#Turned out the most surprising thing was actually my room mate’s account submitted to my inbox

[trafficblrpositivityproject]

Hello I have memes about running this blog so far. For these memes I decided to give myself a pen name for the sake of not having to type out “trafficblrpositivityproject” / to give you all something to address me by since I decided not to say openly who is running this (though two people have already guessed who I am).

[authoressskr]

Ruby Dragon Surprise (i)

Characters: f!Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Mercy (*previously Y/N in Bucky’s Dragon Soulmate Story*), mentions of Peggy Carter

Warnings: Language and no Beta   ::    Notes: This particular story will probably be three parts, cause Steve is emotionally constipated   ::   Word Count: 4849

I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same (not exactly the same...people are alive who died in the mcu), just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion?? This will be an ongoing series with different Avengers finding their soulmates with their dragons.

Howlite and Hearts (Bucky)

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

Soulmate bonds are some of the strongest bonds in our world. Both between a dragon pair and between a human pair. And on the flip side of the Cinderella story, dragons will attempt to push their human partners together if the human counterpart doesn’t seem interested or could result in a rejection.

On the same page, a rejection of this bond - always by the human partner - can have devastating consequences. This broken or unformed bond may result in: at first, flu-like symptoms but can build up to more serious symptoms such as feeling weak or run down, tremors and/or tics, varying weight loss, chest pains and even very mild seizures have been documented. Usually the bond is mended or solidified before it comes to these more serious issues. There are also historic rumors of deaths from broken hearts due to rejections, which has yet to be scientifically proven. The aforementioned symptoms may require hospitalization.

To date no dragon has succumbed to any symptoms from their human counterparts due to the rejection of the bond, which dragon experts seem truly puzzled by due to the strong bonds that can be formed between a human and a dragon. Rejections, however, are rare and scientists aren’t yet sure of all possible symptoms associated with a rejection of a bond. Touch, however, is shown to remedy these symptoms in trials and is known to be a powerful connector between a human and it’s dragon partner as well.

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If there was one thing Steve Rogers knew, it was that Peggy Carter was his soulmate.

He’ll admit he doesn’t think of it as often as when he came out of the ice, but he does still think about it - about Peggy - every few days. More so when Bucky, Sam and himself are out for lunch or when he and Wanda may be grabbing some coffee, because that is when he sees soulmates together. 

The way soulmates look at each other is different. Like they don’t just see the person before them, but everything they are and could be; all rolled into everything they love.

And he’s envious of that look.

He knows he hasn’t received it. And he truly believes he hasn’t given it either. Sometimes he chalks it up to not being actual bonded soulmates with Peggy. Because he knows that the love that was blossoming would have turned into that loving, enraptured gaze he always longed for.

It’s the thought that gets interrupted when his cell rings on the way back from their morning run. He quickly switches his coffee cup to his other hand to fish the phone from his pant pocket, revealing Tony’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Need you, the bird and the metal popsicle back here asap. Got a hit on a Hydra offshoot. Wheels up in 30.”

“Got it. We’re just a few blocks from the Tower now.”

“Pick up the pace then, old man,” And the call ends. He looks at Sam and Bucky before tossing back what’s left of his coffee and throwing it in a nearby trash can.

“Mission. Wheels go up in 30.” Sam sighs at his words.

“Morning calls are rare, man. Must be big.”

“Hydra,” Bucky mutters with a shake of his head before polishing off his own coffee. “Come on. Gonna take most of that time to get the scalies ready.”

“You know,” Sam mutters with a smug grin as they all continue towards the Tower, “You’ve picked up your soulmate’s habit of calling the dragons weird names.” Sam tosses his empty cup and dodges a swat from Bucky.

“Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing Sam…”

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Steve shifts in his place in the rafters, Rak wiggling on his back in response to peer over his shoulder down at the HYDRA agents. He nods at Bucky, who is perched across the building, just above the exit.

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Get this - a museum.” The blonde HYDRA agent cackles, leaving the brunet nodding, a serious look on his face. A loud clang of the door reveals two more HYDRA agents, dragging another person between them while a third agent follows behind with a tactical machine gun held tightly in his grip. If body shape is anything to go on, it’s a woman. A curvy and buxom one. Bucky quickly types out an update in Morse code to Natasha who is stationed outside with Sam and Tony as the brunet drags a heavy wooden chair into the middle of the room.

They toss the captive into the chair, zip tying their wrists behind them before pulling off the thick bag from their head. If looks could kill…

“Now, Miss, we are going to ask you a series of questions -”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at the venom in her tone.

“You don’t seem to know who we are.” Her jaw clenches as she looks away from the salt and pepper haired man who dragged her in. “Come now. I don’t want to injure you more than necessary…”

“Right.” She snaps, looking down at her lap with a sigh. The tall brunet who helped drag her in shifts to stand behind her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp makes Rak hiss in his ear, Steve feeling his claw tips through his suit. He tilts his head to rub it against Rak’s, offering that silent comfort to calm him down.

“Now, Miss, the first question is: You work in the nearby museum, correct?”

“Seeing as that’s where you took me from…” She gasps again as the hand tightens in her hair, bending her head back a little more. That’s when she notices Bucky in the rafters - quickly closing her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“What are you working on there?”

“Paleontology mostly. But when I started there I worked in the geology department. I’m a floater between departments since I don’t have my full degree yet.” The man relaxes his grip a little, pushing her head forward towards its normal position again.

“Rocks and bones.” The older agent chuckles before rubbing his hand over his graying beard. “Do you do anything else in the museum?”

“I assist only in the two departments. The only reason I help the geology is when the woman who regularly helps is gone cause she’s having a rough pregnancy.”

“Now we know that’s a lie. You spend a lot of time in the accounting office.” Her head is pulled back again so she’s looking at the ceiling again.

“I’m not sure you lot are aware that each department has a budget. I have to submit forms every month about the spending. Plus, one of the accountants is my friend.”

“So you are saying our intel is wrong?”

“Look, I’d like my head to stay attached, but yes, your intel is shit. Probably someone just looking not to be in the position I’m currently in.”

“So the museum isn’t looking into the dragons ancestors?”

“If they are, then I don’t know about it. I’m a peon!” She yanks her head from the man’s grasp and struggles in the chair.

“Little cherub, you are a terrible liar.”

“Listen asshat, I am keenly aware I’m a terrible liar. So I tend NOT to lie. Especially to someone who has tied me to a chair and has a fucking gun!!” He sighs, giving a little shake of his head before his hand shoots out and backhands her, making her head snap to the left. Rak’s claws pierce through his suit, smoke curling from his nostrils making Steve tense under him even more. He holds his hand up in a stopping motion, Bucky cocking his head slightly before Steve gestures over his shoulder at Rak.

“Woman, HYDRA has been looking for you for awhile.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me. I can’t have anything HYDRA could possibly want. Except maybe morals.”

“We don’t need morals in HYDRA.” The blonde grunts out from his leaning place against the wall.

“I’m aware. Ya ever think that’s why SHIELD and the Avengers whip your ass? Resign you to the shadows like the phantoms you are.” There is a loud enough explosion that everyone turns towards the exit, the men all tensing. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUR SIGIL OR WHATEVER IT IS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE! HYDRA MEANS 5! WHY DOES YOUR SYMBOL HAVE 8? AND DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT THE HYDRA WAS DEFEATED???” Her head is sent sharply to the left again, blood trickling from her lip at the contact.

“WHO FOLLOWED YOU?!” The older agent snaps at the blonde and brunet who they saw first.

“NO ONE, SIR!” Bucky drops down just as Tony comes through the back exit, making Steve shimmy upright before he begins across the beams in the rafters to cut off their retreat.

He drops down with a dull thud, blocking the HYDRA agents as planned but the brunet with the machine gun has it pointed under the woman’s jaw.

“She’s not so sassy now,” The man in charge smirks out, stroking a finger down her cheek. He glances behind, seeing Bucky, Tony and Natasha behind him.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” Her words loud and clear as her gaze slides towards the older agent, the muzzle of the gun digging harder into her skin at her words.

“Snarky little bitch, isn’t she?”

“I like snark,” Tony mentions, looking to Natasha who just rolls her eyes. “But that’s because I’m just so good at it.”

“Release the girl, unharmed, and we’ll take you alive.” Steve offers, Rak’s nails digging into his shoulder once more as smoke begins to curl out of his nose again.

“How about no?” The agent whom had been silent this entire time speaks with a sneer, his little blue dragon’s head popping from a pocket in his utility pants.

Bucky lets loose a single round to the knee of the agent with the sub machine gun, making him buckle and the gun drop from his grip. That’s when Tony blasts the salt and pepper haired man past Steve as Natasha cuts the woman free, only for the woman to rush past Steve and the other agents deeper into the warehouse. Rak jumps from his shoulder and flys after her, prompting Steve to sigh as Bucky runs past, following after her and Rak.

“Does she realize the exit is the other way?!” Tony yells through the comms, taking a stance by where he’d entered to fend off dozens of incoming HYDRA. Two men run towards Steve only to stutter to the ground as electricity surges through their bodies.

“Thanks Nat.” He grunts before rushing through the doorway to find his best friend, his dragon and the directionally impaired woman.

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You’re trying desperately to remember the turns they’ve dragged you through, looking for the spot where they had separated the two of you and tossed a bag over your head. A man moves to grab you, only to be attacked by an aggressive ruby dragon. It then scrabbles up your legs and perches itself on your shoulder, urging you on with a little grunt. You tread a little more carefully after that, but no less urgent, a scream clogging your throat as someone grabs your shoulder from behind before slipping a hand over your mouth. 

“Don’t scream.” You nod as the former Winter Soldier comes into view. “You know, the easy exit was the other way.”

“I’m aware. But they tossed my dragon in a big plastic looking box then I got the bag and drag treatment.”

“This warehouse has two floors in the front half, did they take you upstairs at all?” A shake of your head is all you can manage before the dragon flits from your shoulder and begins running down the hallway. “I guess we follow Rak then. You stay behind me and if I tell you to do something -”

“Consider it done.” You agree before gently pushing at his arm to get him moving.

Rak doesn’t stop until he’s about two hallways off where you all stopped, hissing and sending several fiery breaths towards the small side dock where HYDRA agents were loading up your dragon.

“Velma!” Her answering screech is enough to get you moving, Sgt. Barnes hand shooting out to keep you behind him. He’s got two of them shot and Rak is mauling another when you see a silver blur knock out the other two. It’s only when you turn to your right do you see Captain America snatch his shield, holding it for a beat before turning to look at you. If looks could lecture...you’d be in for a loooong one.

But as he gives you that look all you can think of is that now all the douche HYDRA agents are now k-o’ed, so you rush over to the giant box, sticking your fingers through the big air holes to stroke at her muzzle, Rak chirping at Sgt. Barnes, who steps around your crouched form and snaps the two heavy duty locks off with his metal hand. Your dragon bursts from the cage and tackles you, curling herself around your chest and neck as best she can as you coo reassurances to her.

“We gotta go,” Steve takes hold of your elbow, helping you up as you heft Velma off the ground, her wings wrapping securely around you as you follow Captain America back the way you came. Rak is riding on his shoulder and moving his ruby head back and forth between you and the hallway ahead. The Black Widow joins you halfway back and takes point, an emerald green dragon with beautiful iridescent wings in shades of purples, blacks, greens and a few splashes of a pale yellow shimmer brightly even in the dim lights of the warehouse hallway. You let out a soft grunt, hefting Velma a little higher as your arms start to tire. “Almost there. I can carry her, if you like?” He doesn’t look at you when he offers, simply continues looking forward at his measured pace beside you.

“I can manage,” Your pride answers before your tired arms can get a word in, a smile twitching at his lips at your answer, which just makes your pride suddenly all the more determined to do it yourself. He moves forward when you all get back to where the attack began, Natasha taking his place before Falcon glides in through the hole in the wall.

“It’s all secure to the jet,” He reports as he lands. “Tony is circling the outer gates to make sure they don’t have anything else - hostages or weapons.”

“Alright. Let’s get her on the jet. We’ll look her over and call into the compound for the doctor to be ready when we arrive.”

“Already done,” Natasha confirms and they all move in a protective box around you and Velma, Falcon now on your right and Natasha on your left as the good Captain takes the lead and the Sergeant keeps his place in the rear.

You’re herded - there is no other way to put it really - onto this very expensive, military-looking, and slightly futuristic jet. Falcon gestures to a seat and you kneel in front of it, carefully dislodging your draconian partner before taking the seat. Her scaled head nudges your open hand, reminding you that you’ve both made it.

Safe echoes in your mind and you nod, meeting her light amethyst eyes.

Safe, you reply as she climbs awkwardly into the seat beside yours, laying her head on your thigh.

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“Baby,” She coos to the dragon, a shiver going up his spine at the softness and care in her tone, her hand sliding easily over it’s red scales as Sam returns to her side with a first aid kit.

“They do anything else besides these?” Sam asks gently, his finger brushing softly over her cheek where it’s already beginning to swell. A shake of her head is all she manages, “Okay, I’m gonna clean it with an alcohol pad.” Sam swipes it across her cheek and around the left side of her mouth to get off the dried blood. When he dabs just under her lip she hisses and so does Rak, her own dragon tensing up and curling it’s upper lip just enough to flash the tips of its teeth.

“Down, kids,” She mumbles out before Tony struts onto the jet.

“All clear. Let’s go home.” Tony sits beside her as the jet begins to ascend, both men’s gazes dropping to her free hand which is gripping the edge of her seat. “I’m Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“Dragon?”

“Velma.”

“Velma,” Tony repeats with a chuckle. “I like it. Suits you both. This is Jericho.”

“‘By faith the walls of Jericho fell’…is that right?”

“Exactly! ‘See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands’. My mother insisted that I know the Bible. I just liked the idea of marching and horns defeating a strong enemy. No bullets, no bombs; just faith.”

“Kind of goes against the initial sort of images of yourself, huh?” Tony leans in slightly, a grin flirting on his lips.

“Have you been talking to my wife?” She leans in too, their foreheads nearly touching.

“I think I’d remember talking to her.”

“She is very memorable.” He agrees, leaning back in the seat before waving his finger at her chest. “Buckle up. We should be there in about twenty or thirty.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks, Bucky’s eye popping open from his resting place in the corner and a tiny twitch of his lips making him want to glare at his best friend.

“No, thank you.” Steve nods, moving to the front to talk to Natasha when Rak flits to the floor and scurries over to her, his head tilted to one side with his begging eyes on. Steve moves to turn back to stop Rak from bothering her. “Get up here then,” A smile dancing in her eyes as he chirps happily, leaping easily into her lap and shaking his wings out before carefully settling down, his snout resting beside Velma’s.

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You’re just nodding off when the jet lands, carefully tapping Velma and then Rak to wake them before stretching, wincing at the soreness in your face and neck.

Steve walks by you as the bay door opens before he whistles, Rak’s head perking up from the seat beside you, but he doesn’t move. This doesn’t seem to sit well with Steve, who glares at his partner like he’s betrayed him.

The dragon begrudgingly jumps down and stands at the Captain’s feet, an outstretched hand drawing you from the curiosity you felt watching Rak and Steve. You’re met with storm blue eyes and a small, easy smile.

“Come on, kid,” Unclicking from your seat, you accept his hand with a hushed thank you. You are hardly off the jet before a white marble blur nearly takes James down, his laughter ringing out before a woman appears just after, helping him up and the two of them disappearing into the building. You’re caught at a crossroads of sorts...Do you follow? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?

“Are you Y/N?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a woman with thick black hair piled atop her head in a white lab coat.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Hale. Natasha and Tony told us to be expecting you.” She gestures you forward, opposite to where the Avengers disappeared to. You follow obediently, with Velma trailing behind you, also looking to where they’d all gone. “Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“High blood pressure?”

“No, but if it’s high I was just taken hostage and then backhanded twice before having a gun shoved against my jaw while they tried to take my dragon.” She makes a face, eyebrows raised and fighting back a smile before she manages a big nod.

“Understandable...well let’s check all that. Was your dragon injured?”

“I ran my hands over all of her and she’s not injured that I can tell.” You look down at her, purple eyes alight. “You hurt, baby?” Velma shakes her head, her tail twitching slightly when she does so.

“Perfect. We’ll just check you over and then Tony should come get you.” All you can do is nod, following her into a very white and metallic exam room.

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Steve’s voice can be heard through the door of his room, he’s sure of it.

Rak has snapped at him twice so far and nearly set his comforter on fire because he ordered him to stay put while he showered. Steve knew where he would wander off to and he told Rak he needs to let the doctor do their job and check them over. He had angrily settled down when Howl had come into the room, the bigger dragon tossing himself down onto Rak’s bed - successfully luring Rak to him and calming the little spitfire down long enough for Steve to get a shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Rak started up again, a stare off ensuing between the two of them while Howl looked on in amusement.

“I said no!” Steve snaps at the wyvern before clenching his jaw so tight he’s sure he hears a pop. Rak opens his mouth, flashing all his teeth only to snap it closed when Bucky’s soulmate sticks her head in.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard...I was just looking for Howl.” Howl’s whole body shakes as he wiggles his way happily to her. “Tony just went to get the woman from the infirmary, just to let you know.” Steve scowls at her as Rak begins to follow Howl out the door.

“Hey! Best behavior. And you need to cut the whole hissing, snapping and fire at me, you little gas ball.” Rak snorts, almost giving an eye roll as Steve blocks the door. “Shoulder.” He points for emphasis, his partner huffing as he slowly climbs up onto his shoulder. “And stay there, do you understand?” He turns his ruby head away and Steve’s mind wanders to the impossible...but he quickly shakes that thought from his head.

When she enters the room with her dragon, her cheek and lip swollen a little more than an hour ago when he’d seen her.

Wanda gasps as she enters the room, looking from Rak to Velma, Rak doing the exact fucking opposite as he was told - flinging himself from Steve’s shoulder and running towards you and Velma - before giving a little squeal.

“I’ve never seen a dragon soulmate pair meeting!” Steve looks in confusion from the dragons to Wanda and then to the woman, the room now deadly silent except for the soft, contented growls coming from the pair of ruby dragons curled around each other at Y/N’s feet.

“What - no, that’s not - that’s not possible.” Steve snorts in disbelief after he manages his oh-so eloquent words. “No. She’s not my soulmate,” The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to really think the situation over but his eyes still see everything.

They see the hope that was blossoming in her soft eyes and they see the confusion flash through those pretty eyes before the hurt makes the light die out in them, her eyes dropping to the floor quickly.

He opens his mouth to refute his own words - to apologize and take it back - when he sees Bucky glaring at him.

After all, hadn’t it been him who had told Bucky to go after his dragon and his soulmate? Who had told Bucky he’d give anything to be in his shoes? And now that he was, he had just rejected his soulmate.

You could hear a pin drop as he stands there gaping like a fish before managing to firmly close his mouth.

She’s staring at their dragons, snouts pressed along side each other with their wings touching, tails twined together before she looks up and blinks rapidly. He knows she’s willing the tears away and it physically hurts him to see her avert her eyes.

Clint steps forward, whispering in her ear before offering her his arm. Clint takes her past him, both of their dragons trailing eagerly after her and both blatantly ignoring his very existence.

“All clear boss,” comes a familiar accented voice, Steve can feel all of his family’s eyes boring into him before Natasha speaks up.

“What the actual hell, you dumbass?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Tony pipes up from behind her.

“Didn’t you say you wish you were in my shoes?” Sam just harrumphs at Bucky’s words from where he’s sitting on the couch by Bucky and his soulmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Wanda mutters among the other comments, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” Mercy soothes from the couch, hand gently squeezing Bucky’s as her dragon Cloud moves from her shoulder to Bucky’s, sensing his tenseness.

“Clint’s giving her a tour. She’ll be staying here until we can find out specifically why Hydra was after her. That should give you enough time to pull your head out of your ass,” Tony states while shoving his long sleeves up a bit on his forearms, hitting Steve with a “Sweet Jesus” side eye that Steve was all too well acquainted with.

“It just came out!”

“Like diarrhea…” Pietro says loudly from the kitchen, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth. Steve glares at the male Maximoff, whom he literally didn’t even realize was in the damn kitchen.

“Again, it just came out. I didn’t even think about what I said!”

“That is abundantly clear,” Howl crawls into Bucky’s lap at his words, big eyes pleading to his human dad for pets to calm them both down, tail twacking Mercy who just rolls her eyes playfully at his needy and loving response to Bucky’s mood. Bucky smiling oh so softly at Howl and Mercy, as he strokes the oversized dragon taking up his lap.

Steve watches that and he aches for it. Those knowing looks to share with his soulmate.

But Peggy is gone.

And he doesn’t know where to go from here with this woman. Or the fact that Rak is completely convinced that Velma is his mate.

Because he is pretty sure she isn’t.

‘Pretty sure’ isn’t going to cut it for everyone else though. It definitely won’t be enough for Rak, that little gas ball of betrayal.

Steve was well and truly fucked.

Tagging:  @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

[scripttorture]

Torture in Fiction: Carrie (1976)

I thought this one was an interesting request, I read Stephen King’s book Carrie as a young teenager but I’d never actually watched the movie. My first impression was that it was strangely sexual in a way that the book wasn’t.

But I’m not here to talk about the strange relationship the horror genre has with female sexuality. I’m rating the depiction and use of torture, not the movie itself. I’m trying to take into account realism (regardless of fantasy or sci fi elements), presence of any apologist arguments, stereotypes and the narrative treatment of victims and torturers.

Carrie is about a teenage girl who is severely bullied at school. She’s ostracised and tormented by her peers, ignored by staff and raised by an abusive extremist. In the midst of this she develops telekinetic powers.

The movie starts with a volley ball game that’s used to establish Carrie’s isolation and the casual way other students verbally abuse her. Later in the shower room Carrie starts to menstruate. She’s completely unaware of the process and panics thinking she’s dying.

As she pleads with the other girls to help her they start to laugh. They corner her in the shower pelting her with tampons and pads. The teacher who comes to intervene slaps and shakes Carrie as she huddles in the corner.

Carrie is sent home. Her mother responds to the news that Carrie’s period has started by hitting her with a book and trying to make her recite misogynist verses about Eve’s sin and the weakness of women. She then drags Carrie to a cupboard and locks her in.

The PE teacher punishes the group of girls who tormented Carrie earlier, their detention period is essentially a forced exercise regime designed to exhaust them. One of the girls, Chris, objects, she’s told the punishment for leaving is refusal of her prom tickets. She argues with the teacher and the teacher slaps and shakes her. Chris leaves.

One of the girls, Sue, appears to regret what she did and persuades her boyfriend Tommy to ask Carrie to the prom in Sue’s place.

Carrie initially refuses, suspecting that it’s a ruse to humiliate her again. Tommy tracks her down to her home and repeatedly asks her to come, not taking Carrie’s repeated refusals for an answer. With her mother calling in the background Carrie eventually gives her very unenthusiastic consent. The scene strongly suggests she does this to get rid of Tommy.

In the mean time Chris blames Carrie for her problems and enlists her boyfriend to take revenge. They break into a farm and kill a pig. The blood is put in a bucket over the stage in the prom hall and another of Chris’ friends volunteers to collect the ballots for prom king and queen.

Carrie argues with her mother about going to the prom. Her mother tries to order Carrie into the closet and Carrie refuses to go. Her mother shakes and berates her and Carrie uses her abilities to close the windows in the house. Her mother calls her a witch and tells her to renounce her powers. Carrie refuses.

Later Carrie’s mother tries to persuade Carrie not to go to the prom. She tells Carrie it’s sinful, tries to make Carrie ashamed of her body, says Tommy isn’t coming and then starts hitting herself and pulling out her own hair in a bid to ‘make’ Carrie stay. Carrie throws her mother on to the bed with her powers.

Carrie and Tommy go to the prom and Carrie appears to be enjoying herself. Chris’ friends rig the voting so that Tommy and Carrie are announced as the prom king and queen. Carrie appears overjoyed.

Sue happily watches them take the stage from the sidelines. Then she notices the rope and the bucket of blood above Carrie. Sue follows the rope under the stage where Chris and her boyfriend are hiding but a teacher tugs her away.

Chris pulls the rope and Carrie is drenched in blood in front of the school. Tommy is hit on the head with the bucket and falls to the floor.

Carrie uses her powers to barricade the doors and turns the fire hose on the trapped crowd. She shorts out the electrics and begins bringing objects down on the crowd, killing the PE teacher. Wires from the microphone wrap around the Principal and he’s thrown against the stage backdrop. The stage catches fire and Carrie walks calmly down from it while the other students panic and scream around her.

As she walks out down the road Chris and her boyfriend drive up behind her and try to hit her with the car. Carrie makes the car swerve, it crashes and explodes.

Carrie returns home and finds lit candles all over the house. When she finds her mother she asks for comfort and her mother asks her to pray. Then she stabs Carrie.

Carrie falls down the stairs and tries to crawl away, but her mother follows with the knife, smiling. The doors are locked and as her mother advances Carrie uses her powers to stab her mother repeatedly. This seems to be instinctual because she later takes her mother’s body in her arms.

The roof starts to collapse and Carrie drags herself and her mother’s body into the cupboard she was locked in to pray. The house collapses around them and catches fire.

In this case most of what I’m reviewing isn’t legally torture, because the legal definition in most countries requires the abuser to be in an official position of power. Carrie is mostly tormented by her peers, people who don’t hold any legal power over her.

There’s a lot going on here and I found it quite hard to categorise the movie. In the end I decided to give it 5/10

The Good

The movie doesn't show abuse as a successful method of control. Slapping Carrie doesn't calm her down. Verbal and physical abuse from her classmates doesn't change her behaviour. Her mother's abuse doesn't stop her wanting, or seeking, 'normal' high school things. Abuse directed towards Chris doesn't change her objectives or make her submit to what she sees as an unfair punishment.

Carrie does show appeasement behaviour towards her mother at several points, but the movie puts this in a larger emotional context. Carrie might thank her mother and kiss her after being abused but the following scene shows her crying in her room. In fact I think what this film shows is how victims often feel constrained by circumstances beyond their control. As soon as the balance of power shifts Carrie starts to defy her mother.

One of the things that stood out for me throughout this movie was the way it portrayed abuse and isolation as intertwined. Carrie is abused at home and hence she is 'weird' and hence she is isolated at school and hence she's an easy target for bullying and more abuse. That's unfortunately very true to life. And it applies to adult survivors just as much as children.

The movie also shows a systematic failure in the school when it comes to tackling abuse. The PE teacher’s response is reactive; she doesn’t actually protect Carrie from her peers and her failure to get through to Chris arguably prompts the ‘prank’ that drives Carrie to violence. This also seems very true to life.

Emotional abuse isn’t dismissed at any point. Most of the physical abuse throughout the movie isn’t scarring; it’s isolation and slaps and small rooms which is often presented as if it does no lasting harm. This isn’t the case here.

The responses different characters have to abuse throughout all seem possible. Carrie’s attempts to defy her mother, withdrawal and appeasement behaviour are all plausible behaviours in abused children. Anger, aggression and violent outbursts are possible and Chris demonstrates them as well as Carrie.

Symptoms also seem apparent even though they’re never named. The ending shows Sue suffering from night terrors and possibly PTSD. Carrie’s behaviour before the prom can be interpreted as showing anxiety and depression.

The Bad

Throughout the movie I didn’t feel as though there was any moral judgement placed on any of the characters. Their actions were presented and the way other characters responded to those actions was presented. For the majority of the abusive incidents I don’t think this is a bad thing. I don’t usually think it’s necessary to spoon feed readers moral messages. But I found the casual use of violence by a teacher who is framed as sympathetic troubling. I also found the way violence between Chris and her boyfriend was framed as normal troubling.

In a similar vein I found the attitude to consent worrying. Carrie is essentially harassed into agreeing to go to the prom. Tommy is pressured by Sue into asking Carrie. Chris pressures her boyfriend into bullying Carrie. Carrie’s mother states that she was raped and then that she enjoyed it.

While the movie clearly shows the reasons Carrie turns on her teachers and school-mates it’s still centred on a young, vulnerable abuse survivor being a danger to the people around her. Which is an unfortunately common narrative.

The idea that abuse survivors are dangerous is propped up by Carrie’s mother claiming she was raped moments before trying to murder her daughter.

Miscellaneous

I was surprised by the level of casual violence and abuse in the movie. Within the first half hour there are several depictions of teachers hitting students (which can be classed as torture), parental abuse, partner abuse and abuse by peers. I suspect much of this reflects different attitudes to violence at the time the film was made.

Overall

I think there are probably a lot of cultural references and touchstones I’m missing throughout this. Even without the bullying and violence it isn’t a school experience I recognise. I can’t help but wonder how different the effect is on an audience that had a mix of genders at school and had things like ‘the prom’ shape their adolescence. In fact just the casual portrayal of teenagers having cars seems unusual to me.

I didn’t really feel moved by the story and I didn’t feel like I recognised or sympathised with any of the characters. It’s certainly not how I would write a story about abuse.

But that doesn’t make it a bad portrayal. My interpretation is that it’s primarily a story which shows characters making a string of bad decisions rather than one which endorses those decisions. The narrative itself seems to present very little judgement, it shows the characters judging each other but doesn’t really seem to support any one.

That lack of internal judgement means it’s possible to interpret Carrie as a narrative about a survivor who feels she has no choice but violence because she faces systematic abuse and a systematic lack of practical support. It’s also possible to interpret Carrie as a narrative about how survivors are a danger to the community at large.

Everything that Carrie shows in terms of responses to abuse and its effects seems plausible to me. None of the abusive practices are portrayed as harmless. Nothing that would cause death or serious injury is portrayed as harmless.

Having said that, Carrie herself is still the villain.

I think we should have room for stories about survivors ‘taking revenge’ and survivors who are just bad people. There are violent and abusive survivors in real life but it’s not nearly as common as most people think.

I’m not sure this story is nuanced enough to successfully make the distinction between showing a violent survivor and showing survivors as violent.

There’s still some good stuff here. The story never dismisses or belittles abuse. It’s focused on the effects and fallout of abuse in a way that seems quite unusual for a horror story. I particularly liked the way the movie showed the communal failure to support or protect Carrie because that is so true to life. It also does a fantastic job of highlighting how interconnected abuse and isolation can be as well as the ways that can make survivors vulnerable.

If this was written today I’d say it was a good first draft. As it is I think this is a little dated and some of the narrative choices leave very unfortunate implications. But there’s a lot of good in here too.

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[fandomoniumflurry]

He Never got to Know What It was Like

Chestervelle (Dean x Jo)

For @spnabobingo square filled: true mates

Based on this song

1.6k words. No warnings. No beta. Posted on mobile cuz I have no internet so just my stupid phone. Therefore, all mistakes are my own because I have thumbs that don’t always listen to my brain. Not my gif

Taggers: @becs-bunker @keepcalmimthecupcake @janai-mcgarrett @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @hunterswearingplaid @ambermei @lukecastellamz @elsatxx

She was Beta, he could smell it. Well, he could smell the lack of scent. And honestly, it wasn’t very appealing. Sure, she had some strong perfume but it was cheap, the type that was supposed to smell flowery but instead it just smelled like scented toilet water. Her clothes were equally as trashy as her eau de toilet, short and form fitting, accentuating every curve and asset she had. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, quite the contrary. She was lean and taut, well endowed and she had a backside that one could surely bounce a quarter off of. She had long flowing blonde hair, styled and shining in the neon lights. Her eyes were probably blue but the reflection of the lights made her irises a kaleidoscope of different colors, all dazzling and easily mesmerizing. Her lips were full and painted bright red and framed her breathtaking smile perfectly. Her face was delicately decorated with neutral tones that accentuated her natural beauty. By all accounts, she was gorgeous and the perfect type of woman to blow off steam with.

If it had been any other night, he would have taken her up on the offer she was clearly throwing out there. Her delicate fingers were softly running over his arm and lightly sliding over his chest. Her skin was hot when she finally trailed her fingers over his stubbled neck and chin. He was giving a feeble attempt at flirting back and she smiled and giggled at him, laying it on thick and clearly looking for one thing from him. He wasn’t sure why she was even trying because of how truly disinterested he seemed, far from his usual amount of energy. She wasn’t deterred by the scruff, a bit crusty and dirty in spots on his neck and cheeks. As a matter of fact, the crack in his lip seemed to light her fire and she pressed herself even closer to him. She was trying too hard and she had set her sights on the right guy but on the wrong night.

Under normal circumstances, the Alpha would be laying it on thicker than she was by now, charming smiles and shameless caresses, all while flashing her flirtatious winks and dropping worn out and flattering lines. But tonight, Dean was different. He was wearing an emotionless tough guy facade and was pushing everything down as best he could, carrying on until one day he would surely crumble. It was no surprise that he was sitting here. The first sight of free time and he hightailed it to the nearest bar and planted himself in a stool ordering a double shot. He hadn’t even taken time to get fully cleaned up but no one questioned a rugged dirty Alpha stepping in at this time of night.

No one even asked if he was ok as he limped across the room. The bartender had just served him and didn’t even cast him a second glance. Dean was grateful to be just another patron, disappearing under the light of the neon moon. He didn’t really want to socialize or talk about his problems. He just wanted to sit amongst the other drunkards and drown away his trouble, just like the rest of them. It actually seemed pretty ironic that the old Brooks & Dunn song was playing on the jukebox.

“If you lose your one and only, there’s always room here for the lonely. Watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of the neon moon.”

He chose not to look away from the liquid in his glass, like the song said, he was afraid of what he may see in the booths around him. There could be two young people, happy and flirty, in love and only a painful reminder that he could never have that. The one he lost wasn’t his one and only, something he regretted now. He had never held her or kissed or told her how much he cared and now he was drowning in his regrets with long swigs of Jack chased by bottle after bottle of beer.

She wasn’t the first person he had lost and she wouldn’t he the last. But for some reason, the young Omega was the most painful of losses. It was literally the end of the world, and he was sitting here grieving the loss of one girl and wallowing. His brother didn’t even know how broken he was. For months, hell, years, he had been through the mill, life and responsibilities slowly dragging him down after he was pulled out of the pits of hell itself. But she was the crippling chink in his armor. And it was getting harder to continue the fight.

That was when she had walked up. He wasn’t even aware of any women in the room. It was hard to have eyes for any pretty bimbo when the image of the perfect little blonde Omega was permanently seared into his brain. As far as he knew, she was the only person in the room that had paid him any mind and he wished he had just turned her away. But lonely desperate times…

“I’m Beth.” She cooed against his ear before her tongue peeked out to touch the lobe. The action seemed to disgust him and the sound of her name sent a shock of irrational rage through him. His hands gripped her shoulders and he shoved her back and he caught wide fearful eyes. With no intention to hurt her, he removed his hands, pulled out his wallet and slapped a few bills down on the bar before making a hasty retreat. He didn’t even glance back as he exited the bar.

Throughout history, Alphas have been the strongest of the races, built with the hormones and power to lead, overcome, possess, dominate. But history has a way of telling things wrong. Because Dean didn’t feel very strong or powerful. As a matter of fact, he had never felt weaker. She was always the strong one. Being an Omega never kept her down. It just made her strive harder. She was looked down upon as the weaker sex, meant for childbearing and to satisfy their hungry alpha. But she’d rather slit her own throat than submit and obey. She was the strongest most spirited person he had ever known and now she was gone.

It was more hearsay than science when it came to the idea of meant-to-be and made for each other. Scientifically, they had proven that Alphas and Omegs were more compatible and were easily attracted to one another but they hadn’t proven the concept of true mates. Mating was important for health and well-being of both parties and doctors encouraged bonding. But who was to say that two people were created to be together, a perfect match in every way? There was no way of proving such a thing, no scientific evidence that such existed. It was all circumstantial and it was all just myths, legends and stories. Even the people that had found their so called truemate couldn’t explain it. It just was. A perfect inseparable powerful bond that ran deeper than just a mark.

And for most of his life, Dean didn’t believe in that stuff. He believed in evil and tragedy but God and light and a greater plan seemed preposterous to him. Until he met her. There was just something about her that had instantly connected them. Even though she had a gun on him the moment they had met. It was more than just her beauty and confidence that drew him in, more than her sex appeal and rebellious attitude. No, it was something he felt all the way to his toes, pierced through his heart, and dare he say it, straight to his soul.

He knew she felt it too but she seemed better at hiding it well, at first. Eventually, it wasn’t hard for anyone to tell that she was just as infatuated with him. Too bad it was just the wrong time. There was so much going on, too much at stake so he couldn’t focus on a little thing like her. Much to their dismay, he passed on the opportunity to have her. It was that way over the next few years. The flirtation and playful banter became nothing more, he wouldn’t allow it to. And somewhere along the way, he was sure she just gave up on him. He didn’t blame her, a girl can’t wait forever.

Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell when she never seemed as excited to see him. Then again, he could only imagine how much he had hurt her over the years from his rejection and avoidance. He couldn’t say there was love between them but there was something, honestly, far more potent than any feeling. The longer he pushed it away, the more overwhelming it because until she was all he could think about.

Too bad it was the last few weeks of her life before he made a move. Too bad it was her final hours when he realized that she was his Omega, his one true mate. Too bad their first kiss, the one that sealed their bond and proved that there was more than just sexual tension and puppy love, was also their last.

After Jo, there would be nobody else that would fill that void in his existence. His other half was gone and he didn’t even have the chance to know what it was like to have a true mate, know what it was like to mark her, love her, fill her with his pups. There was no other woman like Joanna Beth Harvelle and anyone else would just be settling for Dean Winchester.

[looselucy]

November

Tally was going home for the weekend. I felt like I needed her there, really. Zayn and Harry had spent the entire of Friday bonding over lad-ish nonsense and tattoos and all the rest, and my only saviour had been Tally. Because I loved Mike, dearly, but he was the kind of boy who played video games and was slightly intimidated by big words, so there was no way he could save me from my misery in the same way Tally could.

Thinking this over, I quickly grabbed my phone out and text Grace. Me: Still annoyed at you. Gracie Baby: Still? I guess your knobhead new flat mate isn’t helping me? Me: No. Making me more aware that you are the worst person ever. Some might even say selfish. Gracie Baby: SELFISH? Me: Yes. You may have hated uni BUT WHAT ABOUT ME? Gracie Baby: You’re the biggest loser I’ve ever met. “Get home safe!” Zayn shouted, pulling my attention away from my phone. I lifted my eyes to see Tally slinging a bag over her shoulder, giving us all a sweet little wave before she darted out the front door, running late, as usual. A thing I had found at uni, was that actually, weekends were usually the least fun times of the week. A complete contrast to the normal world. Midweek was when all the student nights happened, cheap drinks and practically everyone from campus in the same clubs. Weekends were just like a massive hangover from the week. “We got plans?” I asked Zayn, even though I knew the answer. “Nope.” “We gunna make plans?” “Nope.” “Sound.” We flicked through the TV channels, our options dire. Ringo was in her room, Mike was out with some guys from his course, and I didn’t have a clue where Harry was, nor did I care. “We’re gunna have to do what we do most Saturday nights.” He nodded. “Illegally stream a film online?” “Illegally stream a film online.” He confirmed. He stood up quickly and jogged off to his room to retrieve his laptop, because he knew I was too worried about mine and viruses and all the rest, because my mum and dad had spent a fortune to get me a laptop for uni and I didn’t want to take it home over Christmas just to have porn pop up out of nowhere whenever I pressed a button. He was back seconds later, the plug for his laptop dragging behind him, a dopey smile on his face because Zayn loved films. His top ten favourite films were all these arty foreign ones I’d never even heard of, and it was his ultimate pastime. It was a good one though, Zayn had deep knowledge of worlds that didn’t even exist, their people, their laws, and if you got him talking about it he could drag you into those worlds and make you feel a part of them, whether you had seen the film or not. He was so passionate. “So what we watching?” He grinned, attempting to use his laptop even though he was pretty much useless with any technology. “I think-” “Don’t even say it.” “- we should watch The Princess and The Frog.” “NO! For fuck sake, Pip.” “WHY?” “Because, I’ve known you for two months, and only two months, and we have watched The Princess and The Frog a grand total of eight times.” “But-” “Let me repeat that, Pippa. Eight. Eight times.” “It’s a Disney classic.” I shook my head at him, wanting a rise. “It is not a Disney classic. Why do you do this to me?” I laughed to myself as he finally set his laptop up, balancing it on the bin so that the wire could reach the TV that was attached to the wall. Just as I was about to become completely relaxed and completely happy, we heard the front door open, and I knew it was going to be Harry because the world hated me and liked to make a mockery of my life. He lazily sauntered into the kitchen, spotting me first and nearly turning around on the spot before he noticed Zayn was there too. “O’reyt.” Harry spoke glumly. “Reyt!” Zayn returned. “We’re gunna watch a film, you in?” “Depends what film.” “What kinda mood you in?” “A shit one.” He practically kicked the floor, before wandering over to the kettle. Zayn gave me a wide-eyed look whilst Harry’s back was to us, and I just shrugged my shoulders, not bothered to hear the story Harry was going to give us. “What’s up, man?” Zayn asked, taking a temporary seat in the camping chair. Harry filled the kettle up in silence and then flicked it on before he turned around and spoke, eyeing me up once like he didn’t care for me to hear his stories, but I wasn’t budging. It was my film night with Zayn. He wasn’t going to ruin it. “I took photos of this girl, for a project, right.” He started with a huff. “And she’s... topless. Like, I had her consent and everything. It’s sound. But like, they called me in today, on a fucking Saturday for some reason, even though I submitted them on Tuesday and I’ve had two lectures since then, to tell me that it’s inappropriate and I need to submit something else, or they’ll have to fail me.” It wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Whenever I walked into the kitchen exclaiming I’d had a shit day, it was usually because I was too rough at a lecture, or someone was rude to me in the street. I didn’t like Harry having actual problems, because it made him human, rather than just being the total bellend I saw him as. “Seriously?” Zayn looked disgusted at the whole idea. “I know!” Harry tightened his fist down by his side. “I’ve always had this idea for these pictures, but I knew at college they would have said no. But this is fucking university, and they’re still terrified about some girls tits? Like breasts are some taboo thing that we can’t even talk about, let alone see. It’s really pisses me off. The pictures were so cool, man. They were done on this Polaroid camera that my grandad gave me from back in the day, and they looked so sick. And now I have to think up something completely new for Friday, even though everyone else has been working on it since day fucking one. Because, of all fucking places, I can’t submit pictures of someone’s fucking tits, at uni. Can you fucking believe that shit? It was hardly like I walked in with a print screen off PornHub. Jesus wept!” I chuckled for the briefest moment, before forcing it to the back of my throat, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had made me laugh, even though that comment really did get to me. “Tell you what proves how ridiculous that is.” Zayn animated with his hands. “Yesterday I was at a live-drawing session, with some fit as fuck thirty-year-old model, completely nude in front of me. Like, why can I do that but you can’t have arty pictures that you’ve put heart into for photography? Like, I’m literally in shock.” It was ridiculous, to think about. A part of me wanted to see the photos, see if they were arty like he made them out to be, or if they were just entirely sleazy, which was kind of what I pictured, but that’s just because I was being bitchy and I had my mind made up on him. “I know.” Harry grunted as the kettle clicked behind him. “So, any film that will cheer me up would be spot on.” “Well, Pip knows her funny films.” Zayn turned to me. “Pip-Squeak?” Harry scoffed, looking at me. “Thought you might be the Disney Princess kind of girl.” I scowled at how accurate he was and quickly snapped my head to Zayn, making sure he didn’t mention the Princess and The Frog fiasco we had had only moments ago. He kept shtum. “Yeah well maybe I’m not as one dimensional as you think I am.” I huffed. “I don’t think about you at all, so don’t worry.” He made himself a cup of tea without offering either of us a cup ourselves, which wasn’t really the etiquette in our flat; even Ringo would offer a round of tea if she had boiled the kettle. I could tell Zayn was uncomfortable with the way me and Harry were around each other, because they genuinely did get on, and he wasn’t about to take sides, especially when the way we attacked one another was so petty and stupid. So, he just cleared his throat as Harry moved and sat on the sofa, as far away from me as physically possible. “So go on Pippa, give us a film.” Zayn sighed. “Yeah, go on, blow my mind with your dimensions.” Harry joked. A part of me just wanted to walk away and not bother, he was already pissing me off so much. I wondered if it was just because he’d had a bad day, and that’s why he was being such an arse. Maybe it cheered him up. Maybe he disliked me just as much as I did him. But I wanted to watch a film, and I wanted to prove to him Zayn was my best friend, not his. “Let’s watch Kick-Ass.” I groaned, snuggling into the settee. “SHOUT!” Zayn cheered. “You seen it, Harry?” “Nah.” “It’s sick.” Zayn started searching for it on some horrible website, some dodgy ads popping up every 15 seconds or so, me and Harry sitting in noticeable silence behind him. I crossed my right leg over my left, subconsciously moving away from him, wondering why he had to impose himself. Eventually, Zayn found a successful link and came to sit down next to me, so I was nestled between the two of them, the sofa being perfectly big enough when you were between two people you liked, but when you were next to someone who despised you and the feeling was quite mutual, I couldn’t help but think it was that bit too small. We all became engrossed in the film pretty quickly, and we must have been around half an hour in when a serious topic of discussion sprung to mind, something I was surprised I hadn’t thought of earlier. “Ooh ooh ooh!” I tapped Zayn on the shoulder. “Did you speak to Louis about me?” “Yeah.” He shrugged and whispered back. “Said he thinks you’re sound, and you’re a good kisser.” “Brilliant. That’s all I need. I can die happy now.” I turned back to the film, smug as fuck about the whole thing. I mean, usually it wasn’t a big deal, but having something like that said about me by the likes of Louis, was something else. Of course, I was beaming with pride, it was understandable on all accounts. “That’s it?” Zayn chuckled under his breath. “That’s all it takes for you to feel accomplished?” “Well I’m a very easily pleased.” I informed him. “Clearly.” He huffed, still giving off a slight laugh. “Either of you want a brew?” ”Nah, man. I fancy a beer.” Harry huffed, his concentration fully on the film. “Good idea!” Zayn smiled, jumping up to his feet. I cursed under my breath, because I knew myself very well by the age of 18. If I had a drink, even just one, and nothing to wake up for the morning after, the fun bug would bite me good and hard, and I would want to be out, drinking and dancing and making terrible decisions. I loved the original idea of staying in, especially at the weekend, because if we were going to go out it would cost us more than it would midweek. But all it would take was one drink, one tiny little drink, and I knew I was going to have a change of heart. And Zayn knew this about me too, but the fact he threw me over one of his Carlsberg cans seemed to say that maybe he wanted to go out too. So did the cheeky little smirk on his lips. I knew where our evening was going from there. Harry took a big, final gulp of the tea he had made when he first walked into our shared home, and then cracked open his own beer, taking a large gulp before exhaling a satisfied hot press of air from his mouth, like that one taste had taken a huge weight off his shoulders. Zayn moved his hand to his mouth and signalled for me to have my first drink, so I clicked my can open and did as I was told, always holding his eyes and watching his grin widen. As soon as I placed the can back down, I groaned, loudly. “Oh for fuck sake, Zayn!” “What?” Harry puzzled, glancing between the two of us. “We’re going out.” I flopped my head back, disappointed in myself. “What?” He repeated, more confused this time. “Pippa can’t even have a sip of a drink without suddenly wanting to go out and get drunk. It’s one of her best and worst qualities.” Zayn informed him. Harry turned his head to me and gave me a disapproving look up and down, silently judging me as we remained uncomfortably close to one another, regardless of the fact Zayn had moved from the sofa. “You’re weak as fuck, you.” He scoffed. “WHAT?” I almost howled. “The more I see of you, the more I feel like the name Pip-Squeak is really, really fitting for you.” “Oh just fuck off, Harry.” “No.” He grinned, leaning a little closer. “You’re going to have to deal with me all night now. C’mon, let’s get drunk, Pip-Squeak.” I bit my tongue, just like I did every single time Harry made some stupid comment or called me that ridiculous name, which wasn’t very fitting at all, to be honest. “Please invite Louis.” I groaned to Zayn as I raised to my feet, going to get ready for the evening ahead. “He might save me a little sanity if I have to deal with this wanker all night.” “Nothing can save you from me, Pip-Squeak.” “Oh my fucking god.” I pressed my fingers against my temples. “I will fucking murder you, if you keep calling me that.” “You’re so aggressive, Pip-Squeak. And you swear like a sailor.” “Fuck off.” I stormed out of the shared area and right back into my bedroom, locking the door tight and desperate to scream into a pillow, before taking into consideration how damn thin the walls were. So, being as dramatic as ever, I searched for a blank piece of paper, and melodramatically ripped it to shreds, growling to myself as I let them all tumble to the floor. And that was enough of a release for me, so I started getting ready, both dreading and eager for the evening ahead. + + + “Pip, we’ll be out in a minute! I promise!” Zayn re-enforced. I stood with a sour face as Zayn and Harry scurried off into the toilets, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but it was more than obvious they were going in there to do drugs. But we weren’t in our normal spot, we had travelled further into the city, into one of the giant clubs, and that kind of activity was extremely common there. I doubted any of the lads were scurrying into the toilets to actually use them for their original use. I took a big sip of the drink I had bought myself, rolling my eyes and wishing they would just hurry up. Louis had said no to the night out, so I was stuck with Zayn and Harry all night, and I wasn’t sure how well I was going to cope. I really needed to drink to the point where I didn’t care. I had also decided, for Zayn’s sake, I needed to make a bit more of an effort with Harry, rather than just ignore him or be rude to him all night. I needed to try, because if he and Zayn were going to continue being this pally, it meant I was going to be spending more time with him than I originally anticipated. So it was better to be nice. A few minutes later, they came out, both laughing away with each other, Harry wiping his nose with the back of his hand, just to make it a little more obvious. Once again, I rolled my eyes, before shouting at myself in my head, reminding myself about putting in that effort and not just rolling my eyes at every single thing he did. Zayn clapped his hands together, rubbing them fast and creating heat. “I need a drink.” He spoke quickly. I had noticed this about Zayn in the few times I had seen him take drugs, either it was a placebo type thing, or the effects of what he had taken really did hit him within a matter of minutes. It was weird. Harry was still totally fine, as expected, not that I was some kind of drugs expert, but Zayn was already bouncing off the walls, before we’d even gone back into the main part of the club. “Me too!” I said, downing the remainder of the one I already had. We began making our way in the right direction. The place we had chosen was huge, the complete opposite of Thimble. It was loud and crowded, playing unfamiliar music that just pounded into my ears, and I needed to be drunk to enjoy it. So we went to the bar, and I made my first attempt at being nice. “I’ll get a round in.” I smiled. “What do you both want?” “I’ll have a vodka and coke, please.” “Harry?” I quizzed. “I’m not bothered.” He shrugged. “For fuck sake, Harry, just tell me what you want!” The pace of me losing my patience was shockingly speedy. “Whatever you’re having.” “Fine.” I shook my head, turning to the barman. “Please can I have three triple vodka and cokes? Thank you.” “TRIPLES?” Zayn cried. “Yeah. I’m too sober for this shit.” We all cringed in time with one another after we had taken our first sips, the taste absolutely vile, but hopefully it would do its job. “Thanks, Pip.” Zayn clunked his glass to mine. “Yeah, cheers.” Harry gazed off into the distance whilst giving his pathetic attempt at a thank you. I scowled at him whilst he wasn’t looking, and stuck my tongue out like a child, but it genuinely made me feel a little bit better. Zayn couldn’t help but laugh, he patted me on the back and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for trying.” He yelled in my ear, realising my efforts. At least someone did. + + + By the time it hit 1am, we were all completely gone; the lads more so, since they had a mix of things flowing through their systems. Myself and Harry had barely spoke all evening, but it was better than arguing with each other at least. We had just been dancing, stuck in the middle of the room, everyone going completely wild. I preferred Thimble, really. It was small and full of students, more familiar and welcoming. That place was huge, eerily dark with blue and red lights burning everywhere, some guy raised out from the crowd playing the music, reacting to the crowd. But it was good, I suppose. Good enough. “Oh shit!” Zayn cried, again. “She is so fit.” “For fuck sake, man, just do it!” Harry yelled. His pupils were so wide I was slightly concerned. Harry was acting relatively normal, the only thing that gave him away was the size of his eyes, how wide he held them open. Zayn’s eyes tended to keep shutting themselves, he reacted more obviously to what he had taken in every sense. “I can’t, man.” Zayn chewed on his lip and bobbed his head from side to side. “I can’t she’s too fit I can’t do it.” “If you don’t do it, I’m gunna fucking do it!” Harry called. “Nah, man, nah, she’s mine.” “THEN FUCKING GO! You’re pissing me off, man. Just go and kiss her!” Zayn started nodding, his head literally kept going up and down like fucking mad before he quickly pushed away from us, and made his way to the girl he had been talking about for at least an hour. It then struck me that it was now just me and Harry, and he realised it too, and we both got really awkward and exceedingly uncomfortable, taking big sips of our drinks to try and push past it. I encouraged myself, once again, to make an effort with him. For Zayn’s sake. “I have Zayn’s fags in my bag, you wanna go for one?” I rushed. He gave me a questioning look, wondering why on earth I had just offered him that, especially since neither of us even really smoked. He continued to just shrug his shoulders, and tilt his head towards the smoking area. He took off, leaving me uneasily trailing behind, having a lot more a difficult time pushing through the crowds than Harry did, thankful I wasn’t wearing heels because it would have been even more difficult. By the time I made it outside, Harry was already there, sitting on a bench waiting for me. The outside area had heating, thankfully, but you literally had to travel through a cloud of smoke, it was pretty disgusting. I sat down next to him, handing him a cigarette and putting one in my mouth, and lighting it, before passing the black lighter onto Harry, and he did the same thing. For around half the cigarette, we sat in silence, people watching, avoiding conversation, awkward as fuck. Until Harry had seemingly had enough of that, and sparked up a discussion, even though it made everything even more awkward. “So why don’t you like me?” He smirked. I was pretty drunk by this point, so I just burst out laughing, covering my mouth but unable to keep it in. “You don’t like me either!” I pointed out to him. “Yeah but, you know my reasons.” “Do I?” “Yeah, you’re annoying as fuck. Of course I don’t like you.” He huffed. “HOW AM I ANNOYING?” “See. That right there. Why did you have to shout that? Why? Shush.” Oh god. I hated him. I really fucking hated. Everything he did and said just made me want to punch myself in the face repeatedly, he was infuriating. I turned fully to him, trying to compose myself and sober up. “You wanna know why I don’t like you?” I shot. “Yeah.” “Because you’re arrogant as fuck. You think you’re something special-” “I am quite special.” He interrupted. “No. Just... Shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up, Harry. You were rude to me when we met, even though I was just making polite conversation. And you have continued to be really fucking rude to me. And I don’t get why? You’re like… fine with everyone else, but you’re really rude to me!” “You can’t say shit, Pip-Squeak!” He laughed in my face. “You’re rude to me too! That’s what we do, we’re rude to each other. It’s how we work.” “I haven’t even known you a fucking week, Harry. We don’t do anything. That is not what we do. You are so annoying, honestly. No one has ever annoyed me so much in my life. And this is after a few days. I have to live with you. I’m gunna go mad.” “You are so dramatic. It hurts my head. And also, you’re boring as fuck so I’m going inside.” He groaned. He raised to his feet, crashing into someone on the way as I dragged my hands down my cheeks, really needing to scream, and I had needed to do so for hours by that point. Harry stumbled backwards after knocking into the lad, who turned around and gave him a filthy look, looking him up and down. “Watch where you’re going, pal.” The bulky bloke said to him. “Alright, mate, calm down.” Harry chuckled. “So much aggression. Bloody hell. It was an accident.” “Then say you’re sorry.” I could see it coming before it happened, both their postures tensed and they were pretty much squaring up to each other for no reason. I stood up and grabbed at Harry’s elbow, gently tugging him, asking him to step away. “Y’know what?” Harry continued messing with him. “I was going to apologise but I just figure you’re too rude. And... I don’t want to anymore.” “You just made me spill some of my drink, say you’re fucking sorry!” He took a step closer. I tugged Harry a little harder after that, quietly whispering for him to step away, but it was pretty useless. There was no getting through to him, not taking him from that moment. I should have just left the two of them to it, rather than try to step in. “I’m not saying sorry. You can fuck off.” Harry smirked sarcastically. The lad began to crack his fingers, and I finally moved away, taking a quick step back from everything, cursing to myself over and over as the man warmed himself up in the most pretentious way possible, even doing a quick lunge before rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. Despite how tense I felt, that was genuinely funny. I let out a very minor giggle just watching him prep for the fight he was anticipating. But as he did his warm ups, and I stood chuckling away to myself, Harry caught him off guard and just swung, his fist meeting his face in a heartbeat and knocking him straight out, flat on the floor and the drink he had been carrying all over his white t-shirt. “Shit!” I cried. “Okay, time to go.” Harry spoke quickly. He laughed so loud, clapping his hands together before shooting back inside, leaving me staring at the lad on the floor, my mouth wide, his friends staring right back at me with similar looks on their faces. “Shit. Sorry. Sorry about that.” I started backing away from them. “Sorry. I didn’t... I don’t really know him. Sorry... again. Bye. Sorry, bye.” I turned on the spot and ran away in a panic, soon finding Harry inside, who was stood clutching at his belly he as laughing so much. This was clearly hilarious to him. I hit him hard on the arm, still in complete shock. Never in my life had any of my friends, or anyone I really associated with, been the type of people who would start fights on nights out, never mind knock someone out like he just had. “What the fuck are you doing?” I screamed. “Better I get him before he got me!” “No! No better there are no fights in the first place. Fucking hell. Let’s go find Zayn and just go home. Please.” I started barging off into the crowd and Harry followed close behind, still giggling his little arse off, annoying me more and more by the second, something I didn’t think was possible at all. “C’mon, Pip-Squeak.” I heard him yelling behind me. “You never seen a fight before?” “No, not really.” I looked back over my shoulder to him. “I get in fights all the time.” He was too smug about the matter. “Oh good.” I stopped and stared at him face on. “Bloody brilliant, Harry. Round of applause for you, you fucking idiot. It’s nowt to be proud of!” He hunched his shoulders and smirked, disagreeing with me without having to say a word. I gestured with my hands that I wanted to strangle him, before turning hot on my heel and going on a mission to find Zayn, which we soon did, his tongue stuck down the throat of the girl he had been staring at earlier. I tapped his shoulder. No reaction. I could still hear Harry laughing behind me. I tried not to tear my hair out. I tapped Zayn again. Nothing. “ZAYN!” I yelled. He pulled away from the girl, turning around with drowsy eyes, but looking happy to see me. “Heeeeey, Pippa! What’s going on?” “Harry just knocked someone out cold, so we need to go. Quickly. Please.” Zayn turned around to the girl and then whispered in her ear, to which she shyly nodded, moving a little closer to him. “She’s coming with us.” He playfully raised his eyebrows. “Whatever. Let’s go.” I didn’t even care by that point as I started storming out of the place, leaving the three of them trailing behind me as I grabbed a beer off a nearby shelf, hearing it’s owner who had been closer than I’d been hoping cry out his disapproval as I slugged the cold substance down my throat, but it was hard to really give a shit in that frame of mind. I just wanted to go home. + + + Zayn was kissing the girl he’d brought back as they fell through the door to his bedroom, hearing it lock tight as soon as they were inside. I stumbled up to the kitchen, needing water, or a cup of tea, or anything to help me feel a little better, still drunk and confused about our night out and how out of hand it had gotten. For some reason, I noticed Harry was following me down to the kitchen, beginning to stumble a little now, a mixture of drugs and alcohol and a night gone wrong. I walked over to my food cabinet and began routing for chocolate, knowing I had to have some somewhere, because it was me. “Good night?” Harry asked, chuckling, joking with me. “The best.” “Hey, Pip-Squeak, I have a question.” “I’m not going to reply to you unless you use my real name.” “But you just replied.” He fucking thrived off my misery. “Holy fuck. What? What is your question?” “Do you like me now?” “Harry, my dear, I like you less.” That was exactly what he had been expecting from me, and he just started laughing again, leaning against the kitchen top and proper giggling, before biting his bottom lip and just staring at me, probably trying to think up the next thing he could say to wind me up. I was too drunk and too tired to even try to deal with him. I found my chocolate, and then stared back at him, slamming the cupboard door shut. “You hate me?” He smirked again. “Yeah. Pretty much. I’m going to bed.” “Can I come?” He raised an eyebrow. “Go. Away.” He laughed again as I stormed out of the kitchen, wondering how on earth I was supposed to cope living with him until May. It had been a few, short days, and I was not coping well. Not at all. “NIGHT, PIP-SQUEAK!” He shouted down the corridor. I stuck my finger up over my shoulder and made him laugh even more, and I knew he was going to do everything in his power, from then on, to wind me up as much as he physically could. And that little bastard was doing a really good job.

[notrefined]

Foreign Service Oral Assessment

Back in October, I took the FSOA (Foreign Service Oral Assessment) – one of the last major hurdles to becoming a Foreign Service Officer for the United States (and, arguably, the most difficult one to get through). And, miracle of miracles, I passed! 

Things have changed since then, both for me personally and for the State Department as a whole, so it’s looking less and less like a potential career path. But! When I was preparing for the FSOA, reading through other people’s accounts was super helpful to me. I wrote this up on the train out of D.C. and now, several months later, here I am sharing it for any would-be future foreign service officers. Enjoy!

Wow wow wow, you guys. WOW.

So I just passed the Foreign Service Oral Assessment!!! With a 5.9 out of 7.0, which might not sound all that exciting but really, really is. If I take the language assessment in Russian and pass, I’ll have above a 6.0! CRAZY.

I know that a lot of my readers are travel enthusiasts, many of whom are considering careers abroad (whether it be with Peace Corps or Foreign Service), so I thought I would break down the process a little bit for anyone who’s looking for tips. This will be NDA compliant, so no details, but it’ll just give you an idea of how I prepared and what was going through my mind.

They cancelled the San Francisco testing this year, meaning I flew out to Washington D.C. for my interview. Unfortunately, my brain was still on West Coast time – not helpful – so between that and pre-testing jitters I got maybe three hours of sleep total before the exam. Would highly recommend not doing that. I stayed in a hotel in downtown Washington, pretty close to the testing site, so I wouldn’t have far to go in the morning.

The letter said to arrive at 6:45 a.m., so I walked over there at 6:30 a.m. to be safe. There were a few other FSO candidate who had the same idea. We filled out paperwork and chatted about our backgrounds, and I can tell you that everyone in that room had amazing life experience and crazy cool qualifications. I, of course, was a gigantic bundle of nerves.

I had a longer route to the FSOA than is usual, I think – I took the test in June 2015, passed the QEP, then postponed my Oral Assessment for a year while I ran off and did Peace Corps again in Ukraine. So I’ve had rather a lot of life experiences since I first submitted my resume. With that in mind, I brought a copy of my Description of Service (DOS), which documents all the projects and activities I did as a PCV in Ukraine. I have no idea if the assessors looked at it or not, but I did give it to the very kind woman at the front desk, and she attached it to my application.

Group Exercise

After waiting for maybe an hour or two, we finally started the Group Exercise. There were nine of us total and they split us into a group of five and a group of four. I was in the group of four with three other very nice gentlemen. They sit you down, they give you your binders, they shut the door; Boom. Start reading.

I’ve read that the Group Exercise tends to cause the most anxiety in would-be test takers, but this is honestly the part that I worried about the least. We had thirty minutes to go through our packets. There’s a lot of information, of course, but if you prioritize then you can get through the more essential stuff pretty quickly.

First of all, read the letter from the ambassador, and look for any particular instructions or criteria that you should use when making decisions. This will help keep you on track when you’re getting into the discussion phase.

I put all my information into a chart that turned out to be indispensable. I split it up into Title, Description, Resources/Funding, Criteria (U.S. interests, CBA, Support, & Local Culture), Positives, & Negatives. Any questions I had, I wrote on a separate sheet of paper. This chart ended up being super helpful for keeping track of other candidates’ projects, and for making comparisons. I still had some time left over after I had gone through everything, so I actually wrote out the beginning of my presentation, just so I could get my thoughts in order and make sure I’d get off to a good start.

The assessors entered and took up their positions in the corners of the room, as expected. Thus began the presentation phase. Our group worked really well together, I thought – nobody advocated their project, we all presented very clearly and asked helpful questions at the end. I made sure to ask a question of every presentation. My group mates actually asked a lot of questions of me, and I was able to answer them thoughtfully and thoroughly, which I think helped my score in this section.

After that, we were given our new set of instructions: Here’s the memo, you have twenty minutes, and this is your budget. Go.

It was very clear from the beginning that my project would not receive full funding, so I soon switched my advocacy to partial funding of one of my initiatives. It came down to two other projects. The hardest thing in that scenario, honestly, is finding ways to participate when two other projects are duking it out. You can’t stay silent because the assessors are looking to hear your thought process, but other people have all the information. I did my best to ask questions, think out loud, and be a deciding voice. In the end, I was the one to write the memo. I finished the last sentence just as the assessor called “time.” Group exercise complete!

After this came the part that I absolutely was not expecting. One by one, we were pulled into another room for a “debrief.” There, the “ambassador” asked me rapid-fire questions about our decision making process. It was a good thing that I made that chart and had taken all those notes, because otherwise I might not have remembered enough about the projects! Nothing I had read mentioned this part of the FSOA, so I was a bit blindsided, but I think I was able to answer intelligently and thoroughly.

Waiting Game

I think the hardest part of the day was all the waiting. When we were actually doing the exercises, I felt calm and focused, ready to tackle any challenge. But then they put you back out in the main room to stand around for an hour or so, and all the doubt and nausea start creeping back in. I spent a lot of time walking in circles and examining the art on the walls.

We finished the Group Exercise, and all nine of us returned to the waiting room. I think we had a really good group of people. Everyone was excited to be there, most of us were taking the assessment for the first time, and everyone had fascinating stories to tell. The atmosphere was so supportive – camaraderie instead of competition. I was convinced at this point that most of us would pass.

Half of us wandered off to do the Case Management exercise, while the other half waited a while longer to start our Structured Interviews. Soon enough, they called us back, put us each in a different room, and told us to – surprise, surprise – wait.

Structured Interview

This exercise is the one that’s the most similar to a regular job interview. It was also the one I was the most terrified of. I had rehearsed at home, of course, and had my arsenal of stories prepared that would show off the 13 dimensions, but as I sat on my chair in that room they all flew out of my head. I had nada. Why did I want to be a political officer, again?

I took a deep breath, poured myself a glass of water, and refocused. I wanted to be a political officer because… Taking a second to run through a couple answers in my head helped me get back in the right mindset, and remind myself that I can do this.

Soon, my two assessors came in and sat down opposite me. They are not kidding when they say that they’re going to remain stonefaced the whole time. I knew to expect it, though, and I’ve also lived in Ukraine, where stonefaced is a way of life. It didn’t really phase me much.

The Structured Interview starts off with the motivation and experience section, followed by the hypotheticals (i.e. the specific part that I was dreading), followed by questions based on the 13 dimensions. The experience and motivation sections are identical to any job interview. They take preparation, of course, but you can kind of figure out through common sense what to expect.

The hypotheticals are awful. There’s no way around it. You don’t have time to think, you don’t have enough information to go on, and you can’t take notes so you inevitably forget things. I had some tricks to make it a little easier, but I wasn’t quite happy with any of my answers.

Every time I was given a scenario, I first audibly stated my priorities. This may have started to sound a little routine, three hypotheticals in, but it helped show my thought process and honestly helped me figure out where I was going to go from there. I also put an emphasis on communication – with Washington, with my supervisor, with host country nationals, with my peers, etc. – and confirming information before acting. Finally, I suggested a course of action for each one. It’s easy to lose sight of that last bit when your brain is trying to juggle all this stuff, but you really should make a suggestion. Even better if you have a backup suggestion to go with it.

I have no idea how I did on this section. They don’t give you that kind of information. But I did my best, and that’s all you can really hope for!

Last but not least, I was asked a series of questions relating to the 13 Dimensions. Here, honestly, I got lucky. I had prepared a story to go with each dimension, but the questions that came up allowed me to really shine and give some great examples from my life. It could have easily gone the other way – I could have gotten questions that stumped me and spent the last 20 minutes just stammering inaudibly at the examiners – but they just happened to line up perfectly. I did have to make up one answer on the fly, but it ended up being a pretty good answer, I think.

Finally, they gave me a moment to say something at the end. I didn’t really prepare anything for this. I wish I had. I suggest you do.

More Waiting, Dear God

I think you know what happened here. Also, lunch break! That worked in my favor, because I was so nervous in the morning that I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything for breakfast (I also recommend you don’t do that). Then, we came back in, and it was time for the Case Management exercise.

Case Management

I had looked through a couple mock-Case Management Exercises on the Yahoo FSOA Group boards, and I’m quite glad I did. Reading through people’s sample memos helped me plan in advance how I would format things.

The binder they gave us was pretty meaty and had a lot of information in it, much of it conflicting. The first thing I did was read the letter from the ambassador and identify exactly what questions I was supposed to be answering. I referred back to this multiple times throughout the exercise. I also used those questions to create headers and structure my memo. This helped me keep it readable and organized later on.

Once I had my questions that needed answering, I went about reading through all of the information and taking notes. Answers to my questions started popping out at me. My original plan was to do all my outlining and then start typing, but it was more convenient for me to answer the questions one at a time. That way I could move on to the parts that still needed support.

All-in-all, I used the entire two pages, and I think I wrote a pretty solid memo. I didn’t spend any time on “Dear Ambassador, Hope you’re having a lovely day”-type stuff. I just got straight into it. Everything recommendation I made had reasoning to back it up, and I made sure to throw in an alternate suggestion to my suggestion (while explaining why my original suggestion was still better). Once I had made all my major recommendations, I went through and filled in extra detail – for instance, there was one part of the binder that raised a separate, secondary issue. I made sure to cover all my essential points before I went back and addressed it.

One thing I did that helped me, I think, is that I threw in some calculations of my own. There were a few different data points provided, and I did some basic number-crunching that added percentages and statistics to my memo. I can’t do much more than long division and elementary-level addition without a calculator. I even had to practice them the night before. But this was my chance to demonstrate that I’m comfortable with “quantitative analysis,” as the 13 Dimensions say, and I showed that I was capable.

(P.S. On my computer, at least, there was spellcheck.)

The Case Management exercise was one that I was profoundly dreading, but in the end, I think I felt the best about this segment of the FSOA. I did notice one cringeworthy error when I printed it out (if only I had change that one word, argh) but all-in-all, I felt I had created a well-written and well-reasoned memo.

The Final Wait

Lordy, at this point I was just grateful that it was over. I had done what I could. It was out of my hands. Someone mentioned that there was another group of people testing somewhere else on our floor, but I never saw them, and I’m not sure where they could have been hiding. The nine of us, though, hung around and chatted and watched terrible Trump interviews on CNN while we waited to be called back. I think we waited for over an hour. I drank a lot of water.

I had read somewhere before (and one of my group mates also mentioned) that the first person called back is usually a fail, and the last person standing usually passed. So when my name was called first, my heart sank. Oh well, I thought, it was a learning experience, at least I know what to expect for next time, c’est la vie.

I walked into the room and before I could even sit down, the assessor was shaking my hand and wishing me congratulations. I cannot explain to you in that moment what my emotions were. Elation, of course, but also a dash of incredulity and the sudden realization that, wait a minute, there’s more. For so long, passing the FSOA has been my endgame, partially because I didn’t really let myself believe that I’d make it through. Now I have, and there are months, and months, and months, between me and the register, let alone me and an A-100.

Mostly, though, I think I was in a little bit of shock. They led me back to the waiting room, and I was the first one there – pretty soon, the second guy they’d called came strolling in. The third guy came in a little later. We had all done the Group Exercise together, so I felt a certain camaraderie with them, and we were all thrilled to be there.

After some more waiting, it became evident that no one else from our group had made it. I was honestly surprised. I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought all of us would pass that day – there were some spectacularly qualified candidates in there, who I thought would for sure get through. Sometimes these things come down to a combination of luck and skill. In the other, unseen group, apparently only one person passed (though I’m still not sure they were real).

Now starts the security clearance and the medical clearance. It’s going to be a long, long process, but I’m just so happy to have made it through this part. One step closer!