#love that it’s always ‘stay here pay off your debt save your money’ and then they wanna get upset that they have to pay more for something

[klienearschlock]

ripping my eyes out rn

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Gladiator

A man can become a god in the arena. But all he fights for is you.

In his own country, he was nothing more than a soldier. But cities always fall to the might of Rome and Yandere! Gladiator learns the hard way that slavery is the reward for defying the Emperor.

Yandere! Gladiator who's thrown into the ring with criminals and slaves, with nothing but a dull sword to protect himself.

Yandere! Gladiator who uses every trick and instinct to win. Who stands covered in blood and sand as the crowds cheer, his chest heaving.

Yandere! Gladiator who must have a lucky star.

Yandere! Gladiator who wins by the skin of his teeth every time. Who goes from fighting criminals to fighting lions to fighting champions.

Yandere! Gladiator whose sword gets sharper with each victory.

Yandere! Gladiator who starts attracting sponsors - rich Patricians who lavish him in gifts.

Yandere! Gladiator who stands still in shock when one of his patrons gifts him a slave of his own - you.

Yandere! Gladiator who isn't sure what to do. Despite what people say, he can't see you as just a piece of property. And when you bow before him, the scars from his own slave collar itch.

Yandere! Gladiator who just nods helplessly when you offer to do things for him. Sharpen his sword. Clean the blood and grit off his armor. Oil and braid his hair before each fight.

Yandere! Gladiator who can only dip his head in thanks, always avoiding your eyes as though he isn't your master.

Yandere! Gladiator who watches you when your back is turned. The shape of your hips, the curve of your shoulder, the delicate skin on the side of your neck... He drinks in every part of you whenever he can.

Yandere! Gladiator whose eyes go sharp and dangerous when the other fighters talk about his "pretty little slave girl."

Yandere! Gladiator who slowly falls in love.

You aren't sweet or innocent or any of the other qualities he's been told to look for in a woman. You're blunt and deadpan, with a jaded view of the world.

But you're always there.

Rubbing his aching muscles after a week of brutal training. Carefully dressing his cuts after every tournament. Bringing him food cooked with all the herbs you know of that grant strength and speed.

Yandere! Gladiator who fights his battles not just to survive, but to return to you.

Yandere! Gladiator who admires your strength more than any opponent he's faced. A slave girl doesn't have an easy life - he shudders to think what other masters have demanded of you.

And despite the collar and the labour and the long nights spent treating him, you never complain.

Yandere! Gladiator who becomes known through Rome for his skill in the arena. Who looks like a child of Mars with his armour and crested helmet, his sword stained scarlet.

Yandere! Gladiator who dreams of you in his arms every night. Who longs to hear your voice even when the crowds scream his name.

Yandere! Gladiator who finally earns enough money to buy you from his patron. Who sits quietly in front of the fire while you comb his hair, staring into the flames and thinking. Eventually he finds the courage to ask.

What would you do with your freedom?

Your hands grow still.

Return home. To my father's farm with it's ancient olive groves.

Yandere! Gladiator who squeezes his eyes shut like you've hurt him.

Of course you would leave. He was a fool to think otherwise. And yet... he couldn't help imagining you staying with him. Willingly.

Yandere! Gladiator who asks around about your home. Sold, he learns. The farmer couldn't pay his debts and his daughter was sold as a slave to his creditors.

Yandere! Gladiator who uses the money he saved to buy your father's farm instead of your freedom.

It's selfish, he knows. If he loved you as you deserved, you would be your own master again.

But he can't let you go.

Yandere! Gladiator who watches the longing flicker across your face when he tells you the news. Who tries to convince himself you'll be happy here, that your collar won't weigh as heavy.

Yandere! Gladiator who kills for a living and doesn't bat an eye.

But whose hands shake when they touch your skin.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ bad liar ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @gothic-rat112 (lost the ask...) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. seong gi-hun x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ how he is when jealous & insecure┊1.2k words 

setting: season 1 contains: age gap relationship (unspecified but legal obviously), insecurity & jealousy, he’s a little immature & broke as hell but it’s okay i love pathetic men, reader is a sweetheart, this is all over the place omfg

➤ author's note: okay i kinda went on a tangent, first season because i miss his stupid smile and his fluffy hair (also look at how cute he is in this gif omfg i love him sm, i need to write for him more, underrated in his own show, THE PUPPY EYES)

╰₊✧ honestly, gi-hun isn’t so much as jealous as he is insecure. sure, he has an outgoing personality and always makes you laugh without fail, but he can’t think of any other positive traits aside from that. he doesn’t think of himself as particularly attractive with his scruffy appearance, and he’s painfully aware that he’s lacking when it comes to finances and has a gambling problem to boot. on top of all that, he was a divorced middle-aged man who didn’t even have joint custody of his only daughter and still lived with his mom rent-free, a terrible husband, father, and son— he’s truthfully the type of man people avoid when dating.

╰₊✧ yet he still managed to pull a pretty young thing like you who looks past all that, not sure if you were stupid or desperate. during the first few weeks of being together, he made jokes about still being able to date younger women in his old age because he was still in disbelief it was happening, but when you stuck by his side through all his flaws and the first year passed with you supporting him to get better, insecurity hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized that he was genuinely in love with you and that he didn’t have what it took to be the boyfriend you deserved when he wasn’t even someone his biological family deserved. 

╰₊✧ he sees other people buying their girls jewelry and clothing from name-brand stores, taking them out to eat in luxury restaurants with multiple courses, driving them around in european cars, and he’s out here saving money to do something as little as cake for your anniversary. he’s always on cloud nine when he spends time with you, but there’s something so humbling about looking up “broke date ideas” and scraping together what he already has to make it more special. no matter how much things like that don’t matter to you with the mindset of the intention counting more than the price, he still feels shitty about having you pay for most of the things you do together when he’s the man and the older one in the relationship along with the fact that you were barely better off than he was. 

walks around to admire the sights: especially during holiday seasons when there are pretty lights, you like holding his hand and admiring the sights of the city you often take for granted. if the streets are empty then he doesn’t mind it, but he does get self-conscious about the looks you both get so it’s not super common.

candlelit dinners of takeout and beer: a regular one, gi-hun likes to gather a bunch of candles to make the place look a little more romantic, maybe even having some roses to make it look nicer. the man doesn’t cook much though, so you’ll just have replated takeout with bottles of beer, but he always makes it lively with conversation and puts effort into fixing his hair to look more handsome.

and anything else he can think of, he can be really creative when it comes to you and you’re pleasantly surprised each time.

╰₊✧ these things bother him a lot more than he will let on, but he tries to stay all smiles around you which you see right through like glass. he’s a bad liar, a trait he would always get in trouble for when he was a child since he couldn’t lie about his antics.

╰₊✧ he feels awful when he finds that you also entered these games to pay off your respective debts, because no matter how much you try to convince him you aren’t, he knows that you intended to use any extra money to help him out as well with his debt being higher than yours. it should be the other way around, he should be the one helping you, and when the first shots are fired during “red light, green light,” he makes you swear that you won’t come back.

╰₊✧ of course, you do come back, because while he is your boyfriend, you’re also a grown-ass woman who can do what she pleases (also because you’re desperate and prefer not to find out what those loan sharks would do to you if it took too long to pay them back, and you might as well go to support gi-hun because you know his ass went back).

╰₊✧ he feels a little bit better about himself seeing all of the other people in a similar position as him, drowning in debt and petrified of death. he tries to be protective over you, but let’s be honest, you’re the protective one who mothers him, and since the constant threat of death is always looming, he lets you do it even if it looks stupid. people are either judgemental or jealous, but there are bigger things to worry about.

“people are staring…” he muttered, his eyes darting around to meet theirs and watching as they looked away the second eye contact was made. “you don’t need to do this, you know, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“i don’t care, let them stare,” you stated simply, rubbing into the back of his shoulders with practiced circular motions. “they are just jealous that they don’t have a cute girlfriend to take care of them like you do, and i want to! your muscles are so tense— i don’t want you participating in the next games when you aren’t in the best shape. we could die any day here, i want to give you all the love i can!”

╰₊✧ jealous of sang-woo with his intelligence and emotional security. even if both of them are wearing the same teal tracksuit, his childhood friend was in here because of failed investments which sounded a lot better than just losing constant bets in gambling dens. (to be fair, if you were gi-hun’s controversially young girlfriend, i don’t think either of you would get along well as he probably looks down on you and you probably find him stuck up, so he doesn’t have to worry about you being stolen away by him). not really jealous of that block-head deok-su hitting on you, after the little altercation they had on the first day, more annoyed than anything but the feeling quickly vanishes when he sees you reject him with a roll of your eyes. 

╰₊✧ actually jealous of anyone your age paying attention to you, especially ali who has a really sweet personality and gets along with you really well, maybe even sae-byeok who has a pretty face and is decently nice once you get to know her. 

“you need to stop pouting.”

“‘m not pouting…”

“you’re a bad liar, you know that? but it’s so cute,” you exclaimed, reaching out to pinch his cheeks childishly. “you don’t need to be jealous of ali, he’s already married and has a kid.”

“i know, i know…”

“i don’t think you do.”

╰₊✧ it’s so obvious when he’s jealous, it’s actually painful. he stares holes into the head of the person talking to you and is pouty until you address it. he’ll also blush when you call him out and tease him about it, it’s so cute. please give him assurance, pinch his cheeks, ruffle his fluffy hair, and give him lots of kisses, he deserves it.

(author is slightly delirious with a fever, i took medicine dw, i just really wanna kiss gihun)

[chaengluva]

X Games

Ellie Williams X Reader, squid game au!

Red Light, Green Light - Prologue/Part 1/Part 2/Part 3...

So there will be more parts to this then i intended, + lmk if you wanted to be added to the taglist :)

I am using aud for this to make it less confusing, example 

45.5 billion won = 50.2 million aud

908 won = 1 aud 

--

Life had a way of kicking you when you were down. Missing your train after running for it at full speed—your chest heaving, your legs burning, and your bag nearly slipping from your shoulder—was just the cherry on top of a week that couldn’t get any worse.

You stood there, watching the train vanish into the darkness of the tunnel, the doors snapping shut just before you reached them. The people inside didn’t even bother hiding their judgmental stares. You slumped onto a bench nearby, dropping your bag on the ground and pressing your face into your hands.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment everything started going wrong. For a while, you thought life had handed you a string of bad luck. But deep down, you knew better. It all came back to Ellie.

You loved her, maybe more than you should have. Ellie had been your anchor, the one constant in your life when everything else felt chaotic. For years, it was just the two of you, and you thought nothing could come between you. The way she’d hold your hand in public, run her fingers through your hair at night, or whisper about all the places she wanted to take you someday—it was the kind of love you thought could last forever.

But love wasn’t enough to compete with gambling.

It started small. A trip to a casino during a weekend getaway. She laughed about how she’d almost won the jackpot, brushing off your concerns with a casual “It’s just for fun.” You didn’t think much of it. Everyone deserves a little fun, right? But then the nights at the casino became more frequent. The “fun” turned into hours spent staring at slot machines, betting on cards, and chasing losses she’d never recover.

When her money ran out, she turned to you. At first, it was fifty dollars here and there. “Just to get me through the week,” she’d say, flashing that smile you loved so much. But it wasn’t long before she stopped asking and just took what she needed.

You begged her to stop. You pleaded, cried, shouted—but nothing worked. The nights got longer. Sometimes, she wouldn’t come home until early morning, and when she did, she smelled like cigarettes and cheap alcohol. You told yourself you could fix her, that if you loved her enough, she’d change.

Then came the day she sat you down and told you, with a straight face, that she was fifty thousand dollars in debt. She looked at you like you were supposed to fix it. Like it was your problem to solve. That was the moment you realized you couldn’t save her.

You broke up with her on the spot.

She begged you to stay, swore she’d change, but you didn’t believe her anymore. You walked away, thinking you were free of her. But what you didn’t realize was that her addiction had planted a seed in you.

The first time you gambled, it was out of spite. You wanted to prove to yourself that you weren’t like her, that you could stop anytime you wanted. But gambling has a way of digging its claws into you. It only took a few weeks for you to spiral into debt yourself. Twenty thousand dollars gone, with no way to pay it back.

Now, you were here, sitting on a cold bench at a train station, your cheek pressed into your hands as you counted down the minutes until the next train. Forty-five minutes felt like an eternity.

The bench shifted slightly as someone sat down beside you. You didn’t bother looking up. The station was always busy.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You flinched, startled, and turned to see a man sitting next to you. He was sharply dressed in a dark suit, his hair neatly combed, and a briefcase resting on his lap. He didn’t look like he belonged here.

“Hello,” he said with a small smile.

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. Something about him felt… off.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

You hesitated but nodded. You didn’t have anything better to do.

He opened the briefcase, revealing two coloured cards—red and blue. You recognized the game immediately: ddakji.

“I’d like to play a game with you,” he said. His voice was calm, almost soothing, but there was something unnerving about the way he smiled.

“What kind of game?” you asked, your voice wary.

“It’s simple. If you can flip my card with yours, I’ll give you one hundred and ten dollars. If I flip yours, you’ll owe me the same amount.”

You frowned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

It sounded too good to be true. You hesitated, but the thought of winning easy money was tempting.

“And if I lose?”

He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. “You could use your body to pay.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck?” you hissed, standing abruptly.

“Relax,” he said, his tone unbothered. “I’ll deduct one hundred and ten dollars with every slap instead.”

Your hand instinctively went to your cheek, but you didn’t walk away. Against your better judgment, you sat back down. The man’s calm confidence was unnerving, but desperation clouded your instincts.

You picked the blue card, threw it down, and missed.

He smirked, picked up the red card, and flipped it effortlessly. Before you could even react, his hand came down hard on your cheek. The sting was sharp, and tears sprang to your eyes, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Another round?”

You lost again. And again. Each slap was harder than the last, until your face was red and numb. By the time you finally won a round, you were too stunned to even celebrate. He handed you the money, his smile never faltering.

“You know,” he said, pulling a small black card from his pocket, “there are other games where you can make even more money.”

He held the card out to you, and you hesitated before taking it. A circle, triangle, and square were printed on it.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Ms [name] [last name], 22 years old. You attended [school name] earlier this month, you broke up with your long term girlfriend which led to you 20k in debt, owing it all to the bank. Straight after work today, you spent your whole check and lost everything” He said, without taking a breath. “How do you know all that? Have you been stalking me?” You asked, his eyes moved down to the card in your hand, then said “Think about it.”

You stared at the card in your hand, your heart pounding. By the time your train arrived, you’d already made up your mind.

When you got home, you held the card in front of you, dialing the number printed on it.

“If you wish to participate,” a voice on the other end said, “state your name and birthdate.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. “(Name), (Birthdate).”

They told you where to meet and gave you a password.

At exactly eleven p.m., you stood shivering at the meeting point, hugging yourself for warmth. The winter air was unforgiving, sharp gusts of wind biting at your exposed skin. Your jacket, barely thick enough for the season, clung to you uselessly, soaked through from the relentless rain. Water dripped from your hair, running down your face in cold rivulets, and your jeans were plastered to your legs, heavy and uncomfortable. You didn’t even bother to wipe your face anymore—what was the point?

The street around you was eerily quiet, save for the occasional squelch of your wet shoes shifting in the puddle beneath you. You checked the card in your hand for the hundredth time, your fingers trembling from both the chill and nerves. You glanced down the empty road, half-expecting this whole thing to be a cruel joke.

Just as doubt began to creep in, you heard the low hum of an engine. A gray van emerged from the darkness, its headlights piercing through the sheets of rain. It slowed to a stop in front of you, the tires splashing water onto the curb.

The door slid open with a sharp metallic sound, and a figure stepped out. He wore a bright pink jumpsuit and a mask that completely obscured his face, his presence looming and unnervingly calm. He stood stiffly, the rain pooling on his shoulders and sliding down his uniform like he wasn’t even human.

“Password?” he asked, his voice muffled and emotionless.

You swallowed hard, your breath visible in the frigid air. “Red Light, Green Light,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

The pink-masked guard stepped aside without a word, motioning for you to enter. You hesitated for a moment, your stomach twisting in knots, but the freezing rain and the weight of your debt left you with little choice. Taking a deep breath, you climbed into the van.

Inside, the atmosphere was unsettling. The dim light revealed rows of passengers slumped in their seats, heads tilted awkwardly to the side, completely unconscious. Their breaths came slow and steady, fogging up the cold windows.

You forced out a nervous laugh, your voice breaking the heavy silence. “Looks like everyone was pretty tired,” you muttered, hoping for some kind of reaction.

The driver didn’t respond, nor did the guard who slid the door shut behind you with a final, echoing thud.

Moments later, you noticed the faint hiss of gas filling the van. Panic seized you as the air grew thick, your breaths becoming labored. Your limbs feel heavy, and your vision blurred.

The last thing you remembered was the soft hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the rain as everything went dark.

You woke up to the soft hum of classical music, the delicate notes contrasting harshly with the sharp, fluorescent lights that flooded the room. Blinking rapidly, you tried to orient yourself, your head throbbing from whatever gas had knocked you out. As your eyes adjusted, the room came into focus—a vast dormitory with rows upon rows of bunk beds stacked high, filled with people.

To your right, someone sat on the edge of their bed, staring blankly ahead, wearing a green tracksuit with a number stitched onto the right side. You squinted at it—217. Turning to your left, another person in the same tracksuit sat rubbing their temples, their number reading 042. Confusion washed over you, and you instinctively glanced down at yourself.

Your breath caught when you saw the number stitched onto your own green jacket. 349.

Before you could even process what was happening, the room began to stir. People shuffled off their beds, stretching, yawning, and muttering amongst themselves. A loud commotion drew your attention to the center of the room, where two people were now yelling at each other.

A man with a snake tattoo curling up his neck—101—stood over a woman with sharp features and short hair—067. His voice was sharp, accusatory. “You think I don’t know what you did? You little thief!”

The woman didn’t back down, glaring at him with cold defiance. “I don’t owe you a damn thing,” she snapped back.

The tension was palpable, the entire room falling silent as the argument escalated. You wanted to help her, to say something, but fear kept you glued to your spot on the stairs. The last thing you wanted was to get involved and end up a target yourself.

Suddenly, another man—456—rushed into the fray, grabbing 067 by the arm and pleading desperately. “Where’s my money? You promised me you’d pay me back!”

Before she could respond, 101 shoved 456, his voice rising to a threatening growl. “Back off, old man. She’s my problem!” He raised a fist, clearly ready to strike, but before the punch could land, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room.

The pink-suited guards entered in perfect formation, their presence immediately silencing the chaos. Everyone tensed, the air thick with unease.

A man in a pink suit, distinguished by the square on his mask, stepped forward. His voice was cold and mechanical, amplified by a speaker. “I would like to extend a heartfelt welcome to you all. Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd, disbelief and suspicion painted on everyone’s faces. “What is this, some kind of joke?” someone shouted. Others began to protest, demanding answers about their belongings and questioning how they’d been brought here.

In response, the guard gestured toward the massive screen on the wall. It flickered to life, displaying a montage of footage. You froze as images of the pink-suited man slapping various people appeared, each name and debt amount displayed on-screen.

You held your breath as your own face came up on the screen: [Name, Last Name], $20,000 in debt. You shrank back, trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself, your cheeks burning with humiliation.

But then, the next face appeared. You froze. Ellie Williams, $100,000 in debt.

Your stomach churned as memories of your ex flooded back. You rolled your eyes, scanning the room, but she was nowhere in sight. Maybe she hadn’t made it. Or maybe she was hiding just as you were.

The guards handed out consent forms, instructing everyone to read and sign. You grabbed yours hesitantly, scanning the terms carefully. The rules were strict and unyielding, but what choice did you have? You considered signing with a fake name but quickly dismissed the idea. They already knew everything about you. There was no escaping this. With a heavy heart, you scribbled your name on the dotted line.

Afterward, the group was led into a brightly coloured hallway. The walls were painted in vibrant, almost childlike hues, reminiscent of a playground. Spiral staircases twisted upward, and the floor was a checkerboard of cheerful pastels. The oddity of the setting unsettled you—why did it feel so playful yet so foreboding?

As you walked, the line came to a halt at a small station with a camera mounted on a stand. A robotic voice from the machine chirped, “Smile.”

Caught off guard, you hesitated before forcing an awkward smile. The camera clicked, capturing your face before the line moved forward. You fell in step with the others, glancing back at the machine. Your unease grew with every step.

Eventually, the guards led you through a set of double doors and into a massive, open field. The floor was covered in artificial grass, and at the far end stood a giant, childlike doll with an eerie, painted face. The walls were painted to resemble a sunny sky and a peaceful meadow, but the air was heavy with dread.

“This first game will be Red Light, Green Light. You are allowed to move when ‘it’ calls out ‘green light’ and must stop immediately when ‘it’ calls out ‘red light.’ If your movement is detected afterwards, you will be eliminated,” a calm, mechanical female voice announced over the speakers.

The word "eliminated" lingered in your mind, unsettlingly vague yet heavy with implication.

“Red Light, Green Light? Seriously?” you muttered under your breath, trying to keep your nerves from taking over. The absurdity of it all was almost laughable—until you felt the suffocating weight of the situation bearing down on you.

“[Name]!” a voice called out, sharp and familiar. Your heart dropped at the sound, your body stiffening instinctively. You turned your head slightly, hoping you were mistaken, but the voice grew closer, more insistent.

“[Name]!”

Before you could move away, a hand gripped your wrist tightly, and your stomach sank. You turned to face her. Ellie Williams.

Her eyes glinted with a mix of surprise and amusement, her crooked smirk only making your stomach churn. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone carrying a hint of laughter. “You’re in debt now, huh?”

“Get off me,” you snapped, pulling your wrist free from her grip.

“Guess we’ve got more in common now, huh?” she teased, her giggle low and careless, like none of this mattered to her.

You groaned and stepped away from her, trying to put some distance between you both as the doll suddenly came to life, its massive head swivelling toward the group.

“Green light!”

The moment the doll spoke, the crowd hesitated. No one wanted to be the first to move. But as the silence stretched on, a few brave players began to shuffle forward cautiously, their footsteps soft and deliberate. You took a deep breath and moved, each step feeling heavier than the last.

“Red light!”

The doll’s head spun around, its eyes scanning the crowd. You froze in place, holding your breath. The room was eerily silent—until a loud mechanical sound echoed, followed by a calm announcement.

“Player 343, eliminated.”

Your heart dropped as you heard a loud bang reverberate through the space, followed by a sharp scream. Your eyes darted to the source of the noise and immediately widened. A man crumpled to the ground, blood pooling around his lifeless body.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. “Eliminated” didn’t mean disqualified. It meant dead.

A wave of panic rippled through the room. Someone screamed, and suddenly, chaos erupted. Players broke into a mad sprint toward the finish line, ignoring the game’s rules entirely.

The doll’s head swivelled violently, locking onto the runners. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each shot rang louder than the last, bodies dropping one after another.

You stood frozen, your body trembling. Your ears rang, your mind screamed at you to run, but your legs felt like lead.

“[Name], move!” Ellie’s voice snapped you out of your daze as the doll called, “Green light.”

You forced yourself to walk, each step shaky and uncertain. The path ahead felt endless, every second stretching into an eternity.

“Red light!”

You froze mid-step, your arms stiff at your sides. Someone next to you wobbled, their balance faltering. You didn’t dare to turn your head to look, but the sound of another gunshot told you they hadn’t made it.

The carnage around you was unbearable. People sobbed, begged, and screamed, but the doll was unrelenting. Each misstep was met with swift and brutal punishment.

When the doll called “Green light” again, you forced yourself to walk faster, keeping your head low and your focus sharp. Suddenly, your foot caught on something—a body. You stumbled, your arms flailing as you teetered on the brink of falling.

A strong hand grabbed your arm, steadying you before you hit the ground. “I’ve got you,” Ellie whispered, her voice surprisingly soft.

You looked at her, stunned, but she didn’t let go. “Come on,” she said firmly, pulling you forward.

The two of you moved together, her grip on your arm grounding you as you navigated the chaos. The doll’s mechanical voice called out “Red light” and “Green light” over and over, each cycle feeling like a lifetime.

With the finish line in sight, your legs burned, your lungs ached, but you refused to stop. Ellie’s grip tightened as the doll called out its final “Red light.” You both froze, standing just feet away from the line.

You could hear the cries of those who hadn’t made it, the gunshots ringing out like a grim metronome. You closed your eyes, waiting for the doll to speak again.

“Green light!”

Together, you and Ellie crossed the line, your knees nearly giving out as soon as you were on the other side. The moment you were safe, Ellie let go of your arm, stepping away as if nothing had happened.

You turned to look at her, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. 

Around you, the field was littered with bodies. The vibrant, childlike setting felt grotesque now, the bright colours clashing violently with the blood and horror.

The guards began to collect the bodies methodically, as if it were just another part of the game. You looked down at your shaking hands, the reality of what you’d just survived settling in your chest like a heavy weight.

-

Hope you guys like it so far

Taglist: @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo @lamorenita @kissedberries @liasxeatt @smiths-fan--13 @0phantom0 @ellieslittleslutt @aliceellieswife @mrpeanitsbutter @asothinking

[xoxodeardiary]

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my dish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

-

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: It's a Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

You’ve always been the kid at the table of adults. Even now, legally of age, you feel like the same child forgotten on the sideline. The most acknowledgement you get is from your father when you thoughtlessly lean an elbow on the table or slouch. Sometimes, you think the fact that you’re still breathing is a disappointment to him.

“Thinking of converting the garage…” your dad says, “or we’ll wait till the kid is out and do something with her room.”

You don’t react. It comes up a lot. When you show him your pay cheque, he tells you exactly what to do with your money.

How much you should save so you can get out of his house. You’re not left with much else as he takes interest for your tuition; which he’s kindly allowed you to hold off on paying back until you complete your degree. It’s better than most people deal with, better than some debt collector chipping away at your credit.

“You’re a fucking busy body,” Mr. Hansen chortles as he stirs around with his spoon. You’re not a fan of the dish either. “You ever put any of that energy into, I don’t know, fucking your wife.”

Your spoon hits off your bowl but you try not to show your shock. Your father chokes and your mother guffaws drunkenly. Mr. Hansen is crass but usually when he doesn’t know you’re listening.

“At the table?” Your father huffs.

“He has a point…” your mother mutters.

“What? We’re all adults? I’m teasin’ you, Ray,” he insists, undeterred by your dad’s hot glare, “I’m just thinking out loud and there’s a tension here. Someone’s not getting fucked.”

“Lloyd, my daughter–”

“Oh, so you do know she’s here?” Hansen scoffs, “she’s grown. She can hear the fuck word a few times.”

Your father sputters, speechless. For once, he has no reprimand at the ready. He is a man who always has his way faced with another who can steamroll any refusal.

“Whatever, I was gonna ask you something important,” Hansen diffuses the conversation with the shift in tone, “I bought a lake house up north. I’m not handy, you know that. Not in that way,” he chuckles and your mother giggles into her wine.

Your father sighs and sits back as he lifts his chin, crossing his arms as he squints at his guest. That look doesn’t work on a man like Hansen. You look between them, waiting for either to explode.

Hansen smirks and sits back, mimicking your father’s posture but keeping his arms open. He braces his thighs as he puffs out his chest. You never noticed before the way his shirt perfectly fit him, clinging to his well-toned muscles.

“I’ll pay you. Same as any contractor. And you can bring the family to enjoy the lake,” Hansen counters, “enough for you to continue tearing this place apart.”

“Hmmm,” your father rolls his tongue under his lips.

“It’s a good idea,” your mother slurs, “it’s been forever since we went on vacation.”

“You just got back from Malibu two weeks ago,” your father chides.

“I mean, as a family,” she leans heavily on the table, her finger hooked on the stem of her wine glass, “I love the lake,” she looks as Hansen, pouting flirtily, “I just bought a bunch of new swimsuits.”

“Well, it gets pretty cold up there. Even this time of year. It’s why I bought the place. I hate the heat.”

“Oh, you seem to handle it well,” your mother winks.

Your father brings his hand down on the table, causing every dish to tremble. “I’ll think about it, Hansen. But you gotta think this out, materials and all that.”

“Zoning’s taken care of. All that paperwork bullshit,” Hansen says surely, “seems like it would be a good opportunity for you to get away and let go.”

You peer around the table. Your mom leans back in her chair, chin in her hand as she watches your father. Hansen takes his spoon again and smoothly stirs the bright broth. Your father shakes his head.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

🖤

Despite how often you attract unwanted leers and looks, you have a knack for disappearing. As the adults leave the table, you clean up, fading into the background but not quite fitting into the pristine aesthetic of the house. Most of the bowls still hold a decent amount of the fishy bouillabaisse. It tasted fine enough but who likes that much fish.

You dump each and start washing out the dishes, putting away those pots and pans you dealt with before dinner was served. If you don’t do it, your mother won’t, and your father will chuck a fit about a single dirt dish left in the sink. So you go about the task, earbuds in, nodding your head along with the music.

Your dark nail polish flakes off in the warm water as your scrub with a sponge. It’s fine, it’s cheap. You want to try the new mystic blue you got anyway. You set a bowl in the rack and nearly scream as you feel a squeeze around your hip.

You splash water through the air as you spin to face your accoster. Mr. Hansen stands close as he holds an empty wine glass. Your mother’s lipstick stains the brim. You reach with a dripping, shaky hand to pause your music with a tap.

“I didn’t hear you,” you gasp.

“Oh? I thought you were just playing hard to get,” he twirls the glass, “your mom’s off to bed. Face down.”

“Um, okay,” you reach for the glass but he moves it out of your reach. You furrow your nose and retract your hand.

“So…” he wiggles the glass thoughtfully, his eyes clinging to you, “what do you think?”

“About?”

“The lake house.”

“Er, I don’t know. If dad wants to…”

“I don’t care what daddy wants, what do you want?” His blue eyes gleam, the dark outlines feeding the lustre of his oceanic irises, “seems like no one’s ever asked you, sweetheart.”

You shrug.

“Could be nice,” you say. You don’t get your hopes up. If your dad accepts, you think he’ll somehow manage to leave you and your mother behind.

“And… if dear old daddy did say no, and I asked you to come anyway…”

You blink, confused. Why would he do that? He laughs at you.

“Think about it,” he hands over the glass, “this place is a drag. Young girls like you need that distance. To find yourself.”

You don’t know what to say or think. You really don’t understand what he’s offering. You don’t get where his sudden interest in you came from. Mr. Hansen was only ever peripheral. He was there to give colour commentary and needle away at your father’s patience.

“I don’t know,” he backs up, “maybe they don’t make swimsuits in your style…” You hold the glass close to your chest, caught like a deer in headlights. “But it’s a private lake.” He pokes his tongue and winks before spinning on his heel. “No rules…” he calls over his shoulder as he passes through the door.

You shudder and turn back to the sink. You plunge the glass into the water and swirl it to rinse the residue of wine. Hansen is just like that. He’s always looking for a reaction. You suppose you’re old enough now that you’re a new victim for his jokes. That makes more sense. You’ve always made a good target.

You tap your earbud and drown out your racing thoughts with the music. Just finish this up and you can go hide in your room.

🖤

You shut off the kitchen light and quietly pad through the house. You climb the stairs as an eerie silence permeates the space. Mr. Hansen must be gone since your mother turned in. She often didn’t end the night without some grand finale.

As you near your bedroom door, you notice that it’s slightly ajar. That damn mechanism. Your father can fix every part of this house except for that. You sigh and push it open as you enter, stopping short as you find a shadow standing by your bookshelf. The coffin shaped furniture holds more than just books but some crow statuettes and deathly trinkets.

The glow of your lamp casts a purplish light over Mr. Hansen’s back. He hasn’t heard you. He closes the book in his hand and slides it between the others. He pauses and takes the deck of tarot before he can knock it over with his hand. He shuffles through and you flip on the overhead light.

He turns, unshaken by your entrance. He keeps the cards fanned out in his hands. He smiles at you.

“I never really looked close at these sorts of things,” he says as he runs his thumb over the emperor card, “they’re pretty.”

“What are you doing in here?” You ask.

“I got lost,” he says coolly, “can you read these?”

He smoothly pushes through your chagrin, sidestepping your question. That’s annoying but he’s older and he’s a guest. You didn’t need him ratting to your father about your attitude.

“Yeah, they’re really just for fun though,” you near him and reach for the cards. He claps them into a neat deck and keeps them away from you.

“I like fun,” he says, “can you read mine?”

“I don’t know. It’s late–”

“How much?” He asks curtly.

“What?”

“I’ve seen those ladies down at the market. What do they charge for a reading? I’ll pay you double.”

“No, it’s–”

“I’ll buy you some new boots or something,” he barters.

“Why?”

“I’m bored. This place is boring.” He says. You won’t ask why he doesn’t just leave. You inhale and clamp your lips tight. “You must hate it. So… I wanna know my future.”

“I… fine,” you shrug, “shuffle the cards.”

You look around. There’s really no good place to do the reading. He shuffles the cards and strides by you, brushing against your arm. He sits on the side of your bed. Alright, well, you guess that’s fine.

You move your laptop and books and climb up, smoothing the blanket before you. You sit on one legs and keep your fingers on the duvet.

“You need to ask a question?” You say.

“A question?”

“Yeah, like something about what you should focus on at work or in your relationships,” you explain, “something to guide the cards.”

“Hmm, oh, well, the second one.”

“Okay… any specific relationships?” You prompt, “like family–”

“With you.” 

“What?”

“Me and you.”

“Uhhhh,” you drone, “that’s… alright. Focus on that then.”

You put your hand out. He hands you the cards and you fan them out. He watches, tilting his head as he brings his knee up onto the bed and faces you straight on. The strangeness of the situation does not escape you. It sears down your neck.

“Pick three cards.”

He does so easily. One, two, three. Most people would take their time but he is always straight to the point. You point to where he should place each card. The first there, the second next to it, and the third above.

“Alright, so,” you set the deck aside, “this is basic. The first card represents you, the second would be the other person.”

“You,” he smirks.

“Sure,” you say, “and the third, would be both together.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he rests his hand on his thigh, tapping his fingers.

“Alright then, flip the first one.”

He does as you say. You consider the card.

“Temperance, reversed,” you announce, “it means you like excess, you often go to extremes, so much so that your life often lacks balance and harmony.”

He nods and clucks, “I can’t disagree.”

“Second,” you direct him.

He flips it.

“Nine of swords, upright,” you utter. You let the air linger.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“Anxiety, or sadness, dread,” you don’t look up at him, “so this other person… me, I guess, has a lot on their mind to worry about.”

“Wow, the cards really are magic.”

You wince and look at him. Is it that obvious?

“Final card.”

“Oh, I’m excited,” he turns it over, “what does fate have in store for us?”

“Page of wands, upright; represents exploration, excitement, and…” you pause as you search your mind, “freedom?”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” he snickers.

“They’re just cards,” you quickly gather up the trio. It means nothing.

“Do you read palms?” He asks as you put the cards with the rest of the deck and shimmy to the edge of the bed.

“No, I… no.” You eke out as you let yourself down to the floor, “look, thanks for humouring me but I’m tired–”

“Hard to tell with all the eyeliner,” he remarks.

You give him a sharp look. He smirks as he turns both legs over the edge of the bed and leans back on his hands. It’s almost a boyish expression.

“I’m pretty beat myself,” he says, “cozy.”

He lets himself fall onto his back. You put the deck back on the shelf and chew on the situation. What the hell is going on? He’s invading your space, mocking you, and you’re just letting him.

“Maybe you should go home–”

“Pretty big bed–”

“I kick in my sleep,” you go to the end of the bed and he turns his head towards you. You see that devilish gleam in his eyes.

“You bring a lot of boys in here?”

“What?” Your voice wilts out, barely rising.

“Easy enough to sneak em through the window. Got that tree right out there, they could just–” He motions with his hand, “zip right in.”

You let your anger burn through. You get that from your father. You fight not to let it win over but it rises so hotly that sometimes you can’t.

“I don’t appreciate this.”

“What do you mean?” He rubs his chest.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

“You are. This is my room and I…” you swallow and ball your fists, “I want you to get out.”

“Sweetheart, really, I’m not–”

“You are. You can’t say or do anything that hasn’t been said or done before. I get it, okay? So please, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”

He blows out and turns his head straight. He deflates and reluctantly pushes himself up. He tidies his hair as he stands.

“You’ll see, baby doll,” he struts lazily to the door, “the last thing I’m doing is making fun of you.” he looks back at you, his lips slanting, “I’m out for a different sort of fun…”

You storm towards him and shoo him out the door. He cackles and you slam the door behind him. Out. Get out! You feel like you need to cleanse your room now. You hear his rocky laughter on the other side as he lingers, his hand hitting the door before dragging down it.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls through the door.

He pushes off, the door jolting in the frame, and his footsteps peter away. You huff and face the room. He never told you why he was in there. You cross to the bed and drag your laptop and books off. As you do, you smell a trace of his cologne disturbed by the movement. You turn away and stack them on your desk.

You are ready for the day to end, even if tomorrow holds little promise.

[rems-writing]

Act like a brat, get punished

Pairing: mobster aged-up!Jongho x non-idol!Hongjoong

Genre/trope/AU: smut/strangers to lovers/mafia AU

Wordcount: 2,995 words

Rating: mature

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

“I’m sorry, my son. You now belong to this man.”

“We had no other choice! We didn’t get the money in time so this was our best option.”

Hongjoong was tired. He was so tired. He knew his parents were poor, but he didn’t realize that their poverty was so bad that they had to resort to borrowing money from the mafia. The chilling discovery of this reality happened today. He was working four jobs. Three mundane 9 to 5 jobs and one small business that involved his designing skills. Hongjoong loved fashion. It was the only thing he had going on at this point. After the death of Beomjoong, he had to pick up the slack and become the main breadwinner of his family. His dad was a retired electrical engineer while his mom was a part-time worker at a food stall located in the mall just a block away from their cramped apartment. As he stared back and forth in between his parents and the man they owed money to, he sighed heavily. He took off his hat, wiped his sweaty brow, pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration, and simply walked past them to retrieve his things. The man Hongjoong’s parents owed money to looked at the young man in shock as he came back downstairs with a dufflebag packed to the brim with almost nothing. Just a few clothes he reformed, a laptop for online fashion school, his sewing machine, and a few stacks of bills he had stashed away for an emergency fund. His head was hung low and he threw the bills at his parents’ feet. 

“Y-You’re not going to fight back? Or beg to stay?”

“There’s no point. Now come on. Let’s go. I’m sure you don’t want to be late or whatever.”

As Hongjoong brushed past the people that gave him life (he no longer viewed them as parents), he looked at the man wearily before nodding his head, indicating that he’ll be near whatever expensive car or creepy van the man drove in. To say it puzzled the man and broke his heart at the same time was an understatement. After Hongjoong shut the door behind him, the man’s resolve hardened and he scowled at his parents. 

“Look at you two. You basically let him walk out! He didn’t fight, beg, or compromise with me. He just… left. How does it feel to know that your entire family is gone? Only this time… you’re the cause of it?”

Hongjoong’s mother broke down in tears while Hongjoong’s father bent down to comfort her. He looked at the money in disdain before looking back up at the man. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, the big watch on his left wrist sticking out like a sore thumb. The father was about to say something when the man held his hand up. 

“Save it. You two now have money. And from the looks of it, your youngest son saved enough to last you guys a few years. Maybe even more if you’re wise about it. Despite being so… drained of life, he thought about you guys. Always. Consider this debt paid off.”

“B-But don’t we owe you so much more?”

“Eh. You do. However, seeing as he oh so willingly walked out of here without your consultation or mine, I think you guys can pay me back by living with the consequences of your actions. How does that sound?”

The father shut his mouth, knowing the man was right. The man clicked his tongue before adjusting his sleeves and bidding farewell to Hongjoong’s parents before exiting their apartment. He tuned out the mother’s wails that grew louder as he walked away, knowing that this is all she can do. After walking down the steps to the lobby (he refused to take the elevator. He claimed he was too cool for that), he stepped outside and breathed in the crisp air of the city’s nightlife before focusing his eyes on the man before him. 

His heart ached painfully at the sight. 

Hongjoong had his head hung low, his dufflebag was hanging loosely from his hand, tear streaks stained his handsome face, and his sniffles could be heard every now and then. The man cautiously approached him and tucked his fingers under Hongjoong’s chin so he could lift his head and observe him some more. 

Hongjoong didn’t even flinch at the strange touches he was receiving! He truly was tired of it all. 

“You can put your things in the backseat.”

Hongjoong nodded and the man unlocked the door to his expensive Mercedes so Hongjoong could throw his stuff in the back. He let out a quiet ‘Excuse me’ as he squeezed past the man and got into the front seat so he could get himself situated and mentally prepare for what was about to come. Once he was buckled up, the man went to the driver’s seat and closed the door beside him before buckling up and starting the engine. He felt extremely horrible for the younger man’s situation and he felt like he had to say something. Instinctively, he grabbed Hongjoong’s hand, making a note of the single painted nail on his left ring finger. For someone who liked to rough people up using his own bare hands, his touch was gentle. 

“Hey. Look at me. Please.”

The man’s voice was gentle and Hongjoong looked up at him. Despite the hollow expression on his face, the man could tell that his eyes conveyed so much sadness and despair. He squeezed his hand gently and offered a small grin. 

“I’m truly sorry that things had to be like this. How about we make a deal? Just do what I say and I’ll ask nothing else from you. You are free to do whatever you want. I won’t track you down, I won’t have any of my men stalk you, I won’t stop you from doing whatever you need to do, and most importantly… I won’t stop you from running away. If my men do track you down and harm you, I’ll kill them myself.”

Hongjoong’s heart skipped a beat as the man made his situation less of a living hell by putting this offer up on a silver platter. A small part of him doubted his words though. After all, he was part of the mafia. However, the geunity in his eyes and his words washed away that doubt momentarily. After thinking about it some more, he nodded firmly. 

“Ok. I’ll take it. And I can tell you’re a man of your word so… I guess I trust you.”

The man felt relieved that Hongjoong took the deal and his grin grew bigger. Hongjoong  couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like if his round cheeks got squished. He shook away the thoughts and expressed gratitude towards the man. 

“You don’t have to thank me. You didn’t ask for this life so let me at least provide some sense of normalcy for you.”

“Still though. T-Thank you, sir.”

“Jongho. Call me Jongho.”

As the two drove off to Jongho’s mansion, Hongjoong looked back at the building complex he used to call home. With a calm mind and a rapidly beating heart, he awaited the new chapter in his life to begin.

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

Living with Jongho wasn’t so bad! He stuck to his word and allowed Hongjoong to live his life like he normally would. Except for a few rules he made. 

Always come home on time.

If you are invited to dinner, never say no. 

Always sleep on time. 

Focus on fashion school and growing his fashion business. 

These rules didn’t sound as horrid as Hongjoong made it out to be. He practiced timing himself on studying for school and going home after he was done (he had a habit of holing himself up in one of the studios after hours on campus), he ate well, his insomnia was crushed by his newly adjusted body clock, and his fashion business was growing more famous as each day passed. 

It was all thanks to Jongho. 

In addition to Hongjoong’s lifestyle becoming healthier, he found himself falling in love with the older man. At first, he was afraid that Jongho would lash out and he would lecture on how he doesn’t even like men and that he wouldn’t go for someone as young as him. However, after a long night of heartfelt confessions, crying (Jongho let out his bottled up emotions), steamy make-out sessions, and passionate sex right on Jongho’s work table, it’s safe to say that the two were madly in love with each other and they embraced their bond more than ever. Currently, they are getting ready for dinner with some of Jongho’s work colleagues. Hongjoong has met the respective partners of each one, but he was closest with Jung Wooyoung, the fiance of San, Jongho’s older brother. As he thought about what type of weird conversation these two were going to have, he was snapped out of his thoughtful daze when he heard his boyfriend’s voice call out to him. He turned around and had to stifle a laugh. 

Jongho looked absolutely fucking hot in the suit he picked out for this evening. The black button-up shirt clung to his muscled body deliciously, his tie was tucked into his vest, the black slacks he wore defined his meaty thighs, and his dress shoes were polished to perfection. He looked like a god! There was only one problem.

The vest was way too small for his body. 

“That thing is ready to burst at the seams!”

Jongho chuckled nervously and his heart swelled with adoration as he heard Hongjoong giggle loudly. He saw the younger man approach him and watched as he carefully unbuttoned the vest with his dainty hands and a laser-type precision. Hongjoong made sure that the vest came off without it ripping apart. Finally, he shrugged it off his body and smoothed out any wrinkles the vest left behind on his shirt. Jongho willed himself to not grow a boner under his boyfriend’s touch. Hongjoong took a step back and observed him some more before nodding firmly. 

“I think the look is fine. No need to add a blazer or anything else. Just throw on your winter coat and you’ll be all set.”

“This is why you’re the fashion expert.”

Hongjoong giggled as Jongho grabbed his waist and peppered kisses all over his face before pulling him into a hug. He felt himself become flushed at the mere sight of Jongho’s beefy body practically swallowing his tiny frame whole. He had to push him away after a while, causing Jongho to pout. Hongjoong booped his nose and squished his cheeks. 

“Come on, lover boy! We don’t want to be late.”

Hongjoong skipped away and Jongho chuckled to himself before sighing happily and following after him so the two of them could make it to dinner on time.

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

Dinner went great. Everyone had a good time, ate until they were full, drank until they couldn’t anymore, and paid for it all before leaving. While the six of them were left to explore the city, Jongho was driving at an ungodly speed back home to the mansion. Once they made it, he grabbed Hongjoong, hoisted him over his broad shoulder, tossed the keys to one of his servants so they could park the car, and clambered upstairs to their bedroom before throwing Hongjoong onto their shared bed. 

“Did you think that was funny? Hm? Teasing me? Purposefully flirting with Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong shrugged, which made Jongho a bit angry. It didn’t help that Hongjoong had a dopey smile on his face, which was quickly wiped off when Jongho took off his belt and grabbed the tiny man’s wrists before securely tying him up so it was snug enough that he couldn’t shrug it off yet he didn’t feel pain. Jongho gripped Hongjoong’s chin and kissed him harshly. While one hand was keeping Joong’s head in place, the other ripped away his shirt with terrifying (and arousing) strength. His fingers delicately traced the hem of Joong’s skirt before pulling it off quickly yet carefully. He cursed under his breath when he saw Joong clad in nothing but a silver body chain and a silk thong. 

“Well well well. You’re really just asking for it, huh?”

“I did this just for you though.”

Hongjoong pouted slightly, but Jongho never wavered. He can act as cute as he wants. He’s going to be punished like the brat he is. He released Hongjoong’s head and quickly snaked it down to his bound wrists before adjusting him so he could bend the younger man over his lap. With his ass raised in the air, his fingertips lightly skimmed over the curve of it. Jongho looked down at Hongjong, whose eyes were blown with lust. 

“You’re going to count to 10. If you slip up, we’re starting over. And do not give me attitude. Or else I’ll go harder. Understand?”

“Yes, sir~”

The way Hongjoong said that and batted his eyelashes up at Jongho caused the man’s cock to strain painfully against the hard confines of his slacks. He was going to ruin the man below him. He soon raised his hand and swiftly brought it down onto one of his asscheeks. The sound echoed in the room and Hongjoong let out a yelp. 

“One!”

Another smack. 

“Two!”

Another. 

“Three!”

Another. 

“Four!”

As another one was delivered, Hongjoong swore he felt the marks starting to form since Jongho never took off his rings when he spanked him. 

“Five!”

Another one was delivered and Hongjoong just knew that he wouldn’t be able to sit after this. 

“Six.”

Hongjoong’s voice wavered yet Jongho still heard the word loud and clear. He wanted to stop there, but due to the mischievous look in his eyes and the way he bit his lip, it was a sign to keep going. He soon delivered another one. 

“Seven!”

Two more. 

“Eight!”

One more. 

“Nine!”

Last one. 

“10!”

Using his strength, Jongho lifted Hongjoong by the hips and made the younger man straddle him so he could kiss him fiercely and passionately. Hongjoong moaned into the kiss and he flinched a bit when Jongho’s fingertips skimmed through the reddened skin of his ass. He was soon laid down on his stomach and he felt Jongho’s plush lips kiss the reddened skin before he tore off the thong he was wearing. 

Oh. 

Jongho cursed loudly when he saw Hongjoong wearing the new buttplug he got him a few weeks back. It was his reward for being so obedient and never once breaking any of his rules. He dug his fingers into Hongjoong’s hair and yanked him backwards so his bare back was touching his clothed chest. Hongjoong moaned at the contact and Jongho’s lips ghosted over the shell of his ear. 

“Did you wear this just for me?”

“Mhmm! Only for you, sir!”

“You’re such a good boy. Fuck! You make me so happy.”

Jongho angled Hongjoong’s head so their lips could meet once again. During this heated kiss, Jongho tore off his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt quickly before discarding it. The same went for his pants. When he was finally bare, Hongjoong felt Jongho’s huge cock be pressed up against his ass. Despite having sex with him before, Hongjoong will never get over how shockingly large Jongho was. Hongjoong felt his back hit the mattress and cringed slightly at the buttplug being pulled out from him. The cringe was soon replaced with pleasure as he felt himself being filled by his mobster boyfriend. As soon as Jongho bottomed out, he settled inside Hongjoong for a minute before pinning the tiny man’s bound wrists above his head with one hand and squeezing his throat with the other. He pulled out slowly until the tip was only in before slamming back into him harshly. 

“JONGHO~”

Jongho chuckled darkly and began pistoning his hips at a fast pace. With each slap of skin, a moan slipped out of Hongjoong. They grew louder and louder with each passing second. Jongho then tilted Hongjoong’s head up towards the ceiling without letting go of his throat. Hongjoong’s eyes widened at his own fucked out reflection staring back down at him as he was getting dicked down. 

Jongho recently installed those mirrors and now they were being put to good use. 

“Look at you, darling. Being stuffed full of my cock like the bratty slut you are. God I love everything about you. From this body chain to the way you scream my name. You just love being fucked by an older man, huh? I can tell since you’re clenching around me so much. Go on. Say it!”

“F-FUCK! I LOVE IT! I FUCKING LOVE IT! SIR, PLEASE! PLEASE LET ME CUM! I’M SO CLOSE!”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Jongho rammed into Hongjoong a few more times before Hongjoong let out the loudest moan and felt himself spill all over his body. Jongho reached his climax as well and stopped so he could empty himself inside Hongjoong. The two of them were breathing heavily, staring into each other’s eyes lovingly before Jongho pulled out of Hongjoong. He carried the younger man into the bathroom and ran him a hot bath before lowering him into the tub and climbing in afterwards. He wrapped his arms around his waist and the younger man snuggled into his chest. 

“Best. Sex. Ever! I got to thank Wooyoung and tell him that this was worth it.”

“So Wooyoung put you up to this, huh?”

“Well… the body chain and buttplug were my ideas, but Wooyoung was the one that suggested that I acted like a brat.”

“I see. In that case, I’m glad that Wooyoung fed you that idea. You should be bratty often. I love it when I go rough on you.” 

“Me too, Jongho. Me too…”

[kohiandie]

hi your lifestyle?? is literally so inspiring can i ask like. how did y'all do all that...

ok but more specifically i guess how long did it take you to work/get the funds to 1. buy a house(?) rescue space? and upkeep everything?

sorry if this is a repeat question you get a lot!

asgkdlhadsg this is incredibly sweet thank you TT to be totally honest with you, we're still figuring stuff out on the daily / weekly / monthly! we've been individually self-employed & selling at cons for over ten years now & being partners has exponentially made things easier alongside having (somewhat?) supportive parents. i don't think either of us could grow to the level we're at now and handle everything we're handling on our own! we would definitely need an employee or something, LOL. we feel so lucky to have been able to find each other, since so many of the things we love are aligned -- conventions / artist alley / making merch / media we like & how we consume it, rescue, etc.! UHHH THIS CAME OUT a way longer response than i meant it to so more below the cut

even now, i wouldn't say we're at a place where we're 100%. this past year we've been able to make huge strides in paying off debt that we accrued through covid & originally moving into this house -- our credit scores are finally starting to recover. as for the house itself, we were living together with jasmin's family for a while & just using the money we made to remodel different parts of the house bit by bit because it was really falling apart -- we cleaned and gutted so much of it, haha. our merch barely fit. summers were dreadful without central ac in the office. but we had our own little place and her family was okay with us fostering. it let us get our foot in the door, volunteering with different rescues, learning more about TNR, and saving lives in our area. we learned a lot and ultimately, that's kind of how it still is, even if we've upgraded these days. my (andie) parent's were sent to work in europe but weren't ready to sell their current house, so they basically gave it to us to live in as property managers here in tx. we would take care of the house, pay a smaller portion of the mortgage, & move out when they came back. texas is a lot more affordable, especially our city, and we're both really fond of san antonio, the people, the culture, food, etc. i lived here for a few years when i was younger, a few years before i moved in with jas, and jas used to fly back and forth to visit. it was already a second home, so it was kind of perfect. it's sort of the issue we're running into now, haha. my parents will be moving back this summer & we need to find a place since we now have so many fosters & the rescue / our home & business has grown so much. we can't stay in an apartment, but don't have enough to get our dream house yet, so the biggest likelihood is that we'll get a place we aren't too attached to and work to getting our dream place. or maybe buy this off my parents? there are so many messy options atm, sorry for rambling LOL for ex: this house is historic, property taxes have jumped up the last few years, but we might be able to get exempt because of the non-profit. because my family isn't actually planning to retire here long term, there might be an opportunity to keep this place, because the home we have now is soooo not affordable to purchase anymore (but was, years ago) we'd love to keep it, tbh. our income is definitely more than it ever has been, but it's still 'average' i'd say, split between two people and the rescue. we've been really lucky with the circumstances we've been given & not everything's perfect but!! we're still figuring stuff out every day HAHA. constantly thinking about the long term even though things are always changing as for upkeep, man............ with the fosters, it's basically like running a zoo, haha. we're in a constant routine of buying / getting huge amounts of litter, food, etc. transporting cats, traps, medicating anyone who needs it, cleaning poop, pee, vomit. taking care of babies, not sleeping because they gotta eat every few hours or there's a health scare / emergency. handling people in our community who reach out to us for help.

most of the staff at our humane society & veterinarian are pretty familiar with us because of how often we go.

being a team of two makes a world of a difference -- ex. jas doesn't like putting away dishes, so she washes & i put them away. when a kitty is sick, she stays home & i go to con. we worked nearly 20 cons a year for several years together. handling manufacturers, new products, different store fronts, emails, taxes, socials, loss. new ideas! we always talk through disagreements because we're in this together. it's not just about us either, it's about the cats, the rescue, the community, etc. jas is way better at talking to people in person than i am while i tend to handle all the online / email stuff. we've just really learned how we fit together over the years and we're always improving or making mistakes and learning. SO TLDR; LOTS OF TIME, EXPERIENCE, MISTAKES, TRAVEL, TALKING TO PEOPLE, LEARNING, EXPLORING NEW THINGS, DECIDING WHAT WE LIKE / DON'T LIKE, TALKING, BOUNCING IDEAS. nothing happens overnight and ofc there are always those times where we sit and just kind of mourn that we aren't exactly where we want to be, but like?? it's abt the process. the goals. there are joys every step of the way and obstacles, ofc, but! nothing happens overnight and breaking things into steps / small accomplishments really helps you enjoy the more i think!

idk I'm sorry LOL this journey is still ongoing and has had so much pain and tears along the way but also lots of positives & happy moments.

[charlotteiscrying]

i always figured you wanted something real, because that’s what you told me. i thought you wanted something more than skin deep, you know that whole reason why you fucking other girls didn’t count as cheating to you. i allowed it, because i thought we had something more than just skin. i’ve always understood sex is just a verb, i believe that so much because ive never once been looking for only sex. yes you have a huge dick. but i love you for other reasons, for how you treated me, how you cared for me, kept me safe, protected me. how you helped me though my toughest times and inspired me to change n get through them. how you looked at me, the way that i can feel the energy radiating off your skin even when you aren’t touching me. how you hugged me, how you were able to be vulnerable around me. how you’d talk in ur lil jit voice, how whenever we saw a lil kid you’d tell me how bad you wanted a mini-us. how you gave me access to the version of you that no other human has, or will ever, see.

i asked you so many times to tell me why you loved me. to give me a reason, to say something nice so that i could get my mind (that was screaming at me to give up on you) to relax, to rest for at least one night. i wanted you to reassure me that you love me for the way i’ve helped you, for what i’ve done for you, for me caring n fighting to stay in your life thru all this. for me being the one n only person you’ve ever been able to open up to in this world. for me helping you through your toughest time in this life, when your ex told you she never loved you, it had always been fake. that crushed you. i saw the way you texted her for months after that. it took you six months of having me in your life to “get over her” enough to “date” me. if one year of fake with her caused that much damage to you, think of what two years of fake codependency, love, and drug addiction with you has done to me ? and, unfortunately, i don’t have a charlotte to come love me outta this.

i wish so bad i hadn’t told you how every man in my life has always only looked at me for only my body and what i have. i wish i hadn’t told you what i truly wanted. to be loved as the soul inside my body. you listened to exactly what i wanted, and you shoved your demon body into the cookie cutter shape my brain needed to see in order to feel love. you took residency up in my mind, just to take notes on what would get my hopes up, n what would crush them even harder. you’ve lived with me for the past two years. 700+ days, living in my family’s home, with me, because you had nowhere else to go, and i love you. even to this day, even after you’ve hurt me this bad, i’d rather let you live with me than know you’re homeless out in that snow right now. i bought you over $100,000 in drugs, because i’d rather sell my pussy for you than see you withdraw, and i love you. you crashed my bmw, you saved my life in the process, but i committed insurance fraud to keep you outta trouble. had i told my insurance the truth id have a brand new car right now. but id rather commit a huge mf crime (while im on probation for the second time) than put you in $40,000 of debt for crashing a car you didn’t own, that you were driving without insurance.

now im stuck here: no car, no money, no job, no you. you promised me so many times that once you had a job id never have to work a day in my life again. that just wasn’t true- when i flew out to you on my birthday you lied to me about having to pay for your mom’s cancer surgery and chemo, that’s why you couldn’t help pay for my flight, the rental car, the hotel. i should’ve known, i should’ve ended it right then and there. my ex lied to me about his dad being in the hospital, dying from cancer. i knew that was bullshit the second it came out his mouth. he was just saying the buzzword “cancer” because he knew my dad had died from cancer when i was seven, and he wanted sympathy outta me, so i’d give him more money, drugs, whatever he wanted. yet i realized you lied to me about paying for your mom’s chemo, to try and prevent me from flying out to you, and i didn’t blink an eye. my brain was screaming at me, but i ignored it.

am i stupid ? or were you just that good of a liar ? would anyone in my place have fallen for you for as long as i did ? i seriously think that all of us, everything, has just been you manipulating me to get what you wanted from me. once you took everything i could physically give you: you dipped straight tf out. you know what i said before wasn’t entirely true. i’d much rather see you outside, soaking wet and freezing cold from this snow, than EVER let you in my house again. if everything was fake, you never once meant it any of those times you’d say i love you, or when you would actually say the nice things i wanted to hear, you’re actually a demon. and i know you’d take that as a compliment- it should be an insult.

[jaybird-fanfics]

Burnt Out |Chapter Six|

Once again you were back at Dabi's place, though as how run downed the place was, it felt safer than your apartment right now. You didn't know if Ryuji will stay waiting for you there or if he would be out searching for you. That was all the more reason to stay here. For starters, Ryuji didn't know where this place was. Not to your knowledge at least. And another thing, Dabi was here with you. So even if by some chance you were to he found, Dabi would handle it. Though, you didn't prefer that outcome. Ryuji didn't seem like much at first glance. He looked like any other well dressed jerk with a giant ego. But Ryuji could be very dangerous if he wanted to be.

People knew not to mess with him. They all knew the consequences if they were to do any of the sort. And that goes for anyone, men, women, heroes and villains alike. One night when one of your fellow workers had gone "mysteriously" missing. Apparently she had stolen money from Ryuji, and when he found out about it...well, you never heard from or saw her ever again. Ryuji told you about her, but never what happened to her. But, you knew, he had something to do with it. The look on his face, the tone of his voice gave it all away. You could help but feel bad for the poor girl. She probably did it because she was in a similar situation as you. Forced to pay off an impossible debt to Ryuji. She was left with no other options, and did what she thought would help her.

It's too bad she was found out. You only hoped it was quick, whatever Ryuji had done to her...

The other girls knew it was Ryuji too. There was just no hiding it. They all learned somehow, not to underestimate Ryuji. He was someone to be taken seriously. He was someone who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty if he must. They all feared him, and for good reason. They were all trapped, they would never be able to escape him. Not unless they were ready to die trying. And unfortunately, some were.

"Your spacing out."

Dabi's voice caught your attention. You look over at him. He was leaning against the wall nearby the window, he seemed to have been watching for something. "You alright?" He tears his attention away from the window to focus on you. You shrug. "Just...anxious I guess?" You mutter. "The last time I tried getting away from him..." You trailed off, not wanting to remember that day. "It didn't end well." Dabi pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you. "He's not going to find you." He tells you. "I promise." You wanted to believe him, you really did. Though, you had never hoped for anything for anything for a long time now. Any hope you had was extinguished, there was no point in hoping. No one was coming to save you,  not then. So why would it be any different now? Dabi could try, you knew that much, he could try to help you.

But ultimately, it would be useless. In the end, you would always wind up right back to Ryuji. He would have you until the day you died.

"What's that look for?" Dabi asked you. You didn't answer him. You were afraid if you tried to speak right now, you'd just end up crying. Dabi could see the shakiness in your hands, the light tremble of your shoulders. Anger filled Dabi. All this time he wasn't there, you were being hurt. And he was unable to help you. Help. That almost made him laugh. He was a villain, villains don't help people. And yet, once he found out about your situation, he wanted nothing more than to help you. To save you.

You were his best friend after all.

"Another secret admirer? Well, aren't you just the heart throb of all of Japan?" You could hear the sly tone in his voice. You roll your eyes before taking the love letter that was taped to your locker and tucking it away in your school bag. "Very funny Toya." You say with fake annoyance. "You know how I feel about this kind of attention." You learned to get use to everyone's eyes on you, thanks to your new found popularity. Wanting to be your friend and all. But you could do without the ones who begged for your attention and love. Especially through these kinds of methods. Toya just chuckled as he leaned against the lockers. "Yeah, but you got to understand. Anyone would kill to be in your position. Tons of friends, smart, pretty, having people fall at your feet left and right." You shake your head before closing your locker. "It's not as great as it sounds. Most of my "friends" aren't as sincere as they appear to be. And, then I have to deal with the creeps who like me. You remember what happened last time."

Oh yes. The time Toya had to scare a guy off for basically stalking you on your way home from school. "Right. You're so lucky to have me in your life." He says with a dramatic sigh. "What would you do without me?" You swat his arm lightly. "Don't make it sound like I'd fall apart without you. Buuut, life would be kind of sucky without you in it." Toya nods in agreement. "I know."

"Oh shut it Toya." You giggle. It was true though. Life just wouldn't be the same without Toya in it. He made the worst days into the best. He was the light in the darkness. He made you feel like you could do anything, be anything. He made you hopeful for your future.

But that was a long time ago.

That doesn't mean he won't be here for you now though. He couldn't promise the future. He couldn't promise that he'd always be around. But right now, you needed him more than ever, and he knew this. Therefore, he would stay.

"He's never going to hurt you again." Dabi tells you. He gently takes hold of your chin, making you look up at him. "I won't let anyone ever hurt you again."

"You don't know that." You say with a weak voice. "Someway, somehow, I'll be hurt again. There's no escape for me, there's never been." Tears began to stream down your face. "Why...How did things end up like this? What could we have done differently?"

"We?" Dabi asks.

"You weren't suppose to turn out like this Toya!" You say, voice breaking. "I wasn't suppose to be doing what I've been doing. And you...you had such a bright future ahead of you. You were good. You've been nothing but kind, and caring. And now...now you're this. I don't believe that it's nothing, or coincidence. Something must have happened. What happened Toya, for you to become this?" Dabi was silent. He understood why you were angry, upset by what he's become. It was such a big leap, a huge turn of events. And it all seemed to have happened so fast. Of course you'd be upset. But, you hadn't the slightest clue about what it was like for him back then. What hell he went through.

But you deserved to know. You deserved to know the truth.

"It might take me all night. But I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."

[cleverhottubmiracle]

Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last dollar. Today: a program manager who makes $98,000 per year and who spends some of her money this week on volleyball game fees.  If you’d like to submit your own Money Diary, you can do so via our online form. We pay $150 for each published diary. Apologies but we’re not able to reply to every email. Editor’s note: All prices converted to US dollars using Google and correct at time of writing. Occupation: Program manager Industry: Nonprofit Age: 36 Location: Mexico City Salary: $98,000 Assets: I just met with my financial advisor and have some shuffling to do to reduce the amount of pure cash I’m holding, but generally speaking I have $26,000 in checking accounts, and $30,200 in savings and HYSA accounts. 401(k) is at $25,300, 403(b) sits at $39,900, Roth IRA at $83,000, and I have $85,300 in another individual investment account. Debt: $0 Paycheck amount (2x/month): $2,693.64 Pronouns: She/her Monthly Expenses Housing costs: $790 for a small one-bedroom in a very touristy area. It is a small, old, quirky spot but it has served me well for my first year here. I’ll be moving next month and my rent will be cut in half. Utilities: Water is included in my rent and I pay for gas every few months — that is usually $35. Gym: I pay anywhere from $80-$100 for gym classes and memberships but I’m not loyal to a single place, so it fluctuates. Internet: $23 HYSA & 401(k): $500 and $850 respectively. I separate my deposits into two accounts — for one I deposit $500 a month (for cash access here in CDMX). The rest goes in my regular checking account. Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it? My parents were very supportive, since they were teachers, but college was always my own goal from a young age. My older sister did not attend school and they were equally encouraging towards her. I went on to earn my undergraduate degree in English and education to follow in their teacher footsteps and recently paid outright for my master’s in organizational leadership as I started a career transition. Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances? We did not talk about finances but I knew we were not well-off for most of my childhood. Before my dad started teaching, he worked several jobs at a time, and we always had everything we needed and nearly everything we wanted. I don’t know how my parents did it — I’m sure it required significant sacrifice — but they always let me use money how I wanted. Still, because I was aware of the tight budgets, I saved almost every dollar I was given throughout childhood. What was your first job and why did you get it? I was a competitive athlete growing up so I didn’t have a job until I left for university where I had a work/study job tutoring in an elementary school. This was my first exposure to teaching in some capacity and I loved it so much I stayed in that job throughout college. Unlike my classmates though, this job was for survival. I did not get money from home and was surrounded by pretty affluent classmates so I watched my money like a hawk. Did you worry about money growing up? Yes — especially when I noticed we were receiving donations from our church or community. This was not my entire childhood but we definitely had more difficult seasons. Do you worry about money now? For sure. I live below my means but I was a teacher for more than a decade, under-earning compared to my peers and living abroad, so I did not feel the pressure in the same way. Spending a few years back in the States deepened a scarcity mindset that I’m trying to come out of now that I have a bit more stability. But still, I worry about getting older, unexpected expenses, and my parents’ security too. At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net? Technically 22 — I was off my parents’ insurance by then because I had joined the Peace Corps and even though I did not get money throughout college, my parents helped pay for much of school so my loans were low and I was out of debt by 24. Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. No and I don’t anticipate anything like this coming my way. Day One: Sunday 5:34 a.m. — On the heels of Día de Muertos, my partner, V., and I got home and immediately climbed into bed, popped a couple gomitas, and drifted off to sleep. I’m up way too early for a Sunday to waddle to the bathroom in my post-gummy haze. I’m hoping a return to sleep is possible if I barely open my eyes and navigate my way to the toilet solely based on touch. 7:07 a.m. — I do in fact snooze again but I’m up before the 7:45 a.m. alarm while V. continues to happily dream next to me, face down, arms and legs splayed out to the side. I’ve got two volleyball games today but I stayed with V. last night and have to go home for all my stuff. I nudge him awake and he drives me home and then to the gym where I bring a highly competitive spirit to a very recreational league. I chip in for the game fees. $2.93 11:58 a.m. — Luckily, we win both of our games and my friend drops me in Del Valle, a smidge closer to V.’s house. I decide to walk the rest of the way and grab a coffee en route. $3 2:45 p.m. — Eventually we shower and drive to the south of the city to visit the megaofrenda at UNAM. Unfortunately, the excitement is short-lived as I immediately feel ill and spend a fair amount of time in the porta potties. We get some water and turn around and head home. $5 8:56 p.m. — We spend the late afternoon finally finishing Ghostbusters and checking off any other final Halloween films before I eventually take DiDi (which is similar to Uber) home. Before I go, V. and I talk about our plans to move in together in just over a month, our relationship, and how we’re feeling in general. I appreciate how open he is to these conversations; airing out our concerns, nerves, and excitement is made simple by his warmth. $3.42 Daily Total: $14.35 Day Two: Monday 4:05 a.m. — Now this is a little early, even for me, but I signed up for an intensive month-long Spanish course that meets three days a week for 90 minutes. I’m really focused on improving over the next six months since my partner is Mexican and his parents don’t speak English. And because I obviously live in Mexico. I have some anxious anticipation for class so I toss and turn for a while before putting on a sleep meditation from the Calm app (I have a free subscription and I’m not exactly sure how it happened). 7:30 a.m. — To my surprise and horror, this is a one-on-one class. Just me and S., a fresh-faced 20-year-old with the patience of a saint. We review the function of the subjunctive and the 90 minutes flies by. I wrap up feeling like this could offer the confidence boost I really need to use everything I’ve learned over the last year. Afterwards, I dive directly into work calls, spreadsheets, and Slack messages. 12 p.m. — At some point I talk myself into a coffee. I used to be a strict caffeine abstainer but since a period of unemployment back in 2022, I’ve started enjoying an occasional latte — not really the time to pick up an expensive habit, but alas… Now, working from home, I use it as an excuse to leave my house, have some kind of interaction in Spanish, and get some sun on my face. I pay my 65 pesos for the coffee that is keeping me from buying a house and go about my day. $3.18 4:30 p.m. — After closing my laptop around 2 p.m., I nestle into the couch to watch an episode of Cold Case, and at some point I throw together a smattering of things and call it lunch. V. would tell you I just eat ingredients, not actual meals, and he is not wrong. Still, I feel good and walk to the gym for my functional training class, which I paid for as part of a summer promo on Fitpass (Mexican ClassPass) two months back so according to my girl math calculations…yes, free. 6:30 p.m. — On the way home, I need a few more ingredients for whatever kind of nonsense I’m calling dinner, so I swing by Sumesa and grab a couple sweet potatoes, bananas, coconut water, and applesauce, because why not? $13.30 10:14 p.m. — I’ve been playing a bit dumb for a few weeks leading up to Election Day but the reality is, regardless of my country of residence, the impact of the US elections is felt far and wide. I voted while I was home in October but as a California resident, I can’t help but feel that my vote really doesn’t matter. Still, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long one. We have plans to go to a watch party (never worry alone, ya know) and I want to be clear-headed, so I let Harry Styles’ sleep story on Calm soothe me to sleep. Daily Total: $16.48 Day Three: Tuesday 5:15 a.m. — As per usual, I beat the alarm but not by much. I get up and splash some water on my face, fill up my water bottle, and walk to a 6 a.m. Pilates class. This is not a regular part of my routine but it feels good to move my body in the morning. In the spring I ran my first half marathon and haven’t found the will to bring running back into the rotation so I’ll stick to Pilates for now. Again, I booked this through the Fitpass app so I feel like no money spent. 11:10 a.m. — I started slamming keys around 7 a.m. so I take a break for — you guessed it — that coffee I swear I don’t drink. Latte con leche deslactosada. Can the rest of the world get on the lactose-free milk train, please? Mexicans: culinary trailblazers! $3.08 4:30 p.m. — I should have mentioned that the grocery store is literally on my corner so I find myself shopping on a nearly daily basis. An avocado here. One bag of spinach there. Is this smart? Economical? Efficient? No but again, I work from home and love a reason to get up from the screen. I’m cooking dinner for V. and want to get some mushrooms for a second vegetable. I grab a few other staples to delay my return to the store by at least two days. $22.94 8:15 p.m. — Even though V. is not American, he’s joining me for the election watch party, so we Uber over. My friend is organizing and I’m happy to see so many people, both from the States and other places, come together to wail on a Trump piñata. Knowing the results will be late and I’ve got my Spanish lesson in the morning, we leave around 10 p.m. to walk the 35 minutes home. $2.79 11 p.m. — V. can’t stay because he needs to get home to A., his sweet Great Dane, so I set an alarm knowing I’ll be up early to check the election results. I feel detached and almost resigned to the result, which is not a great feeling. Daily Total: $28.81 Day Four: Wednesday 4:15 a.m. — As predicted, I am awake. I’m checking the news, attempting to accept this new reality. What a sad sequence of events. I push calls off my calendar that are not urgent. 7:30 a.m. — In my Spanish lesson, S. asks me how I am doing. I share some of my thoughts in broken Spanish, really stretching the limits of linguistic ability, and we eventually transition to further work on the subjunctive. 10:45 a.m. — After more than two hours of calls and no mention from our leadership about the election results, I decide it is time for every millennial woman’s favorite activity: a hot girl walk. Well, this is more like getting a coffee and a cry, but I’m just waiting for that trend to go viral. $3.18 1:50 p.m. — After slacking relentlessly with other colleagues and checking in with friends back home, I decide it is time to log off. I did my best. I cancel the plans I had later with P. (my first Mexican friend who I sadly don’t often get to see) and plan to sit on my couch, literally become my couch, and continue to watch Cold Case or some mindless Hallmark-esque movie. 5 p.m. — But first. Move that damn body. My functional training classes are focused on explosive movements this week and I’m grateful to feel my body move, to feel physically strong, and snag the endorphin boost. Again, free! And thankfully some much-needed headspace. 6:30 p.m. — On the walk home I decide I deserve an overpriced acai bowl for dinner, or pre-dinner, or whatever it ends up being. I order para llevar and walk the few blocks back to my house to inhale it carefully on my beige couch. $10.42 7:30 p.m. — Finally hop in the shower, then spoon-feed myself applesauce direct from the jar while I serve up another girl dinner to enjoy on the couch. 10% Happier, The Happiness Lab, and Jay Shetty are no match for whatever the hell I’m feeling, so I start researching online counseling programs because it has been in the back of my mind for years. After another four years of Trump, we might have even more need for mental health services so maybe this is how I’m part of the solution. Eventually, I find my way to bed and tonight I let Matthew McConaughey put me to sleep. I fear for my boyfriend when we move in together and how he’ll tolerate all these men I’ve brought into my bed. Daily Total: $13.60 Day Five: Thursday 4:50 a.m. — Determined to have a better day, I’m up at an ungodly hour and take the time to do my Wordle and Duolingo practice. Do I think it is helping my Spanish? No, but I’ve got a 421-day streak that I’m too stubborn to break. I’m running multiple calls this morning so I freshen up and plop down at my desk to commence the key-slamming. 12 p.m. — I convince V. to come over between my calls and we fool around before I hop on my last call of the day. Just the release I needed and happy to have this big, sweet man in my life. Just a Mexican lumberjack of love who in many ways breaks stereotypes and exceeds expectations. 4:15 p.m. — Sadly I don’t have in-unit laundry so I drop a hemorrhaging Ikea tote off at the laundromat around the corner before heading to writing group. My women’s writing group meets today and I use it as an opportunity to process more about the election in direct ways while letting some creative juices run loose after a few apathetic weeks — all fueled by the power of ginger kombucha. Back in February I said I would finally start my Substack, which has not happened, but I think I’m ready and want to commit to just putting shit out in the world. Much like learning Spanish, I know this isn’t just going to happen and I have to be intentional yet graceful with myself at the same time. Anyhow. We shall see. $16.14 7 p.m. — I head to Pilates and I’m talked into buying a new pair of socks even though I’ve been to this studio before and they’ve never asked me to wear socks. Am I a monster because I don’t want to wear socks? Don’t care. A hill I’m happy to die on. When did we decide we should slip and slide around on the reformer instead of just letting our little toesies grip the shit out of things? I wait in the office to pay after class but no one turns up so I decide to leave, tempting karma to come for me. 8:30 p.m. — Once I’m home, I take a quick body shower, eat leftover salmon and sweet potatoes with a side of applesauce (almost an actual meal if you ask me), before plopping down to enjoy some Cold Case before heading for an early bed. Daily Total: $16.14 Day Six: Friday 4:50 a.m. — I wake up early again after a nightmare only I could dream up. Picture this: I’m traveling with friends (a real thing that happened back in July — we went to Argentina) but in this fresh hell I have a flight taking off in two hours and my bag isn’t packed. Even worse, it appears I have things scattered all around the hotel room and I’m having the opposite of a Mary Poppins bottomless carpet bag situation. I cannot fit all these things into my bag and I wake up still trying to cram stuff in there, with only 45 minutes until takeoff. 10:30 a.m. — Fridays are beautiful because we do not have many internal calls. I mean, technically, we are not supposed to have any but not everyone respects that rule. I enjoy some focused work before heading out to enjoy a coffee and a short break. $3.91 1:30 p.m. — I have an afternoon training class booked today and I have questions for whoever decided sprinting on a treadmill in a dark room was a good idea. Imagine the Mexican version of Barry’s Bootcamp. I generally dislike these types of classes but it was available, close, and they have nice showers so I tempt fate and join despite the fact that I have indeed flown off one of these treadmills in the past. Imagine me retelling this story in broken Spanish and miming an airplane to really cement what happened. 8:30 p.m. — We had planned to go to a friend’s going-away party (in true expat fashion, they’re moving to Tulum) but we decide to skip. Quality time is my love language and V. prioritizes our time together and I’m grateful. We go to an Argentine place and split a salad, chorizo, and a fat steak. Not the best place we’ve been to but good enough. V. pays as we are still settling a Splitwise tab from last month. Daily Total: $3.91 Day Seven: Saturday 9:30 a.m. — I’m heading to Parque Bicentenario later for some beach volleyball but we get up early to grab a coffee (okay, I DRINK COFFEE) and then V. and A. walk me to the metro. Again, V. pays to whittle down a tab from our trip back to California. 12:30 p.m. — I play a few rounds and luckily get paired with one of the decent guys, so we sweep our games. I head home triumphantly. I take the metro back to my neighborhood for a proper scrub-down but top up my card on the way — public transportation is really cheap here. $0.98 8:30 p.m. — We arrive at a cantina in the Condesa neighborhood for Calaveritas with Cine Club. I read along and laugh along on cue but enjoy the company, V.’s patient friends, and some time out together. We order a couple sueros and something with pork but I just pick at it since I don’t have much of an appetite. V. pays and I don’t even look at the bill. 11:30 p.m. — We leave relatively early, planning for a lazy day tomorrow, some moving planning, and some kind of trash movie. I call the Uber to take us back to V.’s. $3.67 Daily Total: $4.65 Money Diaries are meant to reflect an individual’s experience and do not necessarily reflect Refinery29’s point of view. Refinery29 in no way encourages illegal activity or harmful behavior. The first step to getting your financial life in order is tracking what you spend — to try on your own, check out our guide to managing your money every day. For more Money Diaries, click here. Do you have a Money Diary you’d like to share? Submit it with us here. Have questions about how to submit or our publishing process? Read our Money Diaries FAQ doc here or email us here. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?A Week In Montana On A $210,000 Joint IncomeA Week In Los Angeles On A $79,500 SalaryA Week In Providence, RI On A $195,000 Income Source link

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Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last dollar. Today: a program manager who makes $98,000 per year and who spends some of her money this week on volleyball game fees.  If you’d like to submit your own Money Diary, you can do so via our online form. We pay $150 for each published diary. Apologies but we’re not able to reply to every email. Editor’s note: All prices converted to US dollars using Google and correct at time of writing. Occupation: Program manager Industry: Nonprofit Age: 36 Location: Mexico City Salary: $98,000 Assets: I just met with my financial advisor and have some shuffling to do to reduce the amount of pure cash I’m holding, but generally speaking I have $26,000 in checking accounts, and $30,200 in savings and HYSA accounts. 401(k) is at $25,300, 403(b) sits at $39,900, Roth IRA at $83,000, and I have $85,300 in another individual investment account. Debt: $0 Paycheck amount (2x/month): $2,693.64 Pronouns: She/her Monthly Expenses Housing costs: $790 for a small one-bedroom in a very touristy area. It is a small, old, quirky spot but it has served me well for my first year here. I’ll be moving next month and my rent will be cut in half. Utilities: Water is included in my rent and I pay for gas every few months — that is usually $35. Gym: I pay anywhere from $80-$100 for gym classes and memberships but I’m not loyal to a single place, so it fluctuates. Internet: $23 HYSA & 401(k): $500 and $850 respectively. I separate my deposits into two accounts — for one I deposit $500 a month (for cash access here in CDMX). The rest goes in my regular checking account. Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it? My parents were very supportive, since they were teachers, but college was always my own goal from a young age. My older sister did not attend school and they were equally encouraging towards her. I went on to earn my undergraduate degree in English and education to follow in their teacher footsteps and recently paid outright for my master’s in organizational leadership as I started a career transition. Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances? We did not talk about finances but I knew we were not well-off for most of my childhood. Before my dad started teaching, he worked several jobs at a time, and we always had everything we needed and nearly everything we wanted. I don’t know how my parents did it — I’m sure it required significant sacrifice — but they always let me use money how I wanted. Still, because I was aware of the tight budgets, I saved almost every dollar I was given throughout childhood. What was your first job and why did you get it? I was a competitive athlete growing up so I didn’t have a job until I left for university where I had a work/study job tutoring in an elementary school. This was my first exposure to teaching in some capacity and I loved it so much I stayed in that job throughout college. Unlike my classmates though, this job was for survival. I did not get money from home and was surrounded by pretty affluent classmates so I watched my money like a hawk. Did you worry about money growing up? Yes — especially when I noticed we were receiving donations from our church or community. This was not my entire childhood but we definitely had more difficult seasons. Do you worry about money now? For sure. I live below my means but I was a teacher for more than a decade, under-earning compared to my peers and living abroad, so I did not feel the pressure in the same way. Spending a few years back in the States deepened a scarcity mindset that I’m trying to come out of now that I have a bit more stability. But still, I worry about getting older, unexpected expenses, and my parents’ security too. At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net? Technically 22 — I was off my parents’ insurance by then because I had joined the Peace Corps and even though I did not get money throughout college, my parents helped pay for much of school so my loans were low and I was out of debt by 24. Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. No and I don’t anticipate anything like this coming my way. Day One: Sunday 5:34 a.m. — On the heels of Día de Muertos, my partner, V., and I got home and immediately climbed into bed, popped a couple gomitas, and drifted off to sleep. I’m up way too early for a Sunday to waddle to the bathroom in my post-gummy haze. I’m hoping a return to sleep is possible if I barely open my eyes and navigate my way to the toilet solely based on touch. 7:07 a.m. — I do in fact snooze again but I’m up before the 7:45 a.m. alarm while V. continues to happily dream next to me, face down, arms and legs splayed out to the side. I’ve got two volleyball games today but I stayed with V. last night and have to go home for all my stuff. I nudge him awake and he drives me home and then to the gym where I bring a highly competitive spirit to a very recreational league. I chip in for the game fees. $2.93 11:58 a.m. — Luckily, we win both of our games and my friend drops me in Del Valle, a smidge closer to V.’s house. I decide to walk the rest of the way and grab a coffee en route. $3 2:45 p.m. — Eventually we shower and drive to the south of the city to visit the megaofrenda at UNAM. Unfortunately, the excitement is short-lived as I immediately feel ill and spend a fair amount of time in the porta potties. We get some water and turn around and head home. $5 8:56 p.m. — We spend the late afternoon finally finishing Ghostbusters and checking off any other final Halloween films before I eventually take DiDi (which is similar to Uber) home. Before I go, V. and I talk about our plans to move in together in just over a month, our relationship, and how we’re feeling in general. I appreciate how open he is to these conversations; airing out our concerns, nerves, and excitement is made simple by his warmth. $3.42 Daily Total: $14.35 Day Two: Monday 4:05 a.m. — Now this is a little early, even for me, but I signed up for an intensive month-long Spanish course that meets three days a week for 90 minutes. I’m really focused on improving over the next six months since my partner is Mexican and his parents don’t speak English. And because I obviously live in Mexico. I have some anxious anticipation for class so I toss and turn for a while before putting on a sleep meditation from the Calm app (I have a free subscription and I’m not exactly sure how it happened). 7:30 a.m. — To my surprise and horror, this is a one-on-one class. Just me and S., a fresh-faced 20-year-old with the patience of a saint. We review the function of the subjunctive and the 90 minutes flies by. I wrap up feeling like this could offer the confidence boost I really need to use everything I’ve learned over the last year. Afterwards, I dive directly into work calls, spreadsheets, and Slack messages. 12 p.m. — At some point I talk myself into a coffee. I used to be a strict caffeine abstainer but since a period of unemployment back in 2022, I’ve started enjoying an occasional latte — not really the time to pick up an expensive habit, but alas… Now, working from home, I use it as an excuse to leave my house, have some kind of interaction in Spanish, and get some sun on my face. I pay my 65 pesos for the coffee that is keeping me from buying a house and go about my day. $3.18 4:30 p.m. — After closing my laptop around 2 p.m., I nestle into the couch to watch an episode of Cold Case, and at some point I throw together a smattering of things and call it lunch. V. would tell you I just eat ingredients, not actual meals, and he is not wrong. Still, I feel good and walk to the gym for my functional training class, which I paid for as part of a summer promo on Fitpass (Mexican ClassPass) two months back so according to my girl math calculations…yes, free. 6:30 p.m. — On the way home, I need a few more ingredients for whatever kind of nonsense I’m calling dinner, so I swing by Sumesa and grab a couple sweet potatoes, bananas, coconut water, and applesauce, because why not? $13.30 10:14 p.m. — I’ve been playing a bit dumb for a few weeks leading up to Election Day but the reality is, regardless of my country of residence, the impact of the US elections is felt far and wide. I voted while I was home in October but as a California resident, I can’t help but feel that my vote really doesn’t matter. Still, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long one. We have plans to go to a watch party (never worry alone, ya know) and I want to be clear-headed, so I let Harry Styles’ sleep story on Calm soothe me to sleep. Daily Total: $16.48 Day Three: Tuesday 5:15 a.m. — As per usual, I beat the alarm but not by much. I get up and splash some water on my face, fill up my water bottle, and walk to a 6 a.m. Pilates class. This is not a regular part of my routine but it feels good to move my body in the morning. In the spring I ran my first half marathon and haven’t found the will to bring running back into the rotation so I’ll stick to Pilates for now. Again, I booked this through the Fitpass app so I feel like no money spent. 11:10 a.m. — I started slamming keys around 7 a.m. so I take a break for — you guessed it — that coffee I swear I don’t drink. Latte con leche deslactosada. Can the rest of the world get on the lactose-free milk train, please? Mexicans: culinary trailblazers! $3.08 4:30 p.m. — I should have mentioned that the grocery store is literally on my corner so I find myself shopping on a nearly daily basis. An avocado here. One bag of spinach there. Is this smart? Economical? Efficient? No but again, I work from home and love a reason to get up from the screen. I’m cooking dinner for V. and want to get some mushrooms for a second vegetable. I grab a few other staples to delay my return to the store by at least two days. $22.94 8:15 p.m. — Even though V. is not American, he’s joining me for the election watch party, so we Uber over. My friend is organizing and I’m happy to see so many people, both from the States and other places, come together to wail on a Trump piñata. Knowing the results will be late and I’ve got my Spanish lesson in the morning, we leave around 10 p.m. to walk the 35 minutes home. $2.79 11 p.m. — V. can’t stay because he needs to get home to A., his sweet Great Dane, so I set an alarm knowing I’ll be up early to check the election results. I feel detached and almost resigned to the result, which is not a great feeling. Daily Total: $28.81 Day Four: Wednesday 4:15 a.m. — As predicted, I am awake. I’m checking the news, attempting to accept this new reality. What a sad sequence of events. I push calls off my calendar that are not urgent. 7:30 a.m. — In my Spanish lesson, S. asks me how I am doing. I share some of my thoughts in broken Spanish, really stretching the limits of linguistic ability, and we eventually transition to further work on the subjunctive. 10:45 a.m. — After more than two hours of calls and no mention from our leadership about the election results, I decide it is time for every millennial woman’s favorite activity: a hot girl walk. Well, this is more like getting a coffee and a cry, but I’m just waiting for that trend to go viral. $3.18 1:50 p.m. — After slacking relentlessly with other colleagues and checking in with friends back home, I decide it is time to log off. I did my best. I cancel the plans I had later with P. (my first Mexican friend who I sadly don’t often get to see) and plan to sit on my couch, literally become my couch, and continue to watch Cold Case or some mindless Hallmark-esque movie. 5 p.m. — But first. Move that damn body. My functional training classes are focused on explosive movements this week and I’m grateful to feel my body move, to feel physically strong, and snag the endorphin boost. Again, free! And thankfully some much-needed headspace. 6:30 p.m. — On the walk home I decide I deserve an overpriced acai bowl for dinner, or pre-dinner, or whatever it ends up being. I order para llevar and walk the few blocks back to my house to inhale it carefully on my beige couch. $10.42 7:30 p.m. — Finally hop in the shower, then spoon-feed myself applesauce direct from the jar while I serve up another girl dinner to enjoy on the couch. 10% Happier, The Happiness Lab, and Jay Shetty are no match for whatever the hell I’m feeling, so I start researching online counseling programs because it has been in the back of my mind for years. After another four years of Trump, we might have even more need for mental health services so maybe this is how I’m part of the solution. Eventually, I find my way to bed and tonight I let Matthew McConaughey put me to sleep. I fear for my boyfriend when we move in together and how he’ll tolerate all these men I’ve brought into my bed. Daily Total: $13.60 Day Five: Thursday 4:50 a.m. — Determined to have a better day, I’m up at an ungodly hour and take the time to do my Wordle and Duolingo practice. Do I think it is helping my Spanish? No, but I’ve got a 421-day streak that I’m too stubborn to break. I’m running multiple calls this morning so I freshen up and plop down at my desk to commence the key-slamming. 12 p.m. — I convince V. to come over between my calls and we fool around before I hop on my last call of the day. Just the release I needed and happy to have this big, sweet man in my life. Just a Mexican lumberjack of love who in many ways breaks stereotypes and exceeds expectations. 4:15 p.m. — Sadly I don’t have in-unit laundry so I drop a hemorrhaging Ikea tote off at the laundromat around the corner before heading to writing group. My women’s writing group meets today and I use it as an opportunity to process more about the election in direct ways while letting some creative juices run loose after a few apathetic weeks — all fueled by the power of ginger kombucha. Back in February I said I would finally start my Substack, which has not happened, but I think I’m ready and want to commit to just putting shit out in the world. Much like learning Spanish, I know this isn’t just going to happen and I have to be intentional yet graceful with myself at the same time. Anyhow. We shall see. $16.14 7 p.m. — I head to Pilates and I’m talked into buying a new pair of socks even though I’ve been to this studio before and they’ve never asked me to wear socks. Am I a monster because I don’t want to wear socks? Don’t care. A hill I’m happy to die on. When did we decide we should slip and slide around on the reformer instead of just letting our little toesies grip the shit out of things? I wait in the office to pay after class but no one turns up so I decide to leave, tempting karma to come for me. 8:30 p.m. — Once I’m home, I take a quick body shower, eat leftover salmon and sweet potatoes with a side of applesauce (almost an actual meal if you ask me), before plopping down to enjoy some Cold Case before heading for an early bed. Daily Total: $16.14 Day Six: Friday 4:50 a.m. — I wake up early again after a nightmare only I could dream up. Picture this: I’m traveling with friends (a real thing that happened back in July — we went to Argentina) but in this fresh hell I have a flight taking off in two hours and my bag isn’t packed. Even worse, it appears I have things scattered all around the hotel room and I’m having the opposite of a Mary Poppins bottomless carpet bag situation. I cannot fit all these things into my bag and I wake up still trying to cram stuff in there, with only 45 minutes until takeoff. 10:30 a.m. — Fridays are beautiful because we do not have many internal calls. I mean, technically, we are not supposed to have any but not everyone respects that rule. I enjoy some focused work before heading out to enjoy a coffee and a short break. $3.91 1:30 p.m. — I have an afternoon training class booked today and I have questions for whoever decided sprinting on a treadmill in a dark room was a good idea. Imagine the Mexican version of Barry’s Bootcamp. I generally dislike these types of classes but it was available, close, and they have nice showers so I tempt fate and join despite the fact that I have indeed flown off one of these treadmills in the past. Imagine me retelling this story in broken Spanish and miming an airplane to really cement what happened. 8:30 p.m. — We had planned to go to a friend’s going-away party (in true expat fashion, they’re moving to Tulum) but we decide to skip. Quality time is my love language and V. prioritizes our time together and I’m grateful. We go to an Argentine place and split a salad, chorizo, and a fat steak. Not the best place we’ve been to but good enough. V. pays as we are still settling a Splitwise tab from last month. Daily Total: $3.91 Day Seven: Saturday 9:30 a.m. — I’m heading to Parque Bicentenario later for some beach volleyball but we get up early to grab a coffee (okay, I DRINK COFFEE) and then V. and A. walk me to the metro. Again, V. pays to whittle down a tab from our trip back to California. 12:30 p.m. — I play a few rounds and luckily get paired with one of the decent guys, so we sweep our games. I head home triumphantly. I take the metro back to my neighborhood for a proper scrub-down but top up my card on the way — public transportation is really cheap here. $0.98 8:30 p.m. — We arrive at a cantina in the Condesa neighborhood for Calaveritas with Cine Club. I read along and laugh along on cue but enjoy the company, V.’s patient friends, and some time out together. We order a couple sueros and something with pork but I just pick at it since I don’t have much of an appetite. V. pays and I don’t even look at the bill. 11:30 p.m. — We leave relatively early, planning for a lazy day tomorrow, some moving planning, and some kind of trash movie. I call the Uber to take us back to V.’s. $3.67 Daily Total: $4.65 Money Diaries are meant to reflect an individual’s experience and do not necessarily reflect Refinery29’s point of view. Refinery29 in no way encourages illegal activity or harmful behavior. The first step to getting your financial life in order is tracking what you spend — to try on your own, check out our guide to managing your money every day. For more Money Diaries, click here. Do you have a Money Diary you’d like to share? Submit it with us here. Have questions about how to submit or our publishing process? Read our Money Diaries FAQ doc here or email us here. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?A Week In Montana On A $210,000 Joint IncomeA Week In Los Angeles On A $79,500 SalaryA Week In Providence, RI On A $195,000 Income Source link

[ellajme0]

Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last dollar. Today: a program manager who makes $98,000 per year and who spends some of her money this week on volleyball game fees.  If you’d like to submit your own Money Diary, you can do so via our online form. We pay $150 for each published diary. Apologies but we’re not able to reply to every email. Editor’s note: All prices converted to US dollars using Google and correct at time of writing. Occupation: Program manager Industry: Nonprofit Age: 36 Location: Mexico City Salary: $98,000 Assets: I just met with my financial advisor and have some shuffling to do to reduce the amount of pure cash I’m holding, but generally speaking I have $26,000 in checking accounts, and $30,200 in savings and HYSA accounts. 401(k) is at $25,300, 403(b) sits at $39,900, Roth IRA at $83,000, and I have $85,300 in another individual investment account. Debt: $0 Paycheck amount (2x/month): $2,693.64 Pronouns: She/her Monthly Expenses Housing costs: $790 for a small one-bedroom in a very touristy area. It is a small, old, quirky spot but it has served me well for my first year here. I’ll be moving next month and my rent will be cut in half. Utilities: Water is included in my rent and I pay for gas every few months — that is usually $35. Gym: I pay anywhere from $80-$100 for gym classes and memberships but I’m not loyal to a single place, so it fluctuates. Internet: $23 HYSA & 401(k): $500 and $850 respectively. I separate my deposits into two accounts — for one I deposit $500 a month (for cash access here in CDMX). The rest goes in my regular checking account. Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it? My parents were very supportive, since they were teachers, but college was always my own goal from a young age. My older sister did not attend school and they were equally encouraging towards her. I went on to earn my undergraduate degree in English and education to follow in their teacher footsteps and recently paid outright for my master’s in organizational leadership as I started a career transition. Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances? We did not talk about finances but I knew we were not well-off for most of my childhood. Before my dad started teaching, he worked several jobs at a time, and we always had everything we needed and nearly everything we wanted. I don’t know how my parents did it — I’m sure it required significant sacrifice — but they always let me use money how I wanted. Still, because I was aware of the tight budgets, I saved almost every dollar I was given throughout childhood. What was your first job and why did you get it? I was a competitive athlete growing up so I didn’t have a job until I left for university where I had a work/study job tutoring in an elementary school. This was my first exposure to teaching in some capacity and I loved it so much I stayed in that job throughout college. Unlike my classmates though, this job was for survival. I did not get money from home and was surrounded by pretty affluent classmates so I watched my money like a hawk. Did you worry about money growing up? Yes — especially when I noticed we were receiving donations from our church or community. This was not my entire childhood but we definitely had more difficult seasons. Do you worry about money now? For sure. I live below my means but I was a teacher for more than a decade, under-earning compared to my peers and living abroad, so I did not feel the pressure in the same way. Spending a few years back in the States deepened a scarcity mindset that I’m trying to come out of now that I have a bit more stability. But still, I worry about getting older, unexpected expenses, and my parents’ security too. At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net? Technically 22 — I was off my parents’ insurance by then because I had joined the Peace Corps and even though I did not get money throughout college, my parents helped pay for much of school so my loans were low and I was out of debt by 24. Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. No and I don’t anticipate anything like this coming my way. Day One: Sunday 5:34 a.m. — On the heels of Día de Muertos, my partner, V., and I got home and immediately climbed into bed, popped a couple gomitas, and drifted off to sleep. I’m up way too early for a Sunday to waddle to the bathroom in my post-gummy haze. I’m hoping a return to sleep is possible if I barely open my eyes and navigate my way to the toilet solely based on touch. 7:07 a.m. — I do in fact snooze again but I’m up before the 7:45 a.m. alarm while V. continues to happily dream next to me, face down, arms and legs splayed out to the side. I’ve got two volleyball games today but I stayed with V. last night and have to go home for all my stuff. I nudge him awake and he drives me home and then to the gym where I bring a highly competitive spirit to a very recreational league. I chip in for the game fees. $2.93 11:58 a.m. — Luckily, we win both of our games and my friend drops me in Del Valle, a smidge closer to V.’s house. I decide to walk the rest of the way and grab a coffee en route. $3 2:45 p.m. — Eventually we shower and drive to the south of the city to visit the megaofrenda at UNAM. Unfortunately, the excitement is short-lived as I immediately feel ill and spend a fair amount of time in the porta potties. We get some water and turn around and head home. $5 8:56 p.m. — We spend the late afternoon finally finishing Ghostbusters and checking off any other final Halloween films before I eventually take DiDi (which is similar to Uber) home. Before I go, V. and I talk about our plans to move in together in just over a month, our relationship, and how we’re feeling in general. I appreciate how open he is to these conversations; airing out our concerns, nerves, and excitement is made simple by his warmth. $3.42 Daily Total: $14.35 Day Two: Monday 4:05 a.m. — Now this is a little early, even for me, but I signed up for an intensive month-long Spanish course that meets three days a week for 90 minutes. I’m really focused on improving over the next six months since my partner is Mexican and his parents don’t speak English. And because I obviously live in Mexico. I have some anxious anticipation for class so I toss and turn for a while before putting on a sleep meditation from the Calm app (I have a free subscription and I’m not exactly sure how it happened). 7:30 a.m. — To my surprise and horror, this is a one-on-one class. Just me and S., a fresh-faced 20-year-old with the patience of a saint. We review the function of the subjunctive and the 90 minutes flies by. I wrap up feeling like this could offer the confidence boost I really need to use everything I’ve learned over the last year. Afterwards, I dive directly into work calls, spreadsheets, and Slack messages. 12 p.m. — At some point I talk myself into a coffee. I used to be a strict caffeine abstainer but since a period of unemployment back in 2022, I’ve started enjoying an occasional latte — not really the time to pick up an expensive habit, but alas… Now, working from home, I use it as an excuse to leave my house, have some kind of interaction in Spanish, and get some sun on my face. I pay my 65 pesos for the coffee that is keeping me from buying a house and go about my day. $3.18 4:30 p.m. — After closing my laptop around 2 p.m., I nestle into the couch to watch an episode of Cold Case, and at some point I throw together a smattering of things and call it lunch. V. would tell you I just eat ingredients, not actual meals, and he is not wrong. Still, I feel good and walk to the gym for my functional training class, which I paid for as part of a summer promo on Fitpass (Mexican ClassPass) two months back so according to my girl math calculations…yes, free. 6:30 p.m. — On the way home, I need a few more ingredients for whatever kind of nonsense I’m calling dinner, so I swing by Sumesa and grab a couple sweet potatoes, bananas, coconut water, and applesauce, because why not? $13.30 10:14 p.m. — I’ve been playing a bit dumb for a few weeks leading up to Election Day but the reality is, regardless of my country of residence, the impact of the US elections is felt far and wide. I voted while I was home in October but as a California resident, I can’t help but feel that my vote really doesn’t matter. Still, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long one. We have plans to go to a watch party (never worry alone, ya know) and I want to be clear-headed, so I let Harry Styles’ sleep story on Calm soothe me to sleep. Daily Total: $16.48 Day Three: Tuesday 5:15 a.m. — As per usual, I beat the alarm but not by much. I get up and splash some water on my face, fill up my water bottle, and walk to a 6 a.m. Pilates class. This is not a regular part of my routine but it feels good to move my body in the morning. In the spring I ran my first half marathon and haven’t found the will to bring running back into the rotation so I’ll stick to Pilates for now. Again, I booked this through the Fitpass app so I feel like no money spent. 11:10 a.m. — I started slamming keys around 7 a.m. so I take a break for — you guessed it — that coffee I swear I don’t drink. Latte con leche deslactosada. Can the rest of the world get on the lactose-free milk train, please? Mexicans: culinary trailblazers! $3.08 4:30 p.m. — I should have mentioned that the grocery store is literally on my corner so I find myself shopping on a nearly daily basis. An avocado here. One bag of spinach there. Is this smart? Economical? Efficient? No but again, I work from home and love a reason to get up from the screen. I’m cooking dinner for V. and want to get some mushrooms for a second vegetable. I grab a few other staples to delay my return to the store by at least two days. $22.94 8:15 p.m. — Even though V. is not American, he’s joining me for the election watch party, so we Uber over. My friend is organizing and I’m happy to see so many people, both from the States and other places, come together to wail on a Trump piñata. Knowing the results will be late and I’ve got my Spanish lesson in the morning, we leave around 10 p.m. to walk the 35 minutes home. $2.79 11 p.m. — V. can’t stay because he needs to get home to A., his sweet Great Dane, so I set an alarm knowing I’ll be up early to check the election results. I feel detached and almost resigned to the result, which is not a great feeling. Daily Total: $28.81 Day Four: Wednesday 4:15 a.m. — As predicted, I am awake. I’m checking the news, attempting to accept this new reality. What a sad sequence of events. I push calls off my calendar that are not urgent. 7:30 a.m. — In my Spanish lesson, S. asks me how I am doing. I share some of my thoughts in broken Spanish, really stretching the limits of linguistic ability, and we eventually transition to further work on the subjunctive. 10:45 a.m. — After more than two hours of calls and no mention from our leadership about the election results, I decide it is time for every millennial woman’s favorite activity: a hot girl walk. Well, this is more like getting a coffee and a cry, but I’m just waiting for that trend to go viral. $3.18 1:50 p.m. — After slacking relentlessly with other colleagues and checking in with friends back home, I decide it is time to log off. I did my best. I cancel the plans I had later with P. (my first Mexican friend who I sadly don’t often get to see) and plan to sit on my couch, literally become my couch, and continue to watch Cold Case or some mindless Hallmark-esque movie. 5 p.m. — But first. Move that damn body. My functional training classes are focused on explosive movements this week and I’m grateful to feel my body move, to feel physically strong, and snag the endorphin boost. Again, free! And thankfully some much-needed headspace. 6:30 p.m. — On the walk home I decide I deserve an overpriced acai bowl for dinner, or pre-dinner, or whatever it ends up being. I order para llevar and walk the few blocks back to my house to inhale it carefully on my beige couch. $10.42 7:30 p.m. — Finally hop in the shower, then spoon-feed myself applesauce direct from the jar while I serve up another girl dinner to enjoy on the couch. 10% Happier, The Happiness Lab, and Jay Shetty are no match for whatever the hell I’m feeling, so I start researching online counseling programs because it has been in the back of my mind for years. After another four years of Trump, we might have even more need for mental health services so maybe this is how I’m part of the solution. Eventually, I find my way to bed and tonight I let Matthew McConaughey put me to sleep. I fear for my boyfriend when we move in together and how he’ll tolerate all these men I’ve brought into my bed. Daily Total: $13.60 Day Five: Thursday 4:50 a.m. — Determined to have a better day, I’m up at an ungodly hour and take the time to do my Wordle and Duolingo practice. Do I think it is helping my Spanish? No, but I’ve got a 421-day streak that I’m too stubborn to break. I’m running multiple calls this morning so I freshen up and plop down at my desk to commence the key-slamming. 12 p.m. — I convince V. to come over between my calls and we fool around before I hop on my last call of the day. Just the release I needed and happy to have this big, sweet man in my life. Just a Mexican lumberjack of love who in many ways breaks stereotypes and exceeds expectations. 4:15 p.m. — Sadly I don’t have in-unit laundry so I drop a hemorrhaging Ikea tote off at the laundromat around the corner before heading to writing group. My women’s writing group meets today and I use it as an opportunity to process more about the election in direct ways while letting some creative juices run loose after a few apathetic weeks — all fueled by the power of ginger kombucha. Back in February I said I would finally start my Substack, which has not happened, but I think I’m ready and want to commit to just putting shit out in the world. Much like learning Spanish, I know this isn’t just going to happen and I have to be intentional yet graceful with myself at the same time. Anyhow. We shall see. $16.14 7 p.m. — I head to Pilates and I’m talked into buying a new pair of socks even though I’ve been to this studio before and they’ve never asked me to wear socks. Am I a monster because I don’t want to wear socks? Don’t care. A hill I’m happy to die on. When did we decide we should slip and slide around on the reformer instead of just letting our little toesies grip the shit out of things? I wait in the office to pay after class but no one turns up so I decide to leave, tempting karma to come for me. 8:30 p.m. — Once I’m home, I take a quick body shower, eat leftover salmon and sweet potatoes with a side of applesauce (almost an actual meal if you ask me), before plopping down to enjoy some Cold Case before heading for an early bed. Daily Total: $16.14 Day Six: Friday 4:50 a.m. — I wake up early again after a nightmare only I could dream up. Picture this: I’m traveling with friends (a real thing that happened back in July — we went to Argentina) but in this fresh hell I have a flight taking off in two hours and my bag isn’t packed. Even worse, it appears I have things scattered all around the hotel room and I’m having the opposite of a Mary Poppins bottomless carpet bag situation. I cannot fit all these things into my bag and I wake up still trying to cram stuff in there, with only 45 minutes until takeoff. 10:30 a.m. — Fridays are beautiful because we do not have many internal calls. I mean, technically, we are not supposed to have any but not everyone respects that rule. I enjoy some focused work before heading out to enjoy a coffee and a short break. $3.91 1:30 p.m. — I have an afternoon training class booked today and I have questions for whoever decided sprinting on a treadmill in a dark room was a good idea. Imagine the Mexican version of Barry’s Bootcamp. I generally dislike these types of classes but it was available, close, and they have nice showers so I tempt fate and join despite the fact that I have indeed flown off one of these treadmills in the past. Imagine me retelling this story in broken Spanish and miming an airplane to really cement what happened. 8:30 p.m. — We had planned to go to a friend’s going-away party (in true expat fashion, they’re moving to Tulum) but we decide to skip. Quality time is my love language and V. prioritizes our time together and I’m grateful. We go to an Argentine place and split a salad, chorizo, and a fat steak. Not the best place we’ve been to but good enough. V. pays as we are still settling a Splitwise tab from last month. Daily Total: $3.91 Day Seven: Saturday 9:30 a.m. — I’m heading to Parque Bicentenario later for some beach volleyball but we get up early to grab a coffee (okay, I DRINK COFFEE) and then V. and A. walk me to the metro. Again, V. pays to whittle down a tab from our trip back to California. 12:30 p.m. — I play a few rounds and luckily get paired with one of the decent guys, so we sweep our games. I head home triumphantly. I take the metro back to my neighborhood for a proper scrub-down but top up my card on the way — public transportation is really cheap here. $0.98 8:30 p.m. — We arrive at a cantina in the Condesa neighborhood for Calaveritas with Cine Club. I read along and laugh along on cue but enjoy the company, V.’s patient friends, and some time out together. We order a couple sueros and something with pork but I just pick at it since I don’t have much of an appetite. V. pays and I don’t even look at the bill. 11:30 p.m. — We leave relatively early, planning for a lazy day tomorrow, some moving planning, and some kind of trash movie. I call the Uber to take us back to V.’s. $3.67 Daily Total: $4.65 Money Diaries are meant to reflect an individual’s experience and do not necessarily reflect Refinery29’s point of view. Refinery29 in no way encourages illegal activity or harmful behavior. The first step to getting your financial life in order is tracking what you spend — to try on your own, check out our guide to managing your money every day. For more Money Diaries, click here. Do you have a Money Diary you’d like to share? Submit it with us here. Have questions about how to submit or our publishing process? Read our Money Diaries FAQ doc here or email us here. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?A Week In Montana On A $210,000 Joint IncomeA Week In Los Angeles On A $79,500 SalaryA Week In Providence, RI On A $195,000 Income Source link

[chilimili212]

Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last dollar. Today: a program manager who makes $98,000 per year and who spends some of her money this week on volleyball game fees.  If you’d like to submit your own Money Diary, you can do so via our online form. We pay $150 for each published diary. Apologies but we’re not able to reply to every email. Editor’s note: All prices converted to US dollars using Google and correct at time of writing. Occupation: Program manager Industry: Nonprofit Age: 36 Location: Mexico City Salary: $98,000 Assets: I just met with my financial advisor and have some shuffling to do to reduce the amount of pure cash I’m holding, but generally speaking I have $26,000 in checking accounts, and $30,200 in savings and HYSA accounts. 401(k) is at $25,300, 403(b) sits at $39,900, Roth IRA at $83,000, and I have $85,300 in another individual investment account. Debt: $0 Paycheck amount (2x/month): $2,693.64 Pronouns: She/her Monthly Expenses Housing costs: $790 for a small one-bedroom in a very touristy area. It is a small, old, quirky spot but it has served me well for my first year here. I’ll be moving next month and my rent will be cut in half. Utilities: Water is included in my rent and I pay for gas every few months — that is usually $35. Gym: I pay anywhere from $80-$100 for gym classes and memberships but I’m not loyal to a single place, so it fluctuates. Internet: $23 HYSA & 401(k): $500 and $850 respectively. I separate my deposits into two accounts — for one I deposit $500 a month (for cash access here in CDMX). The rest goes in my regular checking account. Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it? My parents were very supportive, since they were teachers, but college was always my own goal from a young age. My older sister did not attend school and they were equally encouraging towards her. I went on to earn my undergraduate degree in English and education to follow in their teacher footsteps and recently paid outright for my master’s in organizational leadership as I started a career transition. Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances? We did not talk about finances but I knew we were not well-off for most of my childhood. Before my dad started teaching, he worked several jobs at a time, and we always had everything we needed and nearly everything we wanted. I don’t know how my parents did it — I’m sure it required significant sacrifice — but they always let me use money how I wanted. Still, because I was aware of the tight budgets, I saved almost every dollar I was given throughout childhood. What was your first job and why did you get it? I was a competitive athlete growing up so I didn’t have a job until I left for university where I had a work/study job tutoring in an elementary school. This was my first exposure to teaching in some capacity and I loved it so much I stayed in that job throughout college. Unlike my classmates though, this job was for survival. I did not get money from home and was surrounded by pretty affluent classmates so I watched my money like a hawk. Did you worry about money growing up? Yes — especially when I noticed we were receiving donations from our church or community. This was not my entire childhood but we definitely had more difficult seasons. Do you worry about money now? For sure. I live below my means but I was a teacher for more than a decade, under-earning compared to my peers and living abroad, so I did not feel the pressure in the same way. Spending a few years back in the States deepened a scarcity mindset that I’m trying to come out of now that I have a bit more stability. But still, I worry about getting older, unexpected expenses, and my parents’ security too. At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net? Technically 22 — I was off my parents’ insurance by then because I had joined the Peace Corps and even though I did not get money throughout college, my parents helped pay for much of school so my loans were low and I was out of debt by 24. Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. No and I don’t anticipate anything like this coming my way. Day One: Sunday 5:34 a.m. — On the heels of Día de Muertos, my partner, V., and I got home and immediately climbed into bed, popped a couple gomitas, and drifted off to sleep. I’m up way too early for a Sunday to waddle to the bathroom in my post-gummy haze. I’m hoping a return to sleep is possible if I barely open my eyes and navigate my way to the toilet solely based on touch. 7:07 a.m. — I do in fact snooze again but I’m up before the 7:45 a.m. alarm while V. continues to happily dream next to me, face down, arms and legs splayed out to the side. I’ve got two volleyball games today but I stayed with V. last night and have to go home for all my stuff. I nudge him awake and he drives me home and then to the gym where I bring a highly competitive spirit to a very recreational league. I chip in for the game fees. $2.93 11:58 a.m. — Luckily, we win both of our games and my friend drops me in Del Valle, a smidge closer to V.’s house. I decide to walk the rest of the way and grab a coffee en route. $3 2:45 p.m. — Eventually we shower and drive to the south of the city to visit the megaofrenda at UNAM. Unfortunately, the excitement is short-lived as I immediately feel ill and spend a fair amount of time in the porta potties. We get some water and turn around and head home. $5 8:56 p.m. — We spend the late afternoon finally finishing Ghostbusters and checking off any other final Halloween films before I eventually take DiDi (which is similar to Uber) home. Before I go, V. and I talk about our plans to move in together in just over a month, our relationship, and how we’re feeling in general. I appreciate how open he is to these conversations; airing out our concerns, nerves, and excitement is made simple by his warmth. $3.42 Daily Total: $14.35 Day Two: Monday 4:05 a.m. — Now this is a little early, even for me, but I signed up for an intensive month-long Spanish course that meets three days a week for 90 minutes. I’m really focused on improving over the next six months since my partner is Mexican and his parents don’t speak English. And because I obviously live in Mexico. I have some anxious anticipation for class so I toss and turn for a while before putting on a sleep meditation from the Calm app (I have a free subscription and I’m not exactly sure how it happened). 7:30 a.m. — To my surprise and horror, this is a one-on-one class. Just me and S., a fresh-faced 20-year-old with the patience of a saint. We review the function of the subjunctive and the 90 minutes flies by. I wrap up feeling like this could offer the confidence boost I really need to use everything I’ve learned over the last year. Afterwards, I dive directly into work calls, spreadsheets, and Slack messages. 12 p.m. — At some point I talk myself into a coffee. I used to be a strict caffeine abstainer but since a period of unemployment back in 2022, I’ve started enjoying an occasional latte — not really the time to pick up an expensive habit, but alas… Now, working from home, I use it as an excuse to leave my house, have some kind of interaction in Spanish, and get some sun on my face. I pay my 65 pesos for the coffee that is keeping me from buying a house and go about my day. $3.18 4:30 p.m. — After closing my laptop around 2 p.m., I nestle into the couch to watch an episode of Cold Case, and at some point I throw together a smattering of things and call it lunch. V. would tell you I just eat ingredients, not actual meals, and he is not wrong. Still, I feel good and walk to the gym for my functional training class, which I paid for as part of a summer promo on Fitpass (Mexican ClassPass) two months back so according to my girl math calculations…yes, free. 6:30 p.m. — On the way home, I need a few more ingredients for whatever kind of nonsense I’m calling dinner, so I swing by Sumesa and grab a couple sweet potatoes, bananas, coconut water, and applesauce, because why not? $13.30 10:14 p.m. — I’ve been playing a bit dumb for a few weeks leading up to Election Day but the reality is, regardless of my country of residence, the impact of the US elections is felt far and wide. I voted while I was home in October but as a California resident, I can’t help but feel that my vote really doesn’t matter. Still, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long one. We have plans to go to a watch party (never worry alone, ya know) and I want to be clear-headed, so I let Harry Styles’ sleep story on Calm soothe me to sleep. Daily Total: $16.48 Day Three: Tuesday 5:15 a.m. — As per usual, I beat the alarm but not by much. I get up and splash some water on my face, fill up my water bottle, and walk to a 6 a.m. Pilates class. This is not a regular part of my routine but it feels good to move my body in the morning. In the spring I ran my first half marathon and haven’t found the will to bring running back into the rotation so I’ll stick to Pilates for now. Again, I booked this through the Fitpass app so I feel like no money spent. 11:10 a.m. — I started slamming keys around 7 a.m. so I take a break for — you guessed it — that coffee I swear I don’t drink. Latte con leche deslactosada. Can the rest of the world get on the lactose-free milk train, please? Mexicans: culinary trailblazers! $3.08 4:30 p.m. — I should have mentioned that the grocery store is literally on my corner so I find myself shopping on a nearly daily basis. An avocado here. One bag of spinach there. Is this smart? Economical? Efficient? No but again, I work from home and love a reason to get up from the screen. I’m cooking dinner for V. and want to get some mushrooms for a second vegetable. I grab a few other staples to delay my return to the store by at least two days. $22.94 8:15 p.m. — Even though V. is not American, he’s joining me for the election watch party, so we Uber over. My friend is organizing and I’m happy to see so many people, both from the States and other places, come together to wail on a Trump piñata. Knowing the results will be late and I’ve got my Spanish lesson in the morning, we leave around 10 p.m. to walk the 35 minutes home. $2.79 11 p.m. — V. can’t stay because he needs to get home to A., his sweet Great Dane, so I set an alarm knowing I’ll be up early to check the election results. I feel detached and almost resigned to the result, which is not a great feeling. Daily Total: $28.81 Day Four: Wednesday 4:15 a.m. — As predicted, I am awake. I’m checking the news, attempting to accept this new reality. What a sad sequence of events. I push calls off my calendar that are not urgent. 7:30 a.m. — In my Spanish lesson, S. asks me how I am doing. I share some of my thoughts in broken Spanish, really stretching the limits of linguistic ability, and we eventually transition to further work on the subjunctive. 10:45 a.m. — After more than two hours of calls and no mention from our leadership about the election results, I decide it is time for every millennial woman’s favorite activity: a hot girl walk. Well, this is more like getting a coffee and a cry, but I’m just waiting for that trend to go viral. $3.18 1:50 p.m. — After slacking relentlessly with other colleagues and checking in with friends back home, I decide it is time to log off. I did my best. I cancel the plans I had later with P. (my first Mexican friend who I sadly don’t often get to see) and plan to sit on my couch, literally become my couch, and continue to watch Cold Case or some mindless Hallmark-esque movie. 5 p.m. — But first. Move that damn body. My functional training classes are focused on explosive movements this week and I’m grateful to feel my body move, to feel physically strong, and snag the endorphin boost. Again, free! And thankfully some much-needed headspace. 6:30 p.m. — On the walk home I decide I deserve an overpriced acai bowl for dinner, or pre-dinner, or whatever it ends up being. I order para llevar and walk the few blocks back to my house to inhale it carefully on my beige couch. $10.42 7:30 p.m. — Finally hop in the shower, then spoon-feed myself applesauce direct from the jar while I serve up another girl dinner to enjoy on the couch. 10% Happier, The Happiness Lab, and Jay Shetty are no match for whatever the hell I’m feeling, so I start researching online counseling programs because it has been in the back of my mind for years. After another four years of Trump, we might have even more need for mental health services so maybe this is how I’m part of the solution. Eventually, I find my way to bed and tonight I let Matthew McConaughey put me to sleep. I fear for my boyfriend when we move in together and how he’ll tolerate all these men I’ve brought into my bed. Daily Total: $13.60 Day Five: Thursday 4:50 a.m. — Determined to have a better day, I’m up at an ungodly hour and take the time to do my Wordle and Duolingo practice. Do I think it is helping my Spanish? No, but I’ve got a 421-day streak that I’m too stubborn to break. I’m running multiple calls this morning so I freshen up and plop down at my desk to commence the key-slamming. 12 p.m. — I convince V. to come over between my calls and we fool around before I hop on my last call of the day. Just the release I needed and happy to have this big, sweet man in my life. Just a Mexican lumberjack of love who in many ways breaks stereotypes and exceeds expectations. 4:15 p.m. — Sadly I don’t have in-unit laundry so I drop a hemorrhaging Ikea tote off at the laundromat around the corner before heading to writing group. My women’s writing group meets today and I use it as an opportunity to process more about the election in direct ways while letting some creative juices run loose after a few apathetic weeks — all fueled by the power of ginger kombucha. Back in February I said I would finally start my Substack, which has not happened, but I think I’m ready and want to commit to just putting shit out in the world. Much like learning Spanish, I know this isn’t just going to happen and I have to be intentional yet graceful with myself at the same time. Anyhow. We shall see. $16.14 7 p.m. — I head to Pilates and I’m talked into buying a new pair of socks even though I’ve been to this studio before and they’ve never asked me to wear socks. Am I a monster because I don’t want to wear socks? Don’t care. A hill I’m happy to die on. When did we decide we should slip and slide around on the reformer instead of just letting our little toesies grip the shit out of things? I wait in the office to pay after class but no one turns up so I decide to leave, tempting karma to come for me. 8:30 p.m. — Once I’m home, I take a quick body shower, eat leftover salmon and sweet potatoes with a side of applesauce (almost an actual meal if you ask me), before plopping down to enjoy some Cold Case before heading for an early bed. Daily Total: $16.14 Day Six: Friday 4:50 a.m. — I wake up early again after a nightmare only I could dream up. Picture this: I’m traveling with friends (a real thing that happened back in July — we went to Argentina) but in this fresh hell I have a flight taking off in two hours and my bag isn’t packed. Even worse, it appears I have things scattered all around the hotel room and I’m having the opposite of a Mary Poppins bottomless carpet bag situation. I cannot fit all these things into my bag and I wake up still trying to cram stuff in there, with only 45 minutes until takeoff. 10:30 a.m. — Fridays are beautiful because we do not have many internal calls. I mean, technically, we are not supposed to have any but not everyone respects that rule. I enjoy some focused work before heading out to enjoy a coffee and a short break. $3.91 1:30 p.m. — I have an afternoon training class booked today and I have questions for whoever decided sprinting on a treadmill in a dark room was a good idea. Imagine the Mexican version of Barry’s Bootcamp. I generally dislike these types of classes but it was available, close, and they have nice showers so I tempt fate and join despite the fact that I have indeed flown off one of these treadmills in the past. Imagine me retelling this story in broken Spanish and miming an airplane to really cement what happened. 8:30 p.m. — We had planned to go to a friend’s going-away party (in true expat fashion, they’re moving to Tulum) but we decide to skip. Quality time is my love language and V. prioritizes our time together and I’m grateful. We go to an Argentine place and split a salad, chorizo, and a fat steak. Not the best place we’ve been to but good enough. V. pays as we are still settling a Splitwise tab from last month. Daily Total: $3.91 Day Seven: Saturday 9:30 a.m. — I’m heading to Parque Bicentenario later for some beach volleyball but we get up early to grab a coffee (okay, I DRINK COFFEE) and then V. and A. walk me to the metro. Again, V. pays to whittle down a tab from our trip back to California. 12:30 p.m. — I play a few rounds and luckily get paired with one of the decent guys, so we sweep our games. I head home triumphantly. I take the metro back to my neighborhood for a proper scrub-down but top up my card on the way — public transportation is really cheap here. $0.98 8:30 p.m. — We arrive at a cantina in the Condesa neighborhood for Calaveritas with Cine Club. I read along and laugh along on cue but enjoy the company, V.’s patient friends, and some time out together. We order a couple sueros and something with pork but I just pick at it since I don’t have much of an appetite. V. pays and I don’t even look at the bill. 11:30 p.m. — We leave relatively early, planning for a lazy day tomorrow, some moving planning, and some kind of trash movie. I call the Uber to take us back to V.’s. $3.67 Daily Total: $4.65 Money Diaries are meant to reflect an individual’s experience and do not necessarily reflect Refinery29’s point of view. Refinery29 in no way encourages illegal activity or harmful behavior. The first step to getting your financial life in order is tracking what you spend — to try on your own, check out our guide to managing your money every day. For more Money Diaries, click here. Do you have a Money Diary you’d like to share? Submit it with us here. Have questions about how to submit or our publishing process? Read our Money Diaries FAQ doc here or email us here. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?A Week In Montana On A $210,000 Joint IncomeA Week In Los Angeles On A $79,500 SalaryA Week In Providence, RI On A $195,000 Income Source link

[oliviajoyice21]

Welcome to Money Diaries where we are tackling the ever-present taboo that is money. We’re asking real people how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we’re tracking every last dollar. Today: a program manager who makes $98,000 per year and who spends some of her money this week on volleyball game fees.  If you’d like to submit your own Money Diary, you can do so via our online form. We pay $150 for each published diary. Apologies but we’re not able to reply to every email. Editor’s note: All prices converted to US dollars using Google and correct at time of writing. Occupation: Program manager Industry: Nonprofit Age: 36 Location: Mexico City Salary: $98,000 Assets: I just met with my financial advisor and have some shuffling to do to reduce the amount of pure cash I’m holding, but generally speaking I have $26,000 in checking accounts, and $30,200 in savings and HYSA accounts. 401(k) is at $25,300, 403(b) sits at $39,900, Roth IRA at $83,000, and I have $85,300 in another individual investment account. Debt: $0 Paycheck amount (2x/month): $2,693.64 Pronouns: She/her Monthly Expenses Housing costs: $790 for a small one-bedroom in a very touristy area. It is a small, old, quirky spot but it has served me well for my first year here. I’ll be moving next month and my rent will be cut in half. Utilities: Water is included in my rent and I pay for gas every few months — that is usually $35. Gym: I pay anywhere from $80-$100 for gym classes and memberships but I’m not loyal to a single place, so it fluctuates. Internet: $23 HYSA & 401(k): $500 and $850 respectively. I separate my deposits into two accounts — for one I deposit $500 a month (for cash access here in CDMX). The rest goes in my regular checking account. Was there an expectation for you to attend higher education? Did you participate in any form of higher education? If yes, how did you pay for it? My parents were very supportive, since they were teachers, but college was always my own goal from a young age. My older sister did not attend school and they were equally encouraging towards her. I went on to earn my undergraduate degree in English and education to follow in their teacher footsteps and recently paid outright for my master’s in organizational leadership as I started a career transition. Growing up, what kind of conversations did you have about money? Did your parent(s)/guardian(s) educate you about finances? We did not talk about finances but I knew we were not well-off for most of my childhood. Before my dad started teaching, he worked several jobs at a time, and we always had everything we needed and nearly everything we wanted. I don’t know how my parents did it — I’m sure it required significant sacrifice — but they always let me use money how I wanted. Still, because I was aware of the tight budgets, I saved almost every dollar I was given throughout childhood. What was your first job and why did you get it? I was a competitive athlete growing up so I didn’t have a job until I left for university where I had a work/study job tutoring in an elementary school. This was my first exposure to teaching in some capacity and I loved it so much I stayed in that job throughout college. Unlike my classmates though, this job was for survival. I did not get money from home and was surrounded by pretty affluent classmates so I watched my money like a hawk. Did you worry about money growing up? Yes — especially when I noticed we were receiving donations from our church or community. This was not my entire childhood but we definitely had more difficult seasons. Do you worry about money now? For sure. I live below my means but I was a teacher for more than a decade, under-earning compared to my peers and living abroad, so I did not feel the pressure in the same way. Spending a few years back in the States deepened a scarcity mindset that I’m trying to come out of now that I have a bit more stability. But still, I worry about getting older, unexpected expenses, and my parents’ security too. At what age did you become financially responsible for yourself and do you have a financial safety net? Technically 22 — I was off my parents’ insurance by then because I had joined the Peace Corps and even though I did not get money throughout college, my parents helped pay for much of school so my loans were low and I was out of debt by 24. Do you or have you ever received passive or inherited income? If yes, please explain. No and I don’t anticipate anything like this coming my way. Day One: Sunday 5:34 a.m. — On the heels of Día de Muertos, my partner, V., and I got home and immediately climbed into bed, popped a couple gomitas, and drifted off to sleep. I’m up way too early for a Sunday to waddle to the bathroom in my post-gummy haze. I’m hoping a return to sleep is possible if I barely open my eyes and navigate my way to the toilet solely based on touch. 7:07 a.m. — I do in fact snooze again but I’m up before the 7:45 a.m. alarm while V. continues to happily dream next to me, face down, arms and legs splayed out to the side. I’ve got two volleyball games today but I stayed with V. last night and have to go home for all my stuff. I nudge him awake and he drives me home and then to the gym where I bring a highly competitive spirit to a very recreational league. I chip in for the game fees. $2.93 11:58 a.m. — Luckily, we win both of our games and my friend drops me in Del Valle, a smidge closer to V.’s house. I decide to walk the rest of the way and grab a coffee en route. $3 2:45 p.m. — Eventually we shower and drive to the south of the city to visit the megaofrenda at UNAM. Unfortunately, the excitement is short-lived as I immediately feel ill and spend a fair amount of time in the porta potties. We get some water and turn around and head home. $5 8:56 p.m. — We spend the late afternoon finally finishing Ghostbusters and checking off any other final Halloween films before I eventually take DiDi (which is similar to Uber) home. Before I go, V. and I talk about our plans to move in together in just over a month, our relationship, and how we’re feeling in general. I appreciate how open he is to these conversations; airing out our concerns, nerves, and excitement is made simple by his warmth. $3.42 Daily Total: $14.35 Day Two: Monday 4:05 a.m. — Now this is a little early, even for me, but I signed up for an intensive month-long Spanish course that meets three days a week for 90 minutes. I’m really focused on improving over the next six months since my partner is Mexican and his parents don’t speak English. And because I obviously live in Mexico. I have some anxious anticipation for class so I toss and turn for a while before putting on a sleep meditation from the Calm app (I have a free subscription and I’m not exactly sure how it happened). 7:30 a.m. — To my surprise and horror, this is a one-on-one class. Just me and S., a fresh-faced 20-year-old with the patience of a saint. We review the function of the subjunctive and the 90 minutes flies by. I wrap up feeling like this could offer the confidence boost I really need to use everything I’ve learned over the last year. Afterwards, I dive directly into work calls, spreadsheets, and Slack messages. 12 p.m. — At some point I talk myself into a coffee. I used to be a strict caffeine abstainer but since a period of unemployment back in 2022, I’ve started enjoying an occasional latte — not really the time to pick up an expensive habit, but alas… Now, working from home, I use it as an excuse to leave my house, have some kind of interaction in Spanish, and get some sun on my face. I pay my 65 pesos for the coffee that is keeping me from buying a house and go about my day. $3.18 4:30 p.m. — After closing my laptop around 2 p.m., I nestle into the couch to watch an episode of Cold Case, and at some point I throw together a smattering of things and call it lunch. V. would tell you I just eat ingredients, not actual meals, and he is not wrong. Still, I feel good and walk to the gym for my functional training class, which I paid for as part of a summer promo on Fitpass (Mexican ClassPass) two months back so according to my girl math calculations…yes, free. 6:30 p.m. — On the way home, I need a few more ingredients for whatever kind of nonsense I’m calling dinner, so I swing by Sumesa and grab a couple sweet potatoes, bananas, coconut water, and applesauce, because why not? $13.30 10:14 p.m. — I’ve been playing a bit dumb for a few weeks leading up to Election Day but the reality is, regardless of my country of residence, the impact of the US elections is felt far and wide. I voted while I was home in October but as a California resident, I can’t help but feel that my vote really doesn’t matter. Still, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long one. We have plans to go to a watch party (never worry alone, ya know) and I want to be clear-headed, so I let Harry Styles’ sleep story on Calm soothe me to sleep. Daily Total: $16.48 Day Three: Tuesday 5:15 a.m. — As per usual, I beat the alarm but not by much. I get up and splash some water on my face, fill up my water bottle, and walk to a 6 a.m. Pilates class. This is not a regular part of my routine but it feels good to move my body in the morning. In the spring I ran my first half marathon and haven’t found the will to bring running back into the rotation so I’ll stick to Pilates for now. Again, I booked this through the Fitpass app so I feel like no money spent. 11:10 a.m. — I started slamming keys around 7 a.m. so I take a break for — you guessed it — that coffee I swear I don’t drink. Latte con leche deslactosada. Can the rest of the world get on the lactose-free milk train, please? Mexicans: culinary trailblazers! $3.08 4:30 p.m. — I should have mentioned that the grocery store is literally on my corner so I find myself shopping on a nearly daily basis. An avocado here. One bag of spinach there. Is this smart? Economical? Efficient? No but again, I work from home and love a reason to get up from the screen. I’m cooking dinner for V. and want to get some mushrooms for a second vegetable. I grab a few other staples to delay my return to the store by at least two days. $22.94 8:15 p.m. — Even though V. is not American, he’s joining me for the election watch party, so we Uber over. My friend is organizing and I’m happy to see so many people, both from the States and other places, come together to wail on a Trump piñata. Knowing the results will be late and I’ve got my Spanish lesson in the morning, we leave around 10 p.m. to walk the 35 minutes home. $2.79 11 p.m. — V. can’t stay because he needs to get home to A., his sweet Great Dane, so I set an alarm knowing I’ll be up early to check the election results. I feel detached and almost resigned to the result, which is not a great feeling. Daily Total: $28.81 Day Four: Wednesday 4:15 a.m. — As predicted, I am awake. I’m checking the news, attempting to accept this new reality. What a sad sequence of events. I push calls off my calendar that are not urgent. 7:30 a.m. — In my Spanish lesson, S. asks me how I am doing. I share some of my thoughts in broken Spanish, really stretching the limits of linguistic ability, and we eventually transition to further work on the subjunctive. 10:45 a.m. — After more than two hours of calls and no mention from our leadership about the election results, I decide it is time for every millennial woman’s favorite activity: a hot girl walk. Well, this is more like getting a coffee and a cry, but I’m just waiting for that trend to go viral. $3.18 1:50 p.m. — After slacking relentlessly with other colleagues and checking in with friends back home, I decide it is time to log off. I did my best. I cancel the plans I had later with P. (my first Mexican friend who I sadly don’t often get to see) and plan to sit on my couch, literally become my couch, and continue to watch Cold Case or some mindless Hallmark-esque movie. 5 p.m. — But first. Move that damn body. My functional training classes are focused on explosive movements this week and I’m grateful to feel my body move, to feel physically strong, and snag the endorphin boost. Again, free! And thankfully some much-needed headspace. 6:30 p.m. — On the walk home I decide I deserve an overpriced acai bowl for dinner, or pre-dinner, or whatever it ends up being. I order para llevar and walk the few blocks back to my house to inhale it carefully on my beige couch. $10.42 7:30 p.m. — Finally hop in the shower, then spoon-feed myself applesauce direct from the jar while I serve up another girl dinner to enjoy on the couch. 10% Happier, The Happiness Lab, and Jay Shetty are no match for whatever the hell I’m feeling, so I start researching online counseling programs because it has been in the back of my mind for years. After another four years of Trump, we might have even more need for mental health services so maybe this is how I’m part of the solution. Eventually, I find my way to bed and tonight I let Matthew McConaughey put me to sleep. I fear for my boyfriend when we move in together and how he’ll tolerate all these men I’ve brought into my bed. Daily Total: $13.60 Day Five: Thursday 4:50 a.m. — Determined to have a better day, I’m up at an ungodly hour and take the time to do my Wordle and Duolingo practice. Do I think it is helping my Spanish? No, but I’ve got a 421-day streak that I’m too stubborn to break. I’m running multiple calls this morning so I freshen up and plop down at my desk to commence the key-slamming. 12 p.m. — I convince V. to come over between my calls and we fool around before I hop on my last call of the day. Just the release I needed and happy to have this big, sweet man in my life. Just a Mexican lumberjack of love who in many ways breaks stereotypes and exceeds expectations. 4:15 p.m. — Sadly I don’t have in-unit laundry so I drop a hemorrhaging Ikea tote off at the laundromat around the corner before heading to writing group. My women’s writing group meets today and I use it as an opportunity to process more about the election in direct ways while letting some creative juices run loose after a few apathetic weeks — all fueled by the power of ginger kombucha. Back in February I said I would finally start my Substack, which has not happened, but I think I’m ready and want to commit to just putting shit out in the world. Much like learning Spanish, I know this isn’t just going to happen and I have to be intentional yet graceful with myself at the same time. Anyhow. We shall see. $16.14 7 p.m. — I head to Pilates and I’m talked into buying a new pair of socks even though I’ve been to this studio before and they’ve never asked me to wear socks. Am I a monster because I don’t want to wear socks? Don’t care. A hill I’m happy to die on. When did we decide we should slip and slide around on the reformer instead of just letting our little toesies grip the shit out of things? I wait in the office to pay after class but no one turns up so I decide to leave, tempting karma to come for me. 8:30 p.m. — Once I’m home, I take a quick body shower, eat leftover salmon and sweet potatoes with a side of applesauce (almost an actual meal if you ask me), before plopping down to enjoy some Cold Case before heading for an early bed. Daily Total: $16.14 Day Six: Friday 4:50 a.m. — I wake up early again after a nightmare only I could dream up. Picture this: I’m traveling with friends (a real thing that happened back in July — we went to Argentina) but in this fresh hell I have a flight taking off in two hours and my bag isn’t packed. Even worse, it appears I have things scattered all around the hotel room and I’m having the opposite of a Mary Poppins bottomless carpet bag situation. I cannot fit all these things into my bag and I wake up still trying to cram stuff in there, with only 45 minutes until takeoff. 10:30 a.m. — Fridays are beautiful because we do not have many internal calls. I mean, technically, we are not supposed to have any but not everyone respects that rule. I enjoy some focused work before heading out to enjoy a coffee and a short break. $3.91 1:30 p.m. — I have an afternoon training class booked today and I have questions for whoever decided sprinting on a treadmill in a dark room was a good idea. Imagine the Mexican version of Barry’s Bootcamp. I generally dislike these types of classes but it was available, close, and they have nice showers so I tempt fate and join despite the fact that I have indeed flown off one of these treadmills in the past. Imagine me retelling this story in broken Spanish and miming an airplane to really cement what happened. 8:30 p.m. — We had planned to go to a friend’s going-away party (in true expat fashion, they’re moving to Tulum) but we decide to skip. Quality time is my love language and V. prioritizes our time together and I’m grateful. We go to an Argentine place and split a salad, chorizo, and a fat steak. Not the best place we’ve been to but good enough. V. pays as we are still settling a Splitwise tab from last month. Daily Total: $3.91 Day Seven: Saturday 9:30 a.m. — I’m heading to Parque Bicentenario later for some beach volleyball but we get up early to grab a coffee (okay, I DRINK COFFEE) and then V. and A. walk me to the metro. Again, V. pays to whittle down a tab from our trip back to California. 12:30 p.m. — I play a few rounds and luckily get paired with one of the decent guys, so we sweep our games. I head home triumphantly. I take the metro back to my neighborhood for a proper scrub-down but top up my card on the way — public transportation is really cheap here. $0.98 8:30 p.m. — We arrive at a cantina in the Condesa neighborhood for Calaveritas with Cine Club. I read along and laugh along on cue but enjoy the company, V.’s patient friends, and some time out together. We order a couple sueros and something with pork but I just pick at it since I don’t have much of an appetite. V. pays and I don’t even look at the bill. 11:30 p.m. — We leave relatively early, planning for a lazy day tomorrow, some moving planning, and some kind of trash movie. I call the Uber to take us back to V.’s. $3.67 Daily Total: $4.65 Money Diaries are meant to reflect an individual’s experience and do not necessarily reflect Refinery29’s point of view. Refinery29 in no way encourages illegal activity or harmful behavior. The first step to getting your financial life in order is tracking what you spend — to try on your own, check out our guide to managing your money every day. For more Money Diaries, click here. Do you have a Money Diary you’d like to share? Submit it with us here. Have questions about how to submit or our publishing process? Read our Money Diaries FAQ doc here or email us here. Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?A Week In Montana On A $210,000 Joint IncomeA Week In Los Angeles On A $79,500 SalaryA Week In Providence, RI On A $195,000 Income Source link

[shirokumoko]

Sometimes I wonder what exactly I'm doing in my life. I'm gonna be 36 years old, I really have nothing to my name besides an old truck that's starting to have problems.

I don't even live in my own because housing in California is too effing expensive. The fact I'm this age and living with my parents is absolutely depressing.

I work at a warehouse job with pay to barely scrape by while this company makes trillions each quarter.

I struggle to save up money to even put a down payment for a better vehicle cause I'm busy paying off debts for my credit cards. My ambitions had always been.. shit.

The only time I had ambitions for anything is when I would draw. I love drawing. It was my passion but my parents always said; 'oh that's nice for a hobby but it won't put food on your table.' Being told that so often growing up, I believed it and stayed away trying to find something to do in life.

I never went to college, my grades always been shit. I never knew what I wanted to do career wise in life. I wished that I just stuck to my guns and persuade drawing. After all, how were cartoon movies and TV shows made? How were children books made?

Drawings, art.

But now I'm here at a dead end job, with a future I don't really want to think about but i know I have too and its... depressing.