#with jesse is not for walking into her husband's house and killing people and torturing her husband and using the word to push her away

[subsequentibis]

the other thing about preacher i'm Constantly thinking about is how jesse is abusive to tulip because it's like. so stomach churning. he doesn't hit her, but he hits and hurts people around her to punish her. in dallas, she really wants robbie to leave the room when they're having their argument, but jesse wants him to stay to add to her shame when her secret is revealed and so he can hit him instead of her when he gets too angry. when he finds out she's married someone else while they weren't together, after he'd pulled the shit in dallas in fact, he strings up her husband while she begs him to stop over and and over, using the word to force her out of the room in the end. it's fucked up! it's this psychological abuse, this rubbing her nose in her mistakes, this "look what you made me do" shit. it in fact reminds me a LOT of what they do with god as an abusive father figure, and factors into the show's really fascinating critique of toxic masculinity and manhood. jesse can sit there and claim he respects women the way his idol john wayne does, and he'll never actually think about the way he treats the women in his life.

[96thdayofrage]

The Original Karens: From Emmett Till’s Accuser To The White Woman Who Sparked The Tulsa Massacre

Written by Clay Cane

In this current climate of protests and demands for justice, the entitled and indignant white women known as “Karens” appear to be falling apart.

From Amy Cooper, whose over dramatic 911 call on a birdwatching Black man blew up in her face, to Lisa Alexander, who was shocked to discover that no one needs her permission to write “Black Lives Matter” in chalk on their own property, Karens are in a rage. Not even a camera in their face will stop their toxic entitlement, which has led to a string of viral sensations.

When thinking of the country’s experiences with white supremacist violence, the discussions are typically centered around men. However, white women have historically been at the helm of this terror, using their tears and imaginary delicateness as ammunition for victim hood and ultimately destroying lives or at its worst, taking one.

Once upon a time, even the slightest hint that white womanhood may be in danger resulted in the lynching of Black children or a thriving town full of Black families being burned to the ground.

Here are some of the most horrific stories of Karens going wild before the term came into existence.

Sarah Page

There has been a lot of talk around Tulsa, Oklahoma due to this month's 99th anniversary of the tragic race massacre that took place there in 1921. Many people may not know the race massacre began with a 17-year-old named Sarah Page.

Page was an elevator operator in what was called the Drexel Building in downtown Tulsa. On May 30, 1921, reportedly, Dick Rowland, a 19-year-old Black shoe shiner, was getting on the elevator to use a segregated bathroom on a higher floor. He allegedly tripped when entering the elevator, accidentally grabbed Page's arm and she reacted by screaming. Rowland fled but the police were called. The next day, Rowland was arrested and word spread that a Black man assaulted a white woman.

According to the 2001 Tulsa Race Riot Commission Report via The Washington Post, Rowland was accused of assaulting Page “on a public elevator in broad daylight."

Within 18 hours, the Greenwood district of Tulsa, also known as Black Wall Street, was annihilated. In 1921, The New York Times described the massacre as “one of the most disastrous race wars ever visited upon an American city.”

No one knows what happened to Sarah Page or Dick Rowland after the massacre.

Fannie Taylor

On January 1, 1923, 22-year-old Fannie Taylor began screaming outside of her home. A neighbor rushed to the distressed white woman only to find her beaten and bruised, yelling for her baby. Miss Fannie claimed a Black man broke into her home and attacked her. The neighbor searched her house to find the baby safe and no signs of a break in.

Rumors quickly spread that Taylor was raped and robbed by a Black man. Taylor’s husband, James Taylor, gathered a group of men to find the imaginary criminal, even calling on the Klu Klux Klan for assistance.

A pack of 400 terrorists headed to the neighboring area, an affluent Black town in Rosewood, Florida, accusing any Black man they could of the crime. Fannie’s fraudulent tears was the excuse these envious hellions needed to purge out their rage.

Their first victim was Sam Carter, a local blacksmith, who was tortured and hung. They eventually began looking for a man named Jesse Hunter, who they claimed was an escaped convict.

The Black residents of Rosewood fought back but there were many casualties, including Sarah Carrier, a woman who did Fannie Taylor’s laundry. She was shot in the head, according to History.com. Her son Sylvester Carrier was also fatally shot.

The race massacre lasted for a week, burning Rosewood to the ground and killing countless Black people.

As for Fannie Taylor, she reportedly had an affair with a white man who beat her, which is why she had been found abused that night. She thought it was better to accuse a Black man of assault then to take accountability for her own actions.

The 1997 film Rosewood, directed by the late John Singleton, depicted the massacre.

See the clip below of actress Catherine Kellner as Fannie Taylor.

Eleanor Strubing

In December of 1940, Eleanor Strubing, a wealthy white woman in Connecticut accused her 31-year-old Black chauffeur, Joseph Spell, of raping her four times and throwing her into a river. Spell was arrested within hours and immediately sent to jail to wait for trial.

The New York Times famously ran a story with the headline, "Mrs. J.K. Strubing Is Kidnapped And Hurled Off Bridge by Butler; WOMAN KIDNAPPED; HURLED OFF BRIDGE." The article claimed he “confessed after 16 hours" of questioning.

Spell was facing 30 years in prison.

Thankfully, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund and its head lawyer, Thurgood Marshall, represented Spell. Marshall and his co-counsel proved evidence that Strubing lied. She, in fact, had consensual sex with Spell and jumped in the river because she was terrified that she might become pregnant from their affair. In her mind, the only option was to accuse Spell of rape in order to justify a possible pregnancy.

An all-white jury found Joseph Spell not guilty, which was shocking for the time. Nonetheless, if this accusation would have been made in the South, Joseph Spell certainly would have died by public lynching.

Wil Haygood, the author of Showdown: Thurgood Marshall and the Supreme Court Nomination That Changed America, wrote about the ruling, "It was a miracle. But Thurgood Marshall trafficked in miracles.”

Strubing, whose father was an investment banker and the former governor of the Philadelphia Stock Exchange, suffered no punishment for lying under oath. Her husband, John K. Strubing, died in 1961 and she remarried to John W. Barclay. Stribing died at 92 years old in 2000.

Joseph Spell moved to East Orange, New Jersey after the trial. It’s not clear when he passed away.

The 2017 movie Thurgood was based on the Joseph Spell trial. See the clip below of Kate Hudson as Eleanor Strubing.

Carolyn Bryant

In August of 1955, 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant accused 14-year-old Emmett Till of touching her and whistling at her in a store (he reportedly had a lisp and was unable to whistle.) Till, who was visiting from Chicago, was in Mississippi for the summer spending time with family. Within hours, he was kidnapped from his uncle’s home. The child was tortured, mutilated and thrown into the Tallahatchie River. His naked body was weighed down with a fan blade.

Carolyn’s husband, Roy Bryant and her brother-in-law J.W. Milam, the terrorists who lynched Till, were found not guilty by an all-white jury.

In the 2017 book The Blood of Emmett Till by Timothy Tyson, Carolyn Bryant admitted to lying and claimed that she actually didn’t remember what happened that day in the store.

She is still alive today, living in Mississippi at 86 years old. Emmett Till would have been 79 years old on July 25 if it wasn’t for Carolyn Bryant.

The 65th anniversary of his death is August 28.

Victoria Price and Ruby Bates

Before The Central Park Five in 1989, which would become the Exonerated Five in 2002, there was the Scottsboro Boys in 1932.

On Mach 25, 1931, a group of Black and white teenagers were riding freight trains looking for work, which was common during the Great Depression. The white teens wanted the Black teens off the train and a fight broke out. The white teens attempted to forcibly throw the Black teens from the train. In defending themselves, the Black teenagers instead kicked the white teens off the locomotive.

The angry white teens went to a local sheriff who demanded the train be stopped.

Nine Black teens were removed, ages 13 to 19. However, two white women, Victoria Price and Ruby Bates, were also on the train and spent their time wrongfully accusing several of the Black boys of rape.

Similar to the Exonerated Five, that one accusation stole the innocence of nine Black children.

The teens were jailed in Scottsboro, Alabama: Haywood Patterson, 18; Clarence Norris, 19: Charlie Weems, 19; brothers Andy Wright, 19 and Leroy Wright, 13; Olin Montgomery, who was nearly blind, 17; Ozie Powell, 16; Eugene Williams, 13, and Willie Roberson, 16, who could barely walk due to severe syphilis.

The all-white and all-male jury trial was over in a matter of days and all of them — except 13-year-old Leroy Wright — were found guilty of rape and given the death penalty. There was no evidence of course since Bates couldn’t identify the men she claimed raped her.

The NAACP and the International Labor Defense (ILD), the legal wing of the American Communist Party, joined the case. By November 1932, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the Scottsboro defendants had been denied the right to counsel. Shortly after, Ruby Bates admitted she lied.

Nonetheless, the back and forth with the courts continued for years.

By 1936, Haywood Patterson was convicted of rape and sentenced to 75 years. In 1948, he escaped from prison and made it to Michigan. The governor refused to extradite him to Alabama. By 1951, Patterson was convicted of manslaughter after a barroom brawl. In 1952, he died of cancer. He was 39 years old.

In July of 1937, Clarence Norris was eventually convicted of rape and sentenced to life in prison. He was paroled in 1946 and moved north, where he married and had children. His autobiography, The Last of the Scottsboro Boys was released in 1979. He passed away in 1989 at 76 years old.

In July of 1937, Andrew Wright was convicted of rape and sentenced to 99 years. He was released in 1950 at 38 years old. Charlie Weems was also convicted of rape and paroled in 1943. He spent the rest of his life in Atlanta. It’s not clear when or if Wright and Weems have passed away.

Ozie Powell’s rape charges were dropped but he pled guilty to assaulting a deputy, which happened while in custody. He was released from prison in 1946. After spending four years on death row as adults, all charges against Willie Roberson, Olen Montgomery, Eugene Williams, and Leroy Wright were dropped.

It is not known how or when Willie Roberson, Olen Montgomery, Eugene Williams, or Ozie Powell died.

After being released, Leroy Wright, the youngest, went on a national lecture tour and then joined the Army. In 1959, according to PBS, Wright accused his wife of having an affair, fatally shot her and then committed suicide. He was 41 years old.

As for Victoria Price and Ruby Bates, Price never recanted her testimony and died in 1982 at 77 years old. Bates had the privilege of going on a speaking tour, bizarrely, for the International Labor Defense (ILD), which defended the Scottboro Boys. She claimed to have lied because she was "excited and frightened by the ruling class of Scottsboro." Bates died in 1976.

[detectiveinchicago]

SPARKS FLY: Chapter 4

Chapters list here

Note: Hi guys! Thank u for all the comments and reviews, you are amazing. I promise that Kenny is coming  on the next chapter. If you want to be tag in this story please let me know. Please let me know what you think of Laura as Caitlyn. English is not my first language. Enjoy xxx. DISCLAIMER: GIF IS NOT MINE.

LAURA JAMES AS CAITLYN HALSTEAD

“What a beautiful way to start my day,” Caitlyn said sarcastically to O.A when they were walking to the crime scene and she saw her brother and his peers standing in there.

“I thought you were in the city for one case only,” Jay said when he saw her.

“The Director is worried about the increase of violent crimes in the city, we will take the case,” Caitlyn said.

“We got here first, it’s our case,” Her brother answered

“What are you? Five? It’s a title 18: Federal land, federal crime,” She said crossing her arms around her chest “You can observe and advice but it’s our case now”

“I will appreciate it if you can bring us up to speed,” O.A said looking at Kim and rolling his eyes to the Halstead siblings.

“Amelia Roberts, 25, five stubs in the chest, she was an exotic dancer who worked down the block in Clubhouse, she was killed last night around 2 AM, a runner found her body early this morning, she has signs of rape, sexual assault and as you can see it was a nasty fight. It looks like she was killed in another location and dropped out here”

“She is brunette,” Caitlyn said putting on the gloves and bending down to touch the girl’s eyes “and she has blue eyes” She added giving O.A a look

“That should stand up because…?” Kim said, raising her eyebrows.

“Did you find any cameras? Any witnesses?” O.A asked, looking at Kim.

“So far nothing, the guy was smart, he avoided cameras, and no one has seen him, we are still looking for witnesses”

“Then we have nothing” Caitlyn concluded and Kim shrugged before approaching her sergeant “What are we missing O.A?” Caitlyn asked her partner

“I don’t know, I mean he doesn’t have a clear patron, he should have cut her fingerprints off,” O.A said looking at the body.

“Or her fingers broken,” Caitlyn added

“Is this a serial killer or one case?” O.A asked

“I mean they are all brunette, short hair with blue eyes and they are all violent crimes, different types of violence but that’s enough for a patron”

“Then we have ten women killed by the same man and we have no of who committed them”

“I can try with the band from the club again”

“You know that your cover was most likely blown up the other night”

“Perhaps we can try it, if it’s too dangerous then I walk away and you will have my back,” Caitlyn said winking her eye to O.A

O.A rolled his eyes, “I will let Isobel know”

“Then I will talk to them I guess,” Caitlyn said pointing with her head to Voight walking to her

“Good luck,” O.A said with a brief smile

“Oh, shut up” Caitlyn answered giving him a death look “Sargent”

“Agent,” Voight said with a nod of his head “We appreciate the help but we will take this case”

“As I was saying earlier, we are on a federal territory so it’s our case,” Caitlyn said looking at him.

“It’s my city” Voight replied.

“It’s my city too sergeant, I don’t know if Jay told but we grew up in Canaryville,” Caitlyn replied without taking her eyes off Voight.

“We will take this case,” Voight said.

“It’s our case now and I would appreciate it if you can stay out of it, I mean that sergeant” Caitlyn answered before turning around and walking to her car.

“Are you trying to humiliate me?” Jay asked going behind her.

“In case you haven’t notice, I don’t care about your work, or your cases or anything you do” Caitlyn rolled her eyes.

“What have I done to you that made you so evil?”

“You left after mom’s funeral, you saw how terrible Dad was and still didn’t even care about it and you left me alone with him to deal with it”

“He was falling apart, Caitlyn”

“I’m tired of you two idolizing Dad, he doesn’t deserve this, he was such an awful father and such a terrible person to me”

“He was sad Caitlyn, we all were. He didn’t pick you up after you broke a leg in a practice and that has made you upset at him all this time? Yes, that sucks, but it’s not such an enormous deal. Will made all this huge as always, he is used to see things where there are none.”

“Are you justifying him for everything he did?” Caitlyn asked

“No, but stop making all this about yourself and start thinking about how Dad was feeling too, he had lost the love of his life”

“I’m sorry, now you defend him only because he was keeping a stupid newspaper piece of you?” Jay looked at her without understanding “Yeah, Will told me about it,” she responded “That justifies everything that had happened? Only because he apparently loved you and he wasn’t able to share that with you? Hard love isn’t love, is just hurting Jay,” Caitlyn said getting into her car.

“You are always prejudging people Jay; you need to stop doing that,” Hailey said, approaching his partner.

“She is the one who attacked me first,” Jay said raising his eyebrows.

“Why instead of attacking her back, you start by asking? It might help,” His partner answered “Let’s go, Voight wants to meet us”

 “Isobel gave her approval to the operation, they are assisting us tonight and Kristen is checking the vigilance video,” O.A informed Caitlyn “I can see the family reconnecting,” He said with sarcasm to his partner

“That he went back to the army didn’t matter O.A,” Caitlyn said as she started the car ���But the fact that he left me alone with dad after mom’s funeral because he wanted to get away from that house it pissed me off”

“Family can be complicated,” O.A said.

“Yeah, I know” Caitlyn answered.

Caitlyn got into her house. They were waiting for the forensic to finish the autopsy and they will check what they had so far for tonight’s meeting, wasn’t too much. They had no suspect, and no leads so far. Since they came to Chicago, O.A and Caitlyn had been trying to find how all the rapes where connected, Robbs and Homicides was the most occupied unit of Chicago so they were happy to leave them some of their cases.

It all started with five death girls, all them with their fingers prints cut off, brunettes with blue eyes and short hair but after that, the patron mutated, some of them had broken fingers or broken wrists, some of them were killed by suffocation while others like Amelia were stabbed to death. O.A and Caitlyn believed that the guy was not only enjoying all his paths, but that he was playing with them by changing his ways of raping and killing. She was sick of this guy; it had been almost five months, and he seems to be perfect, not a single mistake was giving.

Caitlyn turned on her laptop. Today was Jess’s birthday, and she told him that morning that she would call him later. Jess LaCroix was Angelyne’s husband, she was her team partner in the army. After she died on a raid, Caitlyn joined the FBI and Jess’s team. She spent most of her Christmas and New Year in Jess’s house after she left Chicago. When Tali was born, Caitlyn was there; when Angelyne died, Caitlyn was there. Maybe it was the fact that Pat was a terrible father and Jess’s father was awful too, but she was tight to him.  

“Happy birthday, old man,” Caitlyn said when he saw Jess on the screen.

“I’m not old but thanks” Jess answered, rolling his eyes.

“When are you retiring then?” she asked.

“Shut up” Jesse denied with her head.

“How is everyone over there?”

“Well Tali is at school, Marilou and Nelson went out to the supermarket and Clinton is trying to catch up the team, we are leaving in a while,” Jess said looking behind him for Clinton.

“Bad guys never stop,” Caitlyn said with a brief smile.

“How was your time back in Chicago so far?” Jess asked.

“As best as It could be” Caitlyn shrugged her shoulders.

Jess raised his eyebrows, “How is that?”

“Oh well, every time Jay and I are in the same room we fight to each other,” Caitlyn said.

“Have you tried to call him?” Jess asked, frowning.

“No, he didn’t even bother to call me after we met the first time,” Caitlyn excused herself

 “Then why are you demanding him to call you? You are acting like a kid,” Jess said.

“I don’t know; I guess I’m begging love. Not so lucky in that area you know,” Caitlyn said raising her eyebrow.

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Talk to him”.

“Coming back, meeting my brothers... It’s a lot to process and to deal with” She said running her hand over her face.

“It woke up some memories of your father?” Jesse asked knowing how she might be felling.

“Yeah, it’s hard to deal with that” Caitlyn sighed, scratching her head.

“You should give those memories a closure, Caitlyn,” Jess recommended her “Otherwise his memory will keep coming back and torture you”

“He is dead, that’s enough closure to me” Caitlyn responded, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you still doing those meditation exercises that I teach you?” Jess asked looking at her.

“When I’m about to lose control, I do them,” Caitlyn nodded.

“Panic attacks aren’t easy, Caitlyn,” Jess comforted her.

“How is Kenny?” she asked suddenly. She was feeling uncomfortable, but she knew they had to address the elephant in the room at some point. 

Jess sighed “He is better now, trying to move on”

“He should start seeing other people and move on” Caitlyn added.

“Did you move on?” Jesse raised his eyebrows and waited for her answer.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much fine,” Caitlyn said in a sharp voice “But my problem is this case I’m dealing with,” she added changing the subject.

“You should start looking outside the box” Jesse suggested hearing Clinton voice in the background “I got to go”

“What did you say?” Caitlyn said

 “That you should start thinking outside the box, stop looking for the obvious patron” Jesse repeated.

“I need to check on something,” Caitlyn said as a goodbye “Good luck on your searching” she finished turning the call off.

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

@lovecatystuff @bethii1 @give-jack-a-lightsaber @lovingfanofupstead @thevelvetseries @proceduralpassion @chicagogirl2019 @cpdfan231 @bxrgesses @sadsot @onechicago-upsteadrhekker @anna4-7kendrick @anotheronechicagobog @halstudandruz @captainbucky-yt @itsdesiree86 @hereforthedale @cactiem @agntrostova @nhcwdw

[slash-em-up]

Marry Your Monsters Pt. 9

When one door closes, look for another door.

TW: Self-harm, suicide attempt.

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

‘What the fuck just happened?’

That was the only thought racing through Miranda’s head as she stared, stunned, at the brushed metal of the door her husband had fled through.

The ache in her shoulders and the broken furniture confirmed the violence of the last few minutes; but the reality of it was so different from the man she’d known for over a decade that her brain couldn’t – it wouldn’t – come to the obvious conclusion.  

Jesse and she were both passionate people and they’d had their fights like any couple… but Miranda has never feared what her husband might do to her, until the moment his hands wrapped around her and she looked into a ferocious gaze she was wholly unfamiliar with.

She rose on shaking legs, wandering absently back to the bathroom where her dress lay discarded on the floor.  

The bare medicine cabinet met her gaze as she glanced up past the sink out of habit.  

Miranda realized unhappily what had probably happened to the mirror.  

Well, if Jesse thought she was just going to roll over and let him do whatever without her having her say… he was in for a big surprise.

She was no ones doormat, punching bag, or fuck-doll god dammit.  

Pulling her dress up with a yank she turned and marched to the door and out into the hallway, prepared to give Jesse the biggest piece of her mind to date; only to come to a screeching halt at the flurry of activity in the main room.

Shrieking and sparking machines spat out heat and noise as several men held what looked like wickedly formed knives to grindstones - while another group unloaded shining, waxed wooden coffins from the back of a truck.  

Miranda pulled herself back behind the wall and watched as Spann and Preston walked into the large room. They appeared deep in conversation – meaning Preston talked as Spann followed with a vaguely annoyed look on her face – and at a word from Preston several of the black-clad workers scurried away to another part of the warehouse Miranda couldn’t see.

What the fuck was going on here?

Moving quietly, Miranda slunk back into the main room, keeping as close to the wall as she could to avoid detection. Somehow, she managed to make it to the opposite hall without getting caught.

She mentally patted herself on the back.  

A cadre of gleaming metal doors met her gaze as she turned to survey her surroundings and she huffed in annoyance.

Of course, there wasn’t going to be a big blinking sign with ‘Shady Business Dealings’ pointing her in the right direction.  

Listening hard for any movement she gingerly began testing the doors.  

Locked, locked, locked... jackpot.

The hinges were silent as the unlocked office slid open, allowing Miranda to slip inside.

Fuck, that’s a lot of black.

The room looked like something Marilyn Manson would approve of – Hot Topic chic at its lamest.  

‘All you guys are missing is the evil cat... literally one step from cartoon villainy...’

A soft snort of amusement escaped Miranda as she wandered through the office – glancing casually at the thin folders – black – the computer – black – the gleaming desk – also black... until she came to a stack of half a dozen video tapes. All labeled with what looked to be city names and some numerical indicator.  

The closest case read ‘Miami #1’ in neat print.

Glancing back to the doorway, Miranda strained for any sound indicating someone was coming her way.

Nothing.

She gently lowered herself into the desk chair and reached to tap on the keyboard, bringing the computer back to life.

The desk drawers were unlocked, allowing her to peer inside as she waited for the home screen to pop up.  

She reached into the depth of one and carefully withdrew a large, mean-looking knife with a serrated double-spine. There were small flecks of brown embedded in the ridges.

Shit...

This was getting worse and worse by the second.  

Maybe her initial panicked thought that Jesse was into gun-smuggling or drug-dealing hadn’t been too far off.

Either way, she owed it to herself and any future she might have with her husband to find out the truth.

Hesitantly, Miranda slowly inserted ‘Miami #1’ into the computer’s drive.

She pressed play.

“... I know you only paid for a blowjob but... don’t you want a little more?”

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

“Jesse, there’s been some questions raised as to your ability to continue on as the head of this Organization.”

The nitrile gloves stretched to near breaking as Jesse’s hands clenched.

He just bet there had...

There were very few people in the world who could bring ChromeSkull to heel and unfortunately the five faces staring at him from beyond the large screen in his office fit that description.

The Board felt the need to directly step-in for the first time in over a decade.

Jesse had made sure this was a very, very rare occurrence.

Efficiency and brutality were his trademark, no matter how Preston whined that he was too showy; he got the god damn job done.

For the last eight years as he’d led the Organization after his grandfather retired, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d talked to all of the board members at once.

His fingers flew angrily across the keyboard.

‘Whatever information you’ve been given is incorrect. My injuries are healing and I’m ready to continue the work.’

An older man with a large handlebar moustache raised a bushy brow at his answer.

“It ain’t so much that you’re not healin’ well. It’s the... Aw hell... how do I say this... It’s your outside relationships we’re concerned about.”

A stern looking woman took over.

“Our source has reservations about your wife – and how she might be influencing your behaviors.”

Jesse blinked behind his mask.

‘My wife has nothing to do with my business here.’

“Except apparently, as of yesterday, she does. Is it not correct that she’s there in the facility with you now?”

If Jesse could have, he would have strangled Preston on the spot.

‘She is.’

“And did you or did you not fall into a ‘emotional state’ when a criticism of your wife’s presence was made?”

‘If you're asking if I disciplined my insubordinate second for making an off-color comment about my pregnant wife, then yes. I did.’

Jesse felt what was left of his lips curl into a snarl at the memory.

‘...And I’ll do a lot more than that when I get my hands on him after this ridiculous waste of time is finished...’ he mentally promised.

Significant glances were sent from board member to board member and Jesse felt his stomach sink.

“I think we’ve heard enough...”

Jesse slammed his fist into the desk, leaving a dent in the metal surface and bringing all attention back to him.

‘You could at least say ‘thank you’ for handling your Cannon problem before we part ways.’

That visibly surprised the five people on the screen.

“What do you mean?”

Gotcha.

‘Jessica Cannon is here. Sleeping off a nice cocktail of sedatives in a coffin.’

Jesse leaned back in his chair as murmurs of disbelief and shock rattled across the computer speakers.

“... That’s very interesting news, Jesse. When did this happen?”

‘Probably while Preston was busy feeding you all his load of bullshit. Sorry, I was getting some real work done.’

“You know who she is then?”

Jesse smirked.

‘You mean, do I know who her father is? Yes. I’m aware. Feel free to send him a little love note. I’ve already forwarded my video files to your server.’

Another quietly muttered conversation crackled over the speaker.

“Alright Jesse. We’ll keep things status-quo for now. But you need to clean house.”

‘I couldn’t agree more...’  

Preston was going to wish he’d never been born once Jesse was done with him.

His torturous plotting was interrupted by one final voice.

“And that includes your wife. Bring her onboard or... handle her. We can’t have loose ends.”

The screen went black.  

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

Miranda stared into the blackness on the computer feeling everything and nothing all at once.

A hysterical voice in her head was yelling how that had certainly explained a lot.

The long business trips, the unexplained scars, the fucking three months without a word.

She supposed getting your face ripped off and your skull bashed in would make video chats a little awkward.

The next thing she knew she was crouching on the cold cement floor emptying her stomach into the waste basket.

All those bodies... those women in the barn... her husband... her Jesse... holding the knife currently sitting so placidly on the desk and using it to decapitate a naked, crying blonde...

She vomited again as the gruesome pictures looped through her head.

She’d been in shock at the end of ‘Miami #1’. Her fingers were trembling and her mind racing as she quickly fed ‘Miami #2’ into the player.

Now she wasn’t sure what she was feeling besides horror.

And there were so many more tapes...

One of the drawers held fucking dozens of them.

Miranda lifted herself to lean against the desk and began to ram her coiled hand into it as hard as she could.

The pain felt... exquisite.

Tears began to stream down her face and her mouth shifted into a rictus grin as she saw smears of blood start to stain where her fists collided with the solid surface.

The clatter of metal on cement made her pause, and her gaze shifted from the blood-stained desk to the razor-sharp knife that had been knocked to the floor as she’d rattled it’s resting place.

Miranda choked out a laugh.

How many people had died on the edge of this knife? How many wives? Husbands? Sons? Daughters?

Why was she the exception to Jesse’s bloodlust?

Maybe she wouldn’t be.  

Maybe that would be the eventual end to all this.

Wife murdered by serial-killing husband.

How anti-climactic.

She reached out and took the knife in her bloodied hand. Dispassionately taking in every little detail as the dull roar of her thoughts got louder and louder.  

A sob echoed through the office as she leveled the sharp edge to her wrist and pressed down.

[villanevest]

You’re Mine [pt.2] - eve’s perspective in 2x08

welcome to part 2. again, i’ll be unpacking eve’s perspective in the finale in this post. i’ve already uploaded villanelle’s, and tomorrow, i’ll make a post about why i think the finale was, plot and character-wise, a great choice for the show going into season 3. let’s jump in. EVE’s thoughts and feelings in the finale. something that’s important to remember is that while villanelle has always lived a life of extremes, eve’s life was exceptionally ordinary until last year. in this past week or so, her husband has left (even if it was a long time coming), she saw someone murdered in front of her for the first time, has been confronted with the reality of aaron’s weapon, and has semi-hooked up with villanelle. she’s holding it together like the absolute legend she is, but just try and contextualise the finale within the sheer amount of upheaval eve’s undergone in even the last few days. for eve, the episode essentially kicks off with two almost simultaneous adrenaline shots: villanelle saying “gentleman”, and hugo getting shot. she nearly gets hunted down herself, and then makes her first major choice of the finale: to leave hugo and go after villanelle instead, who she assumes is in similar danger, and who, ultimately, she cares about more.

eve acts her way out of the hotel and into aaron’s house, all the while believing she’s probably headed to the even worse of two evils. she grabs the letter opener and goes in, prepared to defend villanelle, which is an important precedent for later. but then villanelle’s just… fine. she abandoned hugo, dying, and their world-saving (or so eve thinks) recordings of aaron’s dealings, for nothing.

then villanelle’s revealing aaron’s a killer, and aaron’s offering villanelle something eve is afraid she won’t refuse. and he verbalises one of eve’s deepest unspoken fears: that villanelle WILL get bored of her. that she can’t possibly keep villanelle’s interest once they’re no longer caught in a hurricane of external pressures. and then she has to deal with the absolute overload that is the question, push come to shove, would villanelle hurt her? while villanelle never considers hurting eve here, eve understandably doesn’t realise that. after all, as far as she knows, villanelle killed anna, as well as dozens of other people. villanelle thinks she’s been clear about how strongly she feels, but eve is caught at the crossroads of kenny, hugo, jess, carolyn, konstantin – all these people who promise her that no matter how real it feels, villanelle is a psychopath, could flip the switch in a second. that’s a terrifying possibility: that the woman you’re obsessed with, have given up everything for, might end you and walk away. shrug it off.

villanelle kills aaron, and eve’s currently up to seeing two bodies in about fifteen minutes. while she hates aaron and isn’t particularly bothered by his death, she’s abruptly sure that they’ve blown the mission entirely, and quite apart from carolyn crushing her under heel, eve’s afraid that their screw-up might result in aaron’s weapon going public, that he might have some contingency plan they weren’t authorised to know about. eve’s all messed around; villanelle’s surprisingly chill. but eve’s used to villanelle thinking of the immediate, small picture – eve is sure it’s up to her to get them out of all this. she’s concerned for both of them, and believes villanelle truly doesn’t understand the scope of the trouble they’re in. notice that she uses plural language. “we”, “us”. she’s already trying to plan THEIR way out of it. villanelle is a tacit premise, a guaranteed.

they escape aaron’s place, and then eve becomes set on retrieving the recordings. i think partly she needs a goal to cling to, but apart from, as she says, not wanting people to have died for nothing, she’s also considering that the recordings might be enough to buy back favour with carolyn. that she can barter her and villanelle to freedom if they get carolyn what she wants.

and then carolyn effectively says she’s been manipulating eve this whole time. that eve is so predictable, carolyn could build VERY critical plans around her behaviour. this brings in a whole question of free will – eve begins wondering how much of all this was ACTUALLY her idea, and how much carolyn had subtly suggested to her, nudged her towards. carolyn is something of a mentor, and even if eve never totally trusted her (e.g. she didn’t tell her that she stabbed villanelle), she was at least sure she knew HOW NOT to trust her. she thought she couldn’t tell her about how deep she was in with villanelle, but really, carolyn knew that, and was using it already. it’s a deeper betrayal than expected from an unprecedented direction. eve goes from thinking she’s in control to being totally lost in her own network of relationships. even kenny’s not innocent, and he’s supposed to be their good guy. so eve stays for villanelle. villanelle, who might be amoral, but has always been upfront about that. she doesn’t hide who she is. she doesn’t judge who eve is. eve takes a breath and decides villanelle is her ally in this. more than her ally. 

and then eve walks out of the room to find that last person she trusts being killed in front of her. that would make eve’s count 3 Deaths and 1 Major Betrayal in under an hour. so she picks up the axe, and at villanelle’s urging, hits raymond with it.

here’s the thing: eve isn’t ready for this. is she on an increasingly grey trek into darkness? absolutely. would she organically be ready to kill people one day? not sure. i think she has to be kicked into it by a high-stress situation like this, but she was definitely headed towards being completely unbothered by knowing of villanelle’s kills beforehand, helping her set them up, making who-lives-who-dies calls – she basically already was. 

this is kind of starting the car at two hundred miles. she doesn’t slip someone arsenic, or snipe them, or even push them in front of a train. she AXE MURDERS someone. yes, it’s in self-defense (or villanelle-defense), but that’s probably THE most brutal way to kill somebody when you’re not deliberately torturing/dismembering them. 

villanelle leads eve away from it all, but it’s implanted in her brain now. eve starts going into shock again and exhibiting a range of other trauma symptoms. villanelle’s there to pick up the pieces and take her away.

while they’re walking through the tunnels, the cool air and lack of other sensory input gives eve a minute to process. to get beyond the blood and gore and villanelle-almost-died to “i killed somebody”. yes, a bad person, but a person. one important difference between stabbing villanelle in 1x08 and killing raymond is that the stabbing was heat of the moment, chased by instant regret. but eve had second after second before hitting raymond with the axe the first time, and then even longer before killing him. there was time to think. time to stop herself. i also don’t believe that raymond, while followed immediately by disgust, is actually something eve regrets on a gut-level. she’s prepared to do anything to keep villanelle alive.

again, eve feels a little more control when presented with a goal: get through the slats. symbolically, it’s a staircase up from darkness to light. it feels like she’s literally getting herself and villanelle to somewhere things will be better. like getting to the end of this fucking terrible day. when they get to the ruins, eve is kind of stunned, staring around, because it seems like such a weird contrast: she feels horrible and dirty, but she’s surrounded by beauty. and then she’s beginning to realise that maybe she doesn’t feel that horrible, that dirty, and what does that mean for her? for who she is?

when villanelle asks what eve wants for dinner, she says spaghetti. yes, probably part knee-jerk response because they’re in italy and these are two images eve associates, but mostly because it’s comfort food. eve is seeking out something slow and soft and familiar after the last few hormone-and-tragedy fuelled hours. and then villanelle’s telling her about alaska and saying they could be normal, and right now, normal sounds pretty good.

she sees villanelle as offering salvation. they can keep this feeling of beauty. villanelle won’t judge her for killing raymond. she says yes to alaska because she wants all that; she knows she wants villanelle and she knows she wants to leave rome behind.

and then villanelle pulls out her gun, and everything goes to shit. eve just found out carolyn’s been manipulating her for her own purposes, so of course she immediately connects villanelle to that experience, and has the heart-crushing “realisation” that villanelle’s been doing the exact same thing.

as i said in villanelle’s 2x08 post, villanelle DID want eve to kill raymond, but because she thought it would be good for eve: liberating, exciting, relaxing. but in the wake of carolyn’s puppeteering, it’s very natural for eve to read this as villanelle attempting to sculpt eve, to pull her strings as well. like i mentioned earlier, eve wasn’t ready to kill raymond, which villanelle didn’t recognise (“you had it under control” / “no…”). she’s dealing with all kinds of internal turmoil now, and suddenly it turns out that this is unnecessary. that villanelle, who thinks nothing of murder, could’ve done it for her and spared eve all this. this comes back to eve’s sense of self. through season one, eve considered herself a Good Person. after stabbing villanelle, she went on kind of an identity bender (telling niko she’s not a nice person), and that was great for her, because actually, fundamentally, she’s not a Good Person. but eve’s not prepared to be a Murderer. we’ve talked before about how eve has a lot of classically narcissistic traits. what’s the most upsetting thing for her here isn’t killing raymond, it’s that she’s lost control of her own narrative. she could rationalise her slipping when it happened slowly, but now, eve is dealing with the full-velocity crumbling of DECADES of programming that has given her rules of who and how to be. 

“how did it feel?” “wet”. wet, and: not as bad as i thought; i don’t feel as much as i thought; or i do, but it’s the wrong things. asking eve to address how she ACTUALLY feels rather than how she thinks she SHOULD feel is just inadvertently rubbing salt in the amount of cognitive dissonance she’s experiencing between self-image and reality. 

“i’m proud of you.” and this gives eve room to breathe, because it allows the idea that maybe it’s villanelle’s fault. villanelle, who eve has already perceived as manipulating/betraying her by lying about the gun, can be the reason that this happened, and then nothing has to change. eve loved villanelle at X number of murders, what’s X+1? doesn’t make a difference. and eve gets to stay as the more-innocent one. 

so she presses that blame outwards. she decides that it can be villanelle’s responsibility – she easily defended villanelle’s killing aaron to carolyn, so no issues here with this. and then she says she wants to go home, and just like with the spaghetti, this is a bid for familiarity. to return to an old self-image that has been irreparably rattled by killing raymond and how she feels and doesn’t feel about killing raymond, which she hasn’t even had time to digest yet.

this is such an unintentionally vicious thing for villanelle to say, because on some level, eve KNOWS this (and understands it far more deeply than villanelle has even meant it). niko is gone. she turned carolyn away. kenny is in on it. hugo is probably dead. and now she’s killed someone. there IS no home – not the way it was. but eve has just lost this former home and now the promise of a new home in alaska, since that’s been directly and immediately juxtaposed with villanelle concealing the truth about the gun, which throws everything else about alaska into question too. is it a pipedream? did villanelle even mean any of it?

so she lashes out, reacts as ardently as she can against something villanelle didn’t even consider offering (“like bonnie and clyde? just go on a killing spree?”). she’s scrabbling back to that previous version of the self by staunchly standing against anything new, and exaggerating it to talk herself into alaska being less appealing, so she can let go of it. also remember: this entire time, eve is still in shock. she’s had a whole quarter of an hour to come to terms with this.

here, eve says “you want me to be a mess. you want me to be scared”. it’s a way of justifying her actions – eve would only kill if she’d been messed up and terrified, right? right? she’s projecting her fears about villanelle and herself onto villanelle, and then she has a physical sounding board to react against. eve can demonstrate to herself by demonstrating against villanelle.

no, eve hasn’t had time to cool off yet, but she’s adapting with the smoothness of we’d expect, given all the little flags about her sitting on the psychopathy spectrum. she’s able to push back against villanelle, step forward, reclaim control. 

the scene might’ve ended very differently if villanelle hadn’t emphasised that EVE wanted this. they’ve both confused each other and themselves, and neither of them is fully wrong or right. eve did want at least some of this, but less immediately, and she was barely consciously aware of it. at the same time, villanelle definitely wanted it too, and her being more vocal about it makes it seem more like HER idea to eve. she’s losing that control she desperately needs.

“you love me” is a truth that might’ve been easier for eve to deal with if it wasn’t in conjunction with other truths, like the fact that she’s capable of murder. in denying her love for villanelle, she’s trying to cast off her love for everything else villanelle represents – all the violence, the excitement, the extremes.

because if villanelle doesn’t love her, eve can walk away with some of herself intact. especially seeing as she now thinks villanelle’s been manipulating her, pushing her, and she’s wondering how that escalates, how can she trust someone who’ll shape her behind the scenes? niko was always cramming her into a tiny box she didn’t fit into, but now villanelle’s stretching her out of it, into the open space too much too fast.

there’s this beat here where you can see the devastation on eve’s face writ large. she feels abandoned and alone and she’s SO MAD that she put her faith in villanelle against the odds and in her mind, it was broken. this is a really charged sequence, so eve hasn’t really had a break to consider how villanelle might be thinking, which she usually does – one of the reasons they work is that eve understands how villanelle’s brain ticks. but she’s so caught up in her own trauma right now that she’s not being as patient with villanelle as usual, which is obviously understandable. but when villanelle calls out “eve!” all desperate and strangled like that, you can watch the emotional toll. she stops backing away. she pauses. this is the last possible moment where we could take the exit on the highway, and salvage these miscommunications. 

but then, as i said in villanelle’s post, villanelle blocks it out, blocks eve out.

eve cries. in the space of a few hours, she’s lost EVERYTHING. and now that fear aaron tapped into at the beginning of the episode is “realised” – she’s not enough for villanelle; she’s not special. villanelle has singled her out since 1x01, has said “like us”, has said “i’ll look after you”, and it’s all over. so the pause ends. she goes back to retreating, she turns away so she won’t have to look at villanelle and see everything that nearly was; see alaska. because yes, eve agreed to alaska while under a phenomenal amount of pressure (from circumstance, not villanelle; villanelle wasn’t pressing for an absolute answer), but i think it held a very real allure to her, too. time to breathe out. to spend that time with villanelle. to have all her questions answered. to see who she is entirely away from the trappings of ordinary life. for eve, villanelle manipulated her into killing raymond, then offered her alaska, then rescinded and decided eve wasn’t special, so perhaps the offer of alaska was never real, or villanelle was only going to offer it to eve after she’d murdered someone. villanelle only wants a particular eve, one that eve isn’t even sure is really her. is that true? no. villanelle was getting ready to pitch alaska before they even went back to the hotel. if she REALLY wanted eve to kill someone, she would’ve set her against aaron when she arrived with the letter opener, and she wouldn’t have told her to run from trouble, she’d have told eve to stand her ground. 

and killing raymond, in a lot ways, is who eve is, or who she’ll become. but eve can’t read villanelle’s thoughts. she’s been through an incredible amount in one day. she doesn’t know what’s real. who to trust. whether promises are made with crossed fingers. if anyone cares about her, or just cares about what she can do for them, what she can become for them. how will she feel about the murder once she’s had a bit more processing time? what will she think about villanelle confessing her love, then shooting her? what will their next meeting be like? i’ll get into that in my write-up about narrative choices for the show. i’ve also posted another one of these about villanelle, and how villanelle’s thinking and feeling (check #villanevest writes). inbox me, comment or message with your thoughts. take some time to mull over the finale. remember, it’s a slowburn, guys. personally, i’m really excited by all the possibilities, but like i said – that’s for another post.

[arcanesupern0va]

Rick In The Water; Ch11: Exit Wounds

Summary: The night of Ryan's death from Nova's perspective.

A/N: This chapter was so fucking hard to write. It broke my heart to put myself in the fucking shoes of Ryan and say such horrifying things about my bb. The next chapter will deal with Nova dealing with the trauma of the aftermath of everything that happened. My poor sweet girl 😭 Also, next time I do interwoven chapters I will absolutely try to do them so much better. I wasn't thinking about using the hospital scene in this chapter but I wanted to kind of try to explain why she was acting the way she was and I just don't think it's the best. It's not the most important part of the chapter so I'm going to leave it alone. I tried really hard to word it right but I just couldn't get it to feel the way I wanted it to within the parameters I'd set in the last chapter. In any case, this story is a trial and error of me trying to hone my skill again after years of being unable to focus long enough to tell a story of this caliber and length so I just kind of hope you guys bear that in mind when you're reading. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, it really means the world to me! -Jess♥ CW: There is heavy violence and extremely abusive language within. Please continue with caution. Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 7179

My ao3

Masterlist

|Ch10: Nothing Follows, Nothing Stays| 

+Nova+

The previous night

The car ride to get Madison was the kind of terse silence that should be used to torture information out of violent offenders. I was ‘lucky’ to even be brought along on the trip but rumors that I had become a recluse was tarnishing Ryan’s reputation earned me my first painful steps out of the house.

“You have one hour. I want you looking put together and refined,” he demanded sharply. I had been in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters down as per his request when he stormed in angrily. “People think you’ve become some fucked up hermit after losing your job. I’m going to see to it that you put an end to it.” I nodded obediently, dropping what minuscule crumbs that had been on the counter in the trash and hurried upstairs.

I was in and out of the shower in a flash, sitting down at my vanity to dry and style my hair. I avoided meeting my own eyes in the mirror, unable to bear the sight of the large bruise that circled my eye, courtesy of a misinterpreted offhand comment. I brought my hair into a high braided bun, simple enough but also didn’t allow any extra leverage if Ryan decided I had done something to upset him. I started on makeup, struggling to make any real change to the dark circle. I went over to my closet, retrieving a long halter sundress and a light cardigan to cover the hand-shaped bruises that covered my arms and legs. I posed in the mirror meekly, surveying myself carefully. The dark around my eye still drew the most attention so I dug around for a little while, finally extracting a pair of large sunglasses from an old purse. Their tint was dark enough to mask the bruising while the frame large enough to cover it.

I returned to the vanity to touch up my lipstick but I found myself staring out into space as anxiety seeped into my resolve. I was terrified of having to confront him, all these bruises, my busted lip; they had all been for this night. Once Madison got home, I was going to wait until Ryan went to sleep for the night and finally make my escape. The plan was to go straight to Beth’s house. If Ryan showed up, the cops could be called or if worse came to worst, Rick would just kill him. It was tempting but the thought of Madison growing up without a father who loved her reminded me too much of how I grew up. I couldn’t let that happen to her too.

I couldn’t let her end up like me.

“What in the fuck are you doing? We’re going to be late!” Ryan swore as he flung the bedroom door open, glaring down as he surveyed my outfit carefully. “I guess this will have to do, put on those sunglasses. We’ve got to fucking go.”

I grabbed the closest pair of shoes, unfortunately not my trusty running shoes, but a pair of high heeled wedges. Ryan grew frustrated quickly as he watched me wobble across the carpeted floor, grabbing my wrist to pull me behind him. I managed the first few steps but stumbled despite my best efforts, colliding into the wall as a sharp pain shot through both my ankle and my brow line. Ryan groaned in frustration as blood trickled down the curve of my nose.

“You have got to be fucking kidding.”

He released my wrist with enough force to send it in to the wall as well. The old wound ached at the impact as tears streamed down my face. I limped into the bathroom, gingerly inspecting the damage in the mirror. A large gash now split my brow as blood continued pouring out. Wetting a washcloth, I pressed it to my forehead as I searched for the liquid bandaid I kept for things just like this.

“(Y/N), stop fucking around, let’s fucking go,” Ryan bellowed, walking into the bathroom. He watched my methodical application of what was essentially glue, a small smirk forming over his face at every wince of pain. Was he enjoying this? Was watching me suffer this much of a thrill to him? I returned my sunglasses to my face, relieved when they covered most of my brow line to conceal the wound, pulling my bangs back down to cover the rest. I popped a couple of painkillers to try to mitigate the pain still shooting through my ankle.

“I’m ready,” I announced timidly. I walked carefully, trying to ignore the shooting pain I felt with every step. When I was outside, I didn’t dare look anywhere near the Smith household. I couldn’t see Rick right now. I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to throw myself into his arms again, to feel that overwhelming sense of protection I hadn’t even noticed until it was ripped away from me. I could feel his eyes on me but with Ryan putting on the show of dutiful husband, I couldn’t chance it.

*+*

The drive was long, only the dulcet tones of the talk radio he enjoyed so fervently. A man droned on and on about stocks and their rising and falling but I found my usual comfort in staring out the window. If I closed my eyes for a moment, I could tell myself this was Rick’s ship. I could pretend, even for that short moment, that it was Rick next to me just taking me out on another adventure. The illusion would inevitably be shattered by the mind-numbing voice on the radio, a poor replacement for the low music always playing in Rick's ship.

“When we get home, you may mend your ankle but for the time being you are to act as though nothing is wrong,” he told me as he swerved in and around traffic. “We will be stopping for dinner on the way home, I won’t have time to wait for you to make it yourself.”

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Quiet. I am in no mood to listen to your voice.”

Picking up Madison went as smoothly as I could’ve hoped. The pain killers had their intended effect, numbing the pain enough for me walk smoothly in the high heels. I was able to keep my sunglasses on, never going inside or anywhere else that would have warranted their removal. We made small talk with the other parents and Ryan even told jokes. Everything a normal and happy couple would do; Ryan’s mission seemed to be completed, at least for today. The other parents seemed overjoyed to see me, assuring me of how happy they were as a couple of the husbands nudged him with remarks of how they were glad we hadn’t killed each other yet.

When we finally climbed back into the car, Madison shoved her earbuds into her ears, blasting music to drown out the world around her. Ryan glared into the rearview mirror but said nothing to her, instead, berating me in a low voice for allowing this kind of behavior at all. He begrudgingly stopped at the closest fast-food chain that was still open this late; ordering for the car in the drive-thru before parking the car and divvying out the food. I was given a salad and muttered comments about my weight, my cheeks burning red. It tasted like ash in my mouth but I swallowed every bite knowing there would be repercussions if I left a single leaf to waste.

I was relieved when our exit finally appeared, knowing the car ride from hell was almost over. This life from hell was almost over. It was dark now, my sunglasses now being used for me to fiddle with anxiously. I straightened up in my seat, earning me a reproachful look from Ryan as he looked me over suspiciously. I slunk back into the seat at his piercing gaze and returned to the window, praying silently that this nightmare would truly be over soon.

I dared a glance at the Smith house as we pulled into the driveway, surprised to find the garage dark with the shutter still wide open. As Ryan delegated tasks to me, I dared a glance over to the garage, spotting a familiar blue glistening in the moonlight. I offered the most minute of smiles at the garage but the feeling of protection allowed to smile to linger allowing Ryan to quickly put two and two together.

“Madison, take this inside,” he ordered, handing her suitcase to her. He watched her disappear inside, before gripping my arm tightly.

“Don’t fucking think I didn’t fucking see that,” Ryan muttered as he twisted my arm behind my back. “Get in the fucking house.”

Obediently, I grabbed as many of Madison’s belongings as I could and carried them into the house without a second glance to Rick. Tonight was only going to work if I was careful. If I wanted to get out of this house with Madison and me intact, I had to focus on the task at hand, not Rick. I carried Madi’s bags up to her room, stopping to kick my wedges off by the door. My ankle cried out in anguish as I made my way up the stairs to her room, the painkillers finally wearing off. I knocked gently before pushing her door open to find her sitting on the side of her bed scrolling through her social media accounts and catching up with her friends.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come downstairs?” I asked, sitting the bags down by the bed and holding my hand out to her. If she was distracted, she wouldn’t unpack. If she didn’t unpack, she would be ready to go as soon as possible.

“No, that’s okay Mom,” she replied, not even looking up from her phone, “Dad seems like he’s in another mood. I’ll just hang out up here.”

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

My eyes welled with tears as I played with hair, twirling it around my fingers. Her brown hair was longer, almost reaching the small of her back. The sun had done well to lighten it a few shades in exchange for deepening her tan over the summer. She looked older and her general demeanor had seemed to mature as well.

“I missed you too, Mom,” she groaned, detaching from her phone long enough to smile up at me before immediately returning to it.

“I guess I’ll just leave you to your phone,” I teased. Kissing her head softly, she groaned at me loudly again before I finally took pity on her and left the room, leaving her to her friends to catch up. I stopped quickly in my bedroom, changing out of my long dress and into a tank top and sweats before taking a deep breath, steadying myself before heading back down the stairs.

“What were you and Madison talking about?” Ryan demanded, stepping out of the living room with a furious glare plastered on his face as my foot came in contact with the bottom step.

“N-Nothing Ryan,” I blurted out, stumbling back in surprise, “I just told her I missed her and asked if she wanted to come downstairs and spend time with us.”

“Mhm.” He watched my face carefully as I slipped around him into the living room, trying to find any inkling of a lie. “You really think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

“U-Up to? I’m not up to anything!” I lied, proving only to make him angrier.

“You’re going to take Madi and try to run away tonight, aren’t you?” he accused as he followed me, hysterics beginning to leak into his voice. “You are not taking my daughter anywhere and I will be damned if I let you go running back to your senior special.”

“R-Ryan, I am h-here. With you. Not Rick-”

“Don’t say his fucking name,” he spat. “You sound fucking pathetic.”

“Ryan, it was nothing. What happened between him and me, it meant nothing-”

“Shut your fucking mouth (Y/N). I don’t need you fucking insulting me. I’m not fucking stupid, at least not completely. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me this past fucking summer but that shit is over with. You are my fucking wife until death does us part. Don’t fucking make me speed up that process.”

“Ryan-”

“I fucking said shut up,” he bellowed, using the back of his hand to throw me into the couch. “Don’t you fucking start crying either. Don’t start fucking screaming. If anyone shows up here, I don’t care if it’s a fucking Mormon missionary going door to door, you’re going to fucking regret it. But don’t worry, you won’t die. Although, I'm not sure what the life expectancy is for a mother who lost a child violently.” He paused, eyeing me maliciously as the true threat of his words sunk in. “You’re out of control (Y/N) and I will do whatever it takes to put a stop to it and restore order to this house.”

I didn’t speak, but I couldn’t stop the silent tears that streaked down my cheeks. He had gone too far threatening Madison. I brought my hand to the stinging on my face and it seemed that even silent, the emotion still offended him. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently as veins bulged in his forehead.

“I fucking told you not to cry.”

His shaking was getting harder yet, my head flinging forward and back sharply. I knew if I didn’t start fighting back soon, he wouldn’t stop until he snapped my neck. I brought my arms up between his to push his hands away from me, managing to take him by surprise and break out of his grip. I slid out of his reach, crawling away as he recovered. He caught up quickly, grabbing my ankle and pulling me back to him on my stomach. He flipped me over, doling punishment out by colliding his knuckles into my cheek violently as I tried to squirm away. On my back, I was able to deliver a swift kick to his groin, dodging out of the way of his onslaught. I pushed myself off the floor as he doubled over gasping for air. In a last-ditch attempt to buy myself some time as I fled the living room, I quickly flipped the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.

I headed to the kitchen, desperate for any kind of weapon to defend myself with. I could hear him groaning behind me so I flicked the light off behind me, trying to silently root for any sharp object to keep him at bay.

“Where are you, you stupid bitch?” he growled into the darkness. I sunk against the counter, trying to keep out of sight as he searched for the light switch. Light poured around me as I pressed myself against the counter, listening for his footsteps to edge toward my location. I tried desperately to press the panic button Rick had implanted in my hand what felt like ages ago. I never stopped trying to use it even though I knew it was in vain. A small part of me hoped that he could repair his, that he would realize I needed his help but it all seemed so hopeless. Deep down I was sure he had taken my words to heart. He had given up on me.

“If you stop this stupid shit, I promise I’ll make it fucking quick.” His footsteps turned around the kitchen island I hid behind, breaking me from my feelings of hopelessness as I continued inching around the island, trying to get around it before he could find me.

“I never understood why they called you Nova, you know? You, a star? That’s fucking comical,” he taunted, trying to lure me out. “The most you are is a fucking black hole.”

My ankle spasmed under my weight as I turned the corner and my position was blown when I face-planted onto the floor. He chuckled darkly as he rounded the island, glaring down at me.

“The reason they call me Nova wasn’t because of fucking stars you idiot,” I hissed, pulling myself off the floor with the knife extended in front of me. “If you’d ever paid a fucking iota of attention you’d know it was from fucking Planet of the fucking Apes. There was a charact-”

“You really must be a fucking moron if you think I actually give a fuck.” He shook his head in disbelief before launching himself at me. The impact forced me back into the wall, my head coming in contact with the wall and everything going dark.

*+*

“I’ve spent way too long fantasizing about this.”

My eyes blinked, quickly adjusting to the inky darkness of my bedroom. My back rested against the foot of my bed as Ryan stood over me, sneering as I returned to consciousness. I tried to stand, only earning another backhand for my insolence. The small chair from my vanity became the next subject of his rage as he picked it up and broke one of the legs off. He inspected the sharpest end before turning to face me again.

“My parents told me women with bad childhoods were guaranteed whores, but you always seemed so fucking genuine. Somehow, my stupid ass fell in love with you and God only knows why I went and had a baby with you.”

“You’ve never loved anything in your life,” I hissed weakly.

“You’re probably right, it always kind of seemed like a waste of my fucking time,” he nodded, “but there I was, getting married to a girl with every red flag my parents warned me about. Mommy didn’t love you? Check. Daddy maybe loved you too much? Check. Abandoned by most of the adults she came in contact with? Fucking home run.”

“You’re fucking wrong.”

“Oh come the fuck off of it (Y/N),” he glowered, “The only reason I wanted you was because I already knew you could be beaten into submission if that’s what it took. You’d spent your entire life that way, you wouldn’t even know the fucking difference.”

“Fuck you.”

“I could make time for that if you wanted.” He offered darkly, his eyes glittering with malice before rolling at my cowered form. “It wouldn’t be worth it, you’d only be thinking of Colonel Blimp next door.”

“What are you going to tell Madison?” I asked desperate to change the subject. “How are you going to explain to her that you killed her mother? She’s not going to just forgive you. She's smarter than you've ever given her credit for.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that stupid brat,” he scoffed with another roll of his eyes. “She’s too fucking much like you.”

I couldn’t muster a reply. My blood ran cold as my heart raced with fury. He watched my face, seeming to relish in the fear of my revelation. He truly did not want me to have anything. My daughter, my friends, they were all allowed purely because they could be taken away.

“Why me?” I uttered finally, tears brimming in my eyes as I watched him twirl the broken chair leg around in his hand.

“You were pathetic. I took you home and fucked you on the first date.” He shrugged smugly. “I knew your kind, I knew the words that it would take to get what I wanted from you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a calming breath before pushing myself off of the floor to look at the man who had made my life a living hell in the eyes. I groaned as I put pressure on my ankle only to stumble back onto the bed. Ryan laughed at the sight, his chuckling continuing as I awkwardly pushed myself back up, swaying as I stared up at him.

“Like I said, you abusive piece of shit, you don’t fucking know me at all.”

My words set him off and he pushed me back into the bed, my head ricocheting off the headboard with a loud yelp. I stood back up, my head spinning from the impact as I tried to catch my balance again. Being disoriented made it easy for Ryan to overpower me again, forcing me back onto the floor and holding the chair leg to my stomach.

“When are you going to fucking learn (Y/N)? You’re fucking nothing,” he declared smugly, pushing the improvised weapon into my stomach. I cried out as it broke my skin, pain searing out from the wound through my entire body. My body screamed at me to fight against him but with every minuscule movement, he drove the spike in deeper.

“Rick-” I cried out weakly, my voice raw with pain.

“He won’t save you, (Y/N). Why would he want to? He left you once before and it seems it was easy for him to do it again. Where is your savior (Y/N)? Why isn't he here to save you if he loved you so much?”

A light appeared under the doorway, calling my attention to it quickly. The door burst open quickly, relief coursing through my body. Ryan was wrong. He had come to save me.

“M-Mom?” Madi stepped in nervously, stepping in the pool of blood that had formed next to me. “D-Dad, what are you doing? Stop hurting her!”

“You should’ve stayed in bed Madison,” Ryan hissed, driving the spike into my gut completely, leaving me to scream out in pain.

I clawed desperately at the wood now buried in my gut as Ryan chased Madi out of the room, trailing my blood behind him. He returned mere seconds later, a crazed look forming over his face as he lumbered back over to me, picking me up by the straps of my tank top. He drew back, bringing his fist down to crash into my cheek repeatedly. I wanted to fight back, to do anything to stop his assault but my arms only hung loosely by my sides as broken English began pouring out of his mouth. The ringing in my ears prevented me from understanding a word he was saying and my eyes were swelling shut so when he abruptly stopped, I simply assumed I was dead.

“Nova!” A  gruff voice cut desperately through the ringing and I swore I saw the blue hair that reminded me of home as I finally allowed myself to slip into darkness.

*+*

That man sure has an oddly shaped head.

“She’s going to need to be put under, we have to open this wound further to get the shards of wood out.”

I wonder if his brain is the same shape as his head, he must be really smart.

“Sh-She was attacked, I-I think she was stabbed with a wooden spike.”

He sounds like Rick. I miss him so much, where is he? Where is Rick? He said he would save me.

“Sir, I promise you, we will help her. You just have to allow us the space to do so.”

“H-Her name is Nova. P-Please, don’t let anything happen to her. I can’t- I can’t lose her.”

Rick?

*+*

The world around me was dense, lush forest surrounded us as Rick and I sat hand in hand as we watched the waterfall in the distance cascade into the small river beneath it. I dared to glance over to him, receiving a playful smile as he averted his gaze. I giggled, turning my own gaze away, I peeked over again only to find Ryan in his stead, leering down at me viciously. My blood ran cold as I saw Rick’s mangled body beside him, contorted into an unnatural form as he stretched his arm out to me desperately before Ryan finished him off. With one last crushing blow from his boot, Ryan extinguished any form of life in Rick’s eyes, something he assured me of by bringing the optical gore mere inches away from my face. I cringed, looking down to avoid the view only to find the chair leg wedged into my gut once more. I looked up again desperately, only to find myself completely alone save for the gurgling corpse a couple of feet away.

“He’ll never be able to protect you from me (Y/N). You can run as far away as you want but I will always find you.”

“Nova? Is that your name?” a gentle voice asked. I blinked as I awoke, wincing from the blaring light filling the room. I slammed my eyes shut again as the voice asked his question again and the bed lowered next to me as he sat down.

“N-Nova,” I rasped, trying to nod in confirmation. My neck was stiff, making any movement impossible. “Wh-Where am I?”

“You’re in an alien hospital. Well, it’s alien to you, to me it’s just a hospital,” he informed me genially. I tried to open my eyes again, squinting to find the same oddly shaped head I’d seen in my dream.

“H-How’d I get here?”

“Your family brought you in. You had a deep wound to your torso.” My eyes widened as I brought my hands to my stomach, surprised to find none of the pain it provided previously. Instead, a low ache reverberated throughout, far more manageable than the searing pain from before.

“Wh-What happened to me? My husband- Ryan, he-he…” I fumbled my words, tears stinging my eyes at the memory.

“We were able to repair the damage done by the wooden spear he lodged into you,” the doctor informed me, “You’ll be back to normal in no time my dear, just have to wait for the stitches to heal away. They’re medicated with a serum that hastens the healing process. It should only take about a week until you’re back to normal, physically speaking.”

“M-My family, where is my daughter?” I asked tearfully, taking time to survey the room, expecting them to pop out at any moment.

“She’s out in the waiting room with the rest of your family and when you’re ready, we can send them back. We should also be able to discharge you soon, as long as you’re feeling up to it.” I nodded eagerly, sitting up a little to be more presentable. He smiled wisely, saying nothing more as he left the room presumably to go find my family. I continued straightening myself up, taking a moment to peek under the hospital gown to get a look at the long scar now gracing my body.

“Mom!” Madison cried out as she entered the room, rushing to my side a tearful mess. I held her tightly, patting her back soothingly as she wept and muttered apologies into my hair, “Mom, I’m sorry. I should’ve done something sooner, I should’ve tried to stop him, I was just so scared. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, there’s nothing you could’ve done. You did the right thing, getting out of there and going to Beth’s. I’m so proud of you.” I left a watery kiss on her hairline, as Beth finished talking to the doctor, turning to survey me.

“Nova, how are you feeling? What happened?” she asked urgently, finally tearing her gaze away from the pulp I called a face.

“Jeez Mom, calm the hell down,” Summer chastised her before I could answer. She met my gaze with a watery one of her own, “Aunt Nova, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Madison left my side briefly, allowing her surrogate sister to hug me tightly. As Summer pulled away wiping away her tears, my eyes fell to Beth again, decidedly ignoring the lanky man who’d been watching me intently with a look of painful regret.

“I’m okay you guys,” I assured Beth, “The man with the oddly shaped head said I’ll be able to leave whenever I’m ready.” She forced herself into my arms, sobbing into my shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you, Nova,” she sobbed. I rubbed her back as I’d done for Madi before she abruptly pulled away, wiping away her tears roughly. “He’s gone, Nova, he’s dead.”

My eyes flicked to Rick quickly, trying to fight the horrified rage boiling into my gut. Ryan was dead and Rick had been the one to kill him. Exactly what I hadn’t wanted to happen. I couldn’t be completely enraged, but it was easier and more justifiable to just be angry. How was I going to explain this to the police? I was going to lose Rick for sure now, and despite the feeling of relief welling in my gut, an inexplicable heartbreak was squashing it down at the thought of losing him when I finally became free to have him. If even he still wanted me.

“What happened?” I asked quietly, finally meeting Rick’s sorrowful gaze.

“His heart gave out. I didn’t even have to lay a finger on him, it was pretty anticlimactic really,” he explained with a careless shrug. Just the sound of his voice was making my heart race and a part of me wanted to climb out of the bed and fling myself into his arms but I hardened myself to him, turning to Madi instead.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart,” I offered to her softly. She would never know the cruel things her father said about her, she knew he was a monster, but she could at least live under the illusion of his unending love for her.

“I’m glad he’s dead Mom,” she told me sharply, standing up from the bed.

“Y-You don’t mean that sweetheart.” I insisted. I didn’t want this for her, I didn’t want her to go through the same pain I went through. I pulled the blanket off of my lap, relishing in the cool air the swirl around my legs.

“I do mean that. Dad was a monster a-and after what he did to you? He deserved to die,” she assured me coldly. I didn't have it in me to convince her otherwise and I slumped back onto the bed in defeat.

“N-Nova, sweetie, what happened?” Beth asked cautiously, her eyes flitting to Summer’s quickly to stave off another interruption.

“I-I don’t want to talk about it, not here.” I brushed her off, standing up from the bed, a ghost of a pain shooting through my ankle. I was grateful it hadn’t lingered, seemingly repaired along with my other egregious injuries. I moved to the chair next to the bed where I found a bag containing my clothes.

“When we get home, I promise I’ll explain.”

Beth conceded, ushering the kids out of the room so I could change. I dug through the bag, dismayed to find only the blood-soaked clothes I been wearing when I got here. Rick stayed behind, still watching me awkwardly as I pulled the stained sweats out of the bag.

“D-Do you need some help?” he offered timidly as the door shut with a click. I shook my head quickly, stubbornly pulling the sweats on under the gown. “Y-You don’t have to wear those, I can get you something else.”

“No Rick, don’t worry about it,” I hissed, pulling the sweats up over my hips before grabbing my shirt.

“Come on Nova, let me get you something else, let me help you-”

I took a deep breath, trying to stop the anger and terror I had been living with for the past few months from boiling to the surface. I didn't want to snap, I knew I had hurt him but as my gaze found Rick, despite the look of sorrow that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, the sight of him only made me angrier. All of that talk of protecting me and he still fucking left me high and dry. Again.

“Oh, now you want to fucking help?”

He grabbed the shirt out of my hands, solidifying my anger as I spun around, looking up at him with all the hate I could muster. Every feeling of hopelessness and terror coursed through me as I looked into the eyes of the man who claimed he wouldn’t leave me, not again. Not unless I asked.

“Y-Yes?” he sputtered, looking confused at the sudden turn of my mood.

“That’s pretty fucking funny, could’ve used it a lot fucking sooner.” I yanked the shirt back out of his hands, pulling it over my head.

“N-Nova, you told me to leave you alone. You told me you didn’t want me anymore. I didn’t know what to do, B-Beth thought you were waiting for Madi to come home-”

“N-No!” I bellowed back at him, “I mean a fucking hours ago when my husband almost fucking killed me.”

“Wh-What? I was there as soon as I could be- as soon as I heard anything,” he insisted, running his hands through his hair.

“The moment we walked in the door, it was over. He was out for my fucking blood.”

“I-I didn’t hear anything Nova, I’m sorry,” he apologized. Seeing him look completely defeated, my rage softened. Rick was someone who was always five steps ahead. Seeing him like this, looking so lost, broke my heart. “You didn’t use your panic button- I was going to get you out of there tonight, I-I didn’t know.”

“I did use my fucking panic button,” I assured him venomously. Just as soon as my heart softened to him, the mention of that useless fucking piece of technology enraged me all over again. “But I guess it doesn’t fucking work when the body housing its receiver is floating through the fucking vacuum of space.”

I watched as the blood drained out his face at the realization and I couldn't help but feel justified by his reaction. I had come to terms with it, knowing he hadn’t even thought of it since we hadn’t even used it since I moved in with Beth. I couldn’t blame him, not entirely. It hadn’t crossed my mind either and when I left, it had been so abrupt- there had been no time.

“I didn’t- I didn’t even think about that,” he confessed, despondent, “I just thought- I mean I heard you guys fighting but I thought if he was hurting you-”

“I used that fucking panic button every fucking night.”

“I’m sorry, Nova, I’m so fucking sorry. I let you down,” he murmured sadly, staring at the floor.

“I thought you gave up on me. I know what I said to you was cruel but I thought you would be smart enough to see right through it. Guess you let your ego get in the way.” My voice was distant, unable to sustain my anger anymore. I didn’t want to be upset with him, I lived, I was going to be okay, at least physically.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he cried. The sound of his wavering voice crumbled my resolve, allowing me to finally move closer to him, prepared to offer him some comfort, “I never gave up on you. I just-I thought you had a plan, that you were just waiting for Madison- I just let myself believe what you said so I wouldn’t beat down the door and put her at risk.”

“I was waiting for Madi. You were at least right about that,” I relented, pulling the torn and bloodied shirt off with the gown underneath. I watched as his eyes found the scar that now distorted my torso. “I can’t wear this shit, can you find me something else?” I offered, extending a metaphorical olive branch.

“Of course.”

He opened up a portal stepping through it and re-emerging with fresh clothes, including undergarments and my running shoes.

“Did you just go into my house?” I asked, almost horrified at the clothes presented to me.

“I mean, I don’t know your sizes, I just figured-”

“These are fine, thank you, Rick,” I interrupted him, pulling off my sweats, tossing them and the tank top into the trash. It was somehow strange to be standing here, completely naked in front of him but I didn’t shy away, didn’t take any extra care to hide my dignity. He wasn’t leering down at me like I was a piece of meat, he just wore a look of concern carried in his furrowed brow.

“Beth knows,” Rick told me softly as I finished tying my shoes. I froze a moment, looking up at him in horror at the implication.

“Sh-She knows…?”

“About us,” he confirmed with a curt nod.

“H-How did she- Oh she must be furious,” I rambled, running my hands through my hair as I started pacing.

“She’s not mad,” Rick assured me, grabbing my shoulders to stop me in my tracks, “She thinks it's… strange but she said it kind of made… sense?”

“Sh-She did?”

He nodded quickly, pulling me into his embrace. I melted into him completely, finally able to allow myself to release the stress on my shoulders. There was so much. Burying Ryan, dealing with the police, the house but right now in Rick’s arms, that all fell along the wayside.

*+*

It didn't take long for my entire world to fall apart. The moment I stepped through that portal, it seemed the entire world felt wrong. Gone was the comforting, if not brazen lights of the hospital. I spent my first week back dealing with the police answering every single one of their difficult questions.

“Where did the blood come from?”

“What happened that night, is it possible you did something to set him off?”

“Your injuries have never been reported and you have no visible wounds, we have no history of abuse in this household.”

Rick had offered to just make Ryan’s body disappear but I knew there would be people who would be looking for him, his parents, his coworkers. This path, however, resulted in me spending a night in jail. It didn't last long though, Rick stormed in demanding I be set free within the first hour I was there. When he was met with opposition, he merely nodded and asked to speak to the chief of police to straighten things out. He would never fully explain what he said to the man but when he emerged from the now docile police chief's office, I was released and free of all charges. My house was still a crime scene but I had no interest in going home. Beth eagerly welcomed me back into her home instead, clearing out Jerry’s office completely to put a bed in, allowing me some form of sanctuary. She even snuck over to my house and grabbed my living room TV to mount on the wall for added comfort.

This didn’t stop the frequent nightmares, however. Most nights I would wake up screaming, and depending who woke up first either Rick or Beth would appear to soothe me. Despite this, Rick and I hadn’t returned to our previous level of comfort with one another and I desperately missed it. The little kisses snuck in whenever there had been an opportunity, him playing with my hair while we watched TV… I missed it all. I missed it and yet I couldn't quite bring myself to broach the topic.

“Nova,” Beth called, knocking on my door softly one afternoon, about a week after I’d been released from custody. I knew why she was here already, she wanted to talk about Rick, about what happened before and after Ryan’s death. All the things I desperately wanted to avoid. I had given her cliff notes of that night and she seemed to be satisfied. Now she was just interested in understanding my relationship with her father.

“Come in,” I sighed wearily, gearing up for the conversation I had been dreading. I focused my attention on my TV, desperately trying to seem invested in whatever adult cartoon was playing to put it off even another minute longer.

“Nova, I wanted to talk to you,” Beth started, her eyes flicking up to the TV. I sighed again, muting it as I turned to her. “I just wanted to talk about you and… Dad.”

“I figured as much,” I conceded, cringing at her. “What, within reason, do you wanna know?”

“Well, how did this start?” She asked timidly, not quite able to meet my eyes.

“When he came back,’ I assured her, resting my hand on hers.

“I-I know that. I meant, when after he came back?” she pressed gently.

And so I launched into our sordid story. Starting with the dampener and only editing some of the details like the encounter with Unity and the first time we’d slept together, mostly just to save her the trauma. I told her about the Council of Ricks and how Ricks and Novas were a common occurrence in most of the dimensions. He and I were just two people that fit together like puzzle pieces. She stayed silent as I spoke but I took care to note that she wasn’t angry, she wasn’t upset, if anything, she almost looked satisfied.

“Ryan caught us i-in the garage. We had been… m-making out and he had walked over, looking for me. That’s when he dragged me out. That’s the end of our story,” I concluded, unsuccessfully fighting the mournful tone from creeping into my voice.

“Why do you say it’s the end?” Beth asked, her brow furrowing the same as her father's would when logic seemed to run out.

“I hurt him and he hurt me.” I shrugged. “And for once, his part was actually accidental whereas I broke his heart to save my daughter.”

“As bizarre as this feels to tell you, I think you need to give my dad a little more credit,” Beth chuckled softly. I cocked my brow at her and she elaborated, “I just mean- I talked to him the night Ryan died, about you. About what this thing is between you two. I think you need to talk to him, sort this stuff out and see if you can’t move past your pain.”

“If Rick had anything he wanted to say to me, he would’ve already. He’s not exactly a beat around the bush kind of guy,” I told her flatly, returning my gaze to the TV.

“Dad also doesn’t do emotions,” Beth reminded me gently, “When you’re ready, just try talking to him, okay?”

I nodded softly, as Beth stood up and thanked me before leaving the room. I stared into the TV as I considered her words, finding them to be the most obvious path but I couldn’t will myself off of the bed to go confront my issues. I’d had enough of confronting issues in the past two weeks to last me a lifetime and I just wasn’t eager to run off and go fight some more. I rolled over, tucking my blanket under my chin as I curled up into a ball and the haze of exhaustion flooded over me immediately. The dulcet sound of the TV lulled me to sleep and I didn’t even bother trying to fight it.

+Down With The Rickness - Ch1: Such Small Hands+

[iamcmims]

SUPERNATURAL: Olivia Parker: Skin.

Words count: 7K.

A/N: “Skin” is finally here after a week of hiatus! I hope you guys will like this one! There isn’t much of Olivia but it’s on its way, I promise!

Feedback is always highly appreciated! If you want to be tagged, just ask me!

taglist: @ohsoevilsoul

Warning: skin, injuries, torture, blood, insults, death, angst, violence.

Previous parts: Pilot — Wendigo — Dead In The Water — Phantom Traveler — Bloody Mary

Next Parts: Hook Man — The Fight — Home

Previously on Olivia Parker…

"Why don't you just kill me? You've already taken everything from me!", "Why would I kill the prodigy? You can't stop the hands of time."

"We know where Olivia is, but we have to hurry.", "Okay, let's go."

"Dead or alive, I will kill you.", "Yeah, I don't doubt that. Now," he walks to her and forces her to stand up, he ties her to a chair. "let the fun begin." He opens a box of torture tools. "I won't talk and neither will I scream."

"That's all you've got, big guy? I should have known better, you're just a demon, a low level by the way. I thought they would at least bring me something better, something that respects my reputation." The demon punches her, she spits blood and laughs.

"Why don't you finish the job? You coward!" She waits for the demon to come back. The demon comes in with more objects to torture her. "I figured out if you want to play the hard and tough one, why shouldn't I bring the whole package? As you remarked, I have to respect your reputation.", "Well, you know, I'd say let's not rush things."

The door of the room where Olivia is locked up reopens, but she doesn't move. "Olivia?" Not able to distinguish who's talking, she slowly opens her eyes and sees Dean. "I got you." He takes out a knife and cuts her ties and gets her out of the room. "We have to hurry, Dean. He's out there."

The demon throws Dean and Olivia on the wall with the wave of his hand, knocking Olivia unconscious. Bobby goes to help Olivia out of the house. "Come on, kiddo."

"They're waiting for you if you're ready." Olivia nods. They walk out of the room to the pyre where he parents" bodies are. The four of them stand there for a moment, paying their respect to Caitlyn and Roger Parker.

"Who's bloody mary?", "She's this witch."

"Bloody Mary. This is so stupid. Bloody Mary." The candle flickers. "Bloody Mary."

'SHOEMAKER, Steven — The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father."

"What's the official  cause of death?", "Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up on there. Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.", "The eyes, what would cause something like that?", "Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?", "No." Lily, the little sister, turns around and look at Donna then Sam, Dean, and Olivia. "That's because it wasn't a stroke. It happened because of me. Right before he died, I said it.", "Said what?", "Bloody Mary."

"They found her on the bathroom floor. And her eyes—her eyes. They were gone.", "I'm sorry.", "And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane right?", "No, you're not insane.", "God, that makes me feel so much worse."

"They both has someone's death on their hands.", "It has nothing to do with the legend, though.", "With Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run, both had secrets were people died.", "There's a lot of folklore about mirrors."

"When someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped.", "So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit."

"Well, Mary's hard to pin down, right? She moves around from a mirror to another so who's to say that she's not going to keep hiding in them forever? We should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.", "Well, who's going to summon her?", "I will. She will come after me.", "You know what, that's it. This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's going to kill you. You shouldn't blame yourself, there's nothing you could've done.", "I could've warned her.", "About what, Sam?", "And besides, all of this isn't a secret, we know all about it. It's not going to work.", "No, you don't. You guys don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.", "What are you talking about?", "Well ti wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?"

"It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica. You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning — You had them for days before she died. Didn't you?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die?! You dreamt it would happen!!"

Today.

"It's okay. It's okay." The girl points to the officer to the room across the hall. "In there! In there!" The S.W.A.T team moves to the other room. The man is here, trying to open a pair of doors leading to a balcony. "Freeze! Don't move! Drop the knife. Keep your hands where I can see them. Drop it! Hold it right there! Do it!" The man turns around. It's Dean.

One Week Earlier.

Sam, Dean, and Olivia pull into the station. "Alright, I figure we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight." Sam doesn't respond. Dean looks at Olivia, he smiles and looks back at Sam. "Sam wears women's underwear." Olivia bursts out laughing. "I've been listening, I'm just busy." Says Sam checking his e-mails on his PalmPilot without looking up at Dean or Olivia. "Busy doing what?", "Reading e-mails." Dean gets out of the car and starts to fill the tank with gas. "E-mails from who?", "From my friends at Stanford." Dean and Olivia glance at each other. Olivia looks back at Sam, frowning. Dean focuses on filling the tank then looks at Sam. "You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?", "Why not?", "Sam, it makes no sense.", "What exactly do you tell them? You know, about where you've been, what you've been doing?", "I tell them I'm on a road trip with my big brother and best friend. I tell them I needed some time off after Jess." Olivia cringes, "so you lie to them.", "No. I just don't tell them…everything.", "Yeah, that's called lying. I mean, hey, mean, I get it, telling the truth is far worse.", "And dangerous.", "So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?" Dean shrugs. Sam looks at Olivia, and she shrugs too. "You're serious?", "Look, Sam, it sucks, I know. But it's our job. Our lives.", "She's right, and in a job like this, you can't get close to people, period.", "You guys are kind of anti-social, you know that?", "Wouldn't be the first one to say so.", "Yeah." Sam ignores Dean and Olivia and continues to read his e-mails. "God…", "What?", "In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine.", "Is she hot?" Sam ignores Dean, but Olivia looks at him, smack his arm and rolls her eyes. "I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.", "Dude, what kind of people are you hanging out with?", "No, mean, I know Zack. He's no killer.", "You know Zack as much as he knows you?" Sam looks at Olivia and sighs. "They're in St. Louis. We're going." He sits straight on the seat and looks ahead. Dean chuckles. "Look, sorry about your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.", "It is our problem. They're my friends.", "St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam." They turn to Olivia, she put her hands in the air, "don't look at me! I don't care whether we're going or not." Dean looks back ahead, Sam looks at Dean. "Fine." Dean starts the car, they pull out of the gas station and start driving.

Rebecca opens the door and sees Sam, Dean, and Olivia. "Oh my God, Sam!", "Well, if it isn't little Becky.", "You know what you can do with that little Becky crap." She smiles, and they hug. "I got your e-mail.", "I didn't think that you would come here." Dean steps forward and extends his hand. "Dean. Older brother." She shakes his hand and looks at Olivia. "Hi, I'm Olivia.", "Hi.", "We're here to help. Whatever we can do.", "Come in." They walk inside the house, Olivia shuts the door behind her. Dean looks around, "nice place.", "It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm going to stay until Zack's free.", "Where are your folks?", "They live in Paris for half the year, so they're on their way home for the trial." The four of them enter the kitchen. "Do you guys want a beer or something?" Dean smiles, "Hey—", "No, thanks. So, tell us what happened." Olivia silently giggles at Dean's face when Sam refused the beer. "Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing." Rebecca starts to cry. "So, he called 911, and the police—they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police— they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight.", "You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack's house." Dean and Olivia look at Sam and ask in unison, "we could?", "Why? I mean, what could you do?", "Well, me not much. But Dean and Olivia are cops." Dean laughs. "Detective, actually. "Really?" Dean nods. "Where?", "Bisbee, Arizona. But we're off-duty now.", "You guys, it's so nice to offer, but I just—I don't know.", "Bec, look, I know Zack didn't do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent.", "Okay. I'm going to go get the keys." Rebecca disappears, walking about down the hall. "Oh, yeah, man, you're a real straight shooter with your friends.", "Dean's right, Sam. You're shooting too close on this one.", "Look, Zack and Becky need our help.", "I just don't think this is our kind of problem.", "Two places at once? We've looked into less." Sam and Dean look once more at Olivia. She grimaces a little and looks at Dean, "he's right, D. We've looked for way less." Dean says nothing defeated.          Dean parks the car in front of Zack's house, the four of them get out of it. Rebecca looks at Dean, "you're sure this is okay?", "Yeah. We are officers of the law." They walk to the house.         Sam, Dean, and Olivia enter and look around. The furniture and walls of the house are smeared with blood. Rebecca stays on the porch steps. "Bec, you want to wait outside?" She looks at Sam and shakes her head. "No. I want to help." She ducks under the police tape and enters the house. "Tell us what else the police said. Tears in her eyes Rebecca answers to Sam's question. "Well, there's no sign of a break in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawleys—they're already talking about a plea bargain." She looks around the room, crying. "Oh, God…", "Look, Bec, if Zack didn't do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?" Rebecca shakes her head, then begins to remember something. "Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes—Zack's clothes. The police—they don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed." Sam walks away, Dean moves to the open front door and sees the neighbor's dog barking loudly. Rebecca comes up behind him. "You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.", "What happened?", "He just changed.", "Do you remember when he changed?", "I guess around the time of the murder." Dean looks at her, then walks away. Sam and Olivia were in the hallway, looking at a framed picture of Sam, Zack, and Rebecca. Dean walks over to them. "So, the neighbor's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed.", "Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal." Dean nods at Sam. "Yeah, maybe Fido saw something.", "So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?", "No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure." Olivia smiles and shakes her head, Sam smirks and nods. "Yeah." Rebecca walks over to them. "So," begins Dean, "the tape. The security footage—you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it because we don't have that kind of jurisdiction.", "I've already got it. I didn't want to say something in front of cops." Dean laughs. "I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself.", "All right." The three of them leave.

Zack is sitting on a bench across the street from a house. He watches an Asian man come out of the house with his wife. "I'll be home tomorrow night. I'll make it up to you." They kiss, the man gets in his car and drives away. Zack watches the wife go back in the house. He smiles wickedly, and his eyes glint silver for a moment, before returning to normal.

In Rebecca's living room, Sam, Dean, Olivia, and Rebecca are watching the security footage. "Here he comes." The tape shows Zack entering his house. Dean looks at the timestamp, "22:04, that's just after ten. You said the time of death was about 10:30.", "Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with." Olivia slightly hits Sam's arm, he looks at her, she nods her head to Rebecca, making him understand that she saw something. "Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?", "Oh sure." She gets up to go to the kitchen. "Hey." Rebecca turns around and looks at Sam. "Maybe some sandwiches, too?", "What do you think this is, Hooters?" Rebecca leaves the room. Dean raises his eyebrows. "I wish." He looks at Sam. "What is it?", "Check this out." She rewinds the tape, then replays it. One of the frames shows Zack looking directly at the camera. His eyes are silver. Olivia pauses the tape. "Well, maybe it's just a camera flare." Sam looks at Dean, "that's not like any camera flare I've ever seen. You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul.", "Right." Olivia stands up, "remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him.", "Like a doppelganger." Sam nods at Dean. "Yeah. It'd sure explain how he was two places at once."

The Asian man enters his house. "Honey, it's me. Flight canceled at the last minute." He sets down his briefcase and keys and then looks around. "Lindsay?" He looks around. "Lindsay?" He turns around and sees blood spattered on the wall. "Lindsay?!" He opens the door to a nearby room and finds Lindsay. She is tied in a chair, beaten and bloody. The man rushes over to her and takes the gag out of her mouth. "It's ok, Lindsay, it's me.", "Please, don't hurt me anymore! Leave me alone!" Her husband looks at her, confused. He hears a noise in the other room and leaves. In the living room, the man looks around. Suddenly, he turns and sees himself, standing there with a baseball bat. The man is puzzled. The double's eyes glint silver, and he hits the man over the head with the bat.

Sam, Dean, and Olivia park their car behind the house and get out. "Alright, so what are we doing here at 5:30 in the morning?" Asks Dean. Olivia's head was resting on Dean's shoulder half asleep. "I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in, but not coming out.", "So, he came out the back door?" Dean leans against the hood of his car and puts his arm around Olivia, she puts hers around his waist. "Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.", "Because they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zack inside. I still don't know what we're doing here at 5:30 in the morning." Sam looks around the outside of the building and notices blood smeared on a nearby telephone pole. "Blood. Somebody came this way." Olivia raises her head. "Yeah, but guys, the trail ends.", "She's right, Sam. I don't see anything over here." An ambulance drives past them, the three of them exchange a look.          Sam, Dean, and Olivia observe the scene.  The Asian man is handcuffed and is stepping into a police car. "What happened?" Asks Dean to a nearby woman. "He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her. I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy." They watch the man get taken away.          Sam is on the side of the house, looking around. He looks inside two garbage cans but finds nothing. He moves to the front of the house, where Dean and Olivia come behind him. "Hey." Sam turns around. "Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?", "Yeah.", "Definitely our kind of problem.", "What'd you find out?", "Well, we just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex's story. Apparently, the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked.", "So, he was two places at once.", "Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house, police think he's a nutjob.", "Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way.", "Also, it could be the same thing doing it, too." Sam thinks for a second. "Shapeshifter?" Dean shrugs. "Something that can make itself look like anyone?", "Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.", "Right, skinwalkers, werewolves.", "We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessing we've got a shapeshifter prowling the neighborhood.", "Let me ask you this—in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?" Dean and Olivia shake their head. "Not that I know of.", "Why?", "I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way.", "Just like your friend's house.", "Yeah. And, just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared.", "Well," Sam and Dean look at Olivia, "there is another way to go." They frown. "Down." They look down and notice a manhole. Olivia grimaces at the thought of going down there. They climb down the manhole and look around. "I bet this runs right by Zack's house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.", "I think you're right. Look at this." The three of them bend down and examine a pile of blood and skin on the ground. The same look of disgust on their faces. "Is this from this victims?" Dean takes out a pocketknife and holds up some of the skin. "You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape — maybe it sheds.", "That is sick.", "I'm going to be sick." Dean puts the bloody pile back on the ground.          Dean opens the trunk and takes out some weapons. "Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it.", "Silver bullet to the heart.", "That's right." Sam's cell phone rings. He answers it. Dean gives Olivia bullets, she smiles and takes them. "This is Sam. -- Where are you?" It was Rebecca calling. "We're near Zack's, we're just checking some things out. -- Well, look, Sam, just stop, because I really don't need your help anymore. -- What are you talking about? -- I told the lawyers that we went to the crime scene." Sam scoffs. "Why would you do that? -- Well, I told them that we were with two police officers. And they checked it out, and they told me that there is no Detective Dean Winchester and Olivia Parker. -- Bec— -- No, I don't understand why you would lie to me about something like that. -- We're trying to help. -- Oh, trying to help? Do you realize that that was a sealed crime scene? This could have just ruined Zack's case. -- Bec, I'm sorry, but— -- No, goodbye, Sam." She hangs up. Dean and Olivia walk over to Sam, who looks disappointed. "I hate to say it, but that's exactly what we were talking about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked. It's just—", "It'd be easier if—," "If I were like you guys.", "Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people. But I'll tell you one thing. This whole gig—it ain't without perks." Dean holds up a gun, Sam takes it and puts it in the back of his jeans.          Back to the sewer, Sam, Dean, and Olivia are looking around with their flashlights and guns. "I think we're close to its lair.", "Why do you say that?", "Because there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face." Sam turns and sees another pile of blood and skin on a nearby pipe. "Oh, God." They look around the area and see a pile of clothes in a corner. "Looks like it's lived here for a while.", "Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with?" Dean looks at Olivia and sees the shapeshifter, still in the form of the Asian man, standing behind her. "Olivia!" She turns and gets punched by the shapeshifter. She falls to the ground, and the shapeshifter runs away. Sam and Dean shoot at it a few times but misses it. They run to Olivia. Dean hurts his left arm kneeling down. "You're okay?", "I'm going to kill this son of a bitch!" She gets up, charges her gun, and they run away following the shifter's trail. They see it leave by the manhole. They all get out on the street and look around. "All right, let's split up.", "Okay, we'll meet around the other side.", "All right." They all walk away in separate directions.          Dean looks around, with his gun drawn, passerby turn away, frightened.          Sam was searching too, keeping his gun inside his jacket, looking around.          Olivia was walking, searching for the shifter, people were looking at her and got scared when they saw she had a gun in her hands. She sees Sam and walks over to him. "So?", "Nothing. You?", "Same." They wait and see Dean coming up to them. "Hey. Anything?", "No. He's gone.", "All right. Let's get back to the car." Sam and Olivia cross the street. Dean stops, waiting for a passing car to drive by. As the car passes, Dean's eyes momentarily glow silver. Dean, who's actually the shifter catches up to Sam and Olivia.          Sam, the shifter, and Olivia stop at the Impala. "You think he found another way around?" Asks Sam. "Yeah, probably. You got the keys?" Sam stops and thinks before turning around. "Hey, didn't Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?", "Oh, that was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter, it was a thought form. A psychic projection, remember?", "Oh right. Here ya go." He throws the shifter the keys and walks away. The shifter opens the trunk and observes all the weapons and laughs.          "This isn't Dean, right?", "Right. I take front you take behind.", "Got it." The shifter turns and sees Sam pointing the gun at him. "What have you done to him?", "Dude, chill. It's me, all right?", "No, I don't think so.", "Where's my brother?", "You're about to shoot him. Guys, calm down.", "You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt when we were in the sewer." The shifter slightly turns to Olivia. "Yeah, it's better. What do you want me to do? Cry?", "You're not my brother.", "Why don't you pull the trigger, then? Hm? Because you're not sure. Dude, you know me.", "Don't—" The shifter pauses before hitting Sam and Olivia with a crowbar, making them fall to the ground.          Same wakes up in a dingy, dusty room. His neck and hands are bound to a wooden post. He looks around him trying to find Dean or Olivia but found none of them. The shifter walks over to him with the appearance of Dean and backhands him. Sam groans in pain. "Where are they? Where's Dean and Olivia?", "I wouldn't worry about them, I would worry about you.", "Where are they?", "You don't really want to know." The shifter chuckles. "I swear, the more I learn about you and your family — I thought I came from a bad background.", "What do you mean, learn?" The shifter stops. He grabs his head in pain and grimaces. A quick succession of Dean's voice comes. Sam looks at the shifter, confused. The shifter relaxes and looks at Sam. "He's sure got issues with you. And some unfinished business with Olivia. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad and Olivia. And then she left, too. You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?", "Where are they?", "I am your brother. See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everybody's going to leave me. And Olivia will find someone else.", "What are you talking about?", "You left. Olivia left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothing, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It's not without its perks. I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. I mean he can't have Olivia so why not try with Becky? Let's see what happens." He smiles and covers Sam with a sheet.          He knocks on the door. Rebecca opens it. "Oh. Hi.", "I know you're going to say.", "Oh, you do?", "Well, no, not exactly. But I can take a guess. Get off my porch?" Rebecca laughs. "That's about right.", "I admit it, we lied. Thought I'd try to explain myself. Sam told me not to come, but, you know, I thought, what the hell, I have to try."          Sam tries to get out of his ropes but fails. "Damn it." He hears movement in another area of the room and hears someone coughing. "That better be you, Sam, and not this freak of nature." Sam laughs. "Yeah, it's me." Dean manages to uncover himself from the sheet and starts to undo his ropes. "He went to Rebecca's, looking you.", "Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one.", "Olivia is with you?", "What? No. She's not with you?", "No!" Dean gets rid of his ropes and walks over to Sam and gets his off. "Let's find her."          Olivia was tied to a chair in a dark room. "Motherfucker. Son of a bitch. Asshole. Freak. I'm going to kill you, you stupid nature freak mother fucking son of a bitch!!" Olivia tries as hard as she could to get rid of her ties but couldn't. "Second time this month. The second time I fucking get tied to a chair. Come on!!" The shifter dislodge her arm, she couldn't move it. She tries to reach the knife she has under her legging but pails. "This shit is seriously pissing me off. I'm going to make you pay for this!" She screams at the empty room. She moves too hard and hurts her arm, making her scream. "Hello? Is anybody here? Yes? No? Maybe? Come on don't be a dick!" Olivia hears footsteps, she hopes it's not the shifter but takes the risk anyway. "Hello! I'm here! Please! I'm tied up!" The footsteps stop. "Damn it. Son of a bitch.", "No need to be mean." She looks around and sees Dean. "Dean! Wait — hold on. Is this really Dean?" Dean laughs and walks over to her. His smile drops when he sees how beaten up she is. "Oh, my god. Olivia are you okay?", "My arm. This asshole dislodged it." Dean undoes Olivia's ropes and helps her get up. "Thanks." Sam arrives. "You're here. Glad to see you're okay." Olivia nods and smiles. "Dean, could you, just, hold my hand and elbow as tight as you can?" Dean nods, not understanding what Olivia was doing. He does as asked, holds her hand and elbow as tight as he could, Olivia moves back and pulls down on her arm to replace it. "Oh shit!", "Hell, no, Olivia!", "Never again. You can't do that!" Olivia laughs and shakes her head. "I'm going to kill this asshole.", "It's at Rebecca's house.", "Looking like me.", "Yeah, that's the thing. He didn't just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you.", "What do you mean?", "I don't know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories.", "You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?" Sam nods at Olivia. "Yeah, something like that. I mean, maybe that's why he doesn't just kill us.", "Maybe he needs to keep us alive.", "Psychic connection.", "Yeah, come on, we gotta go. He's probably at Rebecca's already." They climb out a window and onto the street. "Come on. We have to find a phone, call the police.", "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You're going to put an APB out on me.", "Sorry." Olivia looks around them and sees the direction where they have to go. "This way." They start running down the street.

Rebecca and the shifter are sitting in front of the fireplace. "So, you're saying that there's something out there that made itself look like my brother.", "Mhm.", "What'd you call it?", "A shapeshifter." Rebecca laughs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, maybe we're crazy. But what if we're not? I mean look, you said it yourself that Zack was in two places at once. Now, tell me how that can happen.", "Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody.", "That's right." She chuckles. "Well, what is it? Like a genetic freak?" The shifter laughs. "Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else." Rebecca looks around, uncomfortable. The shifter's eyes glint silver, and he smiles. "It's funny. I kind of understand him. He's all alone—close to no one. All he wants is for someone to love him. He's like me." Rebecca looks very uncomfortable. "You know, everybody needs a little human touch now and then. It's so hard to be different." He tucks Rebecca's hair behind her ear. She shrugs away. "You should go." The shifter leans in and whispers something in her hear. She looks horrified and stands up. "You are disgusting, just get the hell out of here!", "Rebecca, just calm down." The shifter stands up. "Calm down? What is wrong with you?", "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" Rebecca walks to the phone. "I'm calling the police." The shifter walks over to her and throws the phone to the floor. She screams and tries to run away, but he trips her and she falls to the ground. He straddles her legs and begins tying her hands with the telephone cord. "Give me your hands!" She continues to scream. "Shut up!"          Rebecca is tied in a chair, beaten and bloody. "You're a nice girl, Rebecca. I mean, I liked you. Believe me, that makes this harder." He holds up a knife and examines it. "But I gotta do what I gotta do." He moves towards her. Suddenly, they hear a crash come from another room of the house. Rebecca screams, but the shifter covers her mouth and holds the knife to her throat. "Shh."          The S.W.A.T. team is searching the house. While their backs are turned, the shifter crosses the hall and goes into another room.          The shifter enters and closes the door, looking around frantically. He moves to a set of doors leading out to a balcony. Just as he opens the doors, the S.W.A.T. team enters. "Freeze! Drop the knife! Drop the knife! Drop the knife!" The shifter throws the knife at the police officer, and the rest of the team begins shooting. The shifter kicks one of the men, then goes outside and jumps off the balcony, onto the grass below. "Come on! Come on! Go! Go!" The shifter runs away, while the team continues to shoot and miss him several times.         The shifter stops walking, looking weak. He takes off his jacket and shirt, then falls to his knees. He groans and screams in pain as he continues to shed his skin.         Sam, Dean, and Olivia are standing in front of a store window, watching a news report that is being shown on a display of televisions. "An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T. team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home." A sketch of Dean appears on the screen. "Man! That's not even a good picture." Sam and Olivia look around cautiously. "It's good enough." Sam walks away. "Man!" Dean and Olivia follow Sam.          Sam, Dean, and Olivia are walking. Dean steps into a puddle. "Come on." Sam pauses. "They said attempted murder At least we know—," "I didn't kill her.", "We'll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she's all right.", "All right, but first I want to find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him." They stop walking. "We have no weapons. No silver bullets.", "Guys, the man's walking around with my face, okay, it's a little personal. I want to find him.", "Okay. Where do we look?", "Well, we could start with the sewers.", "We have no weapons. He stole our guns, we need more.", "The car?" Dean looks at Olivia, "I'm betting he drove over to Rebecca's.", "The news said he fled on foot. I bet it's still parked there.", "The thought of him driving my car.", "All right, come on." They start walking. "it's killing me, man.", "Let it go."          Sam, Dean, and Olivia walk around the side of Rebecca's house and see the Impala parked. "Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight." A police car appears and parks next to Dean's car. "Oh, crap." They turn around, but another police car is parked a few yards away. "This way, this way." He moves towards a fence. "You guys go. I'll hold them off.", "Sam, no.", "what are you talking about? They'll catch you.", "Look, they can't hold me. Just go, keep out of sight. Mett me at Rebecca's." Dean and Olivia start to climb over the fence. "Dean." Dean stops and turns around. "Stay out of the sewers, too." Dean says nothing and hops over the fence. "I mean it!", "Yeah, yeah!" The police officer approaches Sam. "Don't move! Keep your hands where I can see them." Sam raises his hands in the air.          Dean and Olivia are getting weapons from the trunk. "I'm sorry, Sam. But you know us—we just can't wait." Olivia closes the trunk, and they walk away.          Dean and Olivia are in the sewer, looking around. They come across a chamber filled with candles and chains. Revolting piles of skin and blood are on the floor. They hear a noise and move to another area of the sewer. Olivia sees a large figure covered with a sheet. She removes it and sees Rebecca. Her hands and feet are found together with rope. "Rebecca?" Olivia turns to Dean.

Sam is sitting, having a beer at Rebecca's house, oblivious to the fact he's talking to the shifter and not Rebecca. "So, say this shapeshifter is real. By the way, you know you're crazy? But, um, say it is real. How do you stop it?" The shifter replaces Sam's empty beer bottle with a new one. "Thanks." Sam sighs. "Silver bullet to the heart." The shifter chuckles. "You are crazy." The shifter hits Sam over the head with the empty bottle. Sam falls over, unconscious. The shifter's eyes momentarily flow silver.

Olivia is untying Rebecca's ropes. "What happened?" Rebecca who was crying tried to answer as calmly as possible. "I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don't know, how is that even possible?", "Okay. Okay. It's okay." Olivia finishes untying her while Dean calms her down. "Come on. Can you walk?" She nods at Olivia. "Okay, we have to hurry. Sam went to see you."

The shifter has changed back into the form of Dean. He finishes tying up Sam's hands and feet, then starts walking around the kitchen. "What are you going to do to me?", "Oh, I'm not going to do anything. Dean will, though. "They will never catch him.", "Oh, doesn't matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He'll be hunted the rest of his life." The shifter picks up a sharp knife and examines it.          "I must say, I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother's got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do." The shifter pours himself a drink. "Cheers." He takes a sip, then picks up the knife from the kitchen and sticks it into the edge of the pool table. Sam lifts his legs and kicks the shifter, who falls to the ground. Sam quickly sits up and moves his hands up and down on the blade of the knife. The ropes break apart. The shifter gets up, Sam takes the knife and swings at him. He grabs Sam's arm in mid-swing and twists it. Sam falls to the ground. "Oh, you son of a bitch." They both start to fight. Sam tries to pin the shifter down. "Not bad, little brother.", "You're not him." They continue to fight. The shifter finally throws Sam into a bookshelf. It falls apart, and books fall on top of Sam. "Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass." He grabs a pool cue and swings at Sam but misses and hits a light fixture. After fighting for several more minutes, they fall onto a coffee table. The shifter pins Sam to the floor and starts to choke him. Dean, Olivia, and Rebecca enter the house. "Hey!" Olivia quickly looks around her and see a way for her to reach the shifter. She runs and then jumps on the couch, jumping on the shifter. He lets go of Sam. Olivia and the shifter fight. He tries to punch her but she ducks in time, while still ducking, she punches his stomach, stands up straight and kicks him in the stomach once more. He grabs the knife on the ground and swings it at her, he reaches her stomach and cuts it. "No!" Sam tries to stand up, but Rebecca stops him. Dean walks closer and shoots twice the shifter in the heart. He falls to the ground, Dead. Dean rushes to Olivia who's on the floor holding her wound. "Olivia!", "I'm fine, don't worry. Hurts but it's not profound." Dean looks at the shifter's body and notices him wearing his necklace. He yanks it from the shifter's neck and looks at Sam, he nods at him and looks back at Olivia.          Dean is by the car, looking at a map, Olivia is sitting in the backseat on the Impala, door open and her legs outside of it. Rebecca and Sam come outside. "So, this is what you do? You and your brother and Olivia — you hunt down these kinds of things?", "Yeah, pretty much.", "I can't believe it. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes. And, I mean, does everybody at school — nobody knows that you do this?", "No.", "Did Jessica know?" Sam looks thoughtful before answers. "No, she didn't.", "Must be lonely.", "Oh, no. No, it's not so bad. Anyway, what can I do? It's my family." Rebecca laughs. "Well, you know, Zack and me, and everybody at school — we really miss you." Rebecca hugs Sam. Sam looks pained, "yeah, me too." They pull away. "Well, will you call sometime?", "It might not be for a little while." Rebecca nods and waves goodbye to Dean and Olivia. They smile and wave back. Rebecca goes back inside the house. Sam walks over to the car. "So, what about your friend, Zack?", "Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder. They found the murder weapon in the guy's lair, Zack's clothes stained with her blood. Now they think maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon." Sam smiles. Dean rolls his eyes and gets in the car.          Olivia was asleep in the backseat, Sam shotgun, and Dean driving. "Sorry, man.", "About what?", "I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be…Joe College.", "No, that's okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in.", "Well, that's because you're a freak.", "Yeah, thanks.", "Well, I'm freak, too. Olivia, Dad, we all are. We're right there with you, all the way." Sam laughs, "yeah, I know you are.", "You know, I have to say— I'm sorry I'm going to miss it.", "Miss what?", "How many chances am I going to have to see my own funeral?" Sam and Dean smile at each other.

[thorne93]

Who Will Win? (Part 13)

Prompt: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) sees you on the sidewalk one day, his “dead” wife.

Word Count: 968

Warning: Threats, language, angst, sadness, darkness

Notes: This will span from season 1 through 5, if you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read this, haha. Also, the reader’s Storybrooke name is Alice. Beta’d by the amazeballs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and badgered @amarvelouswritings Thank you both! Could never get this done without you!

Tags:  @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @nedthegay @marvelloushamilton @thefridgeismybestie @munlis  @bubblyanarocks3​​ @thefridgeismybestie​  @kaliforniacoastalteens

Sebastian Stan Tags: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi  @lenawiinchester​​

Who Will Win Tags: @mrs-lancelot @elivanah @ultrarebelheart @learisa @isis278

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t take long for Victor to tell everyone in town what you had done. Of course, being the Dark One, everyone assumed you killed him, which is partially what you wanted. It didn’t inflict any pain if he knew exactly what happened to his brother.  

Before long, the heroes were at your door, the news of Frankensteins and what you’d done to Karen was hot news.

The knock came at your door and you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Emma demanded as soon as you opened the door.

“Hello to you too,” you greeted.

“You killed Gerhart?” Regina asked.

“Mmm, maybe. The point is you nor the ole Doc will ever know,” you said overly sweetly as you walked back into your house.

“You’re out of control,” Regina noted.

“Now hang on,” Snow defended. “Y/N, just tell us where he is and we’ll forget this ever happened. You had a lapse in judgement, it's fine, we’ve all done it.

“No,” you said in a firm, loud voice as Jefferson walked into the room. “That defeats the entire point.”

“The point of...what?” Emma wondered.

“The point of inflicting as much pain to Frankenstein as possible.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because of what he took from me!” you screamed, pointing at yourself.

Snow breathed, “Your father.”

“Yes, my father. So...now that I have some power, I have the power to make him pay, to make him feel what I do.”

“Y/N, this isn’t you,” Jefferson tried. “This isn’t her,” he repeated, turning to your friends.

“Wrong! I wanted to do all of this before, I just didn’t have the power to.”

“You can’t mean that,” Jefferson said.

“Oh but I can. You must not know me like you thought you did.”

“That’s it, give us the dagger,” Regina ordered. “Clearly the mad hatter here has gone entirely fruity and let her do this.”

“I didn’t let her do anything,” Jefferson said, stepping forward. “I didn’t know she did this until this morning.”

“So use the dagger to have her tell us where he’s at and to stop her,” Regina suggested simply.

“I’m not using that on my wife,” Jefferson said, offended.

“Well someone needs to,” Regina said.

“No, we can’t make her do anything. It won’t help,” Snow said.

“Besides,” you said, adding to the argument, “I’m not going to do anything else to anyone. I'm not going to use my magic on anyone else.”

“Oh and we’re just supposed to believe that? The Dark One goes rogue one time and then she’s done? No, I’ve been dark, I know how tempting it is to just give in to every impulse and have the power so no one can tell you no,” Regina argued.

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I’m asking you to trust me. Should I act badly again, feel free to come and arrest me with the dagger that Jefferson will place firmly in your hand. Until then, take me for my word.”

“We can’t just let you go free,” Regina noted. “Maybe right now, you feel okay, but in an hour, what if someone looks crosswise at Grace or makes a pass at Jefferson. You strangled your old boss because she fired you and you’ve done god knows what to Frankenstein’s brother.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re judging me. A woman who devoted her life to trying to kill a girl for sharing a secret when you were stupid enough to share with a ten year old in the first place. A woman who tortured and killed for most of her adult life.” You turned to Snow. “And you--you killed her mother, just to keep her from becoming the dark one. You and your husband sucked all the darkness out of your daughter and cast it into another baby. I don’t need to be lectured by a group of hypocritical self righteous bastards. My father is dead because he was in the hands of that incompetent fool, I’m merely returning the favor. So don't stand in my house and pretend any of you are better than me.”

“Y/N,” Snow tried.

“No. No, I won’t be badgered by you all. Please, leave my home,” you requested.

The group of them stood and wanted to say something more, but nothing would help at this point. They all knew they had faults and skeletons in their closets and they had no right to lecture you.

“Fine, we’ll go,” Emma said quietly. The lot of them left and you went on to prepare dinner as Jefferson followed them out and closed the door behind him.

“Wait, don’t go yet,” he requested. “I need your help, please. Y/N is not herself.”

“Oh, really? Killing people isn’t her usual Sunday routine?” Regina asked with an eyeroll.

“No, I mean...I can’t keep living like this. I can’t...I can’t look at her and see my wife. She’s cold, unfeeling, angry...She’s awake at night and does God knows what while I’m asleep. I don’t think she’d hurt any of us but…”

“What is it, Jefferson?” Snow asked stepping forward.

“She told Grace it was okay to give into the darkness. I know that doesn’t sound too awful but...She’s twisting situations to make it seem okay to be a bad person and I don’t want to raise Grace thinking that her mother acting as the Dark One is the right path for her to go down. I just want my wife back...Please. You all have to find a way to get the darkness out of her.”

“We’re trying,” Snow assured.

“You need to try harder...Please... If within a few days she’s strangled someone and kidnapped someone then who knows what’s next.”

Everyone nodded.

“We’ll do our best,” Emma vowed.

“Thank you.”

[illuminating-dragons]

Nesting (3/?): The Apologies of Archangels

Summary:  Sam and Adam have been enjoying the afterlife, but an important date rolls around and they have to face their pasts one more time.

Read it on AO3

           Sam turned the page of his book and smiled when he felt his wife drop a kiss on his head.

           “You’ve read that book a thousand times.”

           “I just felt like reading this again.” Sam tapped the cover. “After all, we have the time.”

           “Funny how being dead will do that,” his wife agreed.

           They’d been dead over nine hundred years now, and Sam could hardly remember how they’d died. They were together here, and that was enough. Their families were close by, and sometimes their descendants would come and join them. It always gave Sam a thrill to see someone with Sarah’s eyes, with Charlie’s smile, with Dean’s skill. They’d left the world a good legacy, and from the stories that came up it was lasting.

           “Is Jess coming over?”

           “Yes. She’s bringing cookies.”

           Jess had begun to join them about three hundred years ago, first just in visits and then in their bed. It still blew Sam’s mind that this was happening, but his wife and girlfriend, who adored each other as much as he adored them, helped him to get over that most of the time. Being able to love them both was one of the best parts of being dead, and he tried to show his gratitude as best he could.

           Sam reached up and took Sarah’s hand. They were as happy in death as they had been in life, with their loved ones around them and plenty of things to explore. Maybe later their children would come over, and they could watch a movie.

           There was a knock at the door.

           “Is that her already?”

           “I don’t think so,” Sarah frowned. “She likes to do things in real time.”

           She went to the door and opened it to Chuck.

           “Hi Chuck,” Sam said, standing up automatically. It was odd to see God; he was busy, after all. Now that Sam thought about it, he hadn’t seen Chuck in over a hundred years.

           “Hello Sam, Sarah. How are things?”

           “Everything’s great,” Sarah said politely. “Is there something we can do for you?”

           Chuck hesitated, and Sam’s stomach sank. Something was wrong.

           “It has been a thousand years since my return,” Chuck said.

           For a moment, Sam couldn’t think of the significance of that number. Then he remembered back a thousand years, back to the day he was healed.

           “Was your prediction right?” he asked.

           Chuck nodded, face grave. “They have repented.”

           “Who are you—oh.” Sarah’s face hardened. “Well, who cares if they have?”

           “Sarah—”

           “Don’t Sarah me, Sam!”

           “Sweetheart, let’s just listen for a moment,” Sam said, taking her hand.

           Sarah gritted her teeth, but nodded.

           “I went to the Cage today, and both Michael and Lucifer have repented,” Chuck explained. “I have heard their apologies, both to myself and to each other.”

           “Did you apologize to them?” Sam asked. “For putting them at each other’s throats?”

           Chuck winced. “I did. We had a long talk. And they would like to speak to you and offer their apologies.”

           “Are you sure?” Sarah snapped. “Are you positive they even mean it?”

           “Yes.” Chuck’s voice brooked no argument. “They have caused a lot of damage to your husband and your brother-in-law. I will not risk their peace.”

           “Do I have to forgive them?” Sam asked.

           “No. It’s your choice to listen to them at all,” Chuck replied. “Either way they will return to Heaven, but Heaven is much bigger than you may think. You will never see them again if that is your wish.”

           Sam looked at Sarah. “What do you think, honey?”

           Sarah’s eyes were worried. “I think you should do what you want, but I’m worried this might not be good for you.”

           Sam thought about it. He could say no. He could refuse them, but he had questions, still wondered about some things.

           “I’ll talk to Lucifer,” he decided. “I don’t want—I don’t need to talk to Michael. He’s got other people to apologize to more than me.”

           “He has several apologies to make,” Chuck agreed, his face hardening. “I will get Lucifer, Sam.” He nodded to Sarah, and left.

           Sam kissed Sarah. “I want to talk to him alone, okay? Why don’t you go to Jess? I’ll join you later.”

           Sarah kissed him back, clutching at him, and Sam clung back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. He had nine hundred years standing between him and those memories, but suddenly it was like those one hundred and twenty years were the only ones that mattered.

           He let Sarah go, and took a deep breath. “Go on, sweetheart.”

           Sarah nodded. “I love you, Sam. I’m proud of you.”

           Sam managed a smile as she went out the door.

           Then it hit him. Adam.

           He dialled Adam’s number. Adam picked up on the first ring.

           “He talked to you too, did he?”

           “Yes.” Sam was a bit surprised. “How…what are you going to do?”

           Adam didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was a bit shaky. “I’m going to talk to Michael,” he said eventually. “I want answers from him. I don’t need answers from Lucifer.”

           “I’m talking to Lucifer,” Sam said. “Adam…do you want to come here?”

           “I don’t think so.” His brother’s voice, so confident for most of their life together, was now trembling. “I think that might be worse. Can I come over after though?”

           “Of course,” Sam said immediately. Sarah and Jess would understand. “Just…maybe wait for me to text?”

           “Sure. Bye Sam.”

           Adam hung up. Now the room was silent again. Sam fought the urge to pace, to tap the chair, to do anything that showed how nervous he really was.

           He could still say no, still change his mind, but the questions that had been nagging at him for a thousand years would never be answered if he changed his mind. It was the last part of the Cage that wouldn’t leave him alone.

           There was a knock, a hesitant knock at the door.

           Sam took a deep breath and opened it.

           Adam stood on the porch of his and Kevin’s house, the home they’d bought when they got married. Kevin had offered to stay, but Adam had refused. He didn’t want to let his husband stand before his old tormentor.

He stood with his arms folded and stared at the archangel, marvelling that it didn’t make his eyes hurt.

           Michael had taken human form, a dark haired man with intense eyes. He was shorter than Adam, but Adam still felt small. No, he told himself sternly. You are not small.

           “Adam Milligan.”

           “It’s Adam Tran,” Adam corrected him. “Michael.”

           “Of course.” Michael inclined his head. “Is this your home?”

           “Yes. What do you want, Michael?”

           “I was wrong.”

           It took a moment for Adam to find his voice. “What do you mean?”

           “When I lost Lucifer, I also lost my father. Then I lost Gabriel. Clearly something had gone wrong with the great plan for Heaven. I believed it was my responsibility to fix it, and I did as efficiently as possible.”

           “By torturing people.” Cas’ scars were the last to fade, about two hundred years before. “By killing those you couldn’t control.”

           “I did. I saw a flaw in the angel’s coding, and I had to fix it. That is why I entrusted Naomi with the reprogramming efforts; she did not have the same flaw. And I noticed that it worked with many; the flaws stopped.”

           “I am sorry, Adam Tran. I was wrong.”

           Adam blinked. “What do you mean?”

           “I was wrong to think that my father wanted the Apocalypse. I was wrong in thinking that I had to force angels not to change, to develop,  I was wrong to hate humanity when I noticed the same flaw in them. And I was wrong, Adam Tran, for punishing you.”

           “Because I tried to save Sam.” That day, so long ago in Stull cemetery, in a moment of clear control he’d tried to pull Sam back, but the pull of the Cage had yanked him in instead.

           “Not only that. You were born to be my vessel, Adam Tran. You were born to serve, and that was what was supposed to happen. And you didn’t.”

           “I didn’t agree with you.”

           “I understand this now. And truly, that has been my problem all along.” Michael looked away. “I have always believed that I am supposed to be obeyed. I was the First. The one he got right, and the rest were flawed copies.”

           “That is incredibly fucking arrogant.”

           Michael actually smiled. “I am aware.” He sighed. “You know, once I cared for more than my brother and father. I cared for the younglings, I cared for the world. But I stopped caring when they stopped listening, and I did what I wanted, willing to ignore their suffering if it brought me peace.”

           “And did it?” Adam asked.

           Michael shook his head. “No. No, it did not. None of it ever did.”

           Adam looked away. “What will you do now?”

           “I do not know,” Michael admitted. “I have submitted to the judgement of my father. He will give me work, and I will do it. I am eager to relearn how to care. It has been a long time. You and your family have learned that lesson in far less time.”

           “I never stopped trying,’ Adam said. He thought for a moment, trying to decide how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I hope you remember how to care. Just…remember that it’s going to hurt like a bitch to care. And that there will be people who won’t care about you anymore, after what you have done.”

           Michael flinched, and Adam took a brief, savage satisfaction in that. “I know,” he replied quietly. “Believe me, I know. Farewell, Adam Tran.”

           And because he’d been a doctor, and he hated to hurt people without giving a good reason, and because after over a thousand years of existing Adam had a better idea of what eternity felt like, Adam blurted out, “good luck.”

           Michael stared at him. “Your species will surprise me forever.” He vanished.

           Adam collapsed against the house, breathing heavily. He pressed his hands to his face, trying to get himself under control.

           He hadn’t forgiven Michael. That wasn’t going to happen. But somehow he’d gone from hating him to feeling overwhelmingly sorry for him.

           Whatever Michael had done to him, he was going to do a thousand times over to himself.

           For a second, Sam thought it was Nick Starr[1] himself at the door; they’d found each other about five hundred years before. It helped, sometimes, to sit in silence with the only other person who’d been possessed by the Devil.

           But no, this wasn’t Nick. Nick slouched a bit when he walked and usually had his hands in his pockets. Lucifer, on the other hand, stood straight and proud, arms to his sides.

           He looked less proud now, somehow.

           Sam swallowed hard. “Lucifer.”

           “Sam.” His voice was different too. There was no sneer in it, no coldness. It sounded…empty. “What do you want of me?”

           “Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?”

           Lucifer shrugged, stepping into the room. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need something from me; Dad’s made that pretty clear.”

           Sam frowned. “He said you wanted to talk to me.”

           “I wanted to give you a chance to ask questions. I don’t really need to hear anything from you.” There was a flash of his old attitude, and Sam gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to take a step back.

           Lucifer noticed, and dropped his stance. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sam.” He looked weary all of a sudden, and Sam could see the weight of a thousand years in the Cage. “If you want me gone, I will leave.”

           Sam cleared his throat. “I do…I have some questions.”

           Lucifer inclined his head. “Fire away.”

           “Did you ever care?”

           Lucifer’s eyes widened. “I’ve got to say, I did not expect you to lead with that one.”

           “I’ve been around for over a thousand years,” Sam replied, “and I’ve learned the difference between pain inflicted out of hate…and pain inflicted by hate that was once something else. Something closer to love. And what you did to me felt more like the second.”

           Lucifer nodded slowly. “You’re smarter than I remember.” He paused for a minute. “Sam, I was in that Cage for millennia in Earth time. In Hell time…well, I’m older than anyone but my Father himself right now. Much older than Michael. And all that time, I could hear Hell growing around me, hear the sounds of the preparations for the Apocalypse. Sometimes I could hear the demons praying to me, telling me about the world they hated so much. It oozed hatred and malice, and I let myself drown in it. After all, this was what I was supposed to be.”

           “And was that right?” Sam asked before he could stop himself. It was his second question, one he’d been too afraid to ask Chuck. “Did your Father—”

           “Want me to be the Devil? Oh yeah. Daddy wanted me to be the ruler of Hell, the punisher of the wicked. The world needed one, after all.” Lucifer sighed. “It was supposed to be a job that I accepted, not a punishment, but…well, I ruined that. But to get back to your question—those were long, dark days and nights. I was alone. The only thing I could think of—the only person I could think of without it hurting—was you. Only you. I didn’t know your name then, didn’t know anything about you. Only that you were going to be a human who was as out of place as me, and we would rule the world together. So yes, there was a time that I cared.”

           “And there’s something else.” Lucifer looked him straight in the eye. “I would have brought your family back. All of them. I would have put you in a dream world where you thought you were safe and whole and happy, and let you go on.”

           “I wouldn’t have wanted that.”

           “I know. I didn’t care. And that’s the real answer to your question. By the time I knew who you were—who Sam Winchester was—I realized I didn’t really care about you as a person. You were my Vessel, and that was all that mattered. You would choose me, and we would feel complete together…but I didn’t care what your name was. I didn’t care about your brother, or your family, or your dreams. I’m guessing you could tell.”

           “Yes.”

           “Well. There’s your answer. I cared about you as the role you would play. I never really liked you.” Lucifer crossed his arms. “So that’s two questions. Do you have any others?”

           Sam bit his lip. He did, but he wasn’t totally sure he wanted to hear the answer. Throwing caution to the wind, he asked anyways.

           “Would you have ever stopped hurting me?”

           Lucifer uncrossed his arms. “Well. That’s the same question my Father asked me, though I guess yours is in a different context.”

           “Answer the question.”

            “I would have stopped eventually. Not sure when; remember, my scale of time is very different than yours, different than most angels. Heaven isn’t as old as me. But I would have stopped, and do you want to know the honest reason?”

           Sam nodded.

           “I would have gotten bored,” Lucifer said simply. “When you threw us back into that Cage—when I realized that I had to go back—I decided to just do whatever the fuck I wanted. If that meant hurting you, or fighting Michael, or counting all the panels in the Cage—there are fifty million and seven, by the way—I was going to do it.”

           “And what do you want to do now?”

           Lucifer sighed. “I have absolutely no idea. I wanted to stop being angry: you see the result before you. It took a long time—”

           “A thousand years exactly.”

           “Really? I would have thought longer.” Lucifer considered that for a moment. “But there isn’t really anything I want to do. For the first time I can remember, I have no axe to grind.”

           Sam didn’t really want to think about the consequences of a bored Lucifer.  

           “Sam.” The archangel’s eyes were intense. “I won’t be hurting anyone. That I can promise. And you will never see me again, if you don’t want to.”

           “I don’t.” It was easy.

           “Good. Neither do I. Father explained that you were made to challenge me; I am too tired for challenges now.” The archangel did look exhausted. “I have amends to make in Heaven, and then I think I will try to sleep. Perhaps when I wake I can find a task that will give me some purpose.”

           Sam hesitated, then reached out his hand. Lucifer stared at him, but he took it.

           “Good luck,” Sam said, and he was astonished to realize he meant it. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

           Lucifer shook his head and gripped Sam’s hand for a second before letting it go. “You’re never what I expect, Sam Winchester.” And he vanished.

           Sam waited a few seconds to make sure he was really gone before texting Adam.

Done.

His brother’s response came almost immediately. Me too.

           Come over.

           Adam burst through the door a few seconds later. Sam grabbed hold of him, enfolded him in trembling arms.

           “Did you—” Adam was shaking.

           “It’s okay,” Sam whispered. “Ad, don’t try to talk.”

           Adam shook his head. “Sam, did you forgive him?”

           “No.” He still couldn’t, even after all this time.

           “Good. Me neither.”

           “I don’t think they deserve it yet. Maybe they never will.”

           “Yeah.” Adam shuddered. “I thought I forgot what he felt like. I remembered.”

           “We’ll forget some day,” Sam promised him. “And it’s over now, isn’t it? We’ve said our piece, no matter what.”

           Adam nodded against his chest. They stood together, trembling in the soft light.

           “I should go back and see Kevin.”

           “I need to go too, Sarah and Jess are waiting for me.” Sam drew back, ready to stay put if Adam needed him. But Adam stepped away himself and gave Sam a smile. It was a small smile, but it was enough. His brother was okay.

           Maybe I’m okay too.

            “See you soon, Sam. Maybe we could have a family gathering tomorrow?”

           “Sounds good to me.”

           Adam clapped his hands and vanished. Sam took a deep breath and clapped too.

           He landed in Jess’ kitchen. She and Sarah were standing at the counter, talking quietly. When they saw him, they stopped talking.

           Sam started to explain—he wanted to tell them, wanted to hear what they thought—but his throat was suddenly so tight he could barely breathe.

           He didn’t even need to breathe.

           Sarah came forward and took his hands. She led him into Jess’ bedroom, where the bed was big enough for three, even their three. Jess was just behind them.

           Sam laid down, suddenly exhausted, and Sarah curled up behind him, putting her arms around him. Jess set a plate of cookies on the night table and cuddled into his chest, sighing as he held her close.

           “I—I can’t talk right now,” Sam whispered.

           “It’s okay, baby.” Jess kissed him. “We’re right here when you’re ready.”

           “I’m so lucky,” Sam managed, his voice cracking as he kissed Jess’ forehead, took Sarah’s hand. “So lucky.”

           “So are we,” Sarah replied. “We all get to love each other.”

           Sam kissed her hand hard, just over her wedding ring, and closed his eyes. He knew that his girls would let him sleep.

           And the archangels? Well, the oldest was lonely that night, hidden from the sight of their siblings and listened to the talk about them being back, wincing as he remembered the deeds that caused the hate in their voices. His brother fared no better; he stalked about Heaven, feeling no connection to the place which had once been his home. Their father watched them. It hurt to watch his children suffer, but his heart felt lighter than it had in thousands of years. The process had begun, and he could see that they would find their places again.  

The next day Sam woke up, and the three had cookies and talked quietly and spent the morning making love before they got up. Sam braided Jess’ hair and rubbed Sarah’s feet and the three of them set off for the gathering at Dean and Cas’ Heaven, where they hung out with the rest of their family. Adam was quiet with Kevin and their daughter, but his smile was stronger and Sam could talk without trouble now and they would be fine, and they would be happy each day, and that happiness would one day give them the strength to truly forgive, and rejoice in that forgiveness.

But not that day.  

[1] I couldn’t help myself.

[bountyofbeads]

PLEASE READ 📖 AND SHARE this IMPORTANT PERSPECTIVE from Ms. Velez on the history of violence and terrorism against people.

"Donald Trump and his minions are but a symptom of the white supremacist problem we all face today, and that problem is rooted deep in the  foundations of this nation. Become a part of the solution."

Trump is a continuation and culmination of the long trail of white terrorism against black folks

By Denise Oliver Velez | Published Aug 11, 2019 9:00am EDT | Daily Kos | Posted August 11, 2019 11:14 AM ET | VIDEOS

Say her name: Elizabeth Lawrence.

During the last week of June 1933, Elizabeth Lawrence, an African-American mother and school teacher, was killed by a mob in her own home near Birmingham. Ms. Lawrence was walking along a country road about five miles from her home when a group of young white children began taunting and throwing rocks and dirt at her. Being a school teacher and mother herself, she reacted as many might. Ms. Lawrence verbally reprimanded the children without ever touching them. However, in the years post-slavery, all that was needed to justify violence against a black person was the word of a white person, even a child. Like so many other African Americans who were lynched based on these social norms, Ms. Lawrence was now at risk for violent retaliation because she committed a “social transgression.” 

On July 5, Ms. Lawrence was alone in her home when the children’s parents surrounded her house. It is unknown if she exited the house in protest or if the mob stormed inside during the attack, but Ms. Lawrence was shot and her house burned to the ground, likely with her still inside. 

Reading the story of just one of the many thousands of victims of white terrorism here in the U.S. made me stop, and think about what we are faced with today.

I took this story personally. 

I am the daughter and grand-niece of  black school teachers, all of whom would have done exactly what Ms. Laurence did. I grew up in black communities where elders chastised children, who weren’t necessarily their own, as a matter of custom. 

Lawrence’s son Alexander fled to Boston so that he would not face the same fate. No one was ever charged with her murder. The fact that so many white people who have participated in terror paid no price for the slaughter they perpetrated makes me wonder why anyone is “surprised” we have an open white supremacist sitting in the White House. Trump is, of course, aided and abetted by Republicans in Congress and supported by those white Americans who keep them all in office. 

I sit here and think about the children and grandchildren of the white people who are alive today here in my country, whose immediate ancestors attended “spectacle” lynchings.

*Trigger warning if you can’t deal with reading about violence.

Here’s how the Equal Justice Initiative describes them:

More than 4000 African Americans were killed in racial terror lynchings between 1877 and 1950. Many of these extrajudicial murders were celebratory public spectacles, where thousands of white people, including elected officials and prominent citizens, gathered to witness victims being gruesomely tortured and mutilated. White newspapers advertised these carnival-like events; vendors sold food, photographers printed postcards, and victims’ clothing and body parts were given out as souvenirs.

In Newnan, Georgia, in 1899, at least 2000 whites watched as a white mob mutilated and burned alive a black man named Sam Hose, and then sold pieces of his organs and bones. In 1916, a white mob in Waco, Texas, tortured and lynched a mentally disabled 17-year-old black boy named Jesse Washington in front of city hall, stripping, stabbing, beating, and mutilating him before burning him alive in front of 15,000 white spectators. Charred pieces of his body were dragged through town, and his fingers and fingernails were taken as keepsakes.

Public spectacle lynchings were most frequent in the South, but also occurred in Northern and Midwestern states as black Americans migrated during the 20th century. In 1920, 10,000 whites attended the lynchings of three black circus workers in Duluth, Minnesota. In Springfield, Missouri, in 1906, two black men, Horace Dunn and Fred Coker, were hanged and shot to death for a crowd of 5000 whites. White lynch mobs and spectators rarely faced consequences. Although these killings were widely attended and photographed, whites committed public spectacle lynchings with impunity.

Before I die, I hope to make a pilgrimage to Alabama to visit the memorial depicted in the photo at the top of this story.

New York Times reporter Campbell Roberts on described the opening last year in an article titled “A Lynching Memorial Is Opening. The Country Has Never Seen Anything Like It”:

The National Memorial for Peace and Justice, which opens Thursday on a six-acre site overlooking the Alabama State Capitol, is dedicated to the victims of American white supremacy. And it demands a reckoning with one of the nation’s least recognized atrocities: the lynching of thousands of black people in a decades-long campaign of racist terror.

At the center is a grim cloister, a walkway with 800 weathered steel columns, all hanging from a roof. Etched on each column is the name of an American county and the people who were lynched there, most listed by name, many simply as “unknown.” The columns meet you first at eye level, like the headstones that lynching victims were rarely given. But as you walk, the floor steadily descends; by the end, the columns are all dangling above, leaving you in the position of the callous spectators in old photographs of public lynchings.

The magnitude of the killing is harrowing, all the more so when paired with the circumstances of individual lynchings, some described in brief summaries along the walk: Parks Banks, lynched in Mississippi in 1922 for carrying a photograph of a white woman; Caleb Gadly, hanged in Kentucky in 1894 for “walking behind the wife of his white employer”; Mary Turner, who after denouncing her husband’s lynching by a rampaging white mob, was hung upside down, burned and then sliced open so that her unborn child fell to the ground.

White massacres of blacks and other people of color are part and parcel of our history, starting with Native Americans. They are rarely included in what is taught as “history” in schools across the U.S. Head over to the Zinn Education Project for a listing titled “Massacres in U.S. History”:

Here is a list of some of the countless massacres in the history of the United States.

Most of these massacres were designed to suppress voting rights, land ownership, economic advancement, education, freedom of the press, religion, LGBTQ rights, and/or labor rights of African Americans, Latinos, Native Americans, Asians, and immigrants. While often referred to as “race riots,” they were massacres to maintain white supremacy.

One of the best explanations about why it is important for students to learn this history is included in the article (and related lesson) by Linda Christensen, Burning Tulsa: The Legacy of Black Dispossession.

A tweet thread by historian Stephen West shows how politicians fueled hate crimes during the Reconstruction era, with parallels today. Ursula Wolfe-Rocca writes about Red Summer of 1919, Remembering Red Summer — Which Textbooks Seem Eager to Forget.

I was watching(See segment on website) Rachel Maddow on MSNBC on Tuesday, and she brought up the case of one of the last lynchings to take place in the U.S.: the terrorist murder of Michael Donald.

On the night of March 21, 1981, a cross crackled and burned on the lawn of the Mobile County courthouse—the Ku Klux Klan’s grim protest of the outcome of a local murder trial. It was just the beginning of the terror that would take place that night.

The cross burned out, but the Klan’s anger didn’t. Later that night, two men roamed Mobile looking for a black man to kill. They found him: 19-year-old Michael Donald. Before the night was through, Donald had been murdered and his body hung from a tree.

Maddow pursued a line of thought focusing on using legal avenues to potentially destroy the sources of funding for white supremacists.

I agree with the idea, as just one part of what needs to be done to combat white supremacist terror. However, it places the onus of taking action onto the shoulders of the victims’ families.

It does little to erase what I call the “collective amnesia” of white people here in the U.S. for the role they have played—and continue to play—in maintaining white supremacy.

The strongest case made in this respect that I’ve read since the advent of Trump came from Ta-Nehisi Coates. If you missed it when he wrote it in 2017, I strongly suggest you read the entire piece titled “The First White President: The foundation of Donald Trump’s presidency is the negation of Barack Obama’s legacy.”

There is far too much in this tour de force to cite here without violating copyright.

I was struck by his critique of “the left” and its current avoidance of really addressing white supremacy in pursuit of white working-class Trump voters.

The focus on one subsector of Trump voters—the white working class—is puzzling, given the breadth of his white coalition. Indeed, there is a kind of theater at work in which Trump’s presidency is pawned off as a product of the white working class as opposed to a product of an entire whiteness that includes the very authors doing the pawning. The motive is clear: escapism. To accept that the bloody heirloom remains potent even now, some five decades after Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned down on a Memphis balcony—even after a black president; indeed, strengthened by the fact of that black president—is to accept that racism remains, as it has since 1776, at the heart of this country’s political life. The idea of acceptance frustrates the left. The left would much rather have a discussion about class struggles, which might entice the white working masses, instead of about the racist struggles that those same masses have historically been the agents and beneficiaries of. Moreover, to accept that whiteness brought us Donald Trump is to accept whiteness as an existential danger to the country and the world. But if the broad and remarkable white support for Donald Trump can be reduced to the righteous anger of a noble class of smallville firefighters and evangelicals, mocked by Brooklyn hipsters and womanist professors into voting against their interests, then the threat of racism and whiteness, the threat of the heirloom, can be dismissed. Consciences can be eased; no deeper existential reckoning is required.

He concludes:

...the most powerful country in the world has handed over all its affairs—the prosperity of its entire economy; the security of its 300 million citizens; the purity of its water, the viability of its air, the safety of its food; the future of its vast system of education; the soundness of its national highways, airways, and railways; the apocalyptic potential of its nuclear arsenal—to a carnival barker who introduced the phrase grab ’em by the pussy into the national lexicon. It is as if the white tribe united in demonstration to say, “If a black man can be president, then any white man—no matter how fallen—can be president.” And in that perverse way, the democratic dreams of Jefferson and Jackson were fulfilled.

The American tragedy now being wrought is larger than most imagine and will not end with Trump. In recent times, whiteness as an overt political tactic has been restrained by a kind of cordiality that held that its overt invocation would scare off “moderate” whites. This has proved to be only half true at best. Trump’s legacy will be exposing the patina of decency for what it is and revealing just how much a demagogue can get away with. It does not take much to imagine another politician, wiser in the ways of Washington and better schooled in the methodology of governance—and now liberated from the pretense of antiracist civility—doing a much more effective job than Trump.

It has long been an axiom among certain black writers and thinkers that while whiteness endangers the bodies of black people in the immediate sense, the larger threat is to white people themselves, the shared country, and even the whole world. There is an impulse to blanch at this sort of grandiosity. When W. E. B. Du Bois claims that slavery was “singularly disastrous for modern civilization” or James Baldwin claims that whites “have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion: because they think they are white,” the instinct is to cry exaggeration. But there really is no other way to read the presidency of Donald Trump. The first white president in American history is also the most dangerous president—and he is made more dangerous still by the fact that those charged with analyzing him cannot name his essential nature, because they too are implicated in it.

This short video(Website) illustrates the content of the essay, noting that Trump is our first “white President” elected solely because of his whiteness, with no other redeeming values or qualifications.

I concur.

Coates cites James Baldwin, who wrote “On Being ‘White’ and Other Lies” in an essay published in Essence in 1984:

There has never been a labor movement in this country, the proof being the absence of a Black presence in the so-called father-to-son unions. There are, perhaps, some niggers in the window; but Blacks have no power in the labor unions. Just so does the white community, as a means of keeping itself white, elect, as they imagine, their political representatives. No nation in the world, including England, is represented by so stunning a pantheon of the relentlessly mediocre. I will not name names I will leave that to you. But this cowardice, this necessity of justifying a totally false identity and of justifying what must be called a genocidal history, has placed everyone now living into the hands of the most ignorant and powerful people the world has ever seen: And how did they get that way?

By deciding that they were white. By opting for safety instead of life. By persuading themselves that a Black child's life meant nothing compared with a white child's life. By abandoning their children to the things white men could buy. By informing their children that Black women, Black men and Black children had no human integrity that those who call themselves white were bound to respect. And in this debasement and definition of Black people, they debased and defamed themselves.

And have brought humanity to the edge of oblivion: because they think they are white. Because they think they are white, they do not dare confront the ravage and the lie of their history. Because they think they are white, they cannot allow themselves to be tormented by the suspicion that all men are brothers. Because they think they are white, they are looking for, or bombing into existence, stable populations, cheerful natives and cheap labor. Because they think they are white, they believe, as even no child believes, in the dream of safety. Because they think they are white, however vociferous they may be and however multitudinous, they are as speechless as Lot's wife— looking backward, changed into a pillar of salt.

However, White being, absolutely, a moral choice (for there are no white people), the crisis of leadership for those of us whose identity has been forged, or branded, as Black is nothing new. We—who were not Black before we got here either, who were defined as Black by the slave trade—have paid for the crisis of leadership in the white community for a very long time, and have resoundingly, even when we face the worst about ourselves, survived, and triumphed over it. If we had not survived and triumphed, there would not be a Black American alive. And the fact that we are still here—even in suffering, darkness, danger, endlessly defined by those who do not dare define, or even confront, themselves is the key to the crisis in white leadership. The past informs us of various kinds of people—criminals, adventurers and saints, to say nothing, of course, of popes—but it is the Black condition, and only that, which informs us concerning white people.

Baldwin, of course, was not the only author and black political thinker to address the issue of whiteness and white supremacy.

We have just lost Toni Morrison. Her death has revived interest in a piece she wrote after Trump was elected.

It was titled “Making America White Again,” and the subhed read “The choices made by white men, who are prepared to abandon their humanity out of fear of black men and women, suggest the true horror of lost status.”

On Election Day, how eagerly so many white voters—both the poorly educated and the well educated—embraced the shame and fear sowed by Donald Trump. The candidate whose company has been sued by the Justice Department for not renting apartments to black people. The candidate who questioned whether Barack Obama was born in the United States, and who seemed to condone the beating of a Black Lives Matter protester at a campaign rally. The candidate who kept black workers off the floors of his casinos. The candidate who is beloved by David Duke and endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan.

William Faulkner understood this better than almost any other American writer. In “Absalom, Absalom,” incest is less of a taboo for an upper-class Southern family than acknowledging the one drop of black blood that would clearly soil the family line. Rather than lose its “whiteness” (once again), the family chooses murder.

Toni Morrison, who chronicled the African American experience in fiction over five decades, has died aged 88. The novelist was the first African American woman to win the Nobel Prize for Literature and is widely regarded as a champion for repressed minorities. Speaking on racism, Morrison said in an interview: "If you can only be tall because someone else is on their knees then you have a serious problem. And my feeling is white people have a very, very serious problem"

Keith Boykin ✔@keithboykin

"If you can only be tall because somebody is on their knees, then you have a serious problem. And my feeling is white people have a very, very serious problem, and they should start thinking about what they can do about it.”

Rest In Power Toni Morrison

9:51 AM - Aug 6, 2019

As I have done in the past and will continue to do in the present and into the future, I call upon those of you who are defined or define yourselves as “white” to stand up and fight this plague inflicting our nation. Black folks, as only approximately 13% of the population, cannot fix it alone.

Donald Trump and his minions are but a symptom of the white supremacist problem we all face today, and that problem is rooted deep in the foundations of this nation.

Become a part of the solution.

[duke-michael-blog]

The mythic horror movie, like the sick joke, has a dirty job to do. It deliberately appeals to all that is worst in us. It morbidity unchained, our most base instincts let free, our nastiest fantasies realized . . . and it all happens, fittingly enough, in the dark.

Stephen King, “Why We Crave Horror”

Essay III: The Universe of Paranormal Activity Movies 

Horror movies are fears, unexplained events, demonic possession, the darker workings of our mind. The occult of figuring out what is real or paranormal. The Paranormal Activity movies play on different sub-genres of the demonic possession, the occult, the coven and paranormal. We may never know if these movies are genuinely based on real events or just an excellent storyline. 

A brief analysis of the movies, Paranormal Activity plays on an entity that is haunting Katie and Maciah. The film starts off with Micah purchasing a camera to catch what is happening throughout the house. The events start out small with keys on the floor and then progresses to noises around the house. Micah conducts an EVP session to catches a grunting sound. One night Katie just wakes ups and stands up beside the bed, walks out of the room and goes downstairs. Micah wakes up and goes downstairs and finds Katie outside on the swing,  doesn't want to go inside and wants to stay out, Micah goes to get blankets and Kaite is back inside, going to bed. Wakes up the next morning and has no recognition of what happened the night before. Date Night and Micah buys an Ouija board, and Katie flips out on him, leaves Ouija board on the coffee table, and planchette moves and strange noises, scratching sound, the wind is blowing in the living room, ouija board catches on fire. Micah places powder on the floor to find footprints, massive footprints come into the room and leave. \Micah and Katie wake up and leaves the room, following in the footsteps of the closet to find attic is open and Micah looks and see pictures of 15 years old Katie, burned around the edges. Katie gets dragged downstairs and gets be bitten on her side. Katie wants to leave and is very adamant about wanting to go but then changes her mind about wanting to stay and says “it's better if we stay.” The final night 21, Katie stands up and moves to Micah’s side of the bed. Goes downstairs and screams Micah’s name and struggle are happening and dragging noise upstairs and Micah's body is thrown into the camera. Katie standing in doorway covered in blood, crawls and sniffs Micah and then face turns demonic, film ends.   

Paranormal Activity 2, takes place in Carlsbad, CA, where Daniel and Kristi Rey live (Katie’s sister), daughter Ali and newborn son Hunter. These events that take place are before Katie and Micah. Right from the start of the movie and intruder comes into the house and breaks in and destroys everything, to only take a book of old VHS that Katie brought over. Mysteriously the picture that was found in Micah and Katie's attic was in Kristi’s photo album. Nanny is watching Hunter and hears a loud BANG! Hunter wakes up crying, she is now holding Hunter and is sages in the house and saying prayers. To rid of the evil spirits and keep the good spirits. Most of the activity revolves around Hunter, which is a clear sign that he is the target for the entity to target next. Most of the events that happen in this movie are similarily parallel to the first movie. Kristi hears noise in the kitchen and goes to check is out a pot falls from racking. Kristi freaks out and tells her husband, and he doesn’t even believe her. She then has various events happen to her, making her almost seem crazy. She is then alone in the house with Hunter one night, the camera shits to the living room and the basement door opens, she then senses a precise outside the door. The entity knocks Kristi off her feet and tries to drag her downstairs, she then fights and thinks she is free, but he grabs her again and pulls her all the way to the basement. She is down there for a long time and then comes back up. Everyone returns home, and Kristi is acting extraordinary husband checks her out and has a but mark as well. Kristi is very overprotective of Hunter. Dad then calls the nanny back to help get Kristi back, she tells him that the only way to save her is to pass it to a blood relative who would be Katie. Then takes a cross and holy water, they fight with Kristi in the basement, and she screams a demonic scream and then a women screams, she is back. Three weeks later, Katie returns to get Hunter and kills Kristi and Daniel Rey in the process. Ali is away from the house. 

Paranormal Activity 3, is set in 1998 where Kristi and Katie are younger children. Katie brings up Toby her imaginary friend (demon). Entity appears in-house right from the start and shows in Dennis and Julies room from dust from the earthquake, then disappears. Toby is clearly talking more to Kristi than Katie and keeps asking her to do things. Dennis finds drawing in the closet a triangle with a circle in it. The babysitter has experience with Toby and gets shoves by the entity. Kristi disagrees to not do what Toby wants anymore and then get really sick. Taken to the hospital and Randy watches over Kristi, she wants to play Bloody Mary in the bathroom, and Rany receives scratched on his side, the girl's room gets turned upside down, and Toby is clearly rattling the door to get to Katie. The kitchen is literally above the ground and comes crashing down, and they go to Grandma’s house. The night at grandma’s house; Dennis wakes up to noise and Julie goes to check it out, gone for a long time. Dennis goes to check it out and fines women's coven behind paintings and devils pentagram, is the chase around the house and finds Kristi, Katie is crying at the bottom of the staircase, has black eyes and screams and forces Dennis flying. Dennis is crawling on the floor, and grandma appears, and Kristi is passing in and out of the camera frame. Dennis is forced down by Toby and then gets bent in half. Grandma calls out for Kristi and Katie is already by her side. Kristi asks Toby to join them upstairs. 

The next three films will just go over the main findings that will help understand what is actually going on. In Paranormal Activity 4, Alex finds the symbol that is drawn all over her brother Wyatt aka Hunter. The logo belongs to the women cult called the midwives.”Hasttusac symbol of fertility- often present in sacred rituals after that a demon would take possession of the male. For the demon to enter the host, the Hittites believed three stages had to be completed. 1) Actuation- the host will begin to exhibit signs of preternatural ability. 2) The host would have to prove preternatural ability to the demon. 3) Sacrifice-  the host will be compelled to spill the blood of an inviolate (a being that had not been profaned and remains pure)”. In Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones, Marisol and Hector meet with Ali, tells them about the sign of the midwives. The Midwives with mark an unborn male in utero, wait until the baby matures to be possessed. 666=18 ( age of maturity). Transformation is described as like fighting an infection and perform a final ritual, and then Jesse goes back to normal, but he's not Jesse anymore. At the midwives house, Hector goes through a doorway that leads to Katie and Micah’s house and is then killed by Jesse, the door leads to unholy places only. In Paranormal Activity: The Ghost Dimension, the family finds a camera with special effects, the house is built on the midwives house, and Katie and Kristi grandma’s house that had burnt down and the new house was built on top of it. The entity is stronger and shows more demon-like features. Strange Markings appear over Leila's bed, opens up to a portal. Skylar looking at Ryan’s research; Revelation 5:6- The slain lamb will be used against God, for the blood of the chosen ones will taint it and help give life to one of the seven princes of hell. Each prince shall return through the blood of the two born of the same moon. Meaning Leila and Toby will give Toby human form. Father Todd comes back to the house to exterminate the home of the entity, it all fails, and mom goes through the portal and is in Katie and Kristi’s old house and is killed by Toby. Toby has taken human-form and walks off camera with Leila. 

In the beginning, we can relate this to the feeling of “uncanny, the fact that people differ greatly in their sensitivity to this kind of feeling” (Freud, 124). This has a complicated and diverse theme throughout all six movies that this entity is haunting and has a clear understanding of what it wants. The American Gothic plays a role in introducing a new sub-genre of a new psyche, being able to be possessed and have the ability to transfer demons from one blood relative to another is a strong power. The American Gothic plays on this idea that we usually go in a place that is somewhere else and doesn’t happen in our own homes. The entity shows that is clearly tied to a person and not things like a house. “The seven princes” are on a mission provided by the midwives to live on earth in a human form. “The gothic enables the objects of terror and torture to haunt, a subject who can articulate the meaning of their own suffering.” (Battista). The entity definitely plays the roles of torture and has a strong male precise of making itself known through violence and physical force. 

In the second movie, we learn to see a version of magic that is not seen but can be noticeable through the works of passing the demon onto another blood relative. This is a form of imitative magic relies on creating a link with it victim by making an image of him/ her of wax, clay, rags, or whatever materials is to hand, usually including his hair or nail clippings, blood, or sweat, which retain their connection with him”. (Wendish,17). This happens when Kristi becomes possessed, and the only way to pass the demon onto someone else is by a blood relative, and that would be Katie. The ritual is complete, and they have to burn the 15-year-old photo os Katie to make everything finalized. We usually only see this in witch movies but to see it happen in a paranormal film, to save a life is very strange. 

A common theme for these movies is that it shows the importance of male and female roles. It relates not only to the nuclear family but also the position are more reversed. I think of this a when researching tribes and their ritual practices the women are purer and are closer to the ground, representing that they are closer to the earth and connected spiritually more. This plays a huge role for the women in Paranormal Activity, the women are the one ones that are more in charge and have more control and say of what they are destined to become or to play out their roles properly. The male is just kind of in the way. Unless they're the marked ones, then they are destined to protect the women and that is their only job to serve them so their protected. This is reverse when we think of the nuclear family in modern socirty in the 70s but it has changed over the years and women have just as much power as men do now.  

Works Cited: 

Cavendish, Richard. The Black Arts. Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1974 

Freud, Sigmund. “The Uncanny.” The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Volume XVII (1917-1919): An Infantile Neurosis and Other Works.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1179904/

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1536044/

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1778304/

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2109184/

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2473682/

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2473510/

[supernaturalsnark]

*This post is based on season 1. Spoilers ahead!

Season 2 is shaping up to be just as silly but some of my favourite people are in it. DORIAN (Michael Ealy). O’LAUGHLIN (Eric Winter). PETER MILLS (Charlie Barnett). LEM (Kenny Johnson). Wait. Those are fictional characters. Anyway.

Ben Crawford is a self-employed contractor, married to Christy with whom he has two daughters, Natalie, 16, and Abby, 12. His best friend, Dave, lives in their summer house. They have a neighbor, Jess, who is estranged from her husband Scott, who is in the military. Jess and Scott have a five year old son named Tom.

While out for an early morning run, Ben discovers Tom’s body; he was evidently taken from his bed into the woods and killed by six blows to the head from a flashlight.

Detective Cornell is convinced Ben is the killer, Ben cannot prove his innocence because he suffered a blackout after going out drinking with Dave following a fight with Christy over her suspicion of an affair with Jess.

Here’s how to bore your audience.

1. Lull us into a false sense of Ryan Phillipe being attractive enough to keep us watching 

He’s not.

Okay, he is. But still. The premise was interesting but the delivery…I kept waiting for it to get interesting because I love mysteries but it didn’t. Each episode would highlight another suspect before it was explained away somehow by the next episode in the silliest fashion possible. All of the secrets and lies were a bit…meh, really.

2. Depress us into not being able to mock the show 

The show does everything in its power to ensure that we see as many flashback of the dead kid as possible. Everyone is miserable. One episode was dedicated to Ben Crawford being tortured (for real) and it was up there with the worst episodes of anything that I’ve ever seen. The music, colour – it was all bland. The acting…was like they were trying to readjust to life after being trapped in a cryogenic chamber. It wasn’t bad per se, but the material was limited. The scripts were average and it just stumbled along slowly.

3. Make the killer obvious 

For me it was obvious…because the writers made it obvious. In the very first episode, Abby, Ben’s preteen daughter calmly accepts that Tom is dead. She even assures the father that she knows he didn’t do it. However, she starts sobbing hysterically when she discovers that Tom was her brother. After the first episode I said she better not be the killer and looked it up.

She was!

4. Allow Juliette Lewis to do what she was doing for ten episodes

Wooden. Emotionless. It was akin to watching an actual plank of plywood masquerading as a human being. When I eventually write my robot movie, I’m going to cast Juliette Lewis as the lead. I’m confident that she will be the best for the role. It was a very clichéd performance as a tough as nails female cop, although, maybe that’s what the showrunner wanted. It was a bit ridiculous, though.

For what it’s worth, she’s much better during season 2.

5. Make all of the characters terrible

Ben – had an affair; fathered Tom. Never did the math.

In an inspired moment, he tries to buy a gun despite the fact that he’s all over the news as a potential murder suspect.

Top notch disguise

Ben also hides the murder weapon when it miraculously turns up in truck. He also sleeps with Jess again and tries to convince everyone that the fact that she’s bipolar = crazy and dangerous!

Okay, she did throw a knife at his head and falsely accuse him of rape but still.

Wife – had a secret abortion, has an affair in retaliation to Ben’s affair. Walks around wearing expensive jewelry given to her by another dude. Has way more money than Ben, including a huge trunk of cash that her brother gave her (or something stupid like that).

Live in best friend Dave: He drugged Ben on the night of the murder to make him ‘loosen up’ and doesn’t inform him of this even though Ben is suspected of murder and is struggling to remember his alibi or y’know, what the fuck he did that night. Dave is generally awful. Loud. Drinks and yells a lot. He was clearly meant as comic relief but instead he was just irritating.

Teenage daughter (Natalie): She spent most of the season sulking and slinking off to her room.

Preteen daughter/murderer (Abby):

Brat.

Spoiled.

Daddy‘s gurl.

Wants her parents to be together forever.

Knows that Ben slept with Jess (the neighbour).

Conned Tom into following her into the woods by saying that his Dad would comeback if he ran away from home.

Deliberately damages her brand new phone because she was angry at her Dad & Jess being together at a fair.

Oh and she killed a five year old boy!

Jess: Lies about her husband being abusive.  Lies about Ben raping her. But she was grieving so, all in all, she wasnt too bad of a character. They also have Ben find an urn in her house and discover that she has another dead child. Twas a bit much on the writers parts.

Neighbours: Sad people with either sad backstories or a tendency to torture people on account of being an ex-CIA agent.

6. Leave the ending open…

…but put up a unofficial ending on the ABC website anyway.  

Miraculously, Ben discovers a pair of bloodied sneakers right at the end of the show. He’s just been cleared of the murder but what he doesn’t know is that the next theory is that his daughter killed Tom. When he confronts her, she’s apologetic and claims she was just trying to keep the family together and was trying to get Jess to move away. They all fall for that bullshit because they don’t know that she hit Tom six times over the head with a torch and tried to frame Jess by leaving a bloodstained jacket in her bathtub.

Ben decides to take the fall for her, thus rendering the entire season useless. I mean, blah, blah, blah, fatherly love — she not only killed someone but she successfully evaded capture and managed to cover her tracks? Is there no TV justice in this world?

This was my expression too

After his confession, Abby and her mom abscond, but the other daughter refuses to go with them. Smart girl. Especially because in the car Abby goes into evil child mode and reveals that her intention was to drown Tom and that none of this would have happened if they’d made it to the water. Her mom stares on with ‘well, shit’ eyes but it’s too late.

The show more or less ends there.

However, the online companion series had an additional clip where we find out that Ben died in prison and that the detective is still on the case. Why it wasn’t on the show itself is a mystery to me.

It was far more interesting than the show itself which rambled on for so long before ending amidst a sea of silliness.

Verdict: 5/10. It was mildly entertaining and well, they kinda lulled me into a false sense of Ryan Phillipe is attractive enough to keep me watching.

How To Bore Your Audience (As Told By ABC’s “Secret & Lies US”*) *This post is based on season 1. Spoilers ahead! Season 2 is shaping up to be just as silly but some of my favourite people are in it.