetrating dark brown eyes. There is also her parents’ account of her disappearance shortly after meeting Ricky at a party, and their fears that’s she’s a victim of sex trafficking.

“Your cover is Diane Sellers, recently divorced and needing work,” Agent Wiley explains. “To our understanding, they won’t ask you much about your history, but it’s still good to have a backstory ready. It can be helpful to use real details from your life in regards to things like siblings, parents, and past romantic partners, just because it’s easier to keep straight. We don’t recommend addiction being a part of your backstory, in case that affects Ricky’s willingness to trust you. You should immerse yourself as much as possible with the staff, including spending time with them outside work if you can. You can have them over to your apartment, which is why it’s important that there’s nothing there that isn’t part of Diane’s story. It’s fully furnished with everything from tampons to Rice a Roni, but we’ve also set up a bank account and a debit card in case you need to buy anything. Once you identify Mila, call me. You should try to get as close to her as possible, and ultimately the goal is to confirm that she’s being held against her will. Then we’ll raid the club and get you both out of there. What questions do you have?”

Scully stares out the window at the cars rushing by. The pink sunrise illuminating the clouds on the horizon makes the sky look pinstriped.

“Why weren’t you asked to go undercover, if this is your case? You’re young, you’re very pretty. So I guess my question is why not you?” She recognizes the irritation in her voice, but she can’t help herself.

Agent Wiley glances over at her and back to the road a few times. “I can understand why you’d ask that. And I also realize that I haven’t thanked you for taking this assignment. It was a hard one to staff.”

Scully scoffs and turns to face the other woman. “I wasn’t given a choice, Agent Wiley.”

“Right. Sorry. Um, the reason I couldn’t take this assignment is that I have an ostomy bag, as a result of a pretty severe case of Crohn’s. I doubt anyone wants to see a stripper with a bag of poop strapped to her belly dancing around on stage.”

Scully closes her eyes against the shame that wells in her gut. “I’m sorry, Agent Wiley. That was rude of me to ask.”

“Don’t worry about it, Agent Scully. Honestly, I’d take my ostomy bag over this assignment any day. I don’t envy you.”

Scully turns back to the window, spinning up the life story of Diane Sellers as they drive on through the early morning light and towards her uncertain future.

Agent Wiley drops her off around the corner from her apartment with nothing but a set of keys and verbal instructions for where she can locate the burner phone. Her interview is today at 2, and the address of the club and interview information are on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. They bid one another an awkward goodbye, and Scully goes in search of her home for the next several weeks.

The apartment is small, a studio, and fully furnished. She can tell that Agent Wiley herself took care of decorating it; youthful touches like a sequined throw pillow and a magnet on the fridge with “Diane” printed on a tiny license plate give it a dorm-like feel. Many of the items appeared to have been thrifted, which will be important to keeping up her ruse of being a woman in a tight spot financially. She locates the air duct and the burner phone, turning it on to be sure it works before securing it back in its hiding place. She pokes around the various cabinets and cupboards to find all kinds of dried goods and snacks, and is surprised by the 6 pack of beer in the fridge and the bottle of vodka in the freezer. The closet is full of clothing in her size, some of it basic jeans and tees, some of it tube tops and daisy duke shorts that she would never wear. Well, Scully would never wear them, but she suspects Diane would. The slip of paper on the counter reads:

Damsels in Dominance

1634 W York St, Philly

Ricky Dean, 2pm

She makes a face at the name and her stomach turns at the thought that this might be some kind of S&M club. It's just after 9am, so she has quite a bit of time to kill before her interview. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, so instead she takes a thorough inventory of all the cabinets and closets to see if anything important is missing. In the bathroom, she opens the medicine cabinet to find a full Oil of Olay skin care line right next to a box of condoms. What the hell does Agent Wiley think she has planned for this assignment? Her confusion deepens when she pulls open the drawer of the bedside table and is greeted by a book light as well as a small bullet vibrator. Either Agent Wiley went to very great lengths to make sure this apartment would pass the sniff test for anyone who decided to snoop, or….she doesn’t even know what the other possibility is. Adding some paperback novels to her mental shopping list, she slams the drawer shut and flops down on the bed. Mulder is at work by now, and she wonders how long Skinner will be able to keep up the ruse. Knowing Mulder, not all that long.

Mulder arrives at work just past 8, noting that Scully’s car is parked in her typical spot in the garage; she must have needed to stop by before heading to Quantico. He’s a little bit disappointed that she’ll be away for the next few weeks; the basement office is exceedingly boring without her. At the same time, he’s grateful for a bit of space to think.

The tension between them had reached a tipping point but now sits suspended, teetering between coworkers and friends or whatever lay on the other side. He’s made some attempts at pushing things towards the “more than friends” end of the spectrum, but nothing seems to come of it. He kissed her, and while she kissed him back and seemed receptive to it, she hasn’t initiated anything further. The night they played baseball together was fun and flirtatious, but again nothing happened. He’s getting the sense that any move will need to be made by him. Maybe Scully just isn’t the forward type in these situations, or maybe she isn’t confident enough that he’ll reciprocate. This time that she’s working away from the office might be the perfect opportunity to take her out on a real date, knowing that if things get weird they won’t have to face each other in the morning.

Entering the office, he doesn’t find her there; they must have just missed each other. He logs into his email and opens a new message.

Hey G-woman,

What time can you get away for lunch today? I was thinking about checking out that new sushi place on 8th. Or we can meet halfway, whatever works.

Would you like to get dinner sometime this week? My treat. Let me know.

Mulder

He hits send, then digs in to some more case reports that he needs to complete. He has a vision of Scully returning to find them completely caught up on paperwork and how pleased she’d be with him, and decides then and there to make it a reality. While he’s not generally an approval-seeking kind of guy, the surprised smile on Scully’s face when he does something uncharacteristically responsible is one of his favorites. The number one spot will always, of course, be held by the smile she gives him when he says or does something that truly strikes her as funny. He finds it hard to keep from smiling just thinking about it.

Two hours later, there’s no response from Scully. That’s a little bit weird, but not exceedingly so; if she’s working on a particularly gnarly autopsy it can take quite a while. When he still hasn’t gotten a response by noon, he first checks his sent email to be sure it went out, then picks up his office phone.

“Autopsy bay, this is Richard.”

“Hey, Rich, this is Agent Mulder up at the Hoover Building.”

“Hi, Agent Mulder, how can I help you?”

“Is Agent Scully around? I was hoping to talk to her.”

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Not at all today?”

“No, I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, actually.”

A flush of worry spreads across his chest.

“Hey, Rich, are you guys pretty busy down there? I hear you have a big case you’re working on.”

“Busy? Uh, no, not really. Just business as usual.”

“Okay, thanks. If you see Agent Scully, will you ask her to call me?”

“Sure, will do, Agent Mulder.”

“I appreciate it, bye.”

He sets the phone down and sits back in his chair. Did Scully lie to him? And if so, why? Her car is here, so he knows she came in today. Picking up the phone again he tries her cell, which goes straight to voicemail. The darkest part of his brain worries that she came to the office but never made it to Quantico. He makes one final phone call.

“Skinner.”

“Hi, sir, this is Agent Mulder.”

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?”

“Have you heard from Agent Scully today? I’m having a hard time getting in touch with her.”

“She’s assigned to work at Quantico for the next few weeks, Agent Mulder, she wasn’t expected to report to the Hoover Building today.”

“I know, sir, but her car was in the garage when I got here and I just called over to Quantico and they haven’t seen her today. I’m a little worried.”

He hears Skinner mutter what sounds like “Jesus H Christ” under his breath before he speaks again. “Agent Scully is fine, Agent Mulder. She’s on assignment. I encourage you to focus on your own assignment.”

Mulder hesitates. “Should I take that to mean that she’s NOT assigned to Quantico?”

Skinner sighs. “All you need to know is that she is fine, but unreachable. You worry about yourself and let me worry about Agent Scully, got it?”

“Um, okay. Thank you, sir.”

He hangs up the phone even more confused than before. Scully’s behavior yesterday after she returned from Skinner’s office makes a little more sense; she was uncomfortable about lying to him. When he leaves the office that night, her car is in the same spot it had been that morning. He doesn’t like this, but he knows Scully was in the same situation when he was on an undercover assignment and he should just trust her, and Skinner, and wait it out. That’s easier said than done, and he spends his entire evening imagining all the dangerous situations she might be immersed in. Drug cartels, amateur mafias, cults, hackers, the list goes on and on. He can only hope that she’s safe.

Damsels in Dominance is an unassuming building nestled between strip malls and fast food restaurants. The parking lot and entrance are at the back of the building, a fabric-draped chain link fence surrounding it for privacy. Scully pays the cab driver, though now that she realizes how close her apartment is to the place she’ll probably just walk back. After much deliberation, she wound up wearing jeans and a blue T shirt, guessing that it would be out of place to dress up for an interview at a strip club. She pulls the front door open and finds herself in a small foyer with a counter along one wall, a hulking man perched behind it on a stool. Even seated she can tell that he’s very tall, with a broad chest and square shoulders. His neck is nearly nonexistent, thick and disappearing into the rolls under his chin like a tree trunk. His head is shaved bald and his deeply tan skin shows evidence of long ago healed acne scars on his ruddy cheeks. A small gold name tag pinned to his T-shirt reads “Denny.”

“Hi, I’m Diane, I’m here for an interview with Ricky,” she says with a smile. She’s decided that Diane will be the kind of person with an easy smile. The kind of person who makes friends quickly. She channels her sister Melissa, who would talk to anyone and somehow have them sharing details of their childhood trauma within fifteen minutes. If she’s going to get these people talking, she needs to be more like Missy and less like herself.

Denny nods with a grunt and stands, proving himself to be at least six inches taller than Mulder; her head barely reaches his waist. He comes around the counter to push open a second door and holds it for her, motioning her to follow. They enter one end of a long hallway, a door directly in front of them labeled “Enter Here to be Dominated.” They walk down the hall, past some restrooms and several other unmarked doors, until they come to one that says “office.” Denny knocks and a small woman answers.

“Diane, 2 o’clock interview,” Denny says in a flat baritone, then turns and walks away.

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ravencl-awh · 3 years ago

Text

july 5th, 2021

okay this will be kinda long since i'll be talking a bit of my day, answering some of @myhoneststudyblr 's summer study challenge, plus a review and a lil talk about the book above. i'll answer the challenge questions first and under the cut will be the review and my talking of my day if you're interested!

july 1st - what are your plans for the summer?

originally i was going to try for my driver's license but i've decided to until i'm 18 since i can't even bring a car to my college campus 😂 instead of learning how to drive, i actually need to brush up on my bike-riding to get around. for now, i'm just trying to catch up on things that have been prolonged, such as getting an ID card, renewing my passport, and opening a bank account.

july 2nd - do you have a specific goal for this summer?

perhaps it's not a lot as others but i want to read 20 books overall this summer. i'm 5 books in already!

july 3rd - do you have a lot of work to do for school, university, or your job this summer?

not at all 😂 i have nothing actually

july 4th - what is the most important task that you need to complete this summer?

i need to get my real ID card this summer bc i kinda got nothing right now haha

july 5th - do you have any special plans or activities for this summer?

nope, none, zilch, nada

okay here's the part where i talk a little about my day haha. today one of my RPG sites "launched". the way these sites are made are that someone has an idea for a site based off a fandom and they pitch the site to those who code and manage them. then when they give the okay, they and others who join on the project have to raise a certain amount of money to launch and go public on the internet. and today, World of Monarchs, a RPG site based off the CW show Reign launched and i'm really, really happy about it! a bunch of people from this community joined today and i'm just having such a fun time right now. i literally cannot wait to see how this site grows and all the fun backstabbing roleplays that will be written! book review: (the curious incident of the dog in the night-time by mark haddon)

haha okay so, this is like my third time reading this book? i started rereading it a few months ago, but stopped and i finished it on the 29th of last month. i've had this book for around 4 years now, which is why the outline of the dog is so tattered. the book is wonderfully written, the main character being a boy named christopher boone who, while not explicitly said to be, has traits associated with autism. christopher's mother is dead and he lives alone with his father, but one night, his neighbor's dog wellington is found dead. christopher takes it upon himself to find out the killer as if he were a detective in a mystery novel while writing a book about it as well.

often the main "conflict" of the novel is not quite the situation of the dog and his parents, but christopher himself. he has a lot of troubles when around other people, and a lot of his interactions with others is what makes up a lot of the story and his journey. while yes, this proves to be difficult, christopher also shows multiple layers of himself that the reader gets to know about as they read his writing that one might not usually know if they were just talking to him. he has a love for math which is why the chapters are all numbered in prime numbers. he has a pet rat who he takes care of well and he knows what he does and doesn't like (he doesn't like yellow and i 100% agree christopher, i 100% agree.) one thing i like about the book is how there are a lot of pictures/diagrams. christopher thinks very logically and explains everything very thoroughly, which makes it easier for the reader to see through his perspective. i will admit though, i did skip a lot of the diagrams just because i don't have to brainpower nor the intelligence to actually figure them out or follow along with his thought process in these parts. i am horrid at math.

haddon has an amazing way of showing his character's speaking patterns and ways of thinking in his writing, as shown in the diagrams, how christopher makes connections that make the most sense to him and how a lot of the sentences start with "and". perhaps it's not the most grammatically correct but it fits with christopher. it all seems very personal which is great because it's supposed to have been written by main character!

it's a good read overall, but this will be one of the books i'll be selling to a used bookstore soon!

rating: ✩✩✩

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jrcraddock828 · 3 years ago

Text

READ, WEEP, PRINT AND KEEP!

This should be on the front page of every newspaper.

Charley Reese's Final column!

A very interesting column. COMPLETELY NEUTRAL.

Be sure to Read the Poem at the end..

Charley Reese's final column for the Orlando Sentinel... He has been a journalist for 49 years. He is retiring and this is HIS LAST COLUMN.

Be sure to read the Tax List at the end.

This is about as clear and easy to understand as it can be. The article below is completely neutral, neither anti-republican or democrat. Charlie Reese, a retired reporter for the Orlando Sentinel, has hit the nail directly on the head, defining clearly who it is that in the final analysis must assume responsibility for the judgments made that impact each one of us every day. It's a short but good read. Worth the time. Worth remembering!

545 vs. 300,000,000 People

-By Charlie Reese

Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them.

Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, WHY do we have deficits?

Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, WHY do we have inflation and high taxes?

You and I don't propose a federal budget. The President does.

You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations. The House of Representatives does.

You and I don't write the tax code, Congress does.

You and I don't set fiscal policy, Congress does.

You and I don't control monetary policy, the Federal Reserve Bank does.

One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one President, and nine Supreme Court justices equates to 545 human beings out of the 300 million are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country.

I excluded the members of the Federal Reserve Board because that problem was created by the Congress. In 1913, Congress delegated its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally chartered, but private, central bank.

I excluded all the special interests and lobbyists for a sound reason. They have no legal authority. They have no ability to coerce a senator, a congressman, or a President to do one cotton-picking thing. I don't care if they offer a politician $1 million dollars in cash. The politician has the power to accept or reject it. No matter what the lobbyist promises, it is the legislator's responsibility to determine how he votes.

Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this common con regardless of party.

What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall. No normal human being would have the gall of a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating deficits.. ( The President can only propose a budget. He cannot force the Congress to accept it.)

The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating and approving appropriations and taxes. Who is the speaker of the House?( John Boehner. He is the leader of the majority party. He and fellow House members, not the President, can approve any budget they want. ) If the President vetoes it, they can pass it over his veto if they agree to. [The House has passed a budget but the Senate has not approved a budget in over three years. The President's proposed budgets have gotten almost unanimous rejections in the Senate in that time. ]

It seems inconceivable to me that a nation of 300 million cannot replace 545 people who stand convicted -- by present facts -- of incompetence and irresponsibility. I can't think of a single domestic problem that is not traceable directly to those 545 people. When you fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the federal government, then it must follow that what exists is what they want to exist.

If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair.

If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the red.

If the Army & Marines are in Iraq and Afghanistan it's because they want them in Iraq and Afghanistan ..

If they do not receive social security but are on an elite retirement plan not available to the people, it's because they want it that way.

There are no insoluble government problems.

Do not let these 545 people shift the blame to bureaucrats, whom they hire and whose jobs they can abolish; to lobbyists, whose gifts and advice they can reject; to regulators, to whom they give the power to regulate and from whom they can take this power.

Above all, do not let them con you into the belief that there exists disembodied mystical forces like "the economy," "inflation," or "politics" that prevent them from doing what they take an oath to do.

Those 545 people, and they alone, are responsible. They, and they alone, have the power.

They, and they alone, should be held accountable by the people who are their bosses. Provided the voters have the gumption to manage their own employees... We should vote all of them out of office and clean up their mess!

Charlie Reese is a former columnist of the Orlando Sentinel Newspaper.

What you do with this article now that you have read it... is up to you.

This might be funny if it weren't so true.

Be sure to read all the way to the end:

Tax his land,

Tax his bed,

Tax the table,

At which he's fed.

Tax his tractor,

Tax his mule,

Teach him taxes

Are the rule.

Tax his work,

Tax his pay,

He works for

peanuts anyway!

Tax his cow,

Tax his goat,

Tax his pants,

Tax his coat.

Tax his ties,

Tax his shirt,

Tax his work,

Tax his dirt.

Tax his tobacco,

Tax his drink,

Tax him if he

Tries to think.

Tax his cigars,

Tax his beers,

If he cries

Tax his tears.

Tax his car,

Tax his gas,

Find other ways

To tax his ass.

Tax all he has

Then let him know

That you won't be done

Till he has no dough.

When he screams and hollers;

Then tax him some more,

Tax him till

He's good and sore.

Then tax his coffin,

Tax his grave,

Tax the sod in

Which he's laid...

Put these words

Upon his tomb,

'Taxes drove me

to my doom...'

When he's gone,

Do not relax,

Its time to apply

The inheritance tax.

Accounts Receivable Tax

Building Permit Tax

CDL license Tax

Cigarette Tax

Corporate Income Tax

Dog License Tax

Excise Taxes

Federal Income Tax

Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)

Fishing License Tax

Food License Tax

Fuel Permit Tax

Gasoline Tax (currently 44.75 cents per gallon)

Gross Receipts Tax

Hunting License Tax

Inheritance Tax

Inventory Tax

IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)

Liquor Tax

Luxury Taxes

Marriage License Tax

Medicare Tax

Personal Property Tax

Property Tax

Real Estate Tax

Service Charge Tax

Social Security Tax

Road Usage Tax

Recreational Vehicle Tax

Sales Tax

School Tax

State Income Tax

State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)

Telephone Federal Excise Tax

Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax

Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes

Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax

Telephone Recurring and Nonrecurring Charges Tax

Telephone State and Local Tax

Telephone Usage Charge Tax

Utility Taxes

Vehicle License Registration Tax

Vehicle Sales Tax

Watercraft Registration Tax

Well Permit Tax

Workers Compensation Tax

STILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY?

Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, & our nation was the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.

What in the heck happened? Can you spell 'politicians?'

I hope this goes around THE USA at least 545 times!!! YOU can help it get there!!!

GO AHEAD. . . BE AN AMERICAN!!!

SEND THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW

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ericbrandonrp · 3 years ago

Text

* 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

full name. Eric F. Brandon

nicknames / aliases. ---

size. 1.83m

age. 40 (b. 1981)

zodiac. Aries

spoken languages. German and English

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

hair colour. Auburn, sometimes it looks brown

eye colour. Blue

body type. Thin (his mother would say skinny), and slender

dominant hand. Right

posture. Relaxed most of the time

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃.

place of birth. Dachau, Germany

siblings. None

parents. Melinda Walter (mother), Thomas Brandon (stepfather), Ian Harris (father)

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.

occupation. Professional thief for hire

current residence(s). He’s got a loft apartment in the heart of Munich, Germany, but used to live in LA, London, and New Inn (Ireland); sometimes he stays at his father’s houses in London, Dublin, and New Inn

close friends. He can’t really call many people his friends; he does have acquaintances, though

financial status. Rich, I’d say - he’s currently got around 2million on his bank account; he’s doing quite lucrative jobs and doesn’t throw his money out the window for luxury things (except his car)

driver’s license. For car and motorcycle, since his youth

criminal record. Aside from what he’s doing for a living (for which he has never been caught), he does have an entry for battery (six months in prison) and has been the suspect of trespass/enter/robbery - though the latter has never been proven

𝐒𝐄𝐗 & 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

sexual orientation. Straight

preferred sexual role. He likes his partner to take over

turn-ons. High heels, mysteriousness, humour

turn-offs. BDSM, being bossy, humiliation

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒.

hobbies to pass time. Parkour, swimming, running (though those are mostly for his job), car racing, his cars and motorcycle

mental illnesses. Nothing officially diagnosed because he refuses to see a doctor about anything at all; he does have PTSD from his childhood/youth, however

TAGGED BY : @notsoinnocentlittleangel TAGGING : YOU

#;about eric

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fmdjace · 3 years ago

Text

◤you'll never know if left is right

❝ i'm more than just a debris

solo related to fmdbaseonline1.4 date: sometime early may song choice: astroboy word count: 1,108 notes: jihoon explains what his top 10 things he can’t live without

it was a weird thing to be asked, but jihoon didn’t say no to it. he didn’t have the option to. that was why he was currently sat in one of dimensions’s nicer rooms and ready to film. he brought a few things with him. afterall, the video was about what he couldn’t live without.

within a few more minutes, the camera’s were rolling and jihoon was tapping his fingers on the table top. “hello, you;re currently with jace from quantum and i will be telling you my 10 things i can’t live without.” he explains, already reaching over to one of the staff members that were passing his phone.

“i think it’s pretty obvious, my phone.“ he waves it back and forth a few times. “it’s a white, iphone 11 pro. with a very, very broken screen.“ he tries not to laugh when he turns it around, screen probably far beyond use, but he makes it work “i’ll probably soon be getting a new ones, but this one really just gets the job done, and its a bit sentimental.“ he explains, not that many people probably cared. “i also can’t live without headphone, earplugs? i really like the apple ones, i have way too many of them because they constantly go missing, my bank account isn’t the happiest about it.“ jihoon laughs, reaching to run his hand through his hair a tad nervously.

“i really, really like coffee, its the only drink i tend to have other than water, so i use a french press most of the time.“ the staff had one laying around, soon given to him. it wasn’t his own, his one was way bigger than this one, but it got the point across “i always wanted to buy a coffee machine, but its more fun this way. comes out just the way i like it.“ it wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be. jihoon was never the type to talk about himself, or be this open about what he liked or enjoyed, it was definitely out of his comfort zone.

“next on the list is a notebook and followed by a pen, i like to just... doodle really, keep track of tasks and stuff, so having one in literally every possible backpack is a must for me. its easier to see it, writing it down gives it a better feeling than if i had it on my phone. i like to journal quite a bit as well.“ he waves around a baby blue notebook with a black pen attacked to its cover as he speaks, there really wasn’t much to it when you thought about it. that was halfway down the lift, the singer had to eye over at the table with his belongings to figure out what was next.

“oh, this one is easy and very big.“ he says, patting some space on the table for a imac to be put on it. “so like, this plays two very big parts for me.“ jace explains, placing his hand on the computer, looking it up and down quickly “i use it to mainly play both video games. its really nice that companies started making video games for mac, because back in the day, it wasn’t so easy. so im really glad to see that things have been improving and this bad boy has been serving me well.“ as soon as he finishes, the tech is taken away, only to be replaced by his switch, another laugh leaving jihoon as he shakes his head.

“if you guys don’t have one, i recommend it so so much. worth every pence.“ he pats it a few times. “its great for single players, for parties, in the car- anywhere, its been my to go console since it came out.“ this one was a quick one, but he had already lost count of how many things he had said. yet, the materials didn’t stop coming.

his wallet is passed next “please make sure to blur out my cards, that won’t be a funny thing to post on the internet.” jihoon laughs, opening the leather wallet and going through it “it has the usual stuff, credit cards, driving license, id-” he pauses for a second, pulling out a golden card, smile pulling on his lips out of pure surprise “i have greggs card in here, from when i was back home a few years ago.” by a few years, jihoon means since he came to seoul, 2014. he shows the golden card, a bit chipped and what not “gets you free pastries at greggs. definitely worth it.”

“oh yes, yorkshire tea. did you take this out of my cupboard?“ this was probably the most exciting thing he was given so far. the birtish in him just had butterflies “this is the best black tea you will ever have. top notch. add the bag, pour the boiling hot water in, let it sit for a while, pull it up and sqeeuze it on the side, add you splash of milk, two spoons of sugar and you’re done. best drink ever, seriously. you’re missing out-“ he heard a few giggles from the staff, probably having to do with how excited he got from some tea. it wasn’t everyday someone went out of their way to do this, and even if they didn’t, jihoon was stealing this box with him. “i’m taking this with me when i leave, i can right?“ he smiles widely, eyes moving around the room, bouncing from staff to staff.

it took him a few seconds to go over the things he had gotten to talk about, figuring out this was the last one, and the idol really hoped he was right. he leaned back into his chair waiting for the final product to come in. when a small tube of hand cream was set in front of him, a wide grin pulled on his lips “you got me my favorite lime one?” jihoon asks, brows raised as he watches his manager from across the room, reaching over to take the cream and pop the lid off, putting some on his hand and smelling it. “best hand cream ever, really, smalls absolutely amazing and its not sticky. very hydrating, don’t need much of it.” he explains as he was already spreading the cream over his hands, taking a deep breath of the fresh lime that scented the air.

“this was a good list i made, i might do it again next year, see if my priorities have changed.” jihoon jokes, smile wide on his lips as he hears a few more chuckles from behind the camera.

#◤✩ ░ solo◢#◤✩ ░ queue◢#◤✩ ░ points◢#famedbaseonline1.4

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