#but also by eavesdropping and looking into files and etc I picked up stories about the people working and living there

[theskeletoninthegarden]

I had a dream where I was playing as a thief tasked to find out the truth behind the whereabouts of another criminal on a college campus. It was fun in that I was given an overall objective, but absolutely no one gave me an idea as to where to start first. Basically a lot of it involved either me figuring out how to B&E into different offices, or eavesdropping at the right time, but there were other hired thieves that I had to deal with at the same time that added an element of "combat" to the experience.

[ssa-dg]

Undercover Part 1

part 1, part 2

Overview: the BAU has gone undercover to find a potential unsub who has been drugging, raping and murdering women. It own becomes a potential victim. Having to play her part to catch the bad guy, you go to the party all dressed up and dance with a potential murderer all while pretending he is someone else, Spencer Reid.

TW: drugs, rape (it is mentioned how the unsub rapes his victims. the reader is drugged and the unsub takes advantage of her being drugged and begins to take off her dress), murder, sex, adult themes. if these types of things are triggering for you please don’t read. I’m just a average person who tried their best to not cause people to be upset. If this is problematic I’m sorry I didn’t mean for it to be and will take it down.

Relationship: Spencer Reid x (female)reader

word count: 3,384

Author’s note: so this is my first ever Criminal Minds story. If it garners enough attention I will do more parts (honestly even if it doesn’t I probably will lol) PSA: I have never been under the influence of MDMA and honestly I don’t judge if people who do it consensually and safely (which is harder said then done). this is how I imagine it to be like to be on it. Also I like writing and I like sharing my writing because all of the great fan fics that cause me happiness, if I can cause that reaction just to one person that’s enough for me

You would do anything to save the world. Maybe it was a hero complex, maybe it was some form of glory seeking, or maybe it was the only way you knew how to fill the dark abyss you felt when you did nothing of importance. Being a part of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, helped with that. Being on the team gave you everything you needed, a family and a way to save others. Maybe saying you love your job isn’t the correct way to explain your emotions but you knew no better way. Although you wish a job like this wasn’t necessary and didn’t even exist, it did.

Your team meant the world to you and you would contribute almost in any way to help find an unknown subject. So when Penelope Garcia was able to connect the killings in New York City to some private “rich people” clubs, her and the team created a plan to infiltrate.

The victimology was specific. It was all rich young women ranging from the ages 19-30 who just moved into the city to find themselves.

The profile was an easy one to figure out. He was obviously a troubled young white male who was probably an heir of some sort. He was richer than what most people think is rich. He usually meets the victim at a high society social event. Then he’d take them to a more exclusive social event. After that he would drug them with MDMA, rape and kill them.

It was hard for the BAU to get much out of the enclosed and tight group of New York’s most elite families. So going undercover at an event where the unsub could potentially hunt for prey was what made most sense. Your jobs was to observe the women and men there and try to see if any of you could fish out the unsub. 

They had done it in the past but usually they did their best work by watching and observing. So here the team was, their second night in a row all dolled up in fancy cocktail dresses at some art gallery. Tara Lewis and Luke Alves stood around a table pretending to talk to each other as they observed potential victims. Jennifer Jareau, Spencer Reid, and Matt Simmons stood at another end of the room checking for the potential unsub, while your unit chief, Emily Prentiss, and you were pretending to be alone at the event eavesdropping on rich families. You listened to those around you while also scanning the room looking for potential young white men talking to lone young women. “Ten o’clock to the creepy face painting,” you heard Alvez say in your small earpiece. You calmly turned pretending to look at the other art pieces and saw a white male in his mid-thirties walking up to a female. He placed his hand on her low back as he leaned in to talk to her. Emily being the closest nearby out of you two, moved closer acting like she was going for some hors d’oeuvres. “That’s not him. He’s too drunk. I can smell all the alcohol he has consumed. He would need to be smoother than that,” Emily whispered as she took a sip of her glass. That’s how most of the night went. We followed and stared at people who might be the unsub and then filed them out. You felt yourself losing hope. You hated this part of the job. The one that made you feel like the profile was wrong and you all would have to start over, which there was never time to start over. Someone could die. That’s when you felt a hand touch the small of your back, your body tensed up immediately. “Relax,” he whispered in your ear. But you didn’t need to force it, because when you turned to look at the person who touched you, you were met with the face of beauty and your body instantly relaxed. You knew this was a dangerous reaction, as would probably many of Ted Bundy’s victims.

The man before you had slicked back short dark hair, bright blue eyes, strong symmetry in his facial features, and strong cheek and jaw bones. He smiled wickedly at you, causing you to intake a sharp breath. It was so sinister but also so beautiful. It wasn’t the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen, no that was reserved for your teammate, best friend, and love of your life (even if he didn’t know it) Spencer Reid. Now, Spencer’s smile was one you could get lost in. You refocused yourself to the beautiful man in front of you. “They say the artist intended for this particular piece to show trauma while he was drinking. His other pieces are other emotions on different drugs,” his deep voice rattled through your ears. You wanted to unwrap yourself from this man’s embrace. How dare he touch you like that without your permission. “Play along,” Luke spoke as he saw a scowl beginning to form on your lips, “he could be the unsub.” You smoothed the scowl into a smile. “It doesn’t look like it depicts trauma,” you responded dumbly. The man before you cocked his head to the side giving you a lopsided smile. “I guess it all depends on how someone experiences trauma,” the smile now wicked, and scarier. A shiver went up your spine. “Are you cold?” He asked, noticing it, while looking you up and down like he could devour you. “No,” your voice came out scratchy as your throat went dry. You cleared it politely. “Just thinking-” “About your own trauma?” He asked. You could hear the fake tone of concern. That snapped you out of your fear. The pictures of all the murdered women that brought the BAU to this case flashed before your eyes. “Maybe,” the smile you plastered on your face was a one you knew he wanted, a sad smile. You were going to play this role like it’s no one's business because you were here to catch a bad guy and if flirting with a creep got you there then so be it. He leaned in closer to your ear, “my name is Alistair Constantine,” you immediately recognized the name. It was on the list of potential unsubs for the profile. His family’s money was old, going back to the revolutionary war. The family seemed to always be updating with the times and never losing that money. You leaned into his other ear and introduced yourself.

Spencer’s hands were clutched at his side as he watched you interact with the Constantine boy. He felt in his gut at this moment, Alastair was the unsub. The way he was looking at you, it was like you were a quest to conquer. Spencer knew he couldn’t just come up, break you two apart and blow the whole investigation but boy did he want to.

Alastair paraded you around the room.  Every now and then he would talk to fellow members of the society. It took everything in you to pretend that you didn’t want to beat his ass right then and there. You were always an imaginative kid growing up so you blocked out the gruesome pictures of the crime scenes and instead pretended this was your life a young New York woman getting special treatment from a handsome man. It was easier to fit the rom-com role then what was actually happening. Alistair stopped in front of a painting that was particularly psychedelic looking with bright pastel colors. “This is my favorite piece by the artist. This was when he was on Ecstasy. Look at the happiness and distorted-ness to the art. It’s amazing,” he gushed. It would have been odd that he picked this particular painting to attach too, but it was a strong tie to the method of his killings. “Humankind cannot bear very much of reality,” you spoke out, breaking Spencer from his thoughts about if they had enough information to convict Alistair for the murders. Alistair looked at you funny, not understanding why you would say that. “T. S. Eliot” you told Alistair while Spencer whispered it at the same time. a ghost of a smile playing on your lips when you heard Spencer’s voice. “It’s what I think of when I look at this art. T. S. Eliot is one of my favorite poets,” you blushed at your admission. It felt like for a second, with having just heard Spencer’s voice, that you were talking to him instead of Alistair. Spencer was now looking straight at you two. His eyes held bewilderment, he has known you for years and you never once mentioned this, and he knew you knew this was something he cared about. 

“Indeed,” Alistair yawned. 

The next 30 minutes was you telling him how you’d grown up in Boston, Massachusetts, that you had no close relatives anymore, and how when your parents died their life savings all went to you (all of it true), the lie came when it was to talk about why you moved to New York City, what you wanted to do with your life etc. And he ate it up every second. You played the roll of being the lonely damsel in a big city trying to find the answer to life. You were his ideal victim and you knew that he didn’t even question how perfect you were. 

The night ended with an invite to the society’s ball tomorrow night, and Prentiss fed your ear a fake address for Alistair to send a car to tomorrow. You ordered an Uber to the address where Emily said they’ll pick you up to not seem suspicious in case Alistair sent someone to follow you. Once at the address the FBI’s SUV pulled up and you got in. It was Spencer who picked you up, which was unusual, as he never liked driving. You climbed onto the passenger seat and saw his knuckles were white from the strength of his grip on the steering wheel. It didn’t take a profiler to know Spencer was mad. “Spencer, are you alright?” You approached with a soft whisper. There was a pause of silence, Spencer calculating if he should be honest. He eventually gave into the truth as he knew that he couldn’t hide it from you. “No,” he growled, the anger in his voice causing you to jump in surprise. “No, I am not okay. That man is a murderer and he was holding you in his arm! You two were practically dancing around the room in there. We have put you in danger and now, now you are his next target, his next victim!” he hit the wheel in anger. You had never seen Spencer this angry before. Most times when Spencer got angry, he got smart and he used his logic to fight but now he sounded emotional. “Spencer,” you raised your voice, “I am not a victim, I’m an agent. I will do what it takes to protect others. Just like you.” In anger Spencer swerved the car to the side and put it in park. “Dammit, You don’t get it,” he yelled and turned towards you. “If he is our unsub, which we both know he is, I’ve run the calculations and the risk is too high for you,” his hands flying everywhere in gestures, “There are too many dependent variables. There isn’t enough for us to control. The probability of you getting hurt or,” he stopped to collect himself, and in a quieter voice said, “or worse, it’s too high. I’ve run the math.” Now that sounded more like the Spencer you knew. A soft smile crept onto your lips, then you quickly neutralized your face, in hopes he wouldn’t see the way his concern for you made you feel. And You couldn’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t let yourself feel happiness when Spencer showed you affection, because it eventually just leads to heart break. Subconsciously, you turned more towards him in your seat, “In your math is there probability that we get this guy and he never gets the opportunity to hurt another woman again?” You asked. Spencer gave you a pained look like he knew where you were going. You countered that look with one that told him to answer the question. He let out a heavy sigh, “yes. There is that possibility.” You smiled at him knowing you won the argument, “That settles it then.”

With everyone back in the small conference room at the police station, the conversation began about what to do tomorrow. No one was pleased that one of their own is now the target but there was truth that the situation was now more in the BAU’s control than before. Everyone also believed in you. They knew the risk and that scared them but also you are a Special Advisory Agent for a reason. Relief did not fill you but neither did dread, when you thought of the plan. You were doing the right thing. It didn’t matter if you were going to put yourself in danger.

Spencer kept pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. Something that happened when he started to get headaches and you could guess this headache was caused by stress. As the rest of the team started packing up, you stared at your best friend hurting over the stress you were causing. You took a seat next to Spencer. He was still wearing his suit from the party. “We are going to be okay tomorrow,” you comforted him. He looked up at you, “I’m not worried about all of us, I’m worried about you,” he confessed. Once again, you knew these words shouldn’t have an effect on you like they did, but it did and this time there was something that felt hidden behind those words, something more. “I trust you not to let anything happen to me,” You countered and placed your hand on his forearm to comfort him. You looked in his eyes and tried to let him know that there is more than just trust there. 

The day of the ball, you got ready in the police station bathroom. It wasn’t exactly how you imagined to be getting ready for your first ball in New York City. You’d rather be wearing this gown for other reasons than going undercover to catch a murderer rapist. The Givenchy dress Garcia picked out was gorgeous (as you instructed her to get a designer to fit in the crowd and you would float the bill). It was a long evening dress in blue and green with a gradient-effect. The top had long puffed sleeves, deep V-neckline, and waist accentuated with smooth lamé and long flared skirt. You put your hair up in a loose low bun. The makeup you did was a smooth eye with long flair eyeliner. You put a heavy amount of glow highlighter on your cheek bones and collar bones to accentuate the deep v cut the dress. 

You felt ridiculous walking out of the bathroom into the police station wearing your dress. But the way Spencer looked at you was something powerful and intoxicating, making you forget your embarrassment. You strode up to him. A small smile played on your lips looking up at him. You saw him also smiling at you “You’re almost as tall as me,” he blurted out. You let out a small laugh, “‘I guess that’s what heels will do,” you smiled looking down at your feet. Spencer felt ridiculous that’s what he said. He should have told you how amazing you looked or how your beauty felt like the sun- always pulling him in and having his thoughts orbit around you. But he wasn’t good with voicing his feelings (especially in a room with his colleagues). 

“We are going to have Officer Melinda Jackson drive you over to the apartment, And stake out the car. She’ll be on the radio the whole time till you are in range with us. We will be at the Capitale when you get there.” Emily disclosed as she strapped on a microphone and earpiece.

You stepped out of the car with your head held high even though your anxiety was on another level. “i’m here,” you whispered. “We are here too,” Tara responded. Everyone disclosed where each one was to you. The venue was massive and beautiful. The ceiling was tall with ornate decorations. The lighting was a bright orangish glow. As you examined the room, checking each point of your team, you also saw Alistair. He was at the bar with what looked like to be a group of his friends. Spencer not too far behind them. You walked towards Alistair but kept your eyes on Spencer. He took your breath away dressed in a tux and his hair slicked back like he used to when he was younger. It felt like your heart was lit on fire just by looking at him all dressed up. He was staring at you intensely. It wasn’t that the world stopped the moment your eyes met his, but it was more like everything else just didn’t matter. You knew you’d have to look away soon to not give away anything but you took him in for just one more second. “You look amazing,” you heard a voice next to you say. You turned to see the ever good looking Alistair. He wore a navy 3 piece suite with a large Gucci tag on the sleeve, and a large Gucci flower pinned on his chest. You gave him a soft smile and returned his compliment. “I want to introduce you to my family. Their approval means everything,” he offered you his arm. You took it tentatively,  Spencer watched him lead you away, and he pondered on Alistair’s odd statement about family approval. 

Alistair’s family was everything you’d expect. They were proper and pompous. However they liked you, a lot. You fell right into the role you had to play. You stood there laughing and engaged in the conversation with his mom and cousin. 

“Shall we dance?” Alistair asked, giving you his hand, as your conversation with his sister came to an end. You nodded and let him take you to the dance floor. 

He spun you out and brought you back in close to start the dancing. You gave him a bright smile at his eccentric action. You closed your eyes and let your mind pretend it was Spencer holding you. You followed his lead as he twirled you both around the dance floor. “Stop dancing, we can’t see you,” Spencer frantically said into your ear piece. You snapped your eyes open. Taking in that you were on a secluded corner of the dance floor by an exit door. “You are special. My family, They like you” Alistair said with a sense of manic to it. “you aren’t like the others,” he admitted. His voice sounded different. It was sinister with a tinge of adoration. He pulled you close, so close that his fingers dug into your hand and back. You felt like your brain was freezing up in fear. How many times had you been in fear inducing situations and why did your brain pick now to not work. “you’re hurting me,” you groaned trying to pull yourself away. “Where are you” JJ yelled but then you felt mist hit you, and your mind begin to make things fuzzy, “the left corner, the spray…in the flower,” you breathed out, hoping the team could hear you. You heard a rattle of commands to your co-workers from Emily. Then it went black.

Spencer rushed through the crowd to find you but by the time he got to the corner you told him you were at, you were gone. “She’s not here,” Spencer panicked into the ear piece. “I just saw a black Tesla leave, license plate delta, alpha, hotel nine, one, two ” Luke informed them. “Call and ask them to run it”, Rossi said urgently. “on it,” Luke replied. “JJ and Reid, go talk to the mom and sister, Tara and Matt split up and talk to his friends and the other family members. They have to know where they are,” Emily demanded

[seovienrose]

soccer club captain mingyu x yearbook editor reader au! pt 2

continue from pt 1

mingyu is very close to seungcheol, the soccer club former captain and school alumni as he came to monitor the progress of soccer club under mingyu’s leadership

the 10 players, lining up and standing across each others trying to pass the ball to each other as a warm up

so the team was divided to into 6:6 with seungcheol as the goalkeeper for the opposite team 

the game started with a loud whistle and seokmin got the ball, trying to score into the opposite goal, he passed the ball to the team’s striker, mingyu and mingyu striked a goal easily

jihoon, then tackled a ball from seokmin and almost landed a goal but was blocked by chan, the team’s goalkeeper

after 2 hours of games, the practice ended and mingyu’s team won with 8:6

seungcheol knew he entrusted the soccer club to a reliable person 

“good game today mingyu and others, i have lots of fun monitoring and playing with you guys today! good luck with upcoming regional tournament! now lets go to mcdonalds boys its my treat!”

since its been half of the year, the yearbook committees had gotten so busy to catch up with activities within the months (sports day, academic decathlon, language week etc)

since that bread and milk day, mingyu and you didn’t come across each other except that time you met him at the school gate and he blushed suddenly

what drugs he’s consuming

anyways, you were discussing with yearbook journalists and photographers about having them manage their time properly according to upcoming events due to midterm examinations coming soon

a lot of teachers complained that some yearbook committees had to miss classes frequently because of activities held by the school (its inevitable you know)

you went to your work desk after briefing but the photographers and journalists still sat around the meeting table 

you were eavesdropping to minghao talking to other photographers about regional soccer tournament apparently being held soon and who’s getting the tickets

“mingyu got me a front seat ticket and he said he is inviting someone else too”

“he is probably inviting the girl in the theatre club, no?”

“dunno...”

WHATS THE DEETS WITH THE THEATRE CLUB GIRL

“well im not suprised if they still keep in contact with each other”

as much as you pretended to be unbothered you cant help yourself to be engaged in their conversation about mingyu

until the assistant editor of yours, soonyoung or people call him mr hochi came breaking the chit chatter to end with his arms crossed

hochi is much feared by the committees compared to the chief editor yourself since he is a year older and stricter with the yearbook’s precision

he was the chief editor for 3 years consecutively before you and decided to become an assistant because a lot of past committees quitted because of his leadership lol

“i didn’t appoint you guys to gossip but to do your job as yearbook committees, i don’t want to hear any complaints again from teacher about any of you slacking or missing out in classes”

with that everyone parted ways and continue doing their things at their personal desks

that was just an appreciation advertisement for our mr hochi lets get back to your love story

when you went to your locker to pick up english literature books, you saw a note stuck on the locker door

‘hey can we meet at equipments stores around 4 am right after our evening class, don’t be late i have to attend my soccer practice at 4:15 pm, sincerely mingyu’

okay why he wants to meet you at 4 in the morning but the practice at 4:15 pm???

you just laughed and proceeded to your literature class

after your literature class, you went straight to equipments stores and saw mingyu were fiddling around with something in his hands

“why do you want to meet me at 4 am?”

mingyu was half shOOKETH when he heard your voice and he had this “what???” face

“you wrote 4 am in the note” and you laughed again

mingyu was rubbing his neck and kinda laughed too, “i wrote that in hurry because i was in rush to my mathematics class”

you nodded and he smiled in awe after looking at you

“ah actually i want to give you this..i don’t know if you’re free but i’d be honoured if you can come to my tournament”

(my readers be like pretends to be surprise.gif lmao)

HE GAVE YOU THE VIP SEAT TO THE SOCCER TOURNAMENT YEAYYYY

“oh....” you just accepted it shyly

suddenly he rummaged his adidas convertible and took out an egg tart and strawberry milk again this time

you feel so overwhelmed you want to burst when he gave them to you

“y/n do come to my tournament this saturday alright? i would be so happy if the chief editor herself could come and give her personal feedback!! i gtg now, bye!!”

“thank you mingyu..”

mingyu walked away and went to field after making you feeling so flushed

the following morning, when you walk to the hall you met minghao and he greeted you a good morning

“y/n i already talk to the graphic and layout designer to reformat the yearbook design since we’re adding new segment”

“what segment?”

“either advertisements or candids section, what do you think is better?”

“for 2 pages? nobody is gonna be entertained with ads” and someone was running in the busy hall, pushing your shoulder making your file in your arms fell

minghao collected your file and tilted his head to the side

“y/n..you’re going to mingyu’s tournament?”

little did you remember that the soccer tournament ticket was in your clear file and minghao had to see that

“y-yes...”

“we’re going together then!!!” minghao jumped a little and stopped his track, “wait a minute...so you’re the girl he is currently having a crush on?”

“what crush? what about the theatre club girl?”

minghao was standing with his hand hanging to his waist, “so you overheard our conversation?”

you nodded

“we guessed him and the theatre club girl were a thing but turned out she was pestering mingyu one-sided”

he walked to the stairs to go to his literature class and you continued your way to your physics class after bidding goodbyes

in the literature class, minghao interrogating mingyu session

“dude, you’re flirting with y/n now?”

mingyu ignored the latter but he was actually flustered to answer

“do you expect a full page coverage of you and soccer club in the yearbook by doing this?”

mg: “what the hell minghao?”

minghao: “okay im just kidding”

mg: “she’s too adorable”

minghao: “adorable? didnt she get mad at you for sleeping on the couch in a prohibited room?”

mingyu was in his dreamy state because he was reminded of your smile

he was like that for 1 minute and minghao snapped his fingers

“okay fine i like her genuinely i want to keep her in pocket stop asking me” 

saturday arrived aka the awaited soccer tournament day

your father lifted you off at the town’s stadium and you saw minghao with his camera bag and camera tripod

“hi do you need help mr photographer?”

minghao: “sure thing, do you have the ticket? lets go in”

you helped carried the adapters and batteries bag and got inside the soccer hall 

mingyu who happened to be searching for vending machine found you and minghao

HE INSTANTLY TURNED INTO THE BIGGEST PUPPY EVER

he came running to you and grinned as wide as he can

“you came y/n!!!” 

he looked at your shoulder and noticed the adapter bag belonged to minghao and rolled his eyes as he took the bag off your shoulder

“yOU MADE HER HOLD YOUR THINGS???!!!”

minghao was like -_______- “shut up mingyu” 

“i offered to help because those seemed heavy” 

after the chaos mingyu held minghao’s both camera and adapters bags then lead both of you to your vip seats

minghao set up his tripod and started adjusting his camera

you were inspecting the soccer hall

can you guess what mingyu was doing?

DING DONG DAENG 

he was looking at you tenderly like he hadn’t seen you for 10 million years, he was really infatuated with you

you said “don’t you have like rehearsal or stuff to do other than looking at me like a creep?”

mingyu blushed again and excused himself to the waiting room to brief to his soccer club teammates

“i have never seen him so invested in a girl like that before, he likes you like a lot y/n”

“really minghao, you think so?”

anyways the tournament began, for the first halves of the game your school team seemed sloppy and demotivated because “apparently they seemed nervous” the commentator said

during the interval time, you can see and hear mingyu shouted really loudly to give encouragements toward his teams

the coach also were guiding them and giving careful advices before their second halves started 

mingyu on the field were looking at you and minghao, smiling half-heartedly

you took this opportunity to make a big heart with your arms and mingyu instantly laughed, continued running to his position

seokmin, jihoon and mingyu scored 4 goals during the second halves with chan managing to block 2 goals and 1 free kick from opposite team

your school soccer club took the trophy home with last minute goal from jihoon with 9:7 and all of the players were roaring happily doing their circle hugs

after the final match ended, you waited by the side of field 

mingyu saw you in the crowds and he ran towards you

“congratulations mingyu, i enjoyed it!!”

“well im hoping you could come for another tournaments”

“i would love to......date you and also go to your other tournaments.”

mingyu was SHOOKETH AGAin its like he was getting heart attack

“what?????”

“you didn’t hear it wrong, boyfriend”

mg: “so it’s day one today?”

you nodded and beamed like the brightest sun ever

mingyu gently kissed your cheek and you both half-hugged since mingyu was sweating lol

little did you know, minghao captured the picture of mingyu kissing your cheek perfectly

[type-a-nomad]

First Blog Post: Cape Town Day 1

Sunday Feb 11 2018

Growing Pains

I landed in Cape Town at 7:30am local time (CTT= Cape Town Time/ CT= Cape Town).  Because I slept from SFO to Heathrow, I got little to no sleep from Heathrow to Cape Town, resulting in my accidental all-nighter from 11:30pm CTT.  Everything is sort of hazy and out of whack.  It seems like everything that could have gone slightly wrong, has gone slightly wrong.  Or, at least, very far from the expected result.  The first of these instances was in the CT airport.  There was a driver that was supposed to meet me at 8am CTT and by 8:20am I was starting to feel quite nervous, as it is easy to direct my unease about the general situation of moving continents towards a short-term, tangible problem like my transportation.  By this time, I am sweating from nerves and general physical exhaustion from hauling my duffle bag around looking for the guy who is supposed to have a sign directing me to him.  Finally, I call the emergency number of the program I’m going through and they tell me to go to the information desk and wait for him to meet me there.  So I do.   Another 20 minutes later, all is well and my driver, Kyle, is blasting Lil’ Jon while speeding down the highway past the poorest parts of CT.  There are thousands of houses made out of scrap metal.  I saw roofs held onto structures by the weight of fractured concrete, wooden planks and sheets of tin propped up against each other, some structures were even two stories high.  Then we were zooming through Cape Town, the first thing I saw was the prison, which was almost as depressing as the slums.  But once we cleared the poorer outskirts, the water was visible and it was stunning.  It was like the surface was covered in gold glitter it was sparkling so much.  We stopped in front of a house in a rundown neighborhood, directly facing a large, white, and mostly windowless primary school.  Kyle grabs my duffle bag out of the car (bless him) and dispassionately drops me and it at the front door of a dusty, brick-red house.  I ring the doorbell as Kyle drives off.  Nobody answers.  After a minute, I ring again.  Still, nobody answers.  I reach past the metal grate blocking the wooden door and knock.  I am starting to panic (again) and am knocking and ringing, feeling stranded and mildly disgusted at the dead, partially-squished rat I had to walk over to get to the door.  10 minutes pass.  I am still frantically knocking.  Then, I hear something. A short girl answers the door.  She’s maybe 24, with a sleeve of tattoos- one of which is a large elephant with a very South African looking tree next to it.  I introduce myself and she says her name is Cassie and she essentially runs the hostel.  She takes me upstairs and shows me my room with three bunkbeds lining the walls, and a file-cabinet-like dresser against the fourth.  The floor is covered in clothes and there is a girl sleeping in her underwear surrounded by around 5 half-empty fanta bottles and two sticky glasses with flat soda in them.  I say hello and she makes no noise, clearly a bit irritated her sleep has been interrupted.  Cassie tells me to meet her downstairs in a few minutes when I settle in.  I sit down on the bed and basically curl up in a ball of confusion, anxiety, and relief.   When I have taken some deep breaths, reapply deodorant, and listed things I am grateful for and things I want to learn, I hop down the dirty stairs in the dim  house and find Cassie.  She gives me a brief tour of the house and shows me how I have to shower in a bucket and then dump the bucket in a larger bucket.  Then, when you want to take a number 2 you have to walk to the big bucket, fill up a small bucket with water, then find a way to dump the water in the small bucket into the toilet tank so you can flush.  This is way harder than it sounds and it an extremely awkward process that is almost as stressful as it is embarrassing for me because if you grab the bucket everyone knows you aren't just going number 1.  Most of my stress here hinges on the idea of making myself more embarrassed than I already am by fûcking up this process in one way (technically this whole extravaganza is called a grey-water system). After the somewhat unnerving house tour, I am starting to realize how incredibly foreign all of this is.  Moving to and living in Florence was traveling to another country, Cape Town is another planet.  Everything feels slightly uneasy when you walk down the streets.  I felt very watched and distrustful of anyone around me because I had been warned so thoroughly about the impressive theft that was pulled off, even in broad daylight. Then, the first genuinely positive interaction of my day happens.  Three girls, Jonna (Sweden), Ella (Sweden), and Natália (Brazil) say that they're gong to the beach and if I don’t have any plans I should come with them to get lunch and then go to the beach.  The tight little ball in my chest loosens. We all go to the grocery store and upon our return, Cassie comes up to me and tells me that tomorrow I am moving to a HomeStay.  My reaction is:  “WHAAAT??!?!?!?!??!?!????”.  I was NOT supposed to be at a Home-Stay and was clearly told by the volunteer service that I would be based at the volunteer hostel.  I was completely caught off-guard and this was the LAST mix-up I would expect to happen.  I make her double-check that it’s the right person she’s talking about and she confirms that yes, in fact my program is in an area much closer to the poorer neighborhoods, because those are the kids we are serving.  Thus, I need to live close to them and that means living with a family.  WHAT THE FÜCK?  I regain my zen and try to just be a “go with the flow” kind of person, but I feel like a rock being unwillingly dragged down a river by the force of the water.  After many minutes of mindful breathing and sunscreen application, we are in the uber to the beach.   The beach is gorgeous.  The South African Sun was incredibly intense.  Even when applying several layers of thick sunscreen and sitting entirely in the shade, my skin was very offended I had decided to move to this continent.  That being said, there were white fluffy sand, colored umbrellas, beautiful and tan, beachy South Africans everywhere, so I told my skin to shut up.  My particular favorite of all my people-watching specimen was a 50-something woman in a hot pink bikini who was so freckled she passed it off as a deep tan.  She had a lower back tattoo that said “Brooklyn Forever” in swirly writing, some Chinese characters on her back, a ring of thorns around her bicep, and a kiss mark on her lower right hip.  Her small white lap dog came over and chilled on my towel while she drank some alcoholic beverage and told her four-year-old daughter to move out of her tanning chair because “I’m an ádult” (only self-important people say adult as aaaaadult).  She also told her friend to “stay on the hunt”, when a 20 year old lifeguard passed and they both obviously checked him out, even though they were both wearing wedding rings and surrounded by their own children.  From eavesdropping on their conversations I learned her name was Lisa, which fits all too well.   I hang out with my new friends and learn lots of cool information.  For example, Natalia has breast implants her boyfriend paid for as a present to her 5 months ago and is very happy to talk about them as a point of braggadocio (as it turns out, two americans in this volunteer hostel also have breast implants”.  Ella has four tattoos, one of which is very large on her forearm that says “There is no progress without struggle”.  She says she almost ran to the tattoo parlor on her 18th birthday to get it— but now she thinks it’s cliche.  Jonna is amazed at my ability to recite facts I learned from various podcasts I listened during my unintentional all-nighter to Cape Town.  For example, your likelihood of getting cancer increases by 40% if you average less than 7 hours of sleep per night over your lifetime.  Cassie and her sister Ashley end up joining us.  By that time I was entirely exhausted.  My face was telling me it was time to get out of the sun even though I was in the shade, with a hat and sunscreen on.  And, again, I was entirely exhausted so interaction with new people was a strain I was really not feeling.   Finally, we call and uber and go back to the hostel. I cannot get the idea of the host family off of my mind as I am moving there tomorrow and have exactly no information on who they are, where they live, what the conditions will be, how many people live there, etc.. I decide the best way to ease my anxiety is to get something done.  So, I go to the drug store down the street, Click-It.  I buy around 10 items and when I’m checking out, the cashier does something very odd.  He looks at me, smiles, and says “when you leave the alarm by the door might go off, just keep walking”.  I kind of smile and then process what he’s really said, then process the fact that him and his female co-worker at the other register just smiled at each other clearly in regards to what he has just said.  “Why” I ask.  “Because I am not going to scan all the items they want me to scan.  Don’t worry about it.  Just keep walking”.  At this point I’m like WHAT THE FÜCK IS GOING ON PART 2.  Is he saying he is giving me some of my items for free? What on earth is happening.  Well, then I go to pay with my Charles Schwab card that is supposed to be perfect and seamless to use and it’s DECLINED.  So I pay with Wells Fargo and the world starts turning again.  Right after I pick up my bag he reminds me “dont forget: DO NOT stop walking”. And Im like “Dude I just wanted my leave-in conditioner, I don’t need Mission-Impossible”  But, whatever, I’m only 95% sure I can understand the gist of what he is saying because I am still having trouble understanding South African English accents. I scurry home, through the accusatorially beeping metal detector with my newly aquired, and possibly partially stolen goods and take my brief, bucket shower.  Now, I am hiding in my top bunk, trying to collect myself and hide from human interaction because honestly, I’m getting close to being at wits-end.  I am too overwhelmed to edit this so #nofilter yay I completed my first blog post.  Happy First Day In South Africa, Bitches.

xoxo Q