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enthusiasticsobrietyabuse · 3 years

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Re-post from r/MeehanSurvivors Reddit Community. An Enthusiastic Sobriety Counselor Survivor Story.

TW: References to child pornography, conversion therapy, homophobia, masturbation, and sex.

I would love nothing more than to preserve my admiration for the program, if only for the reason that it would be easier to do so, but after years of being deceived, I find it utterly absurd to disregard any contempt on the basis of the misplaced gratitude that it saved my life. While the program undoubtedly contributed to my success in a number of ways, it has nevertheless become clear that I’ve walked away with trauma that, even after all of this time, I fail to wholly understand. What I do know, however, is that my disillusionment with enthusiastic sobriety is heavily rooted in how I was treated, as the people who claimed to love me evidently made it their mission to eradicate who I was and, likewise, transform me into a duller, lesser version of themselves. I will never know who I could’ve been had they honored the parts of myself that needed nurturing, only who I am today and the damage I’ve since been left with.

From the moment I joined the program, I knew exactly what its expectations were. It was made abundantly clear throughout the treatment process, where I was bombarded with endless conversations about what it meant to be a winner - a concept given context far beyond a sober individual working the twelve steps. I was not only told how to behave, but what to believe about every area of my life. It did not matter if those areas were deeply personal, as evidenced by the countless discussions related to sex; in fact, I would not only learn who we could and could not fantasize about while masturbating, but what we could and could not do sexually - as if we could not be trusted to determine for ourselves the actions we take in our own bedrooms. I also found myself on the receiving end of many conversations revolving around whether or not it was acceptable to shave one’s own pubic region, as was a commonly held belief that a shaved pubic region was not only unnecessary, but a product of one’s own vanity that, incidentally, mimics child pornography. Perhaps more disturbing, however, was the ideology surrounding pornography, in general, that we were ordinarily subjected to. We were first told that no self-respecting woman would want to be with a man who’s actively watching porn; then, we were told that it alters a man’s behavior so much that women will be able to recognize whether or not they watch it. The possibility of romance was used as a weapon against us by the counselors, as well as group members, to conform to their principles, rather than allowing us to establish our own and when that didn’t work, personal attacks were their next best option. I remember being asked if I really wanted to be the guy who’s strung out on porn the rest of his life, as if it was some kind of crippling addiction that would keep me from getting anything I ever wanted out of life. Even more importantly, however, it was through these frequent exchanges that I became familiarized with “Pavlov’s Dog Theory,” a scientific study so bastardized by the counselors that it existed solely to explain away the possibility of any non-heterosexual orientation. Being insecure with my own sexuality, it was of course music to my ears to discover that my attraction to the same sex, a perversion as I then recognized it, was the result of watching too much porn and could be easily resolved by the work outlined by the program. For the next few years, I would work endlessly to alter my sexual orientation back to “normal” and apparently did so well enough that I was eventually asked to attend the Meehan Institute of Counselor Training.

When I was in counselor training, most of what we discussed had very little to do with counseling; in fact, the information required to pass the state-mandated test was tossed aside in exchange for the radically inappropriate teachings that came directly from the program itself. Examples of this, of course, include the explanation that non-heterosexual orientations were not only “unnatural” but an expression of one’s perverse desire for instant gratification, usually resulting from either their addiction to porn, as I had already learned in outpatient, or their unresolved childhood trauma. It was also reasoned that an attraction to the same sex was often a natural consequence of being in an abusive relationship with a member of the opposite sex, a belief supported only by the theory that the person, in question, had unlikely resolved their own fear of getting hurt again. Some people were just “pussies” that had decided to seek the “easier, softer way,” an almost comical assumption given that there is nothing “easier” or “softer” about being queer. I would actually be referred to as a “pussy” while sharing to one of the program's many directors that I had sexual thoughts about other men. His solution for me was that since “there is nothing romantic about two men butt fucking each other,” I should spend the time wasted fantasizing about that on where I would like to take a girl on a date. It’s these ways of thinking that we, who’s families spend $5,600 to send us to counselor training, learn for the three months that we’re there. It’s these three months, where we are taught that absurdity is a natural substitute for science, that earn us the right to then counsel others, many of whom are children. I never could've imagined the abuse that would follow, despite the seeds that had been sown throughout the better part of my recovery.

A few weeks after I graduated from counselor training, when I was working the Step One shift, a couple of the program's directors took me away from it to smoke cigars with them. It was there that they talked to me about how I needed to work on developing more masculine qualities, perhaps by engaging in a hobby that was, according to them, “outside of my comfort zone.” Later on, one of my coworkers would lecture me for the way I had reached out to a girl in the group, explaining that she, along with others, might think that I’m gay for agreeing to watch a “chick flick” with her. Another coworker would make fun of me for crying to a song that reminded me of my dead parent, for the reason that it was, according to her, a “gay” thing to do. In one of the monthly purpose meetings, the director made jokes about me being “inside” of another male counselor - something that was received only with laughter. Bob Meehan himself would even tell the training class following my own that while I deserved the upmost respect for taking everyone’s shit, I was probably gay. When I would share how I felt, in reference to these incidents, I was told that my options were either to “change it” or to “own it.” I began to internalize all of this and, due to my own desire to be accepted, I began working even harder to change these qualities that had been deemed unacceptable by those around me. I would later be celebrated in a purpose for denouncing a dramatic television show for the reason that when I watched it, it made me feel like a “faggot;” however, even that wouldn’t satisfy those around me, as my sponsor, who was also my coworker, would suggest that I stop watching Friends, as well, due to the fact that it was the kind of show his wife watched. I would experience similar criticism from yet another coworker who suggested that I only liked “girly shit” for “shock value” and that it was nothing more than my ego attempting to differentiate myself from everyone else. If by now you’re wondering why I even participated in these conversations, all I can say is that it was always in pursuit of becoming a better man and I trusted that the staff had those answers. I couldn't have been more wrong, as I can't help but notice today that what I was subjected to is in direct opposition of the very laws that protect employees from this kind of treatment by their employers; however, in the program, what’s illegal is classified as “spiritual.”

For years, I felt relegated to a subclass of human existence and for what reason? I spent years working on the things that made my life unmanageable primarily because the people around me decided that it was. Furthermore, I was promised that if I stopped watching porn, which I did for years, my brain would rewire itself and I would no longer be attracted to men. As stupid as that sounds now, why wouldn’t I, as an 18 year old, believe what I was hearing from who I only presumed to be trained professionals? I trusted them and really worked hard to take their every suggestion, going as far as becoming a member of Sexaholics Anonymous, despite the fact that I had never even had sex at that point. It was nothing if not incredibly painful to do the same thing over and over again, only to be told to get up and try again by the very people who would describe that as insanity in any other case. I was never once told that what I was doing wasn’t working for me; instead, I was told to try harder. In all of the time I spent in the program, I was never even given the option to try something different until after quitting, when someone told me that my sexual orientation, whatever it may be, was perfectly acceptable and far from a determining factor in my ability to effectively work a program. It took years to hear that, the majority of which were spent somewhere that I definitely should have. That is not only unacceptable but they should be absolutely ashamed of themselves.

Alas, the problem I have with the program is not necessarily that they’ll never apologize to me, but that they lack the self-awareness to even consider it. When I shared my concerns about the program with one of their counselors, he dismissed them with the statement that it’s a perfect program ran by imperfect people and that I should judge them not by their actions, but by their intentions, which coincidentally, contradicts the program’s reliance on a quote from the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous that states exactly the opposite. He also told me that I was angry and resentful, despite the fact that I was neither. When I shared my concerns with another counselor, he dismissed them with the suggestion that perhaps the counseling I received, in regards to my sexual orientation, resulted from how I presented it to the staff. His feedback was not only highly insulting, but a complete bastardization of the facts. Not only was I brutally honest about that area of my life, so much that it's all I spoke of, but I was the client and it was far from my role to ensure that the counselors did their job. I was little more than a child at the time; nevertheless, the implication that my negative experiences were all my fault only served as evidence that any attempt to cooperate with the program, and convince them of the ways in which I was harmed, is futile. Why would I want to, anyway, after years of watching any criticism of the program be rationalized as the delusions of “bailed kids” or “disgruntled ex-staff?” The only answer would be to prevent it from happening again, although to think that outcome is even a possibility appears naïve at best. They’ve made it abundantly clear where they stand, that they’re right, everyone else is wrong, and there’s no reason for them to change anything - lest of course it threatens their credibility, which in that case they only become more insidious in their transgressions.

TLDR: The program not only intrusively dictates the sex lives of their clients, but has proven itself to be particularly unloving toward those who are LGBTQIA+. It is a cultural issue that can not be reduced to a few examples of bad counseling. It is clear that they see no reason whatsoever to change this.

#the insight program #the cornerstone program #the pathway program #the crossroads program #the full circle program #believe survivors #breakingcodesilence #troubled teen industry #clint stonebraker

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iamtrebleclefstories · 3 years

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maybe it’s wrong to say I love you - part two

Part Two: Home

people I’ve loved, I’ve had no regrets... some I remember, some I forget...

So... this monstrosity of a fic was supposed to be a miniseries, but it’s obviously evolved into this giant. Hope you enjoy it and let me know what think and what you hope to see next!

If you haven’t read Part One, you can find it here!

p.s - You might wanna get the tissues out for this one

TW: Mentions of suicide, self-harm, and abuse

Part Two: Home

-Wish I were with you, but I couldn't stay-

-Every direction leads me away-

Leaving Seattle was probably one of the most difficult decisions Jo had ever made. And that was coming from someone who’d lived through some really crappy things in her twenty-eight years of life. When she turned her resignation into Webber, he did everything in his power to get her to stick around. He pointed out that it was kind of ridiculous to just up and leave one of the best residency programs in the country because of a guy. Normally, she’d agree. She’s worked way too damn hard in her life for it to come to this. But Alex wasn’t just a guy. He was her person. He was her family. And sometimes you needed to sacrifice things in order to keep your family safe and happy.

When Webber realized that Jo was not going to change her mind about moving, he offered to put her in contact with an old colleague who was the chief of surgery at a hospital on the east coast. That’s how she ended up on a six and a half hour flight from Seattle to Florida. She started working at the Jacksonville branch of Mayo Clinic about a week later.

It was different. Very different from Seattle. It was hot and humid all the time. Sure the beaches were nice, but Jo didn’t think she’d ever lived somewhere so unbearably hot in her entire life. Something that was nice though was the rain. Because even though Florida was nicknamed the Sunshine State, she felt like it was constantly raining. It reminded her of Seattle. It reminded her of home.

Months passed and Jo felt like she was finally starting to heal, albeit very slowly. But she was healing nonetheless. She could go an entire day without even thinking about Alex Karev and how he was probably living it up with his wife. Sure, those days also just so happened to be days where Jo literally did not have the time to think of him, but she was grateful for the slight reprieve that work had given her over the constant influx of painful memories.

By the time the end of her third year of residency was coming to a close, she thought she’d finally done it. She made it an entire week without crying over Alex and everything that they had lost. She was proud of herself. So proud, that she thought maybe she could try to move on and start dating again.

She was on her first date post-Alex when she saw the news on the bar television. Mass shooting at Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital in Seattle, Washington. Multiple lives lost, many injured, including some of the doctors and staff.

Jo felt absolutely sick to her stomach. She excused herself from her date and rushed back over to her apartment and searched for the little black book where she’d written down the phone numbers of all her friends before throwing out her old phone and getting a new number. She found it and shakily dialed the first number she saw—Meredith’s—and prayed that someone on the other line would answer.

“Hello?” A tired voice croaked.

“Mer?”

“Jo? Is that you?”

Jo let out a sigh of relief, “Oh my God. I saw the news. Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” There was a sob on the other end of the line, making Jo’s heart beat wildly against her chest. “Meredith, what happened?”

“It was horrible,” Meredith cried, her sniffles being heard from Jo’s end of the call. Jo waited patiently for Meredith to calm herself enough to inform her of what happened. “Today was the worst day of my life.”

“Did anyone we know—“

“Yes,” Meredith stated quietly. “Derek was shot in the heart and almost died. Cristina saved him, though. The doctors are optimistic. Owen got shot in the arm. I lost my baby—“

“You were pregnant?” Jo’s eyes began to water.

“Yeah,” Meredith whimpered. “I had a miscarriage today.”

“Mer, I’m so sorry,” Jo felt a couple tears escape her eyes. “What about everyone else?”

“Bailey watched someone die in her arms,” Meredith shared. “His name was Charles. He was a resident. He was new, but not so bad. This other girl named Reed died. So did a couple nurses and security guards. No kids, though. Lexie is okay. Mark is okay. Arizona and Callie are okay.”

“Mer, you haven’t said anything about Alex. Why aren’t you saying anything about Alex?” Jo’s heart hammered inside her rib cage. There was silence coming from Meredith’s side of the call. “Meredith. Please. Tell me he isn’t dead.”

“He isn’t dead,” Meredith stated. “But I’m not completely sure he’s going to live.”

Jo heard the sob before she registered it was hers, “What happened?”

“He was shot in the chest,” Meredith’s voice quivered a bit. “Lexie and Mark found him, but by the time they found him he’d already lost so much blood. They put in a chest tube and tried to do as much as they could in the conference room on the fourth floor. But he hasn’t woken up yet. Someone needs to make some decisions regarding his care. The bullet ripped through his lung. They need to figure out whether they’re gonna take him back into surgery or just hope he makes it through the night.”

“Oh God,” Jo felt the tears stream down her face. She took a couple deep breaths. “Okay. Okay. What’s Izzie going to have them do?”

“Jo, Izzie isn’t the one who’s going to make those decisions,” Meredith said cautiously.

“What do you mean? She’s his wife isn’t she? What is she going to have them do?”

“You don’t know?” Meredith asked.

“Don’t know what?” Jo shook her head. She couldn’t figure out why Meredith sounded so weird.

“Um, nothing… it’s just… we were looking at Alex’s medical forms and you’re Alex’s power of attorney.”

“What?” Jo’s eyes widened. “Why me? Why not Izzie?”

“I guess he trusted that you’d make the right decisions,” Meredith paused. “You don’t have to come. I know it might be too hard for you.”

“No. No, I’ll come,” Jo decided and began to quickly pack an overnight bag. “I’m coming right now.”

Less than ten hours later, Jo was standing outside of Alex’s hospital room standing next to Meredith and Cristina as she spoke to the doctors about Alex’s health. After deciding the best course of treatment, Jo turned to look at her friends, “Where is Izzie?”

The two women exchanged a look. Cristina let out a sigh, “She’s visiting her mom. I don’t know if she knows.”

“Oh,” Jo nodded. “Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t see him like this.”

“Jo, you know that Izzie and Alex got—“Meredith started, quickly being interrupted by Jo.

“No, you know what? I don’t need to know,” Jo shook her head. “The one thing that coming here has taught me is that I’m still in love with him and that means I can’t be here. I can’t hear about his relationship with Izzie. Not today at least. Maybe in a few years when I’m over him and I don’t cry at the thought of him being with someone else, but not today.”

“But Jo, they’re—“ Cristina tried to get a word in.

“No. It’s okay,” Jo stuck her hand out, signaling Cristina to stop talking. “I did what I had to do and I’m going back. Don’t tell him that I was here or that you have my phone number. Please. I love you guys, but I need to leave.”

Her friends nodded and wrapped her in an uncharacteristic hug. Mer whispered in her ear, “Be safe. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Goodbye.”

————

-Just looking for shelter from the cold and the pain-

-Someone to cover, safe from the rain-

Jo kept in contact with Meredith. The months following the shooting were difficult ones and Jo would often hear her phone ringing as Meredith called or texted her various updates regarding everyone’s lives. Everyone except Alex’s life. Jo was clear that she didn’t want to know what was going on in his life and perfect marriage with Izzie other than the fact that he was doing okay and thinking about specializing in peds apparently.

She was about four or five months into her fourth year of residency when Jo was given an invitation to attend a medical conference in Orlando. Jo called Meredith immediately after and suggested she take a few days off to come attend the conference with her.

“Jo I’d love to. Let me talk to the chief and see if I can get a few days off to visit you,” Meredith replied.

About a week and a half later, Jo was picking Meredith up at the Orlando International Airport, “Mer!”

“Jo!” The women embraced and Jo helped Meredith stuff her bags into the trunk of the car as they drove over to the hotel where the conference was being held.

“How are you? How is everyone?” Jo asked.

“We’re getting there. Things still aren’t as good as they could be,” Meredith shrugged. “Cristina got married.”

“She what?” Jo’s eyes widened. “To Hunt?”

“Yup,” Meredith nodded. “She isn’t doing surgery right now either. I tried to convince her to come with me, but she wouldn’t listen.”

Jo sighed, “I wish I could see her and literally slap some sense into her.”

“You might be the only person who’d be successful at getting her to feel something,” Meredith chuckled. “It’s not the same without you there, Jo. Everything is so… boring and dull.”

“Boring and dull might just be the last thing you call Seattle Grace,” Jo wrinkled her face in amusement. “Especially since Mark Sloan got Callie pregnant. Poor Lexie.”

“I know,” Meredith shook her head. She stood quiet for a moment before speaking. “Don’t you ever miss it? Home?”

“Every day,” Jo answered. “Sure, I have some acquaintances, but it isn’t the same.”

“So why don’t you come back?”

“You know why,” Jo gave Meredith a pointed look.

“But the reasons--”

“Mer, stop. I told you I don’t want to know about him and Izzie,” Jo shook her head.

“If you’d just let me talk you’d find out that things aren’t as perfect as you think they are,” Meredith crossed her arms.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jo took a deep breath. “No one, in the history of my life has ever loved me and hurt me more than Alex. And if I want to keep loving him and not hating him for making me love him, then I can't know about his personal life. I can’t.”

“Okay. We won’t talk about Alex anymore,” Meredith sighed. What she’d been trying to tell Jo was that Alex and Izzie had gotten divorced over a year ago and in an effort to cover the pain of losing the two women he loved, he’d reverted back to his days as a diseased man-whore. But Jo wasn’t having it.

The first two days of the conference were fun and informative. Jo and Meredith used the time they weren’t in sessions to get some much needed rest. The third day of the conference Jo and Meredith were getting ready to walk in when Jo saw him. She knew immediately who it was as soon as she saw the back of his head. She’d never forget that man as long as she lived.

Meredith must’ve realized how Jo went pale and started to tremble because she placed her hand lightly on Jo’s arm in concern, “Jo. Are you feeling okay? What’s wrong?”

“I⎯I have to get out of here,” Jo grasped Meredith’s arm tightly. “Mer, I need you to get me out of here right now.”

“Okay,” Meredith pulled Jo out of the hotel conference room and into the lobby where Jo finally let out a cry, startling Meredith. “Jo, what’s going on? I need you to talk to me.”

Jo had begun hyperventilating at some point and was struggling to catch her breath as she saw his name on the speaker schedule for the day on the poster outside of conference room doors. She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed it before. She didn’t know how she could’ve missed it. Why was he here? Had he found her? Did he know she was in Florida?

“Jo!”

“Huh?” Jo turned to Meredith with scared eyes.

“Jo, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You begged me to get you out of that room. What happened?”

“I⎯I’m married.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m married to a man who almost beat me to death. I ran away from him eight years ago and never divorced him because I was afraid he’d come find me and kill me,” Jo shared, body shaking in fear.

“Does Alex know?” Meredith asked, brows furrowed.

“He’s the only person I’ve ever told,” Jo nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He knows everything. About Paul, the abortion, how I ran away and changed my name. Jo Wilson isn't even my real name.”

Meredith wrapped Jo in a tight hug, “You’re okay. I’m here and I’m not leaving you alone. Not for one second.”

They found out that Paul lived in Florida, Orlando, specifically and had been working at Orlando Medical Group for the past five years. He was a speaker at the conference and would be giving a presentation on minimally invasive surgery techniques. They’d been in their hotel room for a few minutes when Jo finally spoke again.

“Meredith, what if he sees me? What if he comes to hurt me?” Fear etched on Jo’s face. “He’s here. He’s here and I don’t even have Al—I don’t have anyone.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“No.”

“Jo, let me call him. Please,” Meredith squeezed one of Jo’s hands. “He’s going to want to be here with you. He misses you. He still loves you.”

“Meredith, stop,” Jo looked up at the ceiling. “If Alex were here he’d just do something stupid and get himself killed or wind up in jail or the hospital and I refuse to put him through that.”

“Okay,” Meredith sighed. “But you are not alone. You have me and we’re going to find a great lawyer who’s going to get you a restraining order and a divorce, because no one should be tied to a man like that. And I will stay here as long as I need to, to make that happen.”

——————

-The echoes and silence, patience and grace-

-All of these moments I'll never replace-

Realistically, Meredith couldn’t stay with Jo the entire time it would take her to process her divorce. The next few months after submitting the request for the dissolution of marriage were full of Jo looking over her shoulder practically every minute of every day.

It was on a Tuesday in February when it happened. She’s just got out of a surgery with Dr. Baker, their chief of surgery when she heard the most chilling sound.

“Hi Brooke. Or should I say Jo? It is Jo now, isn’t it?”

Jo turned around slowly to face him, eyes flitting over to Dr. Baker who seemed to be watching with concern, “Paul. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just checking up on my wife,” Paul sneered. “A wife I had not seen in eight years, so imagine my surprise when my lawyer presented me with divorce papers that my wife had filed not long before and that a court date has been set a month from today.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jo glared at him. “I have a restraining order. It’s all supposed to go through the courts. We aren’t supposed to have any contact with each other.”

“I know,” Paul flashed her a disarming smile. “I just couldn’t resist coming to pay you a visit. Especially when I found out that you were living in the same state.”

“You need to leave before I call security,” Jo stood her ground. “You are not supposed to be anywhere near me, so you need to leave and go home.”

“No… you know, I don’t think I will,” Paul answered, his menacing grin sending her heart beating wildly. “I think I’ll stick around and—“

“Is there a problem here?” Dr. Baker stood behind Paul, arms crossed as he took in the man’s tall frame.

“No sir there’s no—“

“Yes,” Jo looked at Dr. Baker and nodded. “Yes there is a problem. This man is my husband whom I am in the process of divorcing. I have a restraining order on him and he is not allowed to be within a thousand feet of me.”

“Sir, I am going to need you to leave the premises immediately,” Dr. Baker pointed towards the exit. “Remove yourself or you shall be removed. And if I hear or see that you are anywhere on or near hospital grounds, I will not hesitate to call security.”

“Fine. I’ll leave,” Paul sent Jo an angry scowl. “But just so you know, you better watch your back. I have no plans on making this easy for you. I’ll see you in court.”

Jo watched as Paul walked out of the hospital and waited until he was out of sight before crumbling onto the floor. Dr. Baker kneeled down beside her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Is there anyone you like me to call for you? I know you used to work with Dr. Webber in Seattle. Would you like me to call him?”

“No,” Jo shook her head. “No it’s okay. I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself.”

“Wilson,” Dr. Baker’s stern voice warned. “You should not be doing this alone. And you definitely should not be staying in your apartment alone. If you aren’t going to call anyone to come be with you, then you should let us help you. Why don’t you stay with my wife and I for a few days until we know he’s gone?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be,” Dr. Baker shook his head. The older gentleman was not taking no for an answer. “Stay with Lisa and I. Just for a few days. Until Friday.”

Jo sighed, “Okay, fine. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Dr. Baker squeezed her shoulder lightly. “I’ll have my assistant give you my address so you can head over there as soon as your shift is over today.”

Jo thanked him again and watched as her chief walked away, leaving her in the hallway alone. Jo searched around for the nearest on-call room and reached into her pocket for her phone, dialing a number as soon as she walked inside.

“Hello?”

“Mer?”

“Jo? Hi. What’s going on?” Meredith answered, the sound of the hospital buzzing in the background.

“He came, Meredith. My husband? He came and found me. He was here. He came to the hospital,” Jo felt her body shake as she recounted the day’s events.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Meredith asked frantically.

“No he didn’t hurt me. But he threatened me. I think,” Jo shrugged.

“What do you mean you think he threatened you? Jo, he’s not even supposed to be within a thousand feet of you. We made sure of that.”

“He told me to watch my back. He said he wasn’t going to make this easy for me,” Jo sniffled and wiped a couple straying tears.

“Jo, I think it’s time to tell Alex.”

“No. No, Mer we can’t tell him. He doesn't deserve to get caught up in my mess. It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it.”

“Don’t be stupid. Don’t play the martyr.”

“This isn’t about me playing a martyr Mer,” Jo huffed.

“Then what is it? Because I’m not understanding.”

“He didn’t choose me!” Jo exclaimed. “That day he told me that he was going to marry Izzie, I told him that I’d do it. I’d divorce Paul. If he wanted to be committed, if he wanted to be married, that I’d get a divorce. Even though I was terrified of this exact thing happening, I was willing to do it for him. I was willing to put it all on the line to just be with him and he still chose her. He chose Izzie. And I can’t get over that Mer. I can’t get over the fact that the one person that I love more than anything in this world, saw that I was willing to give it all up for him, and still didn’t choose me.”

“Derek chose Addison, and now look. Addison is in LA and Derek and I are married.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Jo sighed, a few tears escaping her eyes. “Derek was married before you two met and fell in love. Addison cheated on him with his best friend. He chose her out of commitment and loyalty to his marriage. Alex didn’t do that. Alex chose Izzie because he wanted to, knowing that he had the option of marrying me. After promising me over and over again for the better part of a year that he’d wait for me and telling me that he loved me and only wanted to be with me. It’s different.”

“Is it though?” Meredith asked. “Because at the end of the day, both of them chose women they didn’t truly love. And both of them suffered because of it.” There was silence on the other line for a moment before Meredith spoke up again, “Look, at the end of the day it’s your decision. But I think you should know that he still talks about you. At the most random moments, too. They’ll serve hotdogs in the cafeteria and he’ll comment how you hated the hotdogs they’d serve. Or we’ll be passing by a patient and their family and he’ll mention how you used to have the same scarf as the woman in the group. Or when he’s talking to a kid and they tell him that their favorite color is blue, he’ll say ‘that’s my best friend’s favorite color too.’ Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of you, Jo. Just think about it.”

“We’ll see,” Jo let out a breath. “I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright. Please be safe, Jo. Goodbye.”

After hanging up the phone, Jo buried herself in her work until it was time to leave. She drove over to Chief Baker’s house and was welcomed in with open arms and a hot meal on the stove. The few days she stood there were nice. Dr. and Mrs. Baker had been married for thirty-seven years and had two children and five grandchildren. Mrs. Baker—who insisted on being called Lisa—was actually a nurse practitioner that had tons of experience working with ICU and CCU patients.

For the first time in a long time, Jo felt like she had people. The Baker residence was warm and welcoming and nothing like the many homes she grew up in as a child. The Bakers cared. Maybe that’s why she found herself opening up to them about her past and why she was hiding from Paul in the first place. Along with their help and some digging done by their daughter who was a private detective, Jo was able to find enough information on Paul to give her lawyer to put together a strong case that would ensure that Jo was granted all of the conditions of the divorce she sought after, mainly that Paul would not be able come near her and hurt her after the trial was over.

On the day of the trial, Jo was absolutely terrified. She was about to confront her abuser in court and did not know how to handle the nerves coursing through her. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to cry and run away and never look back. She wanted to change her name again so that Paul would never be able to find her.

But that was the easy way out. She’s done enough running in her life to know that fleeing never truly solved anything either. It only made things painful. Still, Jo couldn’t shake the nerves she was feeling coursing through her. For the first time since this process began, she cursed her stubbornness for making her feel like she had to go through this alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo spotted something that caught her attention. It was an old pay phone, much like ones that she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Jo walked up to it and searched around her purse for some coins to get the phone to start. As soon as it did, she found herself punching in the phone number she knew so well and waited as it dialed.

“Hello?”

Jo let out the tiniest sob, “Alex.”

“Jo? Jo! Oh my God, is that you? Are you okay? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

Jo’s sobs grew louder and stronger as she heard his worried voice on the other line.

“Jo, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

Jo placed a hand over her mouth and attempted to quiet her cries, “No, I’m okay. I just… I really needed to hear your voice... I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Alex breathed out. Even though she couldn’t see him, Jo could picture Alex’s face scrunched in sadness and worry. “Please come home.”

“I can’t,” Jo shook her head. “I, um, I’m doing something today. Something that I probably should’ve done a long time ago. I almost chickened out, too. But, I know I need to be brave. And I need to be strong. Anyway, I just wanted to hear your voice one last time before I go through it. You make me brave.”

“Go through with what? Jo, don’t do anything stupid. Please. I know I hurt you and I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, I need you safe. Wherever you are. So, if you’re gonna⎯”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be,” Jo felt a few tears run down her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed back then.”

“All I needed was you. That’s still all I need.”

“I wish that were true,” Jo whispered and wiped her face. “You probably won’t hear from me after this. I wish things were different, but they’re not.” She paused. “I love you. Goodbye.”

Jo hung up the phone quickly and took a deep breath, running her sweaty palms along the skirt of her dress in hopes of calming some of her nerves. She knew now what she had to do. She had to step into that courthouse and break things off with Paul once and for all.

Back in Seattle, Alex was pacing frantically in the resident’s lounge, trying to call her back only to find out that the number she’d called from was a payphone.

“Dammit!” Alex yelled and punched a wall. It had been almost two years since he’d spoken to Jo. Two years of wondering and worrying if he’d ever see her again, only to hear her voice on the other line of a pay phone for about thirty seconds. Alex sunk down onto the floor in the corner of the lounge and ran his hands over his face, trying to conceal the tears that were slowly falling down his cheeks. “Dammit. Dammit.”

“Alex?”

The voice startled him, causing him to look up at the source. Cristina was hovering over him with a concerned expression on her face. “What the hell is going on?”

Alex shook his head and wiped angrily at the tears, “Jo called me.”

“Jo? Jo called you?” Cristina raised her eyebrows. “Is she okay?”

“She was crying,” Alex trembled slightly at the thought of the conversation he’d just had. “She said that she was doing something today, but she wasn’t sure if she should go through with it and she wanted to hear my voice one last time before she made her decision. She told me she loved me and that I probably won’t hear from her again, then she hung up. I tried to call her back but she called me from a freaking pay phone, Yang. Who the hell uses a pay phone these days?”

Cristina stood silent and sat down beside Alex, waiting for him to say what he needed to say. After a minute, he spoke again, “I just keep getting these horrifying scenarios in my head. She said she wanted to hear my voice one last time… and all I can think is, what if she’s going to hurt herself? What if she's going to hurt herself right now and I’m not there to stop her? She’s done it before. She told me she almost ended it all, once when she was back in college. When she was with… but she chickened out and didn’t do it. I swear to God, Cristina, if she dies… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“She’s not going to die,” Cristina shook her head. “She can’t die. I’ve lost too many friends. She isn’t allowed to die.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No it’s not,” Cristina squeezed his knee. “You aren’t responsible for the decisions other people make.”

“This time it is though,” Alex bit his lip as he looked out into the empty lounge. “I’m such an idiot. I love her. I still love her… I always screw myself out of everything good.”

“You’ll find each other one day. You’ll see her again and be together and be happy. I have to believe that,” Cristina sighed. “Now get up off the floor and wipe your face. You’ll scare the kids.”

————

-Pray for tomorrow, but for today-

-All I want-

-Is to be home-

After Jo’s divorce was finalized and the legal protections were put in place, she considered returning to Seattle. For the first time in almost a decade, she was finally free to do as she pleased. To live her life without the fear that Paul still had the upper hand. Because he didn’t have the power anymore. She’d made sure of that. In her quest to gain her divorce, Jo found out about other women who’d been abused by him in the years since she’d left New Jersey. All of their testimonies led to victory in the civil case against Paul and the beginnings of a criminal trial thanks to the charges being pressed by Paul’s current girlfriend, Jenny. The criminal trial was the main reason Jo decided to stay in Florida. She wanted to be there to testify and see the look on Paul’s face when he finally got what he deserved.

Still, sometimes Jo would look out the window of the hospital she worked at, see the rain, the cars, the bustling, and remember the friends she’d left behind. The family she’d grown to love and care for. But the longer she remembered that, the sadder she got. It hurt too bad to think of all the what ifs. It hurt to picture her people moving on without her.

So, Jo did what she did best. She worked. She worked hard to make sure that she was focused and the best in her class. Jo got the best surgeries, she had every attending surgeon’s attention, she was a rock-star and was even in the process of raising up her own set of baby interns.

Being away was hard, though. Jo found herself walking up to the nursery and NICU to look at the babies like she and her friends had done so many times their intern year. There was something precious about that period in life. Something so fresh and hopeful and exciting. Maybe that’s why she gravitated towards maternal-fetal and pediatric surgery. It helped that the hospital she was working at was nationally ranked in obstetrics and gynecology. She found herself spending more time on the L&D and peds floors of the hospital, assisting complicated and rare surgeries. By the time she was in her fifth year of residency, she’d decided that maternal-fetal surgery was the way to go. She found so much joy in safeguarding the future of the tiny little lives that would soon be brought into the world.

Her purpose in life wasn’t the only thing that she found on the L&D and peds floors of the hospital. It was also where she met Jason. Jason Myers was an OB resident she found herself spending an increasing amount of time with. He was hot and charming and funny and he was the first guy Jo truly dated after leaving Seattle. It was casual and fun, something that Jo hadn’t experienced in a long time.

They’d been together for about four months when Jo noticed a couple red flags. It started when she began traveling for her fellowship interviews in the last few months of her residency. Jason began to get demanding and possessive. He grabbed her roughly on a couple occasions and had stumbled into their apartment completely wasted and smelling of another woman’s perfume.

“I think I’m going to have to break up with my boyfriend,” Jo sighed as spoke into the phone to Meredith.

“You’re finally going to break up with that asshole? Thank God,” Meredith replied. “Jo, you could do so much better.”

“I know. You were right,” Jo rolled her eyes as she pictured Meredith’s smug face. Before she’d even started dating Jason, Meredith told her that it was a bad idea, despite having never met him. “It was just so easy in the beginning. Sure it’s been fun, but I knew it would never be more than just this. But for the past month, he’s just been so mean and nasty. A complete douchebag. I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving for Michigan in a few weeks, for crying out loud.”

“You know, Dr. Herman still hasn’t filled her Maternal-Fetal Surgery Fellowship position yet. You should reach out to her and see if she’ll take you into consideration,” Meredith suggested.

“Mer, the Maternal-Fetal Pediatric Surgery Fellowship at UMich is a fantastic program,” Jo said as she continued to walk down the halls of the hospital. “Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to face Alex after all these years.”

“Jo, you wouldn’t have to,” Meredith paused. “Alex got into Hopkins’ Pediatric Surgery program.”

“He what?”

“Yup,” Jo could almost hear the smile in Meredith’s tone as she filled her in. “He’s going to Baltimore to be a peds fellow.”

“That’s amazing,” Jo breathed out. Truly, she was so proud of how far he’d come in his career. “I knew from the moment you talked about the Africa project that brought you Zola that he’d be going into peds. But Hopkins? God, I wish I could tell him how proud I am.”

“I’d say you could always call him, but that suggestion would fall of deaf ears,” Meredith chuckled lightly. “Anyway, he’s leaving so there's nothing stopping you from coming to Seattle. Come home, Jo. I’m sure UMich is great, but Herman is the best of the best. Plus, we’re here. Me, Cristina, Lexie, Bailey, your new niece. We’re all here in Seattle. Come be with us.”

“You know what, I think I will apply,” Jo said after a moment. “I’m tired of running.

“I’ll email you Herman’s contact information,” Meredith exclaimed excitedly. “Good luck with your break up.”

“Haha, thanks.”

—————

-People I've loved, I have no regrets- -Some I remember, some I forget- -Some of them living, some of them dead-

The plane crash was the true turning point for Jo. That call wrecked her in ways she didn’t know she could be wrecked. She wanted to go over there as soon as possible, but Jo still had two weeks left of her residency to complete before she made her final decision about which fellowship position she would choose. However, as soon as she was relieved from her duties at Mayo in Jacksonville, she found herself engaged in a very nasty break up with Jason and lugged all of her belongings across the country. Four days and some three thousand miles later, Jo found herself on the doorstep of the frat house face to face with a tired looking Meredith. Jo immediately wrapped her arms around her friend as she cried for the sister she’d lost. Jo rubbed comforting circles on Meredith’s back before she looked up and locked eyes with Alex. He froze and if it weren’t for the small child he was holding in his arms, Jo was sure he might’ve passed out with the way his eyes widened in disbelief.

Jo ushered Meredith back into the house and motioned Alex to the door, where he went to grab her bags and pull them inside. Meredith grasped at Jo’s arms as they sat side by side on the couch, “Lexie is dead. Mark is dying. Arizona is dying. Cristina won’t speak. Derek’s arm is ruined. And I… I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, Mer. I’m here. I’m here,” Jo smoothed down Meredith’s hair soothingly as she attempted to keep her own tears at bay. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. You don’t have to be in control. You don’t have to care of everyone. Just rest. You need to rest.”

A couple hours later, Jo was sitting on the couch with Meredith’s head on her lap, finally sound asleep. Jo had been staring out the window, lost in thought when she heard a couple footsteps come down the stairs. She looked up and saw Alex staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Jo breathed out in response.

“I just put Zola to sleep,” Alex pointed up to the second floor. He stared at her in silence for a minute more before speaking. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Jo gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m here… what are you doing here? I thought you were going to Hopkins.”

“I told them I needed to hold off for a month because of Robbins. How do you know…?”

Jo motioned to the friend that was currently asleep on her lap, “We’ve kept in touch.”

“You what? You guys talk to each other?” Alex asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. About once a week,” Jo whispered nonchalantly.

“You two talk to each other. Once a week?” Alex scoffed. “And you didn’t think to, I don't know… maybe call me? Meredith didn’t think to tell me that she was in contact with you?”

“I asked her not to say anything,” Jo eye’s moved away from his face to look at Meredith’s sleeping form.

“I was worried about you. I thought you were dead,” Alex glared at her.

“Wait, what?” Jo’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of that phone call a year and a half ago!” Alex whisper-yelled. “You called me from a freaking payphone, sobbing and said that you needed to hear my voice one last time before you went through with ‘it.’ I had no idea what the ‘it’ was. You have to know what that must’ve sounded like from my end. I’ve been playing that conversation over and over again in my head for the better part of a year and a half, wondering if you killed yourself.”

“No, Alex I would never… I mean, I know I tried it once, but I value my life now. I would never do something to intentionally harm myself.”

“Then what the hell were you doing calling me and scaring me half to death like that?” Alex crossed his arms and looked at her seriously.

“I…” Jo took a deep breath. “I got divorced from Paul that day.”

“You’re free?” Alex’s face softened slightly.

“I’m free,” Jo confirmed, eyes watering. “I got legal protections that day as well and I made the decision to testify in Paul’s criminal trial that would determine whether he was guilty of the charges his then-girlfriend, Jenny accused him of. I wasn’t the only girl he abused, but I got to make sure that he never gets the chance to do it again. He’s currently serving five years in prison for domestic violence, abuse, and a couple of other charges.” Jo paused. “I called you because I almost didn’t walk into that courtroom. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room as him, even with everyone else around. But you always did have a way of making me feel like I could do anything.”

The pair got quiet. They stood in the tense silence before Alex asked the question he’d been wondering since she walked in through those doors, “How long are you here for?”

“I’m here to stay,” Jo shared. “I’m Dr. Herman’s newest maternal-fetal surgical fellow. I came as soon as I could when I heard about the crash.”

“Maternal-fetal? What happened to ortho?”

“What happened to plastics?” Jo's mouth twitched up into a small smile. “So, peds, huh?”

“Turns out I’m great with those little suckers,” Alex chuckled lightly.

“Me too,” Jo smiled shyly. “I’m especially good when they’re in-utero though.”

“Guess I’m the out guy,” Alex shrugged, a comfortable smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Jo bit her lip lightly. “Where’s Izzie?”

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Jo tilted her head in question. “Oh God, don’t tell me she died or that her cancer is back.”

“No,” Alex breathed out a laugh. “Well, honestly, I don’t know. We got divorced. I haven’t spoken to her since then.”

“You what?” Jo’s jaw dropped. “What⎯when did this happen?”

“About four months after you left.”

“I need to go,” Jo gently moved Meredith’s head from her lap and slipped on her shoes, making her way towards the door.

“Where are you going? You just got here?” Alex moved close. “You can’t leave, not with Mer like this.”

“Relax, I’ll be back before she wakes up. I just… I need to get out of here. I need to get away from you,” Jo walked out the door into the warm June night.

She considered finding a hotel or going to the bar, but Jo was too exhausted from her four day trek to Seattle to go anywhere. She unlocked her car and jumped into the back seat, situating the seats so she could sleep there for the night and avoid the many, many problems until morning.

In the days and weeks following, Jo became an invaluable asset to Meredith as she navigated the many hardships that came with the plane crash. She moved into her tiny apartment and Jo began her fellowship and started working at Seattle Grace Mercy West once again, to everyone’s pleasure. For the first time in forever, Jo was surrounded by people that she knew and loved, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was utterly alone. Maybe it had to do with the fact that ever since that night she arrived, she hadn’t talked to Alex. Apparently he must’ve noticed, because one day he got fed up.

“Jo, come on. Please talk to me,” Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty on call room. “You’ve been back for over a month. You’ve talked to our friends. You’ve been getting to know Avery. You got friendly with Kepner before she got fired. You helped Cristina pack her things to go to Minnesota. You can’t ignore me forever. You’re a fetal surgeon. We’ve already had five cases together this month alone. Are you just trying to hold out until I leave for Hopkins? Well guess what, I’m leaving tonight so time’s up. You need to talk to me.”

It was true. In the month since their conversation at the frat house, Jo and Alex had an unusually high number of cases together that required that they spend quite a lot of time together. However, aside from the hours in the OR that she was required to spend with him, Jo found herself purposely avoiding him. The past few days had been especially difficult for her as she found out some unexpected information and was doing her best to avoid him so as not to fall apart in his arms.

“Shut up, Alex. Shut up before I punch you in the face, because I swear to God I am so angry with you right now,” Jo was seething, doing everything in her power to keep from screaming at him.

“What the hell did I do? I haven’t had a chance to get on your nerves,” Alex scrunched his face in confusion.

“You haven’t had a chance?” Jo threw her arms up in the air. “You divorced Izzie?”

“First of all, she divorced me,” Alex held up a finger. “Secondly, why the hell do you care?”

“What do you mean why the hell do I care? How dare you screw this up? I left and practically handed you to her. But you went and divorced her? And now you’re some man whore who doesn’t care where he sticks it?” Jo threw her hands up angrily. “How the hell could you let Izzie go? Why didn’t you chase her and beg her to stay? Why didn’t you swear you’d do better? Why didn’t you fight for her?”

“Because she wasn’t the one I wanted to fight for!” Alex shouted. The room went silent. So quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop. The pair stared at each other tensely, no one daring to move. Alex finally huffed a breath. “I could’ve fought for her. I could’ve made it work. But I didn’t want to.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah I know.”

“No, I’m serious Alex. Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?” Jo clenched her jaw. “Why did you even marry her?”

“I—I don’t know,” Alex shrugged.

“I don’t know? I don’t know? That’s probably the most moronic thing that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. And that’s saying something because you’ve said some pretty stupid things,” Jo turned to face the wall and leaned her head against it. “I told you not to do it. I told you not to marry her. I told you that I was willing to put my own safety at risk to be with you and you chose her. You still chose poor, sick Izzie. You chose her and broke every single one of the promises you made me. Then you got divorced? And you didn’t even bother trying to fight? What the hell was it all for?”

“Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this,” Alex scoffed. “You were the one who left me. With a fucking letter, of all things! You didn’t even have the decency to say it to my face.”

“Because you wrecked me!” Jo yelled. “I gave you everything I had to give. I let you into my life, my bed, my heart. And somewhere along the line you decided that I wasn’t good enough or worth the wait. And stop talking like we were together. We weren’t together when I left! We were never together because you squashed that possibility before we even got the chance!”

“It doesn’t matter because you were my best friend! You were my best friend and you left and didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t leave a phone number, an email, and address. Nothing. You just disappeared. And when you did, it felt like I was a kid all over again. With no one who loved him or cared around,” Alex retorted.

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Jo spat. “You had a wife. You had friends. You had your home. Me leaving didn't completely upend and disrupt your life! I lost my home. I lost my best friend. I lost the only family I had ever known all so that you could have a chance at making your marriage work. Because I knew that if I was around, you’d only feel guilty. So I took myself out of the equation. I did it for you! I loved you enough to lose you, to let you go. Do you have any idea the amount of pain I’ve been in the past three years? Wishing I was here in Seattle, but constantly reminding myself that I left so that you could have a happy life with Izzie and so that I could heal. So imagine what a punch in the gut it feels like to find out that you haven’t even been with Izzie. You’ve been sleeping around with anyone and everyone easy enough to let you get into their pants, while I was in pain, all alone in Florida with nothing and no one but my chief of surgery and my douchebag ex-boyfriend.”

“Well things weren’t exactly sunshine and rainbows here either! But you wouldn’t know because you weren’t here! You’re so wrapped up in how much it all cost you and how much you sacrificed, but I never asked you to do any of it! You decided what was best for the both of us. You decided to leave, when all I wanted was to have you around. Because I have never loved anyone in my life more than I loved you. And that probably sounds pretty screwed up because I married Izzie, but it’s true. Do you know what a slap in the face it was when you left? Do you know that I cried in shower every once in a while because I missed you? And it wasn’t even the sex. It was the friendship. I missed your voice and your laugh and your advice. I missed you. But you decided to pretend like we didn’t matter and didn’t bother to leave me a way to contact you. So, let me make this easier. We don’t matter to each other! Not anymore because I’m done!” Alex bellowed. He took a steadying breath and laughed bitterly. “You know what, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m leaving tonight anyway and you’ll never have to see my face again. Have a nice life.”

Jo waited until Alex finally turned around and walked out of the on-call room before she crumbled onto the floor in tears. She pressed a hand to her chest and tried her will herself to calm down, but it was too much. None of it was supposed to be happening this way. She wasn’t supposed to come back to Seattle only to find out that Lexie died, Cristina left, and that Mark Sloan was getting unplugged tonight. She wasn’t supposed to see Alex at all. She wasn’t supposed to find out that he was divorced. She wasn’t supposed to watch him leave her. She wasn’t supposed to be making one of the hardest decisions in her life like this. Maybe that’s why she took out her phone and looked for Jason’s phone number and hit the dial button.

After he left the on-call room, Alex was a whirlwind, trying his best to make it to the airport with no more interruptions. What he didn’t bank on was running into Meredith.

“Hey! So that’s it? I’m not even as good as one of your intern girls, huh? You’re not gonna say goodbye to me?” Meredith stood in front of him.

“Mer, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Meredith narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t make this a thing,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“Don’t make this a thing? Mark is dying right now, and that’s it. You’re just gonna leave too?” Meredith shook her head in disbelief.

“I’m just—I’m gonna be on the other side of the country. We’ll talk—“

“That’s what Cristina said. It’s not the same thing,” Meredith frowned. “Nothing is the same. Everything is different. Everyone is leaving and everyone is dying.”

“Don’t make this my problem,” Alex scowled. “I’m finally getting the hell out of here. I can’t keep standing around being the guy that should’ve been on the plane that crashed. I shouldn’t be here, Mer. I should be dead. Or I should’ve left months ago.”

“Alex!” Meredith grabbed on to his jacket as he tried to walk away.

“Get off,” he pushed her hand away. “Look, I’m not going to stay in Seattle just because you don’t want to be alone.”

“This isn’t about me not wanting to be alone. Because I won’t be alone. Jo’s here now, remember that? Remember the girl you’ve been in love with since our intern year? The one you’ve been pining over ever since she left three years ago? Well, you’re finally in the same city again. Are you really going to let that go?” Meredith stared at Alex intensely.

“Jo doesn’t want me here. I just cause her pain,” Alex replied simply. “It’s time for me to go. I need to get out of Seattle Grace Mercy Death. I need to build a home and Hopkins won’t wait forever. I have a plane to catch, so, bye.”

With that, Meredith scoffed and turned on her heels, walking away.

Alex watched as his friend walked away in anger and frustration. Shaking his head, Alex turned around and started towards his terminal. He was about to board the plane when he realized that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave and upend his life without knowing that it was the right thing to do.

That’s how he found himself sitting at the bar beside Meredith at the terminal lounge.

“What are you doing here?” Meredith asked.

“Hey! Who is that?” Cristina’s voice sounded from Meredith’s iPad. “Point me.”

“I’m sorry about before,” Alex cast Meredith a sideways glance.

“You should be,” Meredith raised an eyebrow and sighed. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I thought he said he was leaving⎯I thought you said you were leaving,” Cristina commented.

“The guy replacing Robbins is gonna mess the place up,” Alex moved his face into the view of the screen. “Besides, I don’t even like Boston.”

“So what are you saying?” Meredith scrunched her face.

“I couldn’t get on my plane, okay? I couldn’t go,” Alex admitted.

“You’re saying you ditched the flight because you chickened out?”

“What a loser,” Meredith’s mouth twitched and she pulled Alex in for a hug.

“You’re staying for Wilson right?” Cristina looked at him expectantly through the video chat.

“I don’t know… maybe?” Alex shrugged. “All I know is that the thought of leaving without trying to at least fix my friendship with her makes me feel sick. I don’t even know why I care, though. She obviously doesn’t. She left me once, who’s to say she won’t do it again?”

“Wow, you are an even bigger idiot than I thought you were,” Cristina shook her head. “Of course she cares. Who do you think made your medical decisions or paid your bills after you got shot?”

“Wait, what?”

“Jo called me after the shooting. When we realized that she was your proxy, she took a plane to Seattle, decided on the best course of treatment, cried, held your hand for a little, and left all before you even had a chance to wake up,” Meredith shared.

“She did?” Alex struggled to comprehend how he’d never known about her trip all those years ago to take care of him.

“Yeah, she did,” Cristina nodded.

“So, did you just ditch tonight’s flight and you’re planning on taking another one another day or are you going to stay for good?” Meredith waited for him to reply.

“I don’t know yet,” he shook his head. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“I think you know what you need to do,” Meredith eyed him carefully. “Alex, you found your family in Seattle and now you have a second chance to fix things with Jo and you’re really going to leave?”

“You know, I’ve been trying to leave Seattle because for the longest it just didn’t feel like home,” Alex took a swig of the beer that the bartender had placed in front of him. “I felt like I didn’t belong. I wanted to go and find a place that felt like home, but I guess I’m realizing that home was never a place. It’s Jo. It was always Jo and now she’s here and I’m not about to be the idiot that runs away from home again.”

“So, you’re really going to try? You’re not gonna screw up and break her heart again? Because you know that Jo could do so much better than you?” Cristina asked pointedly. “I’m asking because I’m protective of my hairball and I won’t hesitate to come beat your ass if you do. Fear of flying be damned.”

Alex let out a soft laugh before growing serious again, “She deserves better. She deserves someone better than me. But I don’t want her with anyone else. So, I guess I’m just gonna have to be better. I have to become the man she deserves, because she’s everything. She’s home.”

-All I want-

-Is to be home-

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the--highlanders · 3 years

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5. “I’m not saying I told you so...”

on ao3.

She really was getting unfit, after so long away from the Wheel. One would think she would be as fit as ever, what with all the running they did – running to things, running away from things, running just for the sake of it. But, she supposed, running everywhere was hardly the sort of comprehensive exercise program the Wheel’s inhabitants had been required to undertake. For mental and physical fitness, the program’s overly-enthusiastic hologram instructor had declared every day. She couldn’t exactly say she missed it, most of the time. Her slip into laziness had not taken so long as she had expected. Goodness, this morning she had slept in by five minutes. But at times like this, she wished she had been disciplined enough to keep it up.

“You know,” she huffed out, “I never like saying I told you so.”

“Well, then, don’t,” the Doctor snapped back. If she was feeling a little breathless, then he was flagging almost entirely, arms windmilling in an effort to keep up with her brisk jog. The air might have been made of molasses, from how laboured and exaggerated his movements were becoming. “There’s no need, believe me.”

“And I’m not saying I told you so,” Zoe carried on. “But I did point out to you which switch activated the system’s antibodies.”

“Yes, yes, I remember.”

“And I did show you the wires leading into it.”

“I believe you did.”

“And I did try to express my doubts about what exactly you were rewiring. Particularly given that you were trying to take down the shield generator, which in systems like these naturally activates the internal defence mechanisms -”

“How you have the energy to run and lecture me at the same time,” the Doctor interrupted, “I have no idea.”

Zoe shrugged, regretting it a moment later when she felt the pain of the lactic acid surging through her muscles. Keep an even rhythm, she reminded herself. She could almost hear it in that stupid instructor’s voice, crackly over the broadcast from Earth. Let momentum take over. “Lecturing takes my mind off running,” she said.

The Doctor had clearly never been taught the lesson about momentum, because he gave in to something that was almost a full-body shudder. Still, she supposed, it wasn’t as if he had been maintaining anything even remotely like an even rhythm to begin with. “You know,” he said, “I always thought -” Gulping down a deep breath, he pushed himself on in silence for a few strides. “The best thing about my old teacher Borusa -” Another breathless pause. “Was that he didn’t run. I stood a chance of getting away from him.”

“I wouldn’t be worrying about me,” Zoe pointed out mildly. “Worry about the things behind us.”

She got little more than a whimper out of him at that.

In any other situation, Zoe would have been utterly absorbed in the fascination of a colony ship whose life support system had its own antibodies. People had suggested, in her time, the idea of a ship which was just as alive as its precious cargo – but interstellar travel on such a grand scale had been a far-off dream, then. And given how loud certain voices had been, voices that wanted humanity to remain on Earth indefinitely… Well, she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never see anything like it in her lifetime. She had counted herself lucky to be of a generation where such things were being thought of at all, if only in an academic context. But being inside one, seeing it face to face, was breathtaking. And not just because of the running.

So it was a shame, really, that the ship had decided that they were foreign particles to be cleansed.

“How do we know,” she said, “that the antibodies won’t follow us out of the ship’s internal systems?”

“Because -” The Doctor hung his head, his chest heaving. “They’re programmed not to interfere with the ship’s biosphere.

She raised her eyebrows. That, at least, she could do without breaking her momentum. “Even after all your rewiring?”

“We do have to have a little hope, you know, Zoe.”

The Doctor really should know better, she thought, than to tempt fate like that. It was almost too perfect, an antibody drifting into view a little way down the corridor before he had even closed his mouth. “Doctor,” she said, her voice low like she could stop the thing from hearing her. Silly, really. They didn’t even have ears. “Doctor, wait.”

He kept jogging on, and she had to grab at his sleeve to slow him to a halt. When at last he flailed into stillness, looking up, his eyes widened. “Oh, my word,” he said softly. “That makes things rather more difficult, doesn’t it?”

The thing hung there, suspended impossibly in the middle of the corridor like some strange jellyfish. It wasn’t really air that filled the ship’s internal systems, the Doctor had said, but a sort of gaseous slurry, thick and conductive enough for the antibodies to keep themselves suspended through electric force. Which also happened to be the thing that made them deadly, the fact that they electrified the air around them. Like a kind of sanitiser. The bulbous top on this one glowed a pale, sickly green, and Zoe could feel the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck start to stand on end as it drifted almost casually closer. She doubted it would even be kind enough to kill them instantly. The internal defence system was designed for microorganisms and non-living foreign particles. Risks to the insides of the ship and contaminants in the air supply, not a pair of humans – well, a human and whatever the Doctor was. They might be left lying there to be shocked repeatedly, over and over until their bodies were too damaged to go on any longer.

“What are we going to do?” she hissed. “That’s our way out.”

“That’s our shortest way out,” the Doctor corrected her. “Not our only way out.” She pulled a face at him, one eye still on the antibody. “Ah – I don’t suppose we can go back the way we came.”

They wheeled around in unison, standing down the length of corridor they had left behind. It was dark for most of its length, lit only by thin, glowing strips of blue that ran through the walls, marking out where the cables ran behind their casing. Their dim light caught on dust clouds that had been kicked up into the air by their footfall, shaping them into an almost opaque wall. The antibodies had no need of floors – less need for maintenance that way. They must have been the first people to disturb all those dust particles in a hundred or so years. And now they might be turned into that dust themselves, she thought with a shudder.

But she could still see the pale light of another antibody, moving slowly but surely towards them.

“That’s no good,” she exclaimed, forgetting all thoughts of not letting the antibodies hear her. “Where are we meant to go now?” Wheeling back around, she found the Doctor already chest-deep in the walls, tossing out cables as he burrowed further inside. He mumbled something inaudible, his words lost amongst the humming bundles of wires, and she leant in closer. “What?”

“I said -” Squirming backwards, he contorted himself around to pop his head out of the cavity. “There should be some way through here, if we’re lucky. But I’ll have to get the other casing board off, which could take – oh, well, longer than I’d like to admit.”

If it was anything like his attempts to get the casing off the wires he had been fiddling around with earlier, Zoe thought, then she was not particularly keen on knowing how long it would take, either. “There must be another way through,” she said, more to herself than to the Doctor’s wildly waving feet. “It wouldn’t make sense to have a string of tunnels that never connected with each other.” Screwing her eyes closed, she tried to think back to the plans she had seen, all those years ago. Even for someone with her memory, it was difficult to remember back so far, with antibodies still bearing down on them from both directions. “The technicians would have needed some way of easily laying these wires.”

Glancing behind them, she scanned the walls for any sign of a door, but to no avail. It would probably look nothing like a door, she thought bitterly. And the longer they waited, the less corridor they had left to search. The antibody behind them was moving surprisingly quickly for something that could only wiggle its spindly tentacles, and the one in front of them – she whisked around again, squinting through the orange fog.

Orange.

Not exactly the usual colour of the wires. Perhaps one of the panels had failed. But it didn’t look like a panel, the component right next to them. It looked rather more like -

Squeezing around the Doctor, she lunged towards the orange panel, seizing upon a handle half-buried in the surface. Sure enough, the door swung open to reveal a deserted corridor beyond.

Hopefully deserted, anyway.

She tapped the Doctor on the thigh, and he squirmed his way out again, emerging somehow more disgruntled and dishevelled than he had been before. “Over here,” she said, jerking her head towards the door. “This way might be easier.”

#second doctor #fanfic archive #my writing #fictober 2021

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ajita-tannu · 3 years

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BIRTH NAME: Ajita Tannu NICKNAME: Aji AGE+DOB: 24 years old, 18th of February 1997 GENDER: Demi-girl PRONOUNS: she/her or they/them NATIONALITY: Indian/American ETHNICITY: Marathi Indian EDUCATION: High School diploma, Bachelor in Philosophy from the University of Ghent, one unfinished Bachelor in Philosophy at the University of Barcelona. PLACE OF BIRTH: Mumbai, Maharashtra, India CURRENT LOCATION: Pleasance, Ohio OCCUPATION: Working at their parent’s business at Southwood Inn RELIGION: Hinduism ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good FAMILY: Unknown FACECLAIM: Prajakta Koli

+ Active, Friendly, Challenging, Dedicated, Disciplined, Passionate, Resourceful +/- Perfectionist, Ambitious, Outspoken - Argumentative, Blunt, Domineering, Meddlesome, Opinionated

@phqextras

HISTORY

Ritesh and Harsha had one dream for their only child: to be born under the best possible consequences. Which was after they had settled down in the United States, gotten their motel running, and ensured there was no possible way they could be sent back.

None of that worked out. Ajita Hannu was born in Mumbai, India, after all.

She grew up with her family, all of them on a small estate in the middle of the city, being exposed to the noises and the smells of her parent’s city. She was taught English by her mother’s sister, she learned some Hindi, but mostly she was kept at home while her parents tried to figure out their plan. Because the plan was still the plan. When her parents had finally gotten the visa’s and everything needed for their planned immigration, Ajita was seven. She had the same attitude as her peers: to be the best at everything.

Still, Pleasance Ohio was a huge adjustment. Everything was so quiet. Ajita spent a lot of her time either at home or at school, because she didn’t like how quiet it was. Something about it felt eerie. But slowly she became more and more acquainted with the other kids in the town, even if she had little time for it. Her parents owned the small inn at the border of the tow: the Southwood Inn. And between herself, her mom, her dad, and a friend of theirs who helps with the cleaning all the work is divided up. After school she helped out. Just a little bit at first, but by the time she was twelve, she did everything. And she did it as practically as possible. Ajita wasted not a single moment.

She would study while manning the front desk, listen to Spanish podcasts while she cleaned the rooms, and prepare her school paper while she checked the inventory. Ajita always had her hands in multiple projects at once. She was the main voice for less plastic at school, protected anyone at school who felt different, started a LGBTQ+ group because she had realised already at eleven that she was very much into women. Most people thought she was too much, always voicing her opinion or trying to get votes or signatures or followers or whatever she needed. She had very few friends, but she didn’t care. Her parents were her best friends, and Ajita had great plans. Like her parents, she had great plans.

Studying came effortless to Ajita, she got high marks, sucked in information at any opportunity and by age sixteen was fluent in English, Hindi, and Spanish, with the intention of learning Catalan, German, and Italian. To her every subject was equally important, but there was one thing she was most interested in: what people wanted. How people saw themselves. People. She wanted to know how humanity worked. So she applied at the University of Barcelona. Her parents weren’t happy, and she was met with some resistance. They didn’t want to let her go, afraid that she would be the odd one out, misunderstood, and that she didn’t want to come back. But they didn’t realise how much Ajita loved Pleasance. She would always come back.

After a whole lot of begging, Ajita was allowed to leave.

She moved to Barcelona at eighteen, her grades were top of the bunch, the scholarship was in her pocket, and she had grand dreams for her future. She was already on her way to study Catalan, and managed to pick her way through the application in Spanish without any difficulty.

She studied for one and a half year in Barcelona, traveling all over the country on the weekend, before she quit the program. The language was part of the problem, Catalan was different from Spanish, and because of her internal confusion trying to differentiate between two languages, she didn’t get the marks she wanted, or the marks that would keep her there.

Since she still had half a year till the next semester, Ajita traveled around most of Western and some of Eastern Europe, backpacking and crowd surfing. She had made enough friends over the years that she could knock on the doors in random cities and towns, and would always find a place to stay if she wasn’t staying in hostels. The experience was fantastic, and it was even better when she realised not much later that she had been accepted at the University of Ghent for another course in Philosophy.

Now nineteen, Ajita moved to Belgium for a second try at Philosophy, taking Dutch classes on the side and once again spending her weekends traveling all over, this time visiting places in Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany.

Her bachelor was three years, and a one year Master - another reason why she came to love the Belgian system. That and she didn’t have to pay all that much when it came to tuition. But Ajita found more than just happiness in the place. She also learned a lot about herself. Belgium was a whole lot more accepting of her status as being a lesbian, but it wasn’t just that, she joined the LGBTQ+ clubs around the city of Ghent, and found herself.

Growing up they had always felt different, not really fitting the gender roles people had assigned to them. They didn’t like wearing dresses, they joined soccer teams, and all their friends growing up had been boys. They had felt slightly awkward in their own body, and jealous of male characters in the media. Growing up they wanted to be Batman or Ash Ketchum for Halloween, not a princes like their girly classmates. They loved getting dirty and felt awkward when someone suggested they wear make-up. They were a tomboy, according to the neighbors, their long hair always in a knot on the back of their head, checking out their face in the mirror, imaging themselves different.

Although Ajita could never really say different in what way.

Demi-girl was the term she adopted in Belgium, and she planned to bring home with her.

Their last summer vacation they traveled to India, where they stayed till Holi.

She returned home with a Bachelor in her pocket, and over twenty thousand followers on her youtube traveling account. Both of which were worth little back in Pleasance, but she would find a way.

The plan was to take over the family business, and then she was going to run for mayor, but before she would do everything she could to make Pleasance better. Her beloved hometown. Despite all the cities they had seen and placed they had visited, nothing could top Pleasance.

HEADCANONS

They have a husky called Charlemagne. They found him a year ago in Bulgaria, and after a whole lot of effort, managed to send him to their parents in Pleasance. For the past year they’ve taken care of him, but he instantly recognised Ajita when she returned home.

Ajita does not believe in Ghosts. She does believe that local legends can help Pleasance grow as a tourist spot.

Ajita is rather known around Pleasance, or was, before she left to study abroad. She was a very annoying kid, who was always putting a foot in someone’s business, writing her school paper, getting signatures. Ajita had so many causes that she got swamped half of the time. She would talk to anyone who she met on the street, any tourist, any traveler. The tourists love her, the locals not so much at times.

She helped put some places out of business when she was younger, outing businesses that were doing horrible things to their employees. But she has also managed to keep a lot of big corporations out, collecting so many signatures that she got a project stopped before it even began.

She doesn’t like George Alby at all.

Local businesses to Ajita are the most important thing in a small town, and big companies put them out of business is one of their major concerns. They understand the philosophy behind it, and get why small business have problems surviving while big corporations can go ahead without much trouble, but she believes there is a possibility.

They love backpacking, and hiking, which is what they always end up doing during the weekend, bringing Charlemagne along.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

- childhood friends: Ajita was seven when they came to Pleasance. They’re bound to have known most people around the school, being as active as they were, though few people could probably stand them.

- enemies: you don’t get as politically active as Ajita and not make any enemies, they are sure to figure out where they stand now, having returned after studying.

- visitors at the Southwood Inn: Ajita works at her parent’s business, though sometimes it looks like she’s the one running it. She’s not curious, but she will try to strike up a conversation.

#phqintro #intro

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fics-of-my-mind · 4 years

Text

Trust - Chapter XI.

‘Jeez,’ I grimaced. ‘You’re trying to kill me?’

‘Just want you to have a good time, Hun,’ Erica chuckled. ‘This is your LA club virginity after all.’

We laughed together, then I excused myself to the bathroom. I was getting used to this, living in this city, this country, going to clubs like the locals. I pressed myself through between sweaty bodies with a grin on my face on my way to the toilette.

It only took one second for the moment to freeze. It was just like in movies, when everything stops, when you can’t concentrate on your surroundings, just that one thing you see. Like one of the rom-coms, a scene that I never thought could happen in real life.

The millisecond my gaze wandered to the upstairs VIP area, I was faced with two very familiar dark brown orbs, also staring at me in shock. He was leaning on his elbows on the railing, a drink in his hand. He looked amazing, in a dark blazer, black T-shirt and some jeans. His stubble looked a bit bigger than last time I saw him. His lips were ajar as he tried comprehending my presence in a downtown LA club.

It lasted for an extremely long moment, then as soon as I got my composure back, I turned away, heading towards the restrooms, not looking back.

I wasn’t stupid. When I moved here – hell, when I first heard Sophie say ‘LA opportunity’ – it crossed my mind that one of the barriers between us, the distance would be gone. We’d be living in the same city. It seemed more possible to run into each other than before. Then again, I wasn’t naïve either. As much as I liked to think of the coincidence of getting to know Nick in his natural habitat, I knew that there was a microscopic chance of the same thing happening again.

But it did. Nick was here. We were in the same club.

Warnings: mature content, BDSM content Pairing: Nick Jonas / Other Female Character This fanfiction can also be found on Wattpad by fnntth

I don’t own Nick Jonas or any other recognizable characters. This fanfiction is completely fictional, its only purpose is entertainment.

Chapter XI. - Standing in the dark, although we've turned on the lights

In the beginning of September what I was afraid of for months became reality: I was fired. Not because I made a mistake, not because I wasn’t working hard enough, simply because due to COVID the brand in Hungary wasn’t profitable anymore. At the same time, I was offered an opportunity inside the company. An opportunity that came with a move.

The brand I was working on had its headquarters in Los Angeles. When they started firing people from the company, they kept the ones that ‘could be a real asset in the future’, or at least that’s what they told me. I just had to be ready to move, something that I never thought would be an option for me in my life.

I had everything in Hungary. My friends, my family, my home, my dog. I’ve never been one of those people that were brave and went to unknown places with the plans of making new friends, building a new life. I never even went on Erasmus or Campus Mundi, the international programs my university was offering. I wasn’t that kind of person to just get up and leave it all behind, to move thousands of miles away.

This was a big opportunity. Once in a lifetime, as Sophie, my boss said. She also stated that she was jealous, that she didn’t think this would happen when they asked her to evaluate the team members. But apparently, I fit the brand’s profile as so as they were willing to move me out to the USA.

I had to do this. This was life giving me an out of the current situation, something to help me take my mind off the heartbreak. This was something that I couldn’t say no to.

I spent my last day at the Budapest office crying my eyes out. I couldn’t stop. I loved working here, I loved my coworkers, my bosses, the whole company. In the evening we went for a dinner, just the three of us, the core of the team and toasted to new beginnings and opportunities.

I wasn’t sure I was ready for change, yet a few days later I was on my way to the airport with my life packed into two big suitcases. It hurt to leave; hurt to leave my dog home with my parents, to step out on my apartment’s door, to decide what was worth taking with me and what wasn’t. It was pretty hard, yet I still preferred being sad over this than over Nick.

Moving to a new city, a city more than 6000 miles away from my home was extremely scary. I didn’t know anyone, I wasn’t part of the local culture, I’ve never even been to the US in my life. Always wanted to go, just never had the chance. At least, I’ve watched enough American series to have an idea about how the things were going to go, starting with the huge amount of paperwork I’ve had to fill just to get my work visa.

What does one see when thinking about Los Angeles? Palm trees, beaches, sun, surfers, green juices. No one tells you that it rains a lot, that some neighborhoods are quite dangerous, that it’s perfectly normal to see a police chase on your third day in the city. And the tourists… Now that the virus was gone – or at least in sleep mode – tourists were everywhere. You couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything.

My first impression… wasn’t too great. The minute I set foot in LA, I thought that I was making a huge mistake. I’ve already missed my family, my friends, my dog, everything. I didn’t know a single soul, I’ve had no one to turn to when I wasn’t sure about something. On the first night, I called my (now ex) boss, Sophie in tears, hoping that she’d save me and get me my job back at home back.

‘Suck it up and do what I’ve taught you,’ was all she said, being the confident lady boss I’ve always admired. She was more than just my boss, she was a real role model, someone I wanted to become in ten years. Hearing her say that this was the biggest opportunity in my life did the trick, the next day I started working with my old ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ motto in mind.

Since it was the company moving me out, they agreed to pay my rent for the first six months of living in LA, which was quite generous. I got a condo in Hermosa, not so far from the office. You see, I understood why in movies they always have cars in LA. ‘Not so far’ meant 35 minutes by public transportation, one and a half hour on foot, yet only fifteen minutes by car.

Problem is, I hated driving. I had my license since I was 17, yet never liked driving. I loved it much more, when someone would take me somewhere, and I always choose public transportation in Budapest. Here, I had no choice, on the second week of living in LA, I spent all my savings on a car.

The apartment building was near the beach, like only a few streets down. This was an aspect I loved in the first minute. I’ve never lived in a city or country where there was an actual beach, and I could already see myself taking long walks in the evenings, since I’ve had nothing better to do anyway. The property also had a pool and a gym – both luxuries that wasn’t usual in my country.

The apartment itself was fully furnished in a minimalistic style, which I would’ve loved, but the close to zero decoration made it feel empty. My two suitcases of clothes and stuff were lost in the two bedroom apartment, and it was just so lonely. I felt even more alone than before, still debating if this was the right decision.

Then, on my first day of work I fell in love with the edgy office building, the cool people around me and basically with just the atmosphere. I loved being at work, it took my mind off everything else, and really, I was doing surprisingly good. Even though I was pretty good in English, I’ve had this fear that I’d get misunderstood, or couldn’t pick up the pace, but all went well. When I left the office on my first day, I walked out with a smile on my face, knowing that yes, I needed to do this.

Some of my colleagues took it upon themselves to make me feel less alone. It didn’t take them long, by October I was part of their little group. I’ve gotten especially close with a girl, Erica, one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. She was my new self-claimed best friend.

After a month of living in the US, I was definitely happy. Still lonely, but much happier than during the whole summer, or before that. I was thriving, doing something I loved, being good at it, being surrounded by amazing people in a place of which I’ve just dreamed of before. I wasn’t perfectly happy with LA yet, but I was getting used to it.

Sure, it was still quite lonely. Going home to the empty apartment, realizing that I can only call my parents or friends if I’m sure they are already awake… It was a process. The whole move and change was a process that was still happening. And to my biggest surprise, the process made me happier after all.

I’ve never imagined living in LA. When I daydreamed about coming to the US, it was always New York, city of my dreams. But here I was… And I decided that I wasn’t going to hold myself back from experiencing something great. Los Angeles was the city of dreams after all, wasn’t it?

When Erica suggested that we go to a nightclub I even forgot to oppose to the idea. It’s been so long since I went out, probably months ago, when Vanda and Amalia dragged me somewhere. Not that I didn’t like going out, I just haven’t been in the mood lately.

But when my newfound bestie showed up at my apartment with her makeup bag and some slutty choices of outfit, I couldn’t resist. It felt so good to dress up, do my hair and feel fabulous again, and I was also a little curious about the LA night life. I’ve lived here for a month now, and I’ve only been to a couple of bars and restaurants with my colleagues, so it was time to go exploring.

I choose a black satin cocktail dress, not too short, yet barely reaching my knees with an open back. Honestly, I think the past months of agony did good to my body, I definitely liked more what I saw in the mirror. My waist was slender, my figure was just curvy enough and I didn’t even mind that I haven’t lost any fat from my ass, since the pencil form of the dress made it look amazing.

I wanted to wear flats, but Erica reminded me that this was LA. It wasn’t allowed for me to wear anything but high heels, even if I took them off during the night. So I choose my black, way too high for my liking sandals and my also black Furla purse – one of the more expensive pieces of accessories I owned.

We did our makeups – yay to working at a beauty company and having endless amounts of free products – and Erica curled my hair slightly, something that I was never able to do for myself.

I looked surprisingly amazing. Erica too, in her own red bodycon dress. We were hot. Probably this is why we got in to the newest club in town – after some pre-gaming at home – in only ten minutes of time. It also helped that Erica knew one of the bartenders.

‘Okay, I’ve got to admit that this is fun,’ I laughed two hours later, when we made our way to the crowded bar. I felt alive. This nightlife scene was much bigger than the one at home, much more exciting and I was having an amazing time. We spent the past hours dancing around, then drinking, then dancing some more. I was buzzed enough, so my feet weren’t killing me in the heels.

‘Told ya’ she smiled, asking her bartender friend for another round of gin tonics, and also some tequila shots. ‘C’mon girl, we gotta’ keep up the level,’ she chuckled, raising her tequila glass at me.

I normally hated shots, but my slightly drunk self couldn’t resist. I grinned at her, clicking our glasses, then threw back the drink. Tequila burned through my esophagus, down to my stomach, making me warm.

‘Jeez,’ I grimaced. ‘You’re trying to kill me?’

‘Just want you to have a good time, Hun,’ Erica chuckled. ‘This is your LA club virginity after all.’

It lasted for an extremely long moment, then as soon as I got my composure back, I turned away, heading towards the restrooms, not looking back.

But it did. Nick was here. We were in the same club.

I closed the door of the ladies’ room behind me and leaned on the sink for support, trying to calm my rapid breathing down. I did not expect this, not really. I wasn’t prepared to see him, even if just from a distance. All the feelings, all the hurt I tried letting go of were back in the second our gazes found each other.

Up until that moment I was doing fine. Moving on with my life, concentrating on other things, not letting myself sink into depression because of Nick. I thought I had it under control with the move, the new environment, the new people. Turns out, I didn’t. It was just an act, pretending that everything was okay, that I was over him.

Well, clearly I wasn’t. At least that’s what the twenty minutes I’ve spent collecting myself said.

When I finally left the restroom, I was a little bit worried that Nick was going to be waiting outside for me. When he wasn’t, I felt both relieved and a little bit disappointed. Maybe he didn’t want to see me. Maybe he successfully forgot me.

I shook my head, trying to remind myself that my goal was to leave without having one of those awkward moments with him. I wasn’t ready to face him. He was still married. I wasn’t as over him as much as I would’ve liked. It’s been long months since I’ve heard from him.

Not being the kind of person to just leave Erica behind without a world, my way lead back to the bar. I’ve successfully made it through the sea of people, suddenly not enjoying the throbbing nightlife of LA anymore. My feet started hurting, so I’ve kept my gaze on the ground, trying not to fall.

This is how I ended up bumping into someone’s chest. I mean, it wasn’t really a surprise, there were a lot of people in the club and I wasn’t looking in front of me.

I could feel my ankle twist in the high heels, which made me wince. I was expecting the fall to the floor, I was ready to have everyone looking at me. Instead I could feel strong hands on my upper arms, keeping me from falling.

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. His intense, unique scent of sandalwood, pink pepper, mint and lavender instantly filled my lungs. I froze in the moment. My eyes were fixated on his black T-shirt, as I tried regaining my balance.

‘Milla,’ Nick said, his voice almost like a whisper. This made me immediately raise my glance and look into his dark brown eyes. It was like a cheesy movie, the moment our gazes collided, the outside world stopped existing. I didn’t hear the music, didn’t feel the people, didn’t feel my feet hurt.

I wanted to jump into his arms (even more), I wanted to kiss him, hug him, never let him go. At the same time, there was this urge in me to run away instantly, to avoid him for the rest of my life. Maybe it was the fresh heartbreak, maybe it was the fact that things between us still weren’t right, they weren’t possible.

I felt like a deer caught in headlights, looking up at him with my lips parted. I was shocked to be this close to him again, to bump into him in this sweaty club. His hands still on my arms didn’t exactly help either.

He looked amazing, even more up close than before. He was extremely hot, perfectly fitting into the LA nightlife scene. Being close to him made me want to do things, things I’ve wanted before, yet the feeling was even more intensive now, after long months of being away.

‘How–‘ he started, his handsome features in confusion, but as sook as I heard his voice, I shook my head, stepping back. This wasn’t the time or the place to talk. We were already too close. He was too close.

‘Don’t.’

It was all I said before walking past him, not caring about my hurt ankles. I just knew that I had to get out of here. By the time I reached the bar and Erica, I couldn’t resist turning back.

Nick was gone.

A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful feedbacks! It feel so good to read that you love the story as much as I do!

Take care,

#nick jonas #nick jonas fanfiction #nick jonas fic #nick jonas imagine #nick x reader #jonas brothers fanfiction #fanfiction #jonas brothers imagine

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handern · 4 years

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Yo it's Arthur anon. I've started listening to Mike Duncan's History of Rome podcast with space partner and ???? I've taken world history classes. I KNOW that Rome conquered Gaul but holy shit. It's really messed up that even in like, french history classes what we got was "Asterix" and not genocide. Is this just an American miseducation thing, or does everyone just like, pretend it wasn't that bad to cover for later imperialism???

Oh yeah it was pretty fucked up

I hate Julius Caesar's guts so when you get me started I can go off for hours

I'm going to talk only from memory of my classes and readings on the topic from 3 years ago (ok that was INTENSIVE reading bc I hate that fucker and read everything I could find) so bear in mind that some things might be not too accurate but I'll keep it vague to give the big picture (also I'm biased bc I hate his guts)

Basically Caesar wanted real bad to be senator but to be there you had to have military victories and a LOT of money to pay for public installations (and probably bribery but given a much more palatable name than bribery)

Except that he needed to be appointed to the administration of a territory in order to justify being a general going to war and stuff

If I recall correctly he wanted Macedonia or a region close to Macedonia bc it looked cool and there were a lot of resources to steal there except, BAD LUCK, the one person in charge of the administration of a roman region who kicked the bucket soon enough was the one handling Gauls

Now they already had been commercing with Gauls of a long, LONG time, they had access to commercial roads and controlled a part of the south of France already and Spain, and well, contrary to the greeks who were a bit further away, Romans were neighbors with the Gauls

Basically his whole campaign was briberies and throwing a chief against another to have them kill each other, then throw the losing clan into slavery, which is exactly what europeans did in africa and in the americas centuries later (or tried to do at least)

Romans were technologically inferior to the Celts, who had kickass metallurgy techniques for both shields and swords and their scabbards, but the Romans still managed to get these "secrets" from whoever sold it to them and it turned the tides in their favor

Basically the only reason the Celts lost the fight was that they were not united, which Vercingetorix tried to do but too late (that's the really fast version)

What's fascinating is that the Romans had already started the conquest much before Caesar, but in a slow insidious way

Through commercial roads people had to learn to speak roman/latin, they offered scholarships to the rulers' heirs (Vercingetorix served in the roman army), they kept themselves up to date with their politics and religion and internal conflict, etc.

The military part was really just an excuse for Caesar to show off, steal riches and get more slaves to sell so he could be senator, all while shoving new names to the Celts' groups/political systems, and pretending that he did much cooler stuff than he really did in his books, which were propaganda tailored to impress the Senate and should never have been taken as history books like historians and scholars did for centuries

And after that was done, it was just a matter of building a few cities and send some Romans in there, almost EXACTLY like that asterix book where Caesar builds a shopping mall near the village and everyone goes oh it's actually cool to have some theater and running water and also they're not trying to kill us anymore! cultural assimilation was always the best weapon of war of the Romans, along with propaganda and their law system

Long story short : yeha it's not just the USA, I'm french and only heard of all that bc of my archeology studies and I remember very clearly going to my history teacher at age 14 to ask when we would stop learning about Rome and pre-roman Egypt and actually learn about the Gauls. He was very embarrassed to say that the Gauls were not in the national program, but neither was the cultural assimilation of Egypt, we were only taught about the pretty parts so the pyramids and the gods

AND NOW THAT I'M ON THE TOPIC

the image we have of the celts nowadays is 50% imperialist fuck Julius Caesar's fault, 50% Napoleon's imperialist ass' fault and I'll die mad about it

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bonaintan · 4 years

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A Journey to KGSP/GKS: How I Ended Up in Korea

Everyone has at least one turning point in their life. It’s a momentum when one believes that his/her life has completely changed and a new one has begun. To me, KGSP/GKS is one of my turning points. I wouldn’t say that my journey to get the scholarship and my student life in Korea were full of blood and tears. Tough days were there, but there must be a bunch of more heart-breaking stories other than mine. God allows us to experience things and difficulties within our ability and even though I had mine in an unexpected way, I know that He had been very soft to me all the time. It was the time when I learned different versions of myself I never knew existed. And just now, months after I graduated and managed to finish the program safely that I had the courage to share my experience.

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Korean Government Scholarship Program (KGSP), which has changed its name into the Global Korea Scholarship (GKS), is a scholarship program from the Government of the Republic of Korea. This program provides foreigners the opportunity to continue to higher education (undergraduate and graduate degree programs) in South Korea. You may click here for more information.

Studying abroad has always been one of my dreams since high school. It turned from a mere dream into a plan once I graduated from university. Given my major is not a common one (Family Science) especially in Indonesia, I knew that I should go overseas to do my master’s degree program. I could’ve just continued my studies at the same university where I graduated, but even my advisor suggested to find some overseas universities, the most possible one is in Malaysia. At the time, Korea hadn’t been on the list as I had no idea if any universities were providing my prospective major.

I only did my research on schools in Malaysia and the US until I ran into a broadcast message about overseas scholarship for graduate programs. The list was quite long so I did a quick scan and started to dig into each based on my country preference, where Korea happened to be one of it. Back then, my knowledge of Korea was limited to dramas that I got to watch along with my older sisters (if you have three older sisters you can hardly choose what to watch on TV) and then some bands my little sister listened to. So I’ve been a fan of the Korean entertainment industry before coming to Korea, but studying there was never on any of my imaginations because I was skeptical on the idea of learning a new language (there were days when I laughed on Korean language and how the actors/actresses look, never imagined it would be part of myself in the future).

Surprisingly, the moment I learned about KGSP/GKS, I decided to give it a go. I did calculations on time and energy that I had (I was working at the time) and knew that I could afford only one scholarship application at the time. So I wrapped up my research on other countries and scholarship programs and spent the rest of the year preparing for KGSP/GKS applications, which means that I literally gave my all to my first scholarship journey. As a person who was spoiled by her parents and never had experience in scholarship application before, it was quite overwhelming. But, I tried hard to prepare everything myself despite their disapproval. It was actually my way to show them as well as God that I could do it and I would make it (what a confidence. Lol).

I sent my application to the Korean Embassy in Jakarta as I applied via Embassy Track. I learned that the competition on the first round through this track was not a joke, but I simply preferred having three university choices rather than one and I didn’t want to take a risk of having my documents lost on the way (that’s odd, I know, but I’m always more on the safe side). Thank God, I got the interview call and then had my documents sent to Korea after passing the interview process. The next round was having my documents screened by the Korean National Institute for International Education (NIIED) in Korea and once I passed this process, I had to wait for the email from my chosen universities, whether they wanted to do another interview or directly announced their decision. At this round, a lot of awardees say that you’ve already put your first step in Korea and there will be at least one university that will accept you. The saying was such a tranquilizer for me that I even started to make my packing list (’m not always this confident, seriously).

I got the first email from Kyungpook National University who was interested in my application and sent me a written interview. While undergoing the university selection process, applicants have to submit the medical check-up form. And it was around that time when things started to go down the hill. It should be easy if you have no history of having any acute diseases. I was not a healthy kid myself so I was quite worried that something off would unveil. It turned out that the underlooked mental health check-list was the one that got in my way. I took my medical check-up in a nearby hospital which happened to be a mental hospital where the doctor couldn’t simply sign my form without doing all the tests including the mental one. So, I had to take a written test to get the psychiatrist's signature, which unfortunately turned out that she didn’t want to give.

It was probably the wrong time to take the test. I was tired and drained out after taking several tests in a day. But, I know the result wouldn’t turn out differently had I done it on another day. So, I had to respond either yes or no on 300 questions. I guess the test basically tries to reveal your mental state (e.g., stress, anxiety, depression) through your fears and your response to stressful situations. Unfortunately, my result didn’t come out well. As silly as it sounds, I couldn’t hold my tears in the counseling room when the psychiatrist showed me the result and told the story of people with similar cases like me and what happened to them. I sobbed not because she couldn’t give her recommendation, but because finally came the day when someone put my condition into words. It might sound like I was being judged and the way she frankly explained it to me was also unpleasant, but nothing was wrong with what she said which made me feel even worse.

You might think I could’ve just taken the test again in another hospital. But, I couldn’t let my money go down the drain, and asking my parents’ money was not part of the plan. Plus, I had no ample time to do it all over again and get the results on time. More than anything, I started to doubt my decision to study abroad. I knew that the fear of living away from my parents and not being able to handle things independently had always been there all along (I don’t know if anyone at my age could relate). Not only one person who pointed it out, but I kept on denying it. So, when it was brought to the surface especially by a professional, it was painful to the point that I considered withdrawing because I couldn't even trust myself to take a risk.

Surprise-surprise, only a few days after the medical check-up I received the acceptance email from Kyungpook National University. I took it as a yes from God. I had come that far and I wouldn't trade my spot for some future events no one never knew would really happen. So, with as much courage as I had, I took the mental health test again suggested by the kind nurse who listened to me crying in the counseling room, answered the same questions differently, and managed to receive the psychiatrist's signature to complete my medical form. Later, I got the acceptance notifications from Pusan National University and Seoul National University as well, which I ended up choosing the latter for my graduate school in Korea.

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Preparing for KGSP/GKS applications and undergoing the selection process for months have taught me the pain of waiting and struggling. At one point, it showed me that I could push my boundary and instead of jumping out of my comfort zone, I tried to widen it and made things that were used to be hard become part of myself. With the permission of God, I could turn myself into such an overconfident head by asking prayers from people I know (in case my family’s prayers were not strong enough to persuade God. Lol). At another point, I was awakened to things I have been feared to deal with although I know I eventually have to. Confronting my fears wasn’t always pleasant nor that it affected me positively and became part of my comfort zone, but I did my share by trying to face it. At the end of the day, I learned Ikhlas and literally let God do the rest and decide for me. While waiting for the announcement I pictured the day I was rejected, hoping that it would ease the pain later. I also told myself hundred times that everything would be okay even if I failed as long as the sun still rises; I would cry my eyes out for days, receive comforting words halfheartedly, and wake up one day feeling okay again.

And my journey to be part of KGSP/GKS came to a beautiful end as I flew to Korea in August 2016 and started the real struggle for 3 years. Some of what the psychiatrist said back then about people with similar cases like me did happen to me too, but I finished it differently. It was tough years and only God’s mercy and the people I spent my time with in Korea that helped me to stay sane and get through it.

#korean government scholarship program #KGSP #studyinkorea #korean scholarship #scholarship for graduate programs #global korea scholarship #gks #scholarship journey #SouthKorea

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tyler-blogs · 4 years

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Long Post About Adulthood and Not Being Ready

Internally, I feel like I'm in a constant battle between ambition and...something else that I can't quite name.

I want desperately to make a difference in this world. I don't care if my name ends up in a history book. I don't need that kind fo legacy. I just want to die knowing that this world is a noticeably better place because of decisions I made.

That's part of why I became a teacher. There are other reasons, but my desire to help people is a big one. But it's also causing me to look beyond the classroom, because American teachers, for better or worse, have to work within a racist, classist, sexist, and generally flawed system. And although teachers make the biggest impact on students directly (few people have a "favorite principal" from childhood), they have less control over the system. Especially in states with strict anti-union laws.

So to help make the systemic changes we need, I need to become a principal or superintendent. To do that, I need to go back and get my master's degree and maybe event a doctorate, eventually. I'm not worried about whether or not I CAN do that. I definitely can. I'll kill that dissertation one day.

But I'm also just so exhausted.

In a perfect world, I'd pay off my student loans (which will be in 2027 if I apply for the $5,000 teacher student loan forgiveness), THEN go get my master's (and probably more student loans). I will have taught for 9 years, spend 2ish getting my master's, then move into a building level admin role (assistant principal or something) after 11+ years as a classroom teacher. I liked that timeline. That was my plan when I graduated, and my husband was on board with it (because I don't need his approval but it's good to have your partner in crime be on the same wavelength as you, ya know?)

Then I got my first teaching job, and now basically nobody else supports that plan, including my husband. My first year at my school, I got an Educator of the Year award (which is unheard of!!!). I've contributed to a pedagogy book that will be published in a few months. I got voted as favorite staff member by my colleagues in May, the end of my 2nd year. My district is paying for me to take classes so I can be certified to teach ESL students. I've only been teaching for 2 years, but my assistant principal, who I love and consider a friend, "jokingly" asked when I was going to get my degree so I could be Dean of Students. I've taught professional development sessions to colleagues who have been teaching longer than I've been alive, and those colleagues voluntarily attended so I guess they like me. I've become my building's NEA union representative. I'm on my district's new "Virtual Learning Taskforce" that we set up to create guidelines for this school year since we are going 100% virtual until COVID cases go down in my county. My resume is getting so long I can't fit it all even on 2 pages. I'm designing websites and sponsoring clubs and mentoring new teachers and I just don't feel comfortable with the pace of ANY of this.

I want these things. I do. I just didn't expect them to happen so quickly. I was taught in college that your first 5 years as a teacher, you're a mess. Well, apparently I don't look like a mess. I feel like one, though.

So Blake, my husband, started trying to get me to rethink my timeline. Maybe instead of starting my master's after I teach for about 10 years, I could start it around year 7, and then have it done by year 10. And then he started looking up programs for me to apply to. He found 2 and I talked to some colleagues and I've chosen the one I want. I know I can get in. But I'm not applying yet. Because I don't! Feel! Ready!

Why don't I feel ready? I don't know! I really don't. Maybe I don't trust myself? This is what goes through my head when people encourage me to step up, lead people, and go get my master's sooner rather than later:

There was a man in the building where I student taught who said the worst principal he ever had was a young woman who only taught for 5 years before becoming an admin. What if I end up like her? What if I don't have enough experience in the classroom, and my teachers don't trust in my abilities?

Why am I being given all these opportunities? Do I deserve them? I'm a baby. I'm fucking 24. I have 2 years of job experience. Why do these people trust me to do this?

What if I'm taking opportunities from my BIPOC colleagues? Do we really need another white high school principal in a majority minority school district?

Does my awareness of the above bullet point, and the fact that I do try to listen to BIPOC voices, and am doing this specifically so I can dismantle systems like the school to prison pipeline and subpar education received by poor and BIPOC children, make up for the fact that I'd be another white high school principal?

When I sabotage my own success one day by having a manic or depressive episode, what will happen?

Am I really doing this for the right reasons?

Will I miss the classroom too much and regret my decision?

Why do I have the audacity to think I can make a difference at all? I'm not special. I'm not better than anyone else. So why does it have to be me? Is this all secretly about my ego?

So yeah. I just had to write this out. And idk what this accomplished. I still haven't decided what I'll do, but I'll probably finish my ESL certification in May 2021, and then have to start my master's that Fall because everyone will push me to and I don't want to let them down.

#long post #text post #teaching thoughts #thoughts #tyler's thoughts #ramblings

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rockcfellers · 4 years

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/ let me introduce you to a prized member of our student government , arden rockefeller . this cisfemale virgo has been a student at our institution for seven years and is currently a 21 year old junior. through the halls , she has always reminded me of danielle rose russell , but there is always more than meets the eye , like the fact that she managed to get somene’s admission to cape coral deferred a year for her own benefit . coral cape has made their future just as bright as their smile , i assure you . ʼ ( muse 10 , adri , 19 , cst , she/her )

go on, replace me, when you’re craving something sweeter than the words i left in your mouth, go on and spit me out

NAME — arden olivia rockefeller.

NICKNAMES — n/a?

PRONOUNS — she/her.

AGE & DOB — 21 & august 23, 1998.

PLACE OF BIRTH — new york city, new york.

NATIONALITY — american.

MAJOR — psychology & political science.

EDUCATION — cape coral international school.

CLUBS — student government, unicef campus initiative, and lacrosse.

* background overview !

arden is twins with her brother, neels, both first born to this half of the rockefeller generation (he’s older by several minutes, but she’ll never attest to that) they’ve always been kinda close but never attached at the hip.

you know, i honestly feel like she had a fairly decent? childhood? like nothing was really wrong, just that her parents were always busy and never really gave the attention they should’ve to young children.

she was typically always very bright and cheery to everyone, evoking a “your daughter’s so sweet” from most people she met, which felt like the biggest compliment to her, because it meant that someone thought she was nice even if they disliked the rest of her family for any given reason, kind of like a twisted self worth?

her parents definitely would’ve preferred she did something that seemed more feminine, but arden found a love for kickboxing and later lacrosse, the two sports a great place for her to channel her energy into, letting her mellow out when she’s going through her day to day routine.

arden’s still figuring out how to be both who she’s expected to be and who she wants to be without facing any real repercussions, but hasn’t quite gotten that part down yet.

it was always known she could come to cape coral, considering her family, but she’s lowkey really grateful that she was given the opportunity to study what she wanted where she wanted.

that being said.... she’s still kinda a bitch. i mean, someone she knew from outside of cape coral wanted to applied and had gotten accepted, but arden had worried that they would interfere from her getting idk maybe a spot in the student government or accepted into her research program etc etc, so she talked to her grandfather and had their admission deferred a year so that her studies wouldn’t be affected.

* personality !

okay so,,,she is New so i’m still working out all the kinks but for the most part, she’s just.. neutral

before, she used to be like aggressively happy and cheery and nice. probably to compensate for the fact that everyone around her just seemed so mean.

she’s always hated being seen as weaker than or less than anyone else, which is partially why she’s taken up lacrosse and boxing, much to her grandfather’s distaste.

now she’s more focused on herself and is capable of being able to brush off any kind of comment that comes from people she doesn’t feel like directly affect her, which isn’t a great mentality to have but neither is caring too much about what other people think

the part of her that was very kind and viewed life with a sweet naivety is there, but heavily guarded and buried. she just feels like, it’s not something that’ll do her much good rather than leave her looking a mess or fool when someone takes advantage of it.

she’s like,,,the person that isn’t afraid to knock you down a few pegs but will do so with the sweetest smile on her face to really seal the deal.

she found an interest in politics, actually hating the way things were run but really enjoying finding out why people did and voted and favored the things they did, so she’s double majoring in psychology and political science

she tries to do everything on her own and hates asking for help, like even when she really needs to, but it’s mostly because really needing someone makes her uneasy because she’s always wondering if they’re going to leave her eventually or if they’re just using her or if they really don’t care about her the way she cares for them

that being said, she’s loyal as all hell to her loved ones. like will literally help you get away with murder if you asked her for help, once you’ve reached that point you are absolutely important to her.

* character tropes !

so she’s basically the maiden in the sense that she’s typically overly self confident and finds herself in positions where she’s stuck and needs help, whether it’s being in too many things at once and being too spread out or like in actual danger. arden heavily takes after her parents in the sense that she wants to be wholly capable of taking care of herself, the feeling of being dependent on someone making her uneasy. because of this, she finds herself in situations that could’ve been completely avoided if she had just taken a step off her high horse and admitted or realized she couldn’t do it on her own. the confidence she exhibits today was a learned trait however, arden getting her heartbroken by someone she had really loved taught her how to be comfortable with herself and just be a Badass, but protect the softer side to herself from then on.

* playlist !

wasabi — little mix:

stick like toffee, sip like coffee wake up, change your mind and drop me love to hate me, crazy, shady spit me out like hot wasabi lick me up, I'm sweet and salty mix it up and down my body love to hate me, praise me, shame me either way you talk about me

arden’s a strong believer in the quote by william shakespeare “love me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you love me, i will always be in your heart… if you hate me, i’ll always be in your mind.” she’s really aware of how she can come across as, but is really selective in who she cares to spend time showing her full self to. everyone else and every other opinion gets taken with a grain of salt. she’s definitely had friends that only used her for her name and then dropped her once they were done,she wasted no time moving on.

hold me while you wait — lewis capaldi:

i wish you'd cared a little more (hold me while you wait) i wish you'd told me this before (hold me while you wait) my love, my love, my love, my love won't you stay a while? (hold me while you wait)

a few years ago, she was in a relationship where she had cared a little bit too much about what they thought of her, finding herself seeking their approval for everything, truly believing this person was the sun. she fell hard and fast for them and they took advantage of this and cheated on her, thinking that they would get away with it… and they did for a while. arden tried to excuse it because of how much she loved them, but was starting to feel like she was never going to be good enough for them, but staying with them until things ultimately came to an end, still holding onto the hope that things would change. eventually she realized that she couldn’t keep holding onto that relationship forever and things ended.

winter — relic:

where am i going? i can’t see nothing but the road that’s out in front of me i think it’s snowing

arden’s the worst at multitasking and it shows even in her life. she’s very one track minded and knows what she wants out of it, but only sees one way to get there, so everything that’s the tiniest bit off her track, she gets thrown off completely and needs someone to just nicely push her back in the direction she was headed.

* aesthetics !

candle lights, the breathlessness felt when seeing big city skylines, scrunchies, tart strawberries dipped in sugar, iced coffee in mason jars, long swooping cursive, high-waisted jeans, half opened jewelry boxes, setting a new pen against fresh paper, standing outside during the middle of a sun-shower, tucked in shirts, a hand reaching out to catch you when you fall, golden hour.

* wanted plots !

i’m the worst at coming up with things but,,,,, here’s a few

general friends: honestly some from childhood, some from high school, others from college, give me New friend with the people coming on scholarship, anything

best friends: someone that’s been by her side for years, someone she’d literally trust with her whole life

ride or dies: honestly what it says, maybe like two or three of them that have been through the thick and thin of it but still have a really strong friendship in the end?

confidant: honestly, probably someone she’s close with, but doesn’t see on a regular basis? maybe they just box together from time to time to blow off steam? it helps if they’re not someone she’d see all the time, that way she’s not constantly staring her admission in the face

bad influence: someone who can teach her to let go and get out more, care even less about what others think, especially her parents. even if that’s taking her to parties or drinking/smoking alone in a room

exes ( good, bad, anything in between ): you know the drill, hit me with the good angst. (male, female, nb)

roommate ( probably a cape coral student ): arden doesn’t like needing people but that doesn’t mean she wants to be alone, they probably have a pretty nice place together ngl. i picture it being really cozy and nicely decorated?

hook ups: you also know this drill, sometimes you gotta blow off steam. (male, female, nb)

#capecoral:intro #/. intro

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prorevenge · 5 years

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My Gaslighting Manager told me I did NOT have a degree

I've been lurking here for a while and thought I'd share.

This will probably be a long one so my TL; DR: My gaslighting manager told my I didn't have a degree, was a terrible programmer and that HE could write a script I was assigned better and more efficiently so I quit the day he went on an international month and a half long vacation so he'd have to do it himself from paradise.

So some background, I'm an African American woman who's been working as a programmer for about a good 4 - 5 years now. This situation happened in my first job out of college about 5 years ago and I was employed there for six months. I got a degree in Computer Science and I had tried to work at a larger company but decided to work somewhere smaller and then work my way up to a big company.

I stumbled upon a job for a programmer at......let's call them Gaslight Business Solutions (GBS), and decided to apply. At the time I was living in the Bay Area and the job was in SoCal so after successful phone interviews I flew down for an in person interview. The interview went fine with the CEO and he mentioned that as a small company (8 people at the time) I'd have to wear multiple hats and at the time I was okay with that. The CEO then proceeds to tell me that I'd spend maybe about 25% of my time being a support rep for a software, let's call it TerribleSuite (TS) (a CRM and ERP software), and the other 75% of my time programming for it. Once again I was fine with that and so the CEO offered me employment and I accepted. He did warn me that I'd start off making something pretty low but my pay would become exponentially better after three months.

So a few days later I receive an email about the terms of my employment, my initial pay for three months was going to be 12.00 an hour and my overtime rate was 18.00 an hour. I was pissed, programmers make significantly more than that! But I justified it that they were a small company, and my pay was going to be exponentially better three months from my start date so I could hold off. I also noticed that my title wasn't "Programmer" but "Software Analyst" which I thought was strange but once again wrote it off.

On my very first day, THE VERY FIRST DAY AFTER AN HOUR OF BEING THERE, several employees asked me "Do you still like it here?" and "You're not going to quit right?" I thought it was strange but I explained that I liked working there and asked why they were asking that. They explained that another African American (I'm not sure why that was important to explain to me) programmer had quit on them after only a couple of days of working there so they just wanted to make sure I was happy. I assured them that I was happy and had no plans of leaving.

These questions proceeded for the next six weeks, every. single. day. MULTIPLE times a day. I thought it was strange behavior but at the time believed that it was because of what happened with the other employee so I didn't think much of it. The next red flag was when I had to go to a customer and my coworker told me within five minutes of driving to the customer he told me "I needed to get my experience and get out." I was flabbergasted, I asked him about it and he explained that I had better opportunities and I shouldn't waste my time at GBS. I was shaken by his words and I told him a bland okay.

For pretty much 90% of my time at GBS I spent most of my time was spent learning TerribleSuite and being a support rep, I did pretty much ZERO programming. I was pretty annoyed, I was promised I'd be doing programming and I began to lightly voice my displeasure about a month in, since that's what they wanted a programmer. My manager, "Jav", decided he'd "test" my programming skills so he gave me a script to rewrite. I was just to rewrite the code and not look into the different functions I could use or to research the functions that were used. As my first programming assignment I was on it and I was excited to finally be writing some code, even if it was just a rewrite. I rewrote the 200 lines of code down to under a hundred, sectioning off repeated code into separate functions so it made the code more legible.

I returned it to my manager within under a day and he called me into a code review. He proceeded to scold me about how I didn't really enhance the code and that I didn't really understand the methods being used. I told him that he told me not to and he just looked at me strangely but didn't say anything. Jav then told me that he could have written it better but he told me I did a good job. I took at a small win but I felt a little strange.

Now Jav knows how to program, he was self taught but made a LOT of mistakes. Some of them were very blatant and others were just subtle rushing mistakes. He'd sometimes forget a closing bracket or he'd forget to null check variables. Just mistakes every where, but typically the code would function, but it was pretty much always volatile.

So after that point my manager proceeded to make my life a living hell. He'd find any moment to critique my work. On multiple occasions he'd tell me I'd do something wrong and after I had apologized then tell me I had actually done it right. I was confused and I asked my fellow coworkers and they laughed it off as a quirk of Jav. He would assign me scripts and when I had questions he'd say he was too busy and schedule time to talk about it AFTER the script's due date. I'd see him goofing off in the conference room and if I'd ask him to help me he'd tell me he was going to be in call in a few minutes and was just letting off steam. I'd leave come back after about 10 - 20 minutes, and when I'd walk by the conference room he'd still be goofing off, or listening to music. If I did catch him at a time where he wasn't busy he'd dramatically sigh and reluctantly "help" out. His help sessions would go like this:

Me: Hi I need to access this sub object in TS but the help doc doesn't say what the api name is. Jav: You need to use a for loop to go through the object and then use a nested for to access the sub object.

Me: Yes, I'm aware of that but I don't have the name of the sub object's api name. Jav: You need to use a nested for. Me: Yes, I...

[He'd respond with one of the following] Jav: Well then you know what you're doing, I have a call/I'm busy so go upstairs and finish the script. Jav: You're just confused, go upstairs and think about it more. Jav: You don't understand the business process, go back upstairs and ask [coworker] about the business process.

For those of you non-programmers out there I'm basically asking for a key to access a room that's in another room and Jav is just confirming that the key exists but he's not telling me where the key is so I can access that room.

I always left these meetings extremely frustrated because he'd always tell me extremely basic computer science knowledge instead of what I really wanted to know. Jav also loved to spend time trying to tell me the "proper" ways to program. The longer I was there the more convinced he was that I actually faked my degree.

For those of you who don't know for loops are used to do an operation multiple times. Nested for loops with do multiple operations multiple times depending upon the number of nested loops. I write my nested loops like this, like a lot of programmers.

int n = 5; int m = 10; for(int i = 0; i < n; i++) { for(int j = 0; j < m; j++) { // Do something } }

He would BADGER me on this saying that it was the incorrect way of doing a nested for loop and that I was an idiot for doing my nested loops this way. If I tried to submit any scripts with the code above he'd throw a fit and told me to rewrite it the "proper" way. This is the way he wanted me to write nested loops.

int i = 0; int j = 0; int n = 5; int m = 10; for(i =0; i < n; i++) { for(j = 0; j < m; j++) { // Do something } j = 0; }

While this isn't incorrect, when n and/or m is large, like in the millions, resetting j to zero that second time after the inner loop wastes a computers time and it's unnecessary because the first "j = 0" will reset it to zero. I had tried to explain that to him, but he'd throw a fit insisting that ALL CS degree programs write nested loops his way AND that my way did NOT reset the inner loop counter. He say I was confused and I didn't know what I was talking about and that I learned how to do nested loops WRONG.

After this he really began to up his game on criticizing my programming skills, began to lightly suggest that I actually didn't have a computer science degree and made me his personal punching bag when his code broke.

On several occasions, scripts would break on the production accounts of GBS's customers mostly due to tri-yearly updates to TS. When that would occur he'd waste no time lambasting me about how I can't just go into accounts, change code and that I'd need to go back and "put the code back to the way it was". TS kept a history of when files were changed so I'd look it up and shockingly the last time the file was touched was before my hire date. I'd tell him this and he'd respond with the following: "I KNOW you touched the file. My code is PERFECT. You must have hacked into TS and changed the code!"

(First off WTF, if I had those skills I wouldn't be working at their tiny company and secondly ???? who thinks that?!)

I'd have to fix his code, test it in the sandbox account (if a customer had one) and then redeploy it to get the customer up and working again. After I fixed it, Jav would continue to reiterate that I hacked TS and that if I had been good and left things alone the script would have worked just fine. Needless to say I was pissed and I had to hold my tongue because I wanted to tell him how much of a moron he was.

Jav had once given me a script for a customer where given a particular day in the month it would renew a contract for the next year. If the day was in the first half of the month, the contract renewal would be for that month for the next year, it was in the last half of the month, the contract renewal would be for the next month for the next year. For example a March 3rd 2019 the contract renewal would be for March 3rd 2020 and for the second option March 20th 2019 the contract renewal would be for April 20th 2020.

So I wrote the script but forgot that for the last half of December I needed to add an additional year because if I didn't the contract would only be good for a month.

I didn't discover this issue until I was demoing it for the customer. It was going to be an easy fix, three lines of code max and the customer was very forgiving, they were just happy that the script was done and how easy it was going to make their lives. I apologized profusely to the customer about the mistake, but they assured me it was okay because they were just so happy about the script in general. They still had to go through a couple more stages with their bosses so they didn't mind that I needed to add in the quick change. Jav. Was. PISSED. He goes off on me on the call with the customer telling me that I needed to double check my code to make sure that it was working properly and that I always present customers with working code instead of broken code that clearly doesn't work. (If I remember correctly I had demoed it for Jav and another coworker and Jav was very pleased with it, albeit him saying he could do it better). The customer was awkwardly silent on the call as Jav spent a good five minutes berating me and my work. He then addresses the customer with multiple apologies before we hang up the call. I get a call to come downstairs to talk to Jav and when I get down there he continues his tirade and ends the discussion with, "You're NOT a programmer and I don't think you have a degree in computer science and, to be honest, I'm not even sure why we even hired you."

I was furious and on that day I started to seriously look for a new job (I had been casually looking since around the four month mark). I went back upstairs and started a journal of everything he had ever said to me. I also began to have a little "fun", I'd ask "why?" like a toddler when he assigned me new scripts just to see his eyes get as large as saucer and see the little hamster wheel in his head race when he couldn't come up with an answer.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when Jav asked me to write a Julian Date converter for a customer. The customer needed unique numbers every time they created a new item order, so they needed it to be a Julian Date rather than a Gregorian Date. So I researched different algorithms wrote the code and with two other coworkers showed Jav the script after a few days. Like normal Jav was pissed. He looks at me and says I'm confused because I CLEARLY don't know what a Julian Date was. I blinked a little confused, and waited for him to continue. Jav tells me that he wants just month, day, year and that was it. He looks at my other two coworkers and expresses disappointment that they would leave me to this task given my current skills and that they needed to look over and oversee all of my work or do it themselves because they couldn't trust me with the work. (They had some programming knowledge but it wasn't very extensive. They actually passed along all their script writing to me). He orders us to go back upstairs and for me to rewrite the code to use a "proper" Julian Date.

My coworkers and I go back upstairs and a little angered I proclaim that Jav clearly doesn't know we are Gregorian calendar. My coworkers agree and said they were sorry that I had to rewrite the code. Suddenly Jav calls one of my coworkers and asks my coworker to put him on speaker so the whole office could hear (remember we have like 8 coworkers). She does as she's told and Jav proceeds to say that I'm a confused idiot who has no idea what she's doing and that I can't be left unsupervised because I go off and do what I want to do instead of the writing code that I should be writing. Jav says that he's a much better programmer and that his code is faster and more efficient than mine and that if he wasn't so busy he'd be writing all the scripts. He tells my coworkers that they need to keep a close eye on me and hangs up the phone. The office is awkwardly quiet and I'm so upset that I'm seeing red. I was so upset that if people asked me questions in person I'd IM them because I was going to explode at any minute. I immediately stopped working on the Julian Date script switching over to another script that was due much later.

I confided in a coworker who missed out on what happened above, and I told her that I was going to quit that Friday. She tells me to wait a few weeks because Jav always takes a month and a half long vacation. I thought that this was gold. In the weeks up to his vacation he kept parading around about how happy he was about not having to work on his vacation and that he was NOT taking a computer with him because he wasn't going to do anything but relax. He told me he was worried about the Julian Date script and that he was hoping it would be done soon because he didn't want to work on it during his vacation. On the day his vacation starts I go to the CEO and hand in my resignation letter saying that today was my very last day. The CEO is stunned and says "You don't want to give us two weeks" and I reply "No, I'm unhappy here". The CEO is taken aback and asks why, I pull out my journal and began to detail all the things that Jav has done. The CEO is dumbfounded and doesn't believe me since he and Jav had been working together and no one had ever said anything like this about Jav. I didn't really care because I wasn't going to be working there anymore. The CEO calls in my coworkers and announces that I have quit and the coworkers are also STUNNED. I go back to my desk which I had already packed up and put all my personal items in my car before everyone had arrived, and open up the Julian Date Script and write in the comments at the top of the file: "Hi Jav just to let you know, we're currently in the Gregorian Calendar and not the Julian Calendar. I'm so sorry that you're confused and don't understand the business process of this script. I hope you have fun on your vacation!"

I couldn't find a good place to add this end but around fifth month I learned that GBS had hired several people and all of them subsequently quit because of Jav's behavior and that the CEO had been told on multiple occasions that the reason why the person had quit was because of Jav I also learned that someone had went online and wrote negative reviews about Jav on any review site they could find. I tried to find those reviews but unfortunately they have been taking down. I'm upset that the CEO lied to my face stating that no one had ever told him about Jav's behavior but hey I'm not longer working there so I don't really care anymore.

I know that was incredible nasty and it's definitely a low point in my professional career but I don't regret it one bit. My only regret is not deleting all the code in the file so he had to start from scratch.

Sorry for the incredibly long post but I just thought I needed to tell the whole story. Hope you enjoyed it.

(source) story by (/u/CurlyCoderGirl)

#prorevenge #by /u/CurlyCoderGirl #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

“Dad Sent Me to the Moon” vs. “Because Dad Made Me”

How Luther and Vanya Talk About Trauma, Part Three

Before I begin my analysis of Episode 4, I feel I should warn you: I kinda break my own rule here. Namely, I said in the beginning that I would compare Luther’s mentions of his time on the Moon to Vanya’s mentions of her exclusion, and sort of implied I’d leave it at that. But after seeing how Luther approaches his own forcible mutation, and thinking on it for a while, I concluded that I can’t limit Luther’s trauma mentions to the Moon. The moment where Reginald mutates him without his consent and leaves him alone to adjust is too pivotal for his character, the way he talks about it reveals a lot about how he regards his own trauma in general, and it actually sets up an interesting contrast for how he addresses his time on the Moon after the big reveal in Episode 6.

So, from now on, if Luther or another character brings up his mutation, I’ll include it in my trauma counts. If it turns out I’d forgotten about another trauma Vanya addresses later in the series, I’ll add that one in too.

Part One

Part Two

Episode 4: Man on the Moon

The first trauma mention in this episode is brief, and it comes while Vanya is walking with Leonard to rehearsal.

Leonard: You’re doing it again. Vanya: Force of habit. It’s just—when I was a kid, I felt like I had to apologize for even breathing. Leonard: Tell me about it. I don’t think my dad ever forgave me for being born.

Once again, we see Vanya bringing up her own trauma. Although this mention is more appropriate to the conversation at hand, its presence reveals a lot about how Vanya approaches her painful childhood.

First of all, we see her, once again, using it to explain her own behavior. Why does she apologize all the time? Because when she was a kid, she felt like she had to apologize for her own existence. She was made to feel guilty for taking up space in a house filled with young demigods, and that habit has followed her into adulthood.

However, this also shows the progress she’s made in processing her own trauma: She is able to connect her present behavior to her past scars, and she understands how the latter influences the former. Even without her offer to Five to recommend a therapist she’d seen, this remark would be enough of a hint for viewers to surmise she had either seen a therapist or read some quality self-help books. That therapist, whoever she was, helped Vanya untangle some of her childhood and get a clearer idea of why she approaches relationships the way she does. It’s unclear whether Vanya always understood (on some level) that the abuse was not her fault, or if the therapist she saw helped her see that, but either way, the result is the same: Vanya knows that what happened to her was not her fault, and that influences the way she talks about it.

But most of all, this snippet shows just how readily Vanya addresses her own trauma. She’s not shy about bringing it into a conversation—and not always as a swipe at her sister. Here, she’s not trying to remind Leonard that he was shitty to her in the past; she’s simply telling him what she knows about herself so he can understand her better. And Leonard brings up a bit about his own painful childhood, so they commiserate. This isn’t a bad thing, in the real world. Trauma and abuse survivors often benefit greatly from sharing their experiences and learning that they’re not alone. The fact Vanya feels comfortable addressing her trauma with someone she trusts is not in itself bad. The fact she’s chosen to trust a manipulative pile of walking garbage with a face is.

************

Shortly thereafter, Allison wakes Luther to show him what happened to Grace. Luther’s reaction is, to put it lightly, subdued—he shows little emotion and his statements are matter-of-fact.

Allison: Poor Diego. I mean, this is gonna be so hard on him. Luther: It’s hard on all of us. Allison: Luther? Are you okay? I mean, you know you can talk to me. Luther: I don’t want to discuss it. Allison: Hey, no. Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. When I left, you were still… I mean, what…what happened? Luther: Dad sent me on a mission. And it went…badly. I almost died. He saved my life. Allison: Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you through it. Luther: I was fine. All right? I am fine. I don’t need any help. Allison: People are attacking our family. I mean, come on. Talk to me. Luther: I can’t. I…please. Just leave me alone.

Here we see the first onscreen mention of Luther’s mutation, and—as with the first onscreen mention of his time on the Moon—it is Allison who brings it up first. And in a similar vein, Luther’s answers are brief, although with the Moon, Luther waxed poetic about the sunrise and his “world turning to white glass.” His answers here, in contrast, could almost be considered bare-minimum sort of answers—he’s saying as little as he can while still answering the question.

It’s clear that Allison is trying to help. Luther gave her space to talk about her power abuse before; now she is giving him space to talk about his mutation. And he rejects the invitation. She accepted his help prior to this; now he’s saying “I don’t need any help. I’m fine.” And it would be easy to dismiss this exchange as Luther not wanting to appear weak, or as him not caring about what happened to him—but both of those assumptions would be off the mark.

We learn later that Reginald considered Luther’s mutation a failure on his part. It was an emergency procedure undertaken to pull Luther back from the brink of death, and at the time Reginald likely had no idea what all of the side effects would be. He only learned the hard way, once Luther awoke to find his body was, for all intents and purposes, gone and replaced with a new one. And don’t think I’m defending Reginald here; if he had no idea what would happen, staying with his son until he awoke, ensuring he had someone there to explain it to him and keep him from panic, was the very least he could do, and he didn’t even do that much.

Now, imagine what the recovery must have been like for Luther. The procedure would’ve been explained to him at some point—maybe by Reginald, maybe by Grace or Pogo—but he knows why he looks the way he does, so he must have heard it from someone. He knows it was necessary to save his life. He knows he’d be dead if it hadn’t happened. But if Reginald considered it a failure, how did that impact his relationship with Luther? Did he never look at his son again without disappointment filling his eyes? Did he simply avoid Luther from that point on, refusing to look at the reminder of how badly he’d miscalculated on that serum? Did he send Luther on mission after mission just to get him out of the house, or did he sequester him away from the world, barking orders to get back to training every time Luther crossed his path? Is he the one who told Luther to hide his body beneath that overcoat, or did Luther choose it himself in response to the shame his Dad taught him to feel?

Grace and Pogo wouldn’t have been abusive toward Luther, true. But they wouldn’t have been supportive, either. Judging by an earlier conversation with Diego, it seems Grace’s programming will not allow her to speak badly of Reginald, and Pogo is always careful to avoid saying anything that might be construed as ingratitude. Grace would have gone on treating Luther the way she always had, and Pogo would probably have done much the same, but neither would have been available if he needed to vent. Neither would have listened if he’d needed to cry, or scream, or shout obscenities at his dad. They could have given him a refuge from Reginald’s shame and abuse, but they couldn’t have given him what he really needed: someone to say “Holy shit, Luther, that’s fucked up. You don’t deserve all that.”

With all that in mind, it’s no wonder he is, to borrow Allison’s words, shutting her out. It’s the only way he knows to deal with that trauma. Just shut it out and keep going. But I’d like to note exactly what he says there: “I can’t.”

This line, to me, shows two things: self-awareness and an acknowledgment of past attempts to come to terms. He’s had time to go over what was done to him—several years, in fact—and it seems he’s tried to find some sort of closure. But he never could. He was never given the tools to do so, because the one tool he needed—an acknowledgement that his dad was abusive—was always withheld from him. His emotions are a jumble of internalized shame and anger and self-loathing and resentment and gratitude, but he can’t untangle the knot and every attempt just leaves him in more pain than he was before. So he leaves the knot alone. It’s not a good solution by any stretch, but it’s all he has.

***********

Not too long later, we see a very different reaction to Luther’s mutation, when Luther is going through Five’s room in search of clues and Diego happens by. I apologize for the length of this quote, but I don’t think a shorter one conveys everything worth discussing here.

Luther: Do you know about Mom? Diego: Well, looks like you got what you wanted. One way or another, right? Luther: Want to tell me what you’re doing here? Diego: Looking for Five. Luther: Oh, and let me guess, you’re gonna save the day. Diego: It’s what I do. Asshole. Luther: Really? Last I checked, you mopped floors. Diego: And what do you do? Sit on the Moon, for four years, waiting for orders? Pogo: Boys! This won’t help us find Five! Diego: Keep on being a loyal soldier? After everything our father did to you? Luther: You mean save my life? Diego: No, I mean….turn you into a monster. Luther pauses a few seconds, then drives his fist through the wall near Diego’s head. Diego: Can’t hide it anymore, champ. Luther: He had a difficult decision to make and he made it. Diego: Grow up, Luther, we’re not thirteen anymore. Luther: That’s what leaders do, by the way. Diego: He sent you on that mission all alone. Almost got you killed. Luther: Yeah, well, at least he was there. Where were you? You and everyone else in this family? You walked out. Diego: And thank Christ that I did, or I would’ve ended up just like you. Pause Let me ask you a question. When you watch one of those nature shows…does it turn you on?

If you want to, you can look at this conversation as both a response to Diego’s trauma and a mention of Luther’s, but the mention of Diego’s trauma is so brief and the subject changes so quickly that I won’t count it. However, I will note that the argument begins with a simple, non-accusatory question from Luther: He wants to know if Diego heard the bad news about Grace. That’s all he asks, but Diego turns it into a dig at Luther, which prompts the argument.

Now, I apologize ahead of time if I get off-topic for a minute, but this scene is one of the most cannibalized in the fandom. Those who dislike Luther to begin with cherry-pick his worst moments—mocking Diego for mopping floors, punching through the wall—and pass them around as if they are things Luther did entirely unprovoked because he’s that much of an asshole. But that is not what happens here. The scene begins with Diego twisting a simple inquiry into a swipe at Luther—for no real reason I can see, aside from Diego’s unresolved anger toward the rivalry Reginald introduced to their relationship—and escalates into an argument when Diego deliberately tries to enrage Luther.

Knowing Diego, and knowing what he says of Reginald before and after this argument, it’s clear that his digs at Luther have a purpose: He wants Luther angry not at him, but at Reginald. He wants Luther to see that Reginald was the villain and get him to place the blame for his problems where it belongs. But the end does not, in any way, justify the means Diego chooses to employ.

Think about how little Luther says to Allison regarding his mutation. “Dad sent me on a mission. And it went badly. I almost died. He saved my life.” How he tells her not just that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but that he can’t. Think back to the lengths he went to in order to hide it. Unless Reginald kept the Academy at a temperature more suited for snowmen than for people, it can’t be comfortable to wear that overcoat indoors all the time. Think about the way he stared at his body in the mirror, as if it were an unwanted stranger. Luther might have come to accept accept his body on the most basic “I’m stuck this way so there’s no point trying to change it” level, but he certainly is not okay with it.

So what does Diego resort to in order to get a rise out of him? Body-shaming.

I don't think it’s possible to overstate how devastating this is for Luther. If you watch this scene again, pay attention to his expressions. He’s angry, yes, but he’s also hurt. Diego has found his sore spot and is stabbing at it repeatedly—similar to the way Leonard later tries to enrage Vanya with chants of “Ordinary! Less than ordinary! Not special!” And just as the attack on Vanya comes from a man she thought she trusted and loved, the attack on Luther comes from his own brother. It’s not just devastation Luther is feeling; it’s betrayal.

***********

Running count of trauma mentions (cumulative of all episodes thus far)

Own Trauma: Vanya 3, Luther 3 Trauma of Others: Vanya 1, Luther 1

Read on to Part Four

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sunsetcurve · 4 years

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Waves of Thunder * Family Danger Chapter 3

Sorry, at work right now but I know a big chunk of this chapter was Thunderbolt related, so I just inserted the whole thing. 😬

The Man Cave was in shambles ever since Charlotte left. At least that was exactly how Henry made it out every time he called her for an emergency. She went with it a while. Henry was pretty dependent in some aspects and she had only given him a couple of weeks to wrap his head around the changes. Eventually, though, she simply had to tell him very firmly that she couldn't continue to do this.

She had a job search. She had weekly labs. She was going out for an internship. She just… couldn't coddle him. “Henry, Schwoz is standing right next to you. I can hear him breathing. The man taught me practically everything I know about the place. Turn to him for this help…”

“LAAAAAME!!!” Henry practically shouted. She just held the phone and blinked her eyes, with a sigh, staring ahead. He was about to say something when she started speaking to someone in her background.

“Hey. What're you doing here? I thought our thing was tomorrow?”

“I got here early for some meetings. Want me to go?” A guy said.

Henry suddenly and oddly felt bothered by this call intrusion. “Who dat?”

“No. I was just saying goodbye.”

“No you weren't,” Henry claimed.

But, she didn't hear him. Instead, she said into the phone, “Bye, Hen. Good luck on your mission.”

“Oh, that's Henry? Heyyy, Henry!” He said into the mouthpiece.

She giggled the way that she had when she met Captain Man at Jasper's birthday party. Henry noted this because he didn't hear that type of behavior much from her. She wasn't very giggly. “Get outta my personal space, Max!” She said. Henry doubted she meant it from her giggling, and WHO was Max? “Max says 'Hi,’ but also 'Bye’ because you've got an emergency and we've got science things.”

“What kinda science things?” Henry asked, but Ray shouted,

“Like, right now, Kid!” He punched the enemy, but held onto his phone.

Before Charlotte hung up he heard her say to this Max, “From the sound of it, he's the fight. Probably wouldn't remember you anyway.” Her voice was fading as the phone headed for her bag. “He'll remember your sister.”

“He still crushing on her?”

“Who knows?” And she hung up.

Henry was fighting as he put his phone away. He'd definitely look into this later! Who the jack was Max? And who was this sister of his that he had allegedly crushed on? And was she still hot? But more importantly, whether or not she was, who was that Max guy to Charlotte?

Science things were usually not discussed between them. To be frank, they bored him and she didn't need to waste her breath, for both their sakes. But this sounded suspiciously like science things, but being enjoyed with a guy. A guy that made her giggle. A giggle with zero effort. It's not like he was jealous, but he probably should at least size this dude up. Charlotte never dated in school. Her parents didn't allow it. She could hang out with friends all day every day if she wanted, but no boyfriends and no dates. Only high school graduates could date in her house, an unfair stipulation, considering that she was an only child.

But, Henry was distracting himself. He and Ray bagged their bad guy and he headed home shortly after that.

…

He and Charlotte spoke a few more times, while playing on their live video games, and he called her a few times, but she apparently had gotten the internship she was shooting for. All she'd texted was, “Got my internship. Yay!”

But, her social media post had, “So grateful for this opportunity. The youngest intern for this program in a decade. The only freshman this year. Big ups to my parents, teachers, mentors, and special thanks to Max for so many nights of helping me with my entry project. #TheScienceBroIBeenWaitnFo” Then she included hearts, hugs and kisses emojis. Why hadn't his text been so impassioned?

Henry stared at it for a while before going to the comments and reading an entire 46 comments thread of exchange between her and this guy.

To sum it up, Dude was super excited for her, and said so, and included a bunch of emojis of his own, and they spoke science here and there, some simple, some went over Henry's head, but the thing that didn't was Max's use of parentheses when he repeated Science “Bros.”

Now… it was very much so possible that in the short span of time that Henry guessed she knew this dude, he'd quickly caught on to her penchant for not being a “bro,” but since in this rare instance SHE used it, he figured that Max was hinting at something else and honestly, it was on his nerves.

He checked out the guy's page. “Maxy-T. Corny,” he muttered. But, he looked familiar… Then, Henry saw photos of he and the sister. “Phoebe? This is Phoebe's brother, Max???” That dude was a villain, last time he knew of. Oh, but in his profile, it clearly stated that he'd left villainy behind to be the best hero he could be. Henry groaned, but couldn't force himself to leave the page. Mainly because there were a lot of photos of Char there. She wasn't tagged, so he hadn't seen them before, but they were like… uncomfortably cozy.

One was of her in a lab of some sort, in her pajamas and protective gear, side-by-side with one of her at a science gala, all dressed up and… surprisingly hot, Henry had to admit. The caption said: Get you a girl that can do both. And Charlotte had liked the post and commented with a smile and a wink. “Oh! Okay.” Henry said, nodding as he continued stalking the page.

One was a video of Charlotte in this field of sunflowers, wearing sunflowers and doing one of those dance challenges. He… didn't know Char could dance like that! And then she levitated? Must have been with Max's help. The caption said: Hope floats. #DoYouLoveMe #SheGotMeInMyFeelings “EXCUSE ME???”

While he was yet stalking, dude went live. “Hey, we're here at Char's lab, working when we should be celebrating…”

She giggled from the background and said, “Oh, so you're gonna shade me like this? I steal your lab?”

“Charlotte's lab, that Charlotte built with her own two hands and is at working, everyday…”

Her face appeared to interject, “He totally let me borrow his lab everyday. I was only pushy the first time!” They both laughed and exchanged looks and whatever the look was, Henry hated it.

…

Whenever they talked, she didn't mention Max, and whenever Henry brought him up, she laughed it off and changed the subject. One of the times that they were talking, Henry was in the Man Cave and Ray came upon their conversation. “Is that Charlotte?” He asked and rushed over, jumping into Henry and Charlotte's video call.

“Dude!”

“Hey, Ray!!!” Charlotte cheered and waved both hands.

“Charlotte,” he folded his arms, “I've been told you're fraternizing with the kid that turned us over to a room full of villains.”

“It's not that serious, Ray. We hang out. Besides, that's in his past. He's legit Z-Force, now. Actually, he loves pranks. I think that you'd get along with him, now.”

“Oh because he loves pranks?” Ray asked.

Henry chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, just because he loves pranks.”

Ray: I mean… I also love a good prank.

Henry: Yeah, a good prank is worth a lot to me.

Charlotte: He'll be here soon, if you wanna chat

Henry suddenly remembered his frustrations, “No! I was checking on you, because you two seem like you're dating. This guy's older, has had way more dates, probably. Probably has a lot of groupies.”

“Superpower groupies,” Ray added.

“The absolute most desperate of groupies.”

“That isn't a lie,” Ray bragged.

Charlotte told them, “The most insulting thing about this conversation is that both of you think that there's something that you would think of that I wouldn't.”

Ray informed her, “We know how guys think.”

“Oh yea? What do you guys think he's thinking about?”

They both stuttered and Ray finally answered, “Well, grown up sleepovers, for one.”

“Yeah!” Henry seconded, then shuddered, “Gross.”

“Oh, it's gross that someone would be interested in me?” Charlotte snapped. Henry tried to explain that wasn't what year meant, but she had ran with it, “For your information, I love grown up sleepovers and I'm told that I'm excellent at it!”

“I'm out,” Ray said, leaving the conversation. Busting Charlotte's chops, maybe even giving that Max kid a hard time, he had been ready for, but one of his “kids” having grown up sleepovers? That was where he tapped out.

“Charlotte, that isn't what I was getting at, but wait, what? You've… slept over with that dude? Do your parents know?”

“Do yours know about your… things?”

“That's different. My parents are super not attached. Yours used to have you keep tabs of where you were and who you were with in Goofle Drive.” He laughed, remembering that.

“My parents know that I'm seeing Max and they support me, unlike my so-called best friend who hasn't had anything nice to say to me in months.”

“Char.. I have had plenty of nice things. I just kept them to myself.”

“That's helpful.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Match the wingperson energy that I gave you for every single girl you were interested in during the course of this friendship.”

“I don't recall.”

“I encouraged you to ask Bianca out, and after you made me regret it by basically making a fool of yourself, I still motivated you to tell her how you felt before the world ended. And because of it, when the world kept existing, you'd gotten a kiss and a girlfriend!”

“Okay, that did happen, but…”

“Then you rejected my very helpful advice to NOT try to do a dual identity date with her and Chloe. And after you didn't listen, you spent most of the night isolating me from my other friends to try to advise you through a problem that I never would have been stupid enough to find myself in.”

“Char…”

“And you never even said thank you, or more importantly SORRY!”

“I see your point.”

“Henry, you once told me that you would never date me because I was like a sister to you.”

“You said that you wouldn't date me because I was a dishonest idiot and it already complicated your life enough just being my friend!”

“And… that was true then and is true now. But, you're acting… not like my brother. You don't pull this with Piper.”

“I don't feel the same way about Piper as I do about you,” he blurted out.

“Precisely. And like the idiot that I said you were, you waited until I found someone else to acknowledge this. I'm not Chloe, Henry. I'm not giving you a shot because you decided that you don't want to see me with someone else. Especially when I was there to witness herbe neglected until she left for Kids in the Woods.”

“I don't want to date you.’

“Good. Then there's no reason that you can't be supportive.”

“Yeah. Well, I gotta go. Swellview emergency.”

“Cool. Be careful out there.”

“Will do.”

…

Flashback:

Charlotte told Henry, “We should come up with a backup story. We'll need cover if Jasper is ever going to buy that we're dating. My cover is that we're keeping it a secret because my parents won't allow me to date. Easiest fiction is something steeped in the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, your parents don't let you date. Now, you ewwwing at me makes sense.”

“We made the sound at the same time, and that's not the reason that I did.”

“Friends should never date. First off, you might ruin the friendship and on top of that, I mean, I see you like a sister. You understand.”

“I don't understand any of that. If I were going to date, I'd definitely want the person to be my friend first. I want us to have common ground. I want us to have things that we can share together as friends even though we're dating. And, I have literally never thought of anyone as a sibling. Maybe it's because I am an only child, or maybe it's just because we have such different ways, you couldn't have possibly ever grew up as my sibling. My parents would have disowned you by now.”

“Harsh, but realistic… WAIT! Then why'd you say EWWW?”

“I said ewww, because you're a dishonest idiot and it already complicates my life enough just being your friend.”

“Charlotte, that's the rudest thing you've ever said to me… but it's maybe true, possibly.”

“I don't need you to tell me that I'm making sense. What about your cover? Jasper will have so many questions and most of them, I'm sure he'll ask you.”

Henry waved her off, “Between the two of us, no matter what we say, he'll believe us.”

…

Having a hectic schedule, but still no paycheck was a bummer. Charlotte really needed one of these searches to come through. As she played videogames with Henry and Jasper, she complained about it on the headset.

“Why don't you see if Ray has something you could do from there?” Henry wondered.

“He's been a lit.tle. fussy with me since my notice. Henry, do you really think Ray might consider that?”

“Don't see why not. He often asks me 'Are you and Charlotte talking again? I have wanna ask her something!”

“When were we not talking?”

“He only means that he knows I'm no longer a priority.”

She paused for just a moment and her character was almost killed! She took a moment, put her head back in the game, and practically whispered, “You’ll always be a priority, Hen.” He smiled to himself, and even though she couldn’t see him, she countered, “Don’t be smiling.”

A/N: I usually do these at the front, but I wanted to just tag this bit of info in here… I do not know WHO I got the idea of Charlotte + Max Thunderman, and I’ve seen very little of the Thundermans, so Idek none about them. If I’m OOC with him or whatever, charge it to my head and not my heart.

#NESHA THIS IS SO GOOD #okay like. i’m such a sucker for a little jealous!henry #and it definitely doesnt seem like you don’t know max #i really LOVE the sciencebros thing its so cute!!!!!#ugh. i’m really just being dragged into thunderbolt huh.#it’s CUTE #ahh #thunderbolt #chenry #henry danger #the thundermans #charlotte page bolton #max thunderman #henry hart #submission

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theadmiringbog · 4 years

Photo

I had a fragile but agreeable life: a job as an assistant at a small literary agency in Manhattan; a smattering of beloved friends on whom I exercised my social anxiety, primarily by avoiding them.

I wanted to make money, because I wanted to feel affirmed, confident, and valued. I wanted to be taken seriously. Mostly, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.

Conversation with the cofounders had been so easy, and the interviews so much more like coffee dates than the formal, sweaty-blazer interrogations I had experienced elsewhere, that at a certain point I wondered if maybe the three of them just wanted to hang out.

They wore shirts that were always crisp and modestly buttoned to the clavicle. They were in long-term relationships with high-functioning women, women with great hair with whom they exercised and shared meals at restaurants that required reservations. They lived in one-bedroom apartments in downtown Manhattan and had no apparent need for psychotherapy. They shared a vision and a game plan. They weren’t ashamed to talk about it, weren’t ashamed to be openly ambitious. Fresh off impressive positions and prestigious summer internships at large tech corporations in the Bay Area, they spoke about their work like industry veterans, lifelong company men. They were generous with their unsolicited business advice, as though they hadn’t just worked someplace for a year or two but built storied careers. They were aspirational. I wanted, so much, to be like—and liked by—them.

It was thrilling to watch the moving parts of a business come together; to feel that I could contribute.

What I also did not understand at the time was that the founders had all hoped I would make my own job, without deliberate instruction. The mark of a hustler, a true entrepreneurial spirit, was creating the job that you wanted and making it look indispensable, even if it was institutionally unnecessary.

I wasn’t used to having the sort of professional license and latitude that the founders were given. I lacked their confidence, their entitlement. I did not know about startup maxims to experiment and “own” things. I had never heard the common tech incantation Ask forgiveness, not permission.

I had also been spoiled by the speed and open-mindedness of the tech industry, the optimism and sense of possibility. In publishing, no one I knew was ever celebrating a promotion. Nobody my age was excited about what might come next. Tech, by comparison, promised what so few industries or institutions could, at the time: a future.

“How would you explain the tool to your grandmother?” “How would you describe the internet to a medieval farmer?” asked the sales engineer, opening and closing the pearl snaps on his shirt,

Good interface design was like magic, or religion:

The first time I looked at a block of code and understood what was happening, I felt like nothing less than a genius.

Anything an app or website’s users did—tap a button, take a photograph, send a payment, swipe right, enter text—could be recorded in real time, stored, aggregated, and analyzed in those beautiful dashboards. Whenever I explained it to friends, I sounded like a podcast ad.

four-person companies trying to gamify human resources

... how rare the analytics startup was. Ninety-five percent of startups tanked. We weren’t just beating the odds; we were soaring past them.

While I usually spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling and worrying about my loved ones’ mortality, he worked on programming side projects. Sometimes he just passed the time between midnight and noon playing a long-haul trucking simulator. It was calming, he said. There was a digital CB radio through which he could communicate with other players. I pictured him whispering into it in the dark.

At the start of each meeting, the operations manager distributed packets containing metrics and updates from across the company: sales numbers, new signups, deals closed. We were all privy to high-level details and minutiae, from the names and progress of job candidates to projected revenue. This panoramic view of the business meant individual contributions were noticeable; it felt good to identify and measure our impact.

Was this what it felt like to hurtle through the world in a state of pure confidence, I wondered, pressing my fingers to my temples—was this what it was like to be a man?

I was interested in talking about empathy, a buzzword used to the point of pure abstraction,

The hierarchy was pervasive at the analytics startup, ingrained in the CEO’s dismissal of marketing and insistence that a good product would sell itself.

He just taught himself to code over the summer, I heard myself say of a job candidate one afternoon. It floated out of my mouth with the awe of someone relaying a miracle.

As early employees, we were dangerous. We had experienced an early, more autonomous, unsustainable iteration of the company. We had known it before there were rules. We knew too much about how things worked, and harbored nostalgia and affection for the way things were.

The obsession with meritocracy had always been suspect at a prominent international company that was overwhelmingly white, male, and American, and had fewer than fifteen women in Engineering.

For years, my coworkers explained, the absence of an official org chart had given rise to a secondary, shadow org chart, determined by social relationships and proximity to the founders. Employees who were technically rank-and-file had executive-level power and leverage. Those with the ear of the CEO could influence hiring decisions, internal policies, and the reputational standing of their colleagues. “Flat structure, except for pay and responsibilities,” said an internal tools developer, rolling her eyes. “It’s probably easier to be a furry at this company than a woman.”

“It’s like no one even read ‘The Tyranny of Structurelessness,’” said an engineer who had recently read “The Tyranny of Structurelessness.”

Can’t get sexually harassed when you work remotely, we joked, though of course we were wrong.

I was in a million places at once. My mind pooled with strangers’ ideas, each joke or observation or damning polemic as distracting and ephemeral as the next. It wasn’t just me. Everyone I knew was stuck in a feedback loop with themselves. Technology companies stood by, ready to become everyone’s library, memory, personality. I read whatever the other nodes in my social networks were reading. I listened to whatever music the algorithm told me to. Wherever I traveled on the internet, I saw my own data reflected back at me: if a jade face-roller stalked me from news site to news site, I was reminded of my red skin and passive vanity. If the personalized playlists were full of sad singer-songwriters, I could only blame myself for getting the algorithm depressed.

As we left the theater in pursuit of a hamburger, I felt rising frustration and resentment. I was frustrated because I felt stuck, and I was resentful because I was stuck in an industry that was chipping away at so many things I cared about. I did not want to be an ingrate, but I had trouble seeing why writing support emails for a venture-funded startup should offer more economic stability and reward than creative work or civic contributions. None of this was new information—and it was not as if tech had disrupted a golden age of well-compensated artists—but I felt it fresh.

I had never really considered myself someone with a lifestyle, but of course I was, and insofar as I was aware of one now, I liked it. The tech industry was making me a perfect consumer of the world it was creating. It wasn’t just about leisure, the easy access to nice food and private transportation and abundant personal entertainment. It was the work culture, too: what Silicon Valley got right, how it felt to be there. The energy of being surrounded by people who so easily articulated, and satisfied, their desires. The feeling that everything was just within reach.

We wanted to be on the side of human rights, free speech and free expression, creativity and equality. At the same time, it was an international platform, and who among us could have articulated a coherent stance on international human rights? We sat in our apartments tapping on laptops purchased from a consumer-hardware company that touted workplace tenets of diversity and liberalism but manufactured its products in exploitative Chinese factories using copper and cobalt mined in Congo by children. We were all from North America. We were all white, and in our twenties and thirties. These were not individual moral failings, but they didn’t help. We were aware we had blind spots. They were still blind spots. We struggled to draw the lines. We tried to distinguish between a political act and a political view; between praise of violent people and praise of violence; between commentary and intention. We tried to decipher trolls’ tactical irony. We made mistakes.

I did not want two Silicon Valleys. I was starting to think the one we already had was doing enough damage. Or, maybe I did want two, but only if the second one was completely different, an evil twin: Matriarchal Silicon Valley. Separatist-feminist Silicon Valley. Small-scale, well-researched, slow-motion, regulated Silicon Valley—men could hold leadership roles in that one, but only if they never used the word “blitzscale” or referred to business as war.

“Progress is so unusual and so rare, and we’re all out hunting, trying to find El Dorado,” Patrick said.

“Almost everyone’s going to return empty-handed. Sober, responsible adults aren’t going to quit their jobs and lives to build companies that, in the end, may not even be worth it. It requires, in a visceral way, a sort of self-sacrificing.”

Only later did I consider that he might have been trying to tell me something.

Abuses were considered edge cases, on the margin—flaws that could be corrected by spam filters, or content moderators, or self-regulation by unpaid community members. No one wanted to admit that abuses were structurally inevitable: indicators that the systems—optimized for stickiness and amplification, endless engagement—were not only healthy, but working exactly as designed.

The SF Bay Area is like Rome or Athens in antiquity, posted a VC. Send your best scholars, learn from the masters and meet the other most eminent people in your generation, and then return home with the knowledge and networks you need. Did they know people could see them?

I couldn’t imagine making millions of dollars every year, then choosing to spend my time stirring shit on social media. There was almost a pathos to their internet addiction. Log off, I thought. Just email each other.

All these people, spending their twenties and thirties in open-plan offices on the campuses of the decade’s most valuable public companies, pouring themselves bowls of free cereal from human bird feeders, crushing empty cans of fruit-tinged water, bored out of their minds but unable to walk away from the direct deposits—it was so unimaginative. There was so much potential in Silicon Valley, and so much of it just pooled around ad tech, the spillway of the internet economy.

Though I did not want what Patrick and his friends wanted, there was still something appealing to me about the lives they had chosen. I envied their focus, their commitment, their ability to know what they wanted, and to say it out loud—the same things I always envied.

I wanted to believe that as generations turned over, those coming into economic and political power would build a different, better, more expansive world, and not just for people like themselves. Later, I would mourn these conceits. Not only because this version of the future was constitutionally impossible—such arbitrary and unaccountable power was, after all, the problem—but also because I was repeating myself. I was looking for stories; I should have seen a system. The young men of Silicon Valley were doing fine. They loved their industry, loved their work, loved solving problems. They had no qualms. They were builders by nature, or so they believed. They saw markets in everything, and only opportunities. They had inexorable faith in their own ideas and their own potential. They were ecstatic about the future. They had power, wealth, and control. The person with the yearning was me.

could have stayed in my job forever, which was how I knew it was time to go. The money and the ease of the lifestyle weren’t enough to mitigate the emotional drag of the work: the burnout, the repetition, the intermittent toxicity. The days did not feel distinct. I felt a widening emptiness, rattling around my studio every morning, rotating in my desk chair. I had the luxury, if not the courage, to do something about it.

As I stood in the guest entrance, waiting for the stock plan administrator to collect the paperwork, I watched my former coworkers chatting happily with one another in the on-site coffee shop and felt, wrenchingly, that leaving had been a huge mistake. Certain unflattering truths: I had felt unassailable behind the walls of power. Society was shifting, and I felt safer inside the empire, inside the machine. It was preferable to be on the side that did the watching than on the side being watched.

#uncanny valley #books #best of

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