#this is the procedural cop show dream right here

[echofades]

NCIS: HAWAI'I | 3.04 Dead On Arrival | Promo Photos

#ncis hawaii #ncis hawai'i #kate x lucy #kacy #ncis hawaii spoilers #ncishawaiiedit #😍😍😍 #UNDERCOVER HONEYMOONERS!! #this is the procedural cop show dream right here #cannot wait #and if they want to give some hints to an actual future engagement...

[bengiyo]

The Sign Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Phaya ended up staying by Tharn for a night, Tharn had an erotic dream about Phaya, and Phaya flirted relentlessly. Phaya borrowed Tharn's pants and split them before the investigation into this serial killer led them into the woods. Phaya almost got hurt, and Tharn and Mayris almost got killed in a fire. Tharn's powers gave him insights into the case, and Dr. Cholatharn is intentionally causing strife between Tharn and Phaya.

Ah, right. We suspect it's a member of their team that is the killer.

Whoa. Phaya struck Tharn. Well, he is a cop.

Yai is as big as a truck and for what? He got wrecked twice just now.

Curious where the show goes with this thing with this skeevy man.

Narong really went on FB Live with this.

Uh oh, the protection amulet came off.

What the hell kind of green power just activated around Narong?

Tharn has not been helpful in this fight.

So Tharn got stabbed and then tapped into the same kind of power as Narong?

Why are they hugging?? Tharn was stabbed!

Oh, so we're gonna just say the vest saved him? Sure, let's move on to the emotional reconciliation and open discussion of the supernatural.

Why does this man have a coke nail?

Oh, this whole justice thing is extremely heavy handed. Reminder that this show is copaganda.

Ah, so we're trying to appease grandmas this time. That's why Phaya gets to stay.

These two and their fantasies about each other. This feels like a Phaya fantasy.

Mhmm. This show is trolling us.

Interesting. Does Phaya realize he burned Cholatharn, and does Cholatharn know his eyes flashed green? Seems like the doctor knows.

Billy has nice thighs.

Here we go with the sponge baths.

Ooo, bolster role reversal.

Ope, he put that thing down, flipped it, and reversed it. Get wrecked again, Phaya.

I wonder what the monk's goals are in this faction war.

Not the grandma reading Danielle Steele!

What in the Pagemaster is happening next week??

I'm glad we transitioned from the case resolution back into the supernatural stuff, because this doesn't feel enough like a procedural to end on the strength of that alone.

#Ben watches #the sign the series #thai bl #bl series

[thepersona]

A non-romantic K-drama starter pack

If you're interested in K-dramas but don't know where to begin, and aren't interested in (or would like to take a break from) romantic storylines, then this is for you!

P.S.: Some of these dramas may contain romantic side plots that don't necessarily define the main storyline. List not sorted in any particular order, and only includes completed dramas.

Gifs not mine!

Stranger (2017; 2019)

A political crime thriller full of red herrings, "Stranger" (Season 1) follows an investigation into the murder of a man who has bribed countless officials from multiple levels and branches of government. Led by stoic prosecutor Hwang Shi Mok (Cho Seung Woo) and feisty detective Han Yeo Jin (Bae Doona), this well-paced, well-acted drama is full of twists and turns that will make you suspect everyone at some point.

Kingdom (2019; 2020)

Historical political drama meets zombie thriller in the 2019 hit "Kingdom" (Season 1). The story follows Crown Prince Yi Chang (Ju Ji Hoon) as he investigates an outbreak of a mysterious plague that turns average citizens into rabid monsters while fighting to keep  his rightful place as heir to the throne. The hit series has led to a second season and a prequel TV movie "Ashin of the North" (2021).

Signal (2016)

Featuring a mysterious walkie-talkie that links the past to the present, "Signal" is one of the most beloved police dramas of the last decade because of its refreshing take on the genre and the top-notch performances of its three leads: Kim Hye Soo, Lee Je Hoon, and Jo Jin Woong. 

The Uncanny Counter (2020)

"The Uncanny Counter" is a comedy-drama about four "counters", or grim reapers who have been lent superhuman abilities by a group of spirits. Their main job is to stop demons who possess violent criminals that become more powerful by consuming the souls of their victims. Funny, colorful, and action-packed, the show features wonderful performances from the main actors: Jo Byeong Gyu, Yoon Joon Sang, Kim Se Jeong, and (my personal favorite) Yeom Hye Ran. The hit series has been granted a second season.

Racket Boys (2021)

If you need a feel-good drama that's not too heavy on the tears, crime, and lovey-dovey tropes, then this may be for you. "Racket Boys" is about an underdog middle school badminton team that dreams to make a mark on the national level and beyond. The rural setting and endearing ensemble cast, led by the talented Tang Jun Sang, allow for lighthearted moments but are never too cartoonish. A puppy love storyline exists between the leads, but it's very wholesome and innocent, and given far less importance than the struggle surrounding the national tournament.

Squid Game (2021)

International smash hit "Squid Game" is about a mysterious organization that selects individuals with impossible debt to participate in a series of children's games to have a shot at winning 45.6 billion won. The catch: only the winner gets to live. Features an amazing ensemble cast led by Lee Jung Jae, Park Hae Soo, and impressive newcomer Jung Ho Yeon.

Dear My Friends (2016)

A slice-of-life comedy drama featuring a stellar ensemble cast of the most accomplished Korean actors and actresses over 60, "Dear My Friends" follows 40-year-old writer Park Wan (Go Hyun Jung) as she chronicles the stories of her mother, her aunts, and their families. There are two romantic side stories here but the overall plot is more invested in how your friends can become your family especially after you reach a certain age. Think "Golden Girls" but in Korea. Praise-worthy acting from everyone involved, especially the main quintet: Na Moon Hee, Kim Hye Ja, Go Doo Shim, Park Won Sook, and Oscar winner Youn Yuh Jung.

Live (2018)

"Live" is a slice-of-life, police procedural drama that tells the story of rookies and veterans at Hongil Station in Seoul, where there is no shortage of petty and violent crimes. The crimes featured examine the decisions that South Korean cops have to make especially in dangerous situations wherein the gray areas become even grayer. There are romantic storylines between the four leads but they never overshadow the cases. Wonderful acting, especially from Bae Sung Woo and Bae Jeong Ok who play the veterans Oh Yang Chon and Ahn Jang Mi, respectively. Also stars funny man Lee Kwang Soo and the angelic Jung Yu Mi (Train to Busan).

Vincenzo (2021)

Born in South Korea, adopted into an Italian family, mafia lawyer Vincenzo Cassano (Song Joong Ki) flies back to Seoul after falling out with his adopted brother following the death of his boss/father-figure. His mission is to retrieve gold hidden beneath the dilapidated Geumga Plaza before it is ultimately demolished by the evil Babel Group that constantly harrasses its tennants to move out. Teaming up with the feisty lawyer Hong Cha Young (Jeon Yeo Been, Vincenzo uses mafia tactics in his war against the conglomerate that thinks itself above the law. What sounds like a heavy premise is offset by the physical and witty comedy provided by the charismatic leads and supporting cast. There is romance between the leads (who share great chemistry nonetheless) but it is by no means the driving force of this story. They could have recasted this with two male leads as more of a bromance story and the outcome would be quite similar, but Jeon Yeo Been gives a unique, quirky flair to her character that makes her difficult to replace.

Hyena (2020)

I know I said this wasn't a list for romantic K-Dramas but hear me out. There's romance but it's not what you think (the leads kiss a grand total of 3 times, twice in the first ep then once a little later). "Hyena" explores the world of corporate lawyers who serve the South Korean 1%. It's a dog-eat-dog world where the most conniving and least picky hyena reigns supreme. The hyena in question would be the brilliant renegade lawyer Jang Geum Ja (Kim Hye Soo). Sparks fly as she goes head to head with the by-the-book, elite lawyer Yoon Hee Jae (Ju Ji Hoon), whose ideals are constantly challenged as his world unravels around him.  The cases are challenging and the solutions that the leads come up with are intriguing. Romance doesn't drive this drama, but the chemistry between the leads is undeniable. 

#stranger #tvn stranger #cho seung woo #bae doona #hwang shi mok #han yeo jin #kingdom netflix #kingdom #ju ji hoon #yi chang #signal tvn #tvn signal #signal 2016 #kim hye soo #lee je hoon #jo jin woong #the uncanny counter #jo byung gyu #kim se jeong #yoon jun sang #yeom hye ran #racket boys #squid game #dear my friends #live tvn #live 2018 #live kdrama #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hyena

[guardian-angle22]

I have a question, if Carlos isn't a cop, what else could he do on the show, or how could things get better? As a black woman who has had awful experiences with police, I hear what you saying, but I don't know what they could do with Carlos's character apart from him talking and showing how the police can be better.

[in reply to my post here]

The realistic answer for a network procedural is simply that, you're right, they would never have this show without a series regular as a cop or law enforcement “good guy” of some kind, which is unfortunate... but at the very least he could acknowledge the harm that his own department does instead of just placing blame on a different sector of law enforcement?

But if I'm talking a dream scenario in which the writers weren't afraid to lean progressive with it's content? They could have Carlos, after resigning from the APD, either work for or even found an advocacy/nonproft group within the community that works directly with the 9-1-1 dispatch to respond to calls that ordinarily would go to the police but should actually be seen to by mental health professionals, substance abuse specialists, etc. There are many of these groups out there in different areas, but they're generally underfunded and don't get enough press/support.

I'm not an expert on these programs by any means, but I've read many different articles talking about how much they improve the communities they're in and can help prevent more violence by not involving the police. This article I found through a super quick google search (meaning it's probably a little outdated) gives a pretty brief overview of how some of these programs work better than I could explain it:

"In Eugene, Oregon, advocates are praising their Crisis Response Helping Out On The Streets (CAHOOTS) Program, which has been in place for over three decades. CAHOOTS provides residents with access to free, trained, civilian first responders for incidents specifically involving mental health episodes, substance abuse, and individuals experiencing homelessness. 

Researchers have found that the CAHOOTS responders only need police intervention in just 2 percent of their calls, saving the city of Eugene an estimated $8.5 million annually in public safety costs, and $14 million in ambulance and emergency response costs, according to Everytown."

I think having Carlos do this on 911LS would be 1). a GREAT way of spreading more awareness that programs like this exist and need more funding and also 2). would be kinda groundbreaking? I don't think I've heard of any procedural show that has shown how those places run/interact with other first responders/etc. (granted... 911LS is the only procedural I watch so maybe there's one out there doing it 😂).

#anon answered #acab🤠 #also i am so sorry to hear that you've had awful experiences with the police directly #i truly wish shit like that didnt happen so regularly #i also apologize for the word soup of a reply here - I'm on hour 35 of being awake and its doing things to my brain #911ls discussion

[digitaldiscipline]

Dreamshit with sequels

So, recurring dreams are pretty common for me, but "let's continue last night's dream tonight, one day later in dreamtime" is a new one.

So, the sketchy part of town and the unsavory homeboys were back, but were shoved to the background by two of their girlfriends, both of whom thought I was the sexiest thing on two legs, and were extremely forward and creepy about it in a dingy diner, where they buttonholed me, a dude who looked like a younger Hank Azaria, and Leslie Nielsen as Frank Drebin, and who wanted selfies with me and Hank.

The bigger girl (Jenny) pretty much just bodied Leslie out of the way to sit next to me, and the smaller, feistier one (... also Jenny) was taking the selfies and forcibly inserting herself onto my lap, and was both impressed and pissed off that I immediately clocked her as "You like guys with dark hair and blue t-shirts" because that's what both Hank and I were wearing, and she left in a huff (the view of her daisy dukes was, admittedly, pretty good).

I got into a vintage squad car with Frank/Leslie, had the requisite "Frank!" "Drebin!" "You're both right," exchange with Priscilla Presley and Ricardo Montalban, and were off.

While we drove around to the Police Squad! soundtrack (and visiting a sketchy redneck's trailer, where he accidentally-on-purpose shook up a couple of cans of Budweiser and sprayed me with them, so I spent the next dream-hour smelling like beer), a couple of nameless female officers were surprising a different criminal in a ludicrously oversized bed (they were pretending to be sex workers of some sort), which resulted in him nearly hacking off the brunette's leg with a machete before taking three rounds to the face from both of them, whereupon they tried to make good their escape, but a bow from one of their frilly babydoll outfits got hooked on a bit of medal and was dangling as very obvious evidence of their having been there (like the blood and corpse weren't enough), which is when I came in to grab it.

All cops are bastards, and apparently, that includes me.

When Leslie and I got back to the car, we had to decide who drove, since he was woozy and I smelled like a brewery, and I ended up behind the wheel. Unfortunately, we ended up taking a corner on a wet road too quickly, and ended up spinning ... and spinning... and spinning... and spinning... down the street, no matter what I did (brakes, gas, steer into it, steer out of it, let go and let Jesus take the wheel), ultimately crashing into a mansion's back yard, where Sandra Bullock was having a Tupperware party, and was justifiably annoyed by what we'd done to her fancy fence before we wandered off while she went back to hostessing.

(muddled/forgotten bits here, where the tone changed from grim and gory procedural to very Police Squad! slash party flick)

Assorted plot points piled up, as directed by Zucker/Abrams/Zucker:

Leslie and I stumbled into a Presidential address, and I was mistaken for some dignitary or other and hustled backstage, where the guy playing the President (your generic older white dude with good hair) was doing a more-polite version of TFG and showing Top Secret footage to anyone nearby on his cell phone before stepping through the curtain and behind the podium.

I ducked down a hallway and through some more curtains into a yoga class filled with cosplayers, and had to mime my way through the poses as I tried to cross the room.

I was apparently caught on camera in both places, and recontextualized as some kind of street urchin, so I got recognized and applauded when I stumbled through another curtain into a very fancy restaurant, one of those places with lots of glass, white marble, and live plants.

I just wanted a cup of coffee, which I don't think I managed to get before leaving and heading back to the Mean Streets Of Wherever The Fuck This Is.

An upstairs apartment (at the recurring complex party house) was burgled, and key notes about a revolutionary software development were destroyed/lost, and the woman who lived there was justifiably pissed off about it.

I was still, unaccountably, the sexiest thing on two legs to every woman around, which made trying to make my way through the bar/restaurant area awkward and frustrating, because I was trying to do anything but get laid constantly (dream me is a complete dumbass).

This had the knock-on effect of The Jennies showing up and stepping to anyone else showing an interest in me, which got really awkward when Smaller Jenny's husband and six year old showed up, and she followed me into an almost-empty section of the restaurant, straddled my lap, and made it clear what she wanted, despite my protestations that there was a very nice family trying to eat dinner literally two tables away. (Her butt felt as good as it looked; dream-me may be a dumbass, but my hands had to go somewhere.)

I was finally able to extricate myself by finding The Jennies a couple of random bros to act as surrogate chew toys, which, unfortunately(?) meant I was fair game for the burgled woman, who offered a combo platter of seduction and sleuthing, which turned out pretty well for everyone, because we found a spare copy of the notes tucked inside a small metal canister, along with enough evidence for her to ascertain which of her rivals stole it.

At that point, I went back downstairs and into the street outside, where I had a superb view of her firing an RPG into an apartment a block away, presumably the now-former home of her now-dead rival.

Back inside to confront her about it, I met her and a woman who looked a lot like her coming downstairs in matching blue and pink latex catsuits; they were sisters and had plans for me, but were briefly distracted by their mother showing up and wanting to join the party.

Yours Truly then begged off of having a foursome with three hot brunettes because, as previously noted, DUMBASS.

I was just trying to find a quiet booth to sit the fuck down for a minute, when a pretty blonde woman materialized out of a dark corner to say, "Do you know who the hot, drunk guy I made out with last night was?" "Uh.... you're gonna say it was me, aren't you?" "Mmm hmmm."

We went upstairs, talked to the guy whose apartment we were about to bone in, told him we'd watch his dog, and closed the door.

Then the literal credits rolled, over a montage of everyone in the "cast" walking down a country road and occasionally playing Double Dutch, including a mid-credits scene where I met up with Rahul Koli wearing a headband and unfortunate haircut that prompted me to tell him he looked like Ben Stiller, and he was as nonplussed as you'd expect.

HWAET THE FUCK.

[scullysflannel]

☕️ not really a topic but i would LOVE it if you try to convince someone who has not seen a single episode of x files (me) to watch x files

thank you for this dream assignment. I’m unhinging my jaw now.

Mulder and Scully aren’t like their reputations. they get talked about like these big ideas—the Believer and the Skeptic—but they are so not dry or one-dimensional or anything else that you might be expecting. they’re the most human characters I’ve ever seen on screen. Scully is curious and earnest and so eager to succeed, but she throws away her definition of success to do the right thing (and because she’s a little rebel. I’m not spoiling anything beyond the first few minutes of the pilot to say that she’s assigned to Mulder to spy on him, but she likes and respects him too much to do it). Mulder is hardworking, kind, restless. so idealistic it looks selfish. he sees his lost sister in every victim. he has trouble sleeping, and I love that it’s not part of the plot. it’s just part of him. some procedurals don’t like to go home with the characters at the end of the day. The X-Files feels like it’s always going home with Mulder and Scully, even when they’re on the road.

every good thing about the show goes through them. that’s the whole point of the story: you think the truth is “out there,” but it isn’t—it’s in other people. and that might sound sentimental or obvious, but The X-Files makes you feel how heavy it is to love and be loved. a lot of Mulder and Scully’s connection is unspoken. and yes, sometimes that gives them communication issues, which I personally think is very sexy and interesting of them, but it’s also so powerful. here are these two people whose job forces them to question everything about the world, but they don’t question each other.

I know I’m getting very Always Sunny conspiracy board about this, but nothing else feels like The X-Files. it’s a mood at the highest level. the whole philosophy behind the show is that knowing there’s a monster in the shadows is scarier and more interesting than seeing that monster. the most powerful things are the ones that can’t really be understood or explained. it’s the same with Mulder and Scully. Chris Carter, the creator, fought so hard against making them romantic, but the joke is on him for a lot of reasons, like (1) he cast David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who have more chemistry than anyone else on this sad little planet and who like kissing for fun, (2) nothing is more romantic than an intellectual partnership between equals based on trust and mutual respect, and (3) the more he refused to define their relationship with words, the more powerful he inadvertently made it, because, again, the most important things are too big for words. it’s like the show respects Mulder and Scully’s connection too much to try to explain it.

The X-Files made me realize how sick I am of bickering on TV. a lot of shows want us to think that love looks like a little boy pulling a girl’s hair on the playground. but Mulder and Scully have a friendship between adults. they like each other. I know I literally just went on about how their relationship is so powerful it transcends the bounds of fiction etc., but it’s not stuffy. there’s a fun little kernel of madness and codependence at the center of their relationship, which I love because I love watching women in fiction pick their own poison. and Scully’s is Mulder. they’re a little bit mutually destructive with each other, but they’re even more self-destructive on their own. it’s compelling.

shifting to a different corner of my conspiracy board. Mulder and Scully are as great as they are because The X-Files understands exactly where they fit in the world of the show and what brings them together: their shared integrity in the face of the FBI’s manipulation. The X-Files is really about the abuses committed by the government; the villains are men in suits who would do anything to hold on to the power they feel slipping away. this show can go hard when it wants to. I can’t and don’t want to absolve it for being written and directed almost exclusively by white men, which comes through in all kinds of toxic ways. but as far as cop shows go its perspective on the world holds up impressively well—better than shows that are on right now. I can think of a hundred ways The X-Files could have been a better version of itself, but every other show still wants what it has. 

even when The X-Files is bad it’s good. sometimes the frustrating things about it only make it more interesting. it’s a show that draws you in; it makes you part of the process of interpreting what’s happening and assigning meaning to it. there wasn’t a writers’ room for the writers to communicate with each other (a concept), which means the story can sometimes feel fragmented, but that also gave the show the capacity to look at Mulder and Scully through a lot of different lenses, which ultimately only makes them more vibrant. they can fit into a comedy or a tragedy or a thriller. they can be unbearably sentimental one week (or one scene) and unbearably withholding the next. but that’s real. people are inconsistent. it also makes it possible for the monster-of-the-week episodes to keep getting better and more inventive even as the mythology starts to fall apart. the great standalone episodes are like short stories, and even the worst ones have Mulder and Scully.

I don’t find The X-Files scary in a jump-scare kind of way; it’s cozy, and it’s got a powerful sense of wonder at the the world. but it does get at the creeping horror of realizing the world doesn’t make sense. what makes the story hopeful is that Mulder and Scully keep trying to make sense of it anyway. they tear down everything they thought they knew because the comfort of a lie is less important than the truth. I just love that the little grey men and the UFOs and the tractor beams all look exactly like you’d expect them to, but belief still isn’t easy. it’s not a show about what exactly real-ass aliens might look like. it’s about how the truth can be really simple and really hard to accept at the same time.

#anon #i can practically feel you training a high-powered rifle on me as we speak #this is too long and possibly nonsense and I made you wait a day and a half and I'm sorry!! #BUT if you're reading this and if you do watch txf please keep me posted #txf #msr #xf thoughts

[padawanlost]

Jedi don't steal children. Ok. Anakin was a slave won in a rigged dice game but hey the Jedi can't be ethically held to getting Shmi out of slavery. Anakin grows up knowing his mother rots in slavery, but told to get over his constant, prophetic dreams of her death. The Tusken Massacre is all Anakin being Evil and the old Jedi are perfect (none of them know their mother's names).

Wow...there’s a lot to unpack here LOL

“Jedi don't steal children.”

To be fair, I don’t believe the Jedi steal children and, to be *really* honest, I’ve never seen anyone claim they did. I mean, there’s an actual ethical discussion about the Order’s recruitment procedures but this idea that the jedi are somewhat evil baby snatchers only exists in two places:

Canon: Some in-universe characters/cultures actually believe the Jedi Order steal babies.

Jedi hardcore fans claiming tumblr is overrun with Jedi haters who think the jedi are as evil as Palpatine. No middle ground. You either die a jedi stan or you live long enough to see yourself become a Jedi hater :P

When talking about the whole ‘baby snatcher’ thing, the discussion I’m interested in is the one about ethics and procedures. That’s what interests me. And when it comes to the jedi Order, it’s impossible to deny some of their procedures suffer from certain ethical shortcomings.

Look at it this way: imagine if your government passed a law that said a non-governmental, secretive, private funded organization had the legal right to access your newborn child and test them. In a world where parents throw actual tantrums at the suggestion of vaccinating their babies, can you imagine the shitshow that would happen if a similar law were even suggested right now? That’s what I’m talking about. If you look at the situation from a different perspective, considering the ethical and even cultural fallout of such procedures, it’s impossible not to think ‘hey, maybe there’s something wrong here’. that’s the nuance some people fail to grasp: it’s not about the jedi being evil, it’s about noticing some of their procedures needed improvement.

Tbh, I’m kind of tired of discussing the jedi because part of the fandom tends to completely mischaracterize the whole discussion. I’m too old to be constantly explaining that though I firmly believe shmi or the clones enslavement were unforgivable, I don’t hate everything and everyone connected to them. I’m tired of this fucked up tumblr mentality where you either love everything or hate everything, where you must be an anti or a stan.

Anyway, speaking of slavery:

“Anakin was a slave won in a rigged dice game but hey the Jedi can't be ethically held to getting Shmi out of slavery.”

Fuck yeah! It kills me how people are still trying to defend Shmi’s enslavement by claiming that trying to save her would’ve been unethical. I’m like…REALLY? It’s unethical for a sworn protector of the weak and abused to save a slave? this fucking fandom ¯\_(ツ)_/¯You know what else is unethical and an actual crime: child endangerment, like when you let a poor 9 years old kid subscribe to a known deadly race to save the *SHIP* of your wealthy, ADULT companions.

“Anakin grows up knowing his mother rots in slavery, but told to get over his constant, prophetic dreams of her death.”

Anakin is a whiny baby, I mean, who wouldn’t be okay with their only family being abused, enslaved, forced to work under two suns for a greedy, disgusting being on a desert planet? Anakin should just get over it. you know, let it go, man. Worrying about your mom is a pathway to evil and leaving people to rot in poverty, crime and slavery is how world peace is achieved. That’s why our real world is such a lovely, peaceful place filled with happy, healthy people…oh wait! Nevermind… -___-

The Tusken Massacre is all Anakin being Evil and the old Jedi are perfect (none of them know their mother's names).

The tusken massacre was an inexcusable, cruel action that no one should ever consider right. I mean, there’s a difference between understanding why Anakin acted that way and believing Anakin’s actions were righteous. I don’t believe the Jedi should be considered responsible for any of Anakin’s actions that night but I think we can look at the event as a symptom of a larger problem.

Responsibility is tricky, especially when your political/social duty is so ingrained in your own identity. I don’t blame the Jedi Order for *Anakin’s* actions because they were not directly responsible for those particular actions. However, they were responsible for Anakin himself, especially considering he was still a padawan. I mean, if the kid you taking care of kills someone on your watch you’re at least partly responsible. To put it simply, if a cop slaughters someone the entire Police Force should be put under a microscope. Not because they are ‘evil’ but because these kinds of events are usually a symptom of a systemic problem, especially when we are talking about recurring events (like padawans and jedi masters going dark side).

I don’t know believe we should go ‘oh tusken massacre was the jedi’s fault’ but we do have to recognize that Anakin’s ability to slaughter an entire community and get away it without any real repercussion shows their system was flawed. If we remember they had suspicions something had gone terribly wrong on Tatooine the situation becomes even more dire.

They suspected a member of their order had done *something* he shouldn’t have but somehow there was no investigation, no reports, no repercussions. That’s unethical and probably illegal behavior. People try to excuse it as the jedi being busy with the war but that’s like saying we shouldn’t investigate cops killing innocents because there’s a pandemic going on. It’s cruel. Not only it dehumanizes the victims and diminishes their suffering, it’s a behavior unbecoming of a group who exists to protect people from these very crimes.

Again, this is not about blaming everything on the jedi or ‘hating’ them. It’s about recognizing the situations where they could’ve done better.

#ask #anon #anakin skywalker #sw meta #meta: anakin #jedi order #jedi politics #tusken raiders #txt #I can't wait for the #oh padawanlost hates the jedi #drama #-___- #Here we go again

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Had a dream this morning (22 August, 2021) that's already fragmenting

So I want to write down my impressions while they're still there. Started out navigating a city with a companion or companions (my mother? peers from my online life? That's foggy, but I remember the vague sense of being in conversation) in my motorized wheelchair -- not the one I currently have, but a mashup of previous chairs, and mostly like the chair I had in college and grad school. Crossed the street and found the curb cuts okay (probably inspired by the opening to this video on YouTube, which I watched a bit before bed, last night) We came to our destination, which was an historical building / museum of a former mansion/castle (there was some connection to Pre-Revolution French nobility... I think), where we were about to join a group tour. And at first, I was really excited at the sight of a ramp right at the front, instead of around back, in an alleyway. But as I got there, it turned out that what I thought were ramps turned out to only be structural supports for the foundation, and the only real way to the opening exhibit was up a flight of stairs. We complained to the woman leading the tour about how that wasn't fair, and she hand-waved away our complaints saying they'll just get people to carry me inside (a recurring feature of my almost-nightmares is how my subconscious just borrows whole cloth from my waking world experience) The next scene I remember is everyone, including me, seated inside, at a banquet table, being served a multi-course dinner, and having conversations on various topics.   The conversation turned to disability representation in popular media (particularly TV and movies) and how some supposedly "positive" representation is actually detrimental, because it erases the actual discrimination that disabled people face, and makes systematic ableism seem like no big deal. And the example we used in conversation was the TV Cop procedural Ironside, with wheelchair-using IRL Raymond Burr as the title character.

And this is the point where the dream went semi-lucid, and I remember saying to myself: "Ooh! That's a great! I'm going to have to use that!"

And the reason it's detrimental was because although Ironside was a capable character who continued to be treated with respect and still able to do his job, even after becoming paralyzed and using a wheelchair, was that every set for every scene in the show was purposely built around his chair -- even one scene I watched where he was on an airplane, and able to wheel his regular manual wheelchair down the plane's central aisle.  Every doorway, every hallway -- even in apartment buildings where suspects lived on the poor side of town -- was wide enough for him to get around independently. (I should probably make a dedicated post all out the special kind of copraganda in Ironside, someday -- thanks for reminding me, subconscious!) And at this point in the dream conversation, I cited my mother (or maybe my mother was there and added this bit herself), as giving this kind of representation the name "Castle Representation" -- probably because the setting for this dream was in a castle-turned-tourist-attraction that was nowhere near as accessible as it promised to be at first (And the lucid part of my mind said: "ooh! it has a name, now! That's Clever! Remember that!)* . And then the dream turned fragmentary, as people started to get up from the table, and going into other rooms, and coming back with dessert, or not, and the scenes jumped around to different POVs in seemingly random ways that can't be narrated coherently. So I'll stop here.  At least I got down the bit I told myself to remember.

*Though, in the waking world, I think maybe "Set Dressing Representation" would be more fitting? What do you think?

Edited to add: Although, after going away, and having a second cup of coffee, I think I’ll keep calling “Castle Representation.” Honor the Dream! Also: A) it’s one word --simple. and B) a “Castle” is a thing that is built specifically for the monarch -- it’s a closed off space that’s a world apart from where the rest of the society lives --  just like how the fictional world for a disabled protagonist is purposely built for that character and that story, and is completely cut off from how real disabled people live in the real world.

So okay. Yes. “Castle Representation” it is, then.

#Dreams #Television #copraganda #Ironside (Raymond Burr) #disability representation #ableism #Dreamwidth x-post #queue #''Castle Representation''

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

What Fresh Hell?: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst, talk of child pornography, talk of sexual abuse with children

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

Billie’s father is seen parking in the driveway, and even from where you’re at, you can feel how angry he is. He turns this whole blue energy of the house into a light purple. Both red and blue mix to create a whole mess of emotions. He’s not right in the head either, but that’s clearly not going to stop him from marching in here. As soon as he does, him and Billie’s mother just go at it.

“I have been calling you all night!” she yells.

“I'm sorry, Marilyn. I turned my phone off.”

“How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or—we needed you!”

“I said I was sorry!” he groans.

She slaps his arm and gives an angry scoff. She turns away and leaves the room. Thankfully, William stays put to give her time to cool off.

“What's being done to find my daughter?”

“We're assessing that right now,” you answer.

“She's been missing since yesterday! What the hell have you people been doing since then?!”

“Where have you been, Mr. Copeland?” Gideon wonders.

“Me?”

“Where were you all day and all night?”

“I have a cabin in Brandywine Valley,” he says, but that doesn’t tell you where he’s been this entire time.

“The police tried you there.”

“Well, maybe I was out at the time.”

“Billie tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon. You didn’t answer then,” you comment.

“Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude.”

“You didn't fight your wife for custody of your daughter, but you like being in her life,” Gideon rattles off the facts.

He wants to make him nervous. It’s working.

“I want her to grow up in her home with her friends around. This is the only place she's ever lived.”

“So, you love her very much.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you waste any precious time we have left?” Gideon sighs and cuts to the chase for this is taking too long. “You weren't at your cabin. You weren't at work or with friends. Police didn't call us until a little while ago because they thought your daughter might have been with you—that you might have taken your daughter. Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing until—would you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns his phone off and disappears for almost twenty-four hours?”

“I was… busy,” he hesitates.

“It was 1:30 in the afternoon. You called your wife at 11:30 that morning and found out Billie was missing.”

“So?”

“Well, Brandywine Valley is fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mr. Copeland?”

William knows he’s been caught, so he chooses the right option to tell the truth. He sighs heavily and sits down with a long and tired look on his face.

“I—I was at Sloane Kettering hospital in New York City. Dr. Baylan Mahal is the head of Oncology. You can call him if you want.”

“I will. Did you have a relapse?”

“It's in my lymph nodes now. There's nothing more they can—” he cuts himself off. “Please find my daughter. Find my daughter.”

“Call Sloane Kettering,” Gideon instructs of you.

“Yes sir,” you say, already taking out your phone.

The bad news is that Sloane Kettering vouched for William, confirming he was with them the entire day with proof through cameras as well as the sign in sheet. If he didn’t take his own daughter, then that means it really is a stranger abduction—most likely. The good news is that Derek, Elle, and Hotch did have something when they returned from the park. You didn’t want to upset the parents even more, so you had a small meeting on their lawn as soon as they arrived.

“What do we know?” Gideon asks as he jogs up to the rest of the group.

“We talked to a kid who had contact with the unsub. He came back to the same street more than once,” Hotch informs.

“Well that tells us he's at ease in the neighborhood—comfortable talking to kids in plain view,” you fit the pieces together.

“He lured Billie with a story about a lost dog.”

“She recently lost one of her own.”

“That indicates previous knowledge of the victim,” Spencer says.

“But it doesn't necessarily mean that she knew him personally. This only means he's aware,” you counteract.

“Actually, it's not uncommon for predators like these to know the kids that live around his area. He’s from this neighborhood.”

“Then we go door to door and ask for voluntary searchers,” Detective Russet speaks up.

“The neighborhood is already crawling with uniforms. They're everywhere. Having more searchers is only going to make the man who did this go into hiding,” you point out.

“So far, you followed the child abduction response plan to the letter,” Gideon trails off.

“For the past few hours, yes,” the detective nods.

“So now we need to move past the guidelines and change tactics. If we don't, Billie isn't gonna make it past the next twenty-four hours. I want you to corral these clowns,” Gideon points to all of the news cameras. “We're gonna need 'em—all of 'em.”

Before you can deal with the press, it’s about time to give the profile. Usually, you’d have more time to put one together, but Billie is very high risk. If you don’t put one out now, she could die sooner rather than later. Every single cop that’s around this area is in one room, listening to your team give the profile. Each and every one of them are listening intently, taking down notes as you go along.

“Billie Copeland has been missing for twenty-two hours. It is vital that we locate her in the first twenty-four,” Gideon starts off.

“The unknown subject, or unsub, in this case is most likely a resident of one of the subdivisions around the park. We have cancelled the amber alert. We need to coordinate with all your officers to pull everyone off the street immediately,” Hotch explains.

“That’s fucking crazy,” a random officer scoffs.

“Just hear us out—”

“But it goes against court procedure. You guys wrote the damn thing.”

“Actually, Carp is just a guideline for immediate response to child abduction. Believe it or not, we're already late in the game, and we do know enough about this unsub to know that if he feels like we're closing in on him at all, he will kill Billie to avoid detection. If anything, we need to lessen the pressure on him,” Spencer spits out.

“This man fits in because nobody knows what he is. Can we really know our neighbors? He walks his dog and does yard work. Solitary activities appeal to him. However, if you watch closely, you'll see he pays a little too much attention to the neighborhood kids. Largely goes unnoticed because he isn't perceived as a threat. He’s a white male in his late twenties to thirties. He has a menial or temporary job and is socially marginalized and frustrated. He relates better to kids than he does to adults. It’s not his first offense to children, but it is his first abduction,” you explain.

“How do you know that?” Detective Russet asks.

“First-timers hunt closer to home. Experienced predators don't.”

“He's had a recent stressor—a job loss or other setback. Unable to maintain a normal relationship, he'll have extensive pornographic materials in his home and on his computer. And while they won't all involve children, some of them definitely will,” Hotch takes over.

“Since he used the missing dog ruse, and we believe him to be a regular fixture of the neighborhood, it's quite possible that he truly does own—or did at one point—own a dog named Candy. We recommend cross-checking veterinary records with residents in the neighborhood,” Spencer says.

“He will not inject himself into this investigation.”

“Don't these guys like to know what the cops know?” the detective says.

“No, not this type of unsub. He's hiding. He doesn't know what anyone saw. He doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He's unlikely to walk in and ask us, ‘can I help you?’. But I can guarantee you he will be watching the news. So, how we handle them is very important,” Gideon stresses.

“Check your canvass records. One of you may have had contact with him in the early stages.”

“What about registered sex offenders?”

“We've got somebody working on that right now.”

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, everyone clear on that? Good luck. Thank you,” Gideon closes this meeting out.

Derek immediately leaves off to the side to call Penelope to have her work her magic touch on the already growing pile of suspects. You’re scheduled to go back to Mrs. Copeland’s house with Elle just to make sure she and her ex-husband are doing alright. Before you do that, however, you walk over to Spencer who is kind of all by his lonesome.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” you ask.

“Could be better. What about you?”

“Same. This is just going to be another nightmare to add to my list,” you sigh sadly.

“Do you dream of children often?”

“It’s a lot less than what you’d think it’d be. I swear this job never gets easier. When I agreed to take this job when Gideon offered it, I was ecstatic. I thought I’d really make a difference.”

“But you are—”

“No, I’m not,” you cut him off. “All I get are some victims that are saved, and a shit ton of nightmares to follow it. The payoff is actually worse if I think about it. Just as I’m about to collapse from extreme depression, I think of this team. I think of you and Penelope and JJ and Derek. I think of kids like Billie. I think of everything good that comes out of these cases. While there isn’t much, I try to hold onto the good as tightly as I can in hopes some of it will rub off on me, you know?”

“Try going through life with an eidetic memory.”

“Bless your heart, Dr. Spencer Reid. Seriously. You’re doing a great job if it means anything.”

“It does. Thank you,” he smiles shyly but brightly.

“Y/N, come on!” Elle calls for you.

“Duty calls. Save that smile for me when I get back, yeah?” you flirt.

You’re already gone before Spencer can come up with anything clever to say. All he’s getting are flushed cheeks and a fuzzy brain. You actually make him forget what he’s about to do… and that’s saying something.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@averyhotchner​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @fan-girl-97​ @paulaern​ @inkstainedwritergirl​ @estrela-rogers​ @abitchforjay​ @kwbaby24​ @redsalv20​ @joonie-centric​ @spencerreid-mgg​ @sixpencespencee​ @boygenius-reid​ @reidemandweep​ @prophecyflame​ @happynekochan1​

#what fresh hell #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfiction #season 1 episode 12 #s1e12

[rockislandadultreads]

AAPI Month: Fiction Picks

Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month:  Authors & Works in Fiction

The Farm by Joanne Ramos

Nestled in the Hudson Valley is a sumptuous retreat boasting every amenity: organic meals, private fitness trainers, daily massages—and all of it for free. In fact, you get paid big money—more than you've ever dreamed of—to spend a few seasons in this luxurious locale. The catch? For nine months, you belong to the Farm. You cannot leave the grounds; your every move is monitored. Your former life will seem a world away as you dedicate yourself to the all-consuming task of producing the perfect baby for your überwealthy clients. Jane, an immigrant from the Philippines and a struggling single mother, is thrilled to make it through the highly competitive Host selection process at the Farm. But now pregnant, fragile, consumed with worry for her own young daughter's well-being, Jane grows desperate to reconnect with her life outside. Yet she cannot leave the Farm or she will lose the life-changing fee she'll receive on delivery—or worse. Heartbreaking, suspenseful, provocative, The Farm pushes our thinking on motherhood, money, and merit to the extremes, and raises crucial questions about the trade-offs women will make to fortify their futures and the futures of those they love.

Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu

Willis Wu doesn't perceive himself as the protagonist in his own life: he's merely Generic Asian Man. Sometimes he gets to be Background Oriental Making a Weird Face or even Disgraced Son, but always he is relegated to a prop. Yet every day, he leaves his tiny room in a Chinatown SRO and enters the Golden Palace restaurant, where Black and White, a procedural cop show, is in perpetual production. He's a bit player here, too, but he dreams of being Kung Fu Guy--the most respected role that anyone who looks like him can attain. Or is it? After stumbling into the spotlight, Willis finds himself launched into a wider world than he's ever known, discovering not only the secret history of Chinatown, but the buried legacy of his own family. Infinitely inventive and deeply personal, exploring the themes of pop culture, assimilation, and immigration--Interior Chinatown is Charles Yu's most moving, daring, and masterful novel yet.

The Bad Muslim Discount by Syed M. Masood

Following two families from Pakistan and Iraq in the 1990s to San Francisco in 2016, Bad Muslim Discount is a hilarious, timely, and provocative comic novel about being Muslim immigrants in modern America. For fans of Hanif Kureshi, Mira Jacob, and Mohammed Hanif. It is 1995, and Anvar Faris is a restless, rebellious, and sharp-tongued boy doing his best to grow up in Karachi, Pakistan. As fundamentalists in the government become increasingly strident and the zealots next door start roaming the streets in gangs to help make Islam great again, his family decides, not quite unanimously, to start life over in California. The irony is not lost on Anvar that in America, his deeply devout mother and his model-Muslim brother are the ones who fit right in with the tightly knit and gossipy Desi community. Anvar wants more. At the same time, thousands of miles away, Safwa, a young girl suffocating in war-torn Baghdad with her grief-stricken, conservative father will find a very different and far more dangerous path to America. These two narratives are intrinsically linked, and when their worlds come together, the fates of two remarkably different people intertwine and set off a series of events that rock their whole community to its core. The Bad Muslim Discount is an irreverent, dramatic, and often hysterically funny debut novel by an amazing new voice. With deep insight, warmth, and an irreverent sense of humor, Syed Masood examines quirky and intense familial relationships, arranged marriage, Islamic identity, and how to live together in modern America.

Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri

Exuberance and dread, attachment and estrangement: in this novel, Jhumpa Lahiri stretches her themes to the limit. The woman at the center wavers between stasis and movement, between the need to belong and the refusal to form lasting ties. The city she calls home, an engaging backdrop to her days, acts as a confidant: the sidewalks around her house, parks, bridges, piazzas, streets, stores, coffee bars. We follow her to the pool she frequents and to the train station that sometimes leads her to her mother, mired in a desperate solitude after her father's untimely death. In addition to colleagues at work, where she never quite feels at ease, she has girl friends, guy friends, and "him," a shadow who both consoles and unsettles her. But in the arc of a year, as one season gives way to the next, transformation awaits. One day at the sea, both overwhelmed and replenished by the sun's vital heat, her perspective will change. This is the first novel she has written in Italian and translated into English. It brims with the impulse to cross barriers. By grafting herself onto a new literary language, Lahiri has pushed herself to a new level of artistic achievement.

#fiction #AAPI #asian american pacific islander heritage month #asian american heritage month #may 2021 #adult fiction #science fiction #historical fiction #book recs #to read #tbr #reading recommendations #recommended reading #librarian picks #booklr #stop asian hate

[ucflibrary]

Welcome to Asian Pacific American Heritage Month!

It has been a difficult 14 months for the world, but our Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI) brothers and sisters have faced even more struggles. From small harassments to intense acts of violence, the AAPI community has borne the brunt of American fears and grief relating to the pandemic. These malicious acts demonstrate as a country we are not living up to the ideals of our nation. As Americans and Knights, we need to demonstrate these ideals are worth fighting for. Actions you can take range from learning more about the AAPI experience and history to using any privilege we have to push back against racism and violence.

One way to learn more about AAPI history and experiences is to visit the Libraries’ Readings on Race guide. This guide includes a page for general information about racism in America and how to have conversations about it to pages specifically addressing the experiences of marginalized communities in the United States such as Asian America Pacific Islander, African American, Hispanic/Latinx, and Indigenous. Take some time to familiarize yourself with lived experiences beyond your own race or ethnicity so we can stand together and become a more inclusive Knight community.

If you witness or experience incidents of discrimination or violence, report them to the university. If any of these incidents have impacted you, UCF has resources that can help. For more information, visit UCF Cares, Student Care Services or UCF Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS) if you are a student, and the Employee Assistance Program if you are an employee.

 For 2021 Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, UCF Libraries faculty and staff have suggested these 20 books from the library’s collection by or about Asian Pacific Americans. Click the link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links. There is also an extensive physical display on the main floor of the John C. Hitt Library near the Research & Information Desk.

A Burning by Megha Majumdar After a fiery attack on a train leaves 104 people dead, the fates of three people become inextricably entangled. Jivan, a bright, striving woman from the slums looking for a way out of poverty, is wrongly accused of planning the attack because of a careless comment on Facebook. PT Sir, a slippery gym teacher from Jivan's former high school, has hitched his aspirations to a rising right wing party, and his own ascent becomes increasingly linked to Jivan's fall. Lovely, a spirited, impoverished, relentlessly optimistic hjira, who harbors dreams of becoming a Bollywood star, can provide the alibi that would set Jivan free - but her appearance in court will have unexpected consequences that will change the course of all of their lives. A novel about fate, power, opportunity, and class; about innocence and guilt, betrayal and love, and the corrosive media cycle that manufactures falsehoods masquerading as truths. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions and Collection Services

 American History Unbound: Asians and Pacific Islanders by Gary K. Okihiro A survey of U.S. history from its beginnings to the present, this  reveals our past through the lens of Asian American and Pacific Islander history. In so doing, it is a work of both history and anti-history, a narrative that fundamentally transforms and deepens our understanding of the United States. This text is accessible and filled with engaging stories and themes that draw attention to key theoretical and historical interpretations. Gary Y. Okihiro positions Asians and Pacific Islanders within a larger history of people of color in the United States and places the United States in the context of world history and oceanic worlds. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 American Panda by Gloria Chao A freshman at MIT, seventeen-year-old Mei Lu tries to live up to her Taiwanese parents' expectations, but no amount of tradition, obligation, or guilt prevent her from hiding several truths-- that she is a germaphobe who cannot become a doctor, she prefers dancing to biology, she decides to reconnect with her estranged older brother, and she is dating a Japanese boy. Can she find a way to be herself, before her web of lies unravels? Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

 Asian American History: a very short introduction by Madeline Y. Hsu Madeline Y. Hsu weaves a fascinating historical narrative of this "American Dream." She shows how Asian American success, often attributed to innate cultural values, is more a result of the immigration laws, which have largely pre-selected immigrants of high economic and social potential. Asian Americans have, in turn, been used by politicians to bludgeon newer (and more populous) immigrant groups for their purported lack of achievement. Hsu deftly reveals how public policy, which can restrict and also selectively promote certain immigrant populations, is a key reason why some immigrant groups appear to be more naturally successful and why the identity of those groups evolves differently from others. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Eyes That Kiss in the Corners by Joanna Ho A young Asian girl notices that her eyes look different from her peers'. They have big, round eyes and long lashes. She realizes that her eyes are like her mother's, her grandmother's, and her little sister's. They have eyes that kiss in the corners and glow like warm tea, crinkle into crescent moons, and are filled with stories of the past and hope for the future. Drawing from the strength of these powerful women in her life, she recognizes her own beauty and discovers a path to self love and empowerment. This powerful, poetic picture book will resonate with readers of all ages and is a celebration of diversity. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

 Frankly in Love by David Yoon High school senior Frank Li is caught between his parents' traditional expectations and his own Southern California upbringing. His parents have one rule when it comes to romance: ‘Date Korean.’ But Frank falls for Brit Means, who is smart, beautiful-- and white. Joy Song is in a similar predicament, and they make a pact: they'll pretend to date each other in order to gain their freedom. It seems like the perfect plan, until their fake-dating maneuver leaves Frank wondering if he ever really understood love- or himself- at all. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

 Ghosts of Gold Mountain: the epic story of the Chinese who built the Transcontinental Railroad by Gordon H. Chang The long-lost tale of the Chinese workers who built the Transcontinental Railroad, helping to forge modern America only to disappear into the shadows of history. In this groundbreaking book, award-winning historian Gordon H. Chang recovers the stories of these "silent spikes" and returns them to their rightful place in our national saga. Drawing on recent archaeological findings, as well as payroll records, ship manifests, photographs, and other sources from American and Chinese archives, Chang retraces the laborers' odyssey in breathtaking detail. He introduces individual workers, describes their hopes and fears, and shows how they lived, ate, fought, loved, worked, and worshiped. Their sweat and blood not only fueled the ascent of an interlinked, industrial United States, but also laid the groundwork for a thriving Chinese America. A magisterial feat of scholarship and storytelling, this book honors these immigrants' sacrifice and ingenuity, and celebrates their role in this defining American achievement. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Good Enough by Paul  Yoo A Korean American teenager tries to please her parents by getting into an Ivy League college, but a new guy in school and her love of the violin tempt her in new directions. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu Everyday Willis Wu leaves his tiny room in a Chinatown SRO and enters the Golden Palace restaurant, where Black and White, a procedural cop show, is in perpetual production. He's a bit player here too, but he dreams of being Kung Fu Guy-- and he sees his life as a script. After stumbling into the spotlight, Willis finds himself launched into a wider world than he has ever known, discovering not only the secret history of Chinatown, but the buried legacy of his own family, and what that means for him in today's America. Suggested by Ying Zhang, Administration

 Last Witnesses: reflections on the wartime internment of Japanese Americans edited by Erica Harth To the writers in this book - novelists, memoirists, poets, activists, scholars, students, professionals - the World War II internment of Japanese Americans in the detention camps is an unfinished chapter of American history that mars the nostalgic glow that often surrounds the World War II home front years. Former internees, like John Tateishi and Robert Maeda, and children of detainees and of camp officials join with others in challenging readers to construct a better future by confronting this dark episode from America's World War II scrapbook. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Minor Feelings: an Asian American reckoning by Cathy Park Hong With sly humor and a poet’s searching mind, Hong uses her own story as a portal into a deeper examination of racial consciousness in America today. This intimate and devastating book traces her relationship to the English language, to shame and depression, to poetry and female friendship. A radically honest work of art, it forms a portrait of one Asian American psyche—and of a writer’s search to both uncover and speak the truth. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services, and Ying Zhang, Administration

 Monstress by Marjorie M. Liu Set in an alternate matriarchal 1900's Asia, in a richly imagined world of art deco-inflected steam punk, Liu tells the story of a teenage girl who is struggling to survive the trauma of war, and who shares a mysterious psychic link with a monster of tremendous power, a connection that will transform them both and make them the target of both human and otherworldly powers Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions and Collection Services

 Paper Son: the inspiring story of Tyrus Wong, immigrant and artist by Julie Leung An inspiring picture-book biography of animator Tyrus Wong, the Chinese American immigrant responsible for bringing Disney's Bambi to life. Before he became an artist named Tyrus Wong, he was a boy named Wong Geng Yeo. He traveled across a vast ocean from China to America with only a suitcase and a few papers. Not papers for drawing--which he loved to do--but immigration papers to start a new life. Once in America, Tyrus seized every opportunity to make art, eventually enrolling at an art institute in Los Angeles. Working as a janitor at night, his mop twirled like a paintbrush in his hands. Eventually, he was given the opportunity of a lifetime--and using sparse brushstrokes and soft watercolors, Tyrus created the iconic backgrounds of Bambi. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Run Me to Earth by Paul Yoon Alisak, Prany, and Noi--three orphans united by devastating loss - must do what is necessary to survive the perilous landscape of 1960s Laos. When they take shelter in a bombed out field hospital, they meet Vang, a doctor dedicated to helping the wounded at all costs. Soon the teens are serving as motorcycle couriers, delicately navigating their bikes across the fields filled with unexploded bombs, beneath the indiscriminate barrage from the sky. In a world where the landscape and the roads have turned into an ocean of bombs, we follow their grueling days of rescuing civilians and searching for medical supplies, until Vang secures their evacuation on the last helicopters leaving the country. It's a move with irrevocable consequences--and sets them on disparate and treacherous paths across the world. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions and Collection Services

 Searching for Sylvie Lee: a novel by Jean Kwok A poignant and suspenseful drama that untangles the complicated ties binding three women--two sisters and their mother--in one Chinese immigrant family and explores what happens when the eldest daughter disappears, and a series of family secrets emerge. Sylvie, the beautiful, brilliant, successful older daughter of the Lee family, flies to the Netherlands for one final visit with her dying grandmother-- and vanishes. Amy is too young to remember a time when her parents were newly immigrated and too poor to keep Sylvie, who was raised by a distant relative in a faraway, foreign place. Amy flies to the last place Sylvie was seen, retracing her sister's movements. It seems Sylvie kept painful secrets that reveal more about Amy's family than she ever could have imagined. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

 Somewhere Only We Know by Maurene Goo Told from two viewpoints, teens Lucky, a very famous K-pop star, and Jack, a part-time paparazzo who is trying to find himself, fall for each other against the odds through the course of one stolen day. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

 Strangers from a Different Shore: a history of Asian Americans by Ronald Takaki In an extraordinary blend of narrative history, personal recollection, and oral testimony, the author presents a sweeping history of Asian Americans. He writes of the Chinese who laid tracks for the transcontinental railroad, of plantation laborers in the canefields of Hawaii, of "picture brides" marrying strangers in the hope of becoming part of the American dream. He tells stories of Japanese Americans behind the barbed wire of U.S. internment camps during World War II, Hmong refugees tragically unable to adjust to Wisconsin's alien climate and culture, and Asian American students stigmatized by the stereotype of the “model minority.” Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See This beautiful, thoughtful novel illuminates a world turned upside down, one where the women are in charge, engaging in dangerous physical work, and the men take care of the children. A classic Lisa See story—one of women’s friendships and the larger forces that shape them—this book introduces readers to the fierce and unforgettable female divers of Jeju Island and the dramatic history that shaped their lives. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 What We Carry: a memoir by Maya Shanbhag Lang Lang grew up idolizing her brilliant mother, an accomplished psychologist who immigrated to the United States from India, completed her residency and earned an American medical degree while nurturing young children and keeping a traditional Indian home. Her mother's stories motivated her, encouraged her, offered solace when she needed it. When Lang becomes a mother herself, her mother becomes a grandmother who is cold and distant. Reexamining the stories of her childhood, Lang realized that being able to accept both myth and reality is what has finally brought her into adulthood Suggested by Ying Zhang, Administration

 Your House Will Pay by Steph Cha In the wake of the police shooting of a black teenager, Los Angeles is as tense as it's been since the unrest of the early 1990s. But Grace Park and Shawn Matthews have their own problems. Grace is sheltered and largely oblivious, living in the Valley with her Korean-immigrant parents, working long hours at the family pharmacy. Shawn has already had enough of politics and protest after an act of violence shattered his family years ago. But when another shocking crime hits LA, both the Park and Matthews families are forced to face down their history while navigating the tumult of a city on the brink of more violence. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions and Collection Services

#ucf library #asian pacific american heritage month #aapi #booklr #reading list

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

[chibinoyume]

Re: Blindspot series finale

I don’t wanna pee in anyone’s parade, so if you’re one of the fans happy with the series finale/happy with the happy ending, I’d suggest you keep doing you and keep scrolling (and I’m so jealous of you).

If you’re upset, I feel you, and we can talk about it in the comments.

My initial thoughts on the finale under the cut (I say initial, because I may feel different upon rewatch, but idk when that will be) + my feelings.

I am... so heartbroken. A weird mix of deeply sad, frustrated, in denial and numb at the same time.

My numbness allows me to appreciate the intent of what they were going for, after reading some Gero interviews. Give anyone what they want to believe, “choose your own adventure”. And I wish it was that easy. While I do very strongly want to believe they got their happy ending (and there is some evidence that would support that, like the body bag being just left there in empty Times Square, even if it makes a powerful aesthetic image), even if it wasn’t happy enough in my book -didn’t feel like the happy montage of 3x01, that doesn’t mean I think that happened.

They say anyone who watches it has a strong reaction either way. Vehemently believe Jane survived and was happy or that she died. At the moment, I am on the dead-camp, but I am very NOT happy about it. I think that was their intent, because even if they cut back to the dinner scene, Jane is shaken. Is this her version of heaven and she just then realized she died? I don’t know. I wish I could believe the Times Square scene was just what she thought it could have happened, or has some lingering side-effects from the ZIP and saw that but she is really in that dinner, because the alternative is so damn unfair it makes my skin crawl.

Jane deserved better. Kurt deserved better. Even if the story was “Jane prefers risking her life to save everyone over saving herself”, they could have carried the antidote with them, there were so many ways not to have her die. I get that from a narrative point of view is full circle, poetic tragedy, the ultimate redemption, blah blah blah. But she deserved to have a nice life for more than 2 months. 

I can appreciate the Jane-fight (probably my favorite bit), the huge effort and logistical nightmare of all the cameos, the nods to past episodes, like Jane in a similar outfit to the pilot when talking to Borden, Roman having his scar back, the weddings Jane saw. I know they wanted to honor everyone and give them a last goodbye. But I feel it was somewhat empty. Too much in too little time. Everything was too fast to really feel the stakes, Kurt was weirdly un-emotional until the tragic alternative end, to the point I thought the whole episode was a dream until almost the end.

I know this show is a procedural/thriller first, even if they wanted to delve into their lives a little more than the average cop show. But I’d have much rather have Ivy just vanish and leave it to the FBI newbies to chase her off camera and focus on the emotional journeys of our team. As the main cast, that would have made a better homage to the series in my opinion. 

Maybe how everyone dealt with not being FBI anymore. An extended scene of Patterson, Rich and Tasha tearfully talking about the end of their job in law enforcement. Kurt nursing Jane back to health, maybe even doing physiotherapy or something if the ZIP had affected her that way. A happy montage of moments, people getting to the Weller household, hugging each other in what I assume was Thanksgiving. Some banter, some teasing, heck, maybe even Bethany cooing over baby-Zapata. Kurt feeding Jane some turkey and everyone rolling their eyes because they are so cheesy.

Even if they wanted to pull the rug out of our feet then, with the alt-dead thing, I feel it would be easier to ignore. Easier to say “okay, I can choose to believe this happy ending is what they got”, because it was just as powerful as the sad ending, but in canon, it wasn’t. I get that they had a ton of characters and they wanted each one to get a few seconds of spotlight in that dinner, but it fell a little flat in comparison to the powerful af tragic scene in Times Square. And idk, maybe that’s why that’s the one I can’t ignore. 

I’m happy I could get out most of my “post zip Jane 5x10″ comic out before the finale, because I kinda feared I wouldn’t like the ending, or it would be so awesome my stuff would be almost pointless. I don’t outright hate it, but I am so deeply disappointed (and I don’t know if it was also because the cast hyped it up so much) and I need a minute. I wanna get over it, I wanna keep creating, but right this second, I feel like I need to mourn.

It’s almost an ironic parallel how I was so outraged and pissed off about Patterson dying when they sold it as such, needing to rage-quit for a few days out of anger. And while I do love her character, my favorite will always be Jane. Here, now, I am just deeply sad, I wanna curl in a ball and cling to denial, to the possibility of a happy ending until I can overwrite things with my own headcanon and join the “canon? what is that” club so I can keep on being a part of this wonderful fandom, both enjoying what y’all create without wanting to cry, and to bring my muse back from the dead where it was stabbed in the heart.

For now, I don’t even know what to do. I cried a bit, but I’m back to this weird numbness. It needs time, but patience is not my strong suit. I so badly want to feel better about it and enjoy it like so many seem to be able to.

If you read this far, thank you. Feel free to leave a reply with your thoughts or reblog with comments if you want to. Group hug.

#blindspot #blindspot spoilers #blindspot finale #my thoughts #5x11

[alwaysmarilynmonroe]

Firstly, I want to apologize in advance for any insensitivity or inaccuracies in this post. I cannot pretend I am as educated as I would like to be, but I am extremely passionate in learning about others and using my privilege for good.

Since the horrific murder of African American, George Floyd on May 25th 2020, rightful outrage has broken out worldwide over the injustice and disgraceful blatant racism that is still going on in 2020. Fifty seven years since Martin Luther King Jr. spoke his, “I Have A Dream” speech during the March On Washington For Jobs And Freedom on August 28th 1963. Fifty one years since Marsha P. Johnson, a Black Trans Woman, Sylvia Rivera, a Latina American Transgender Activist, Raymond Castro, a Latino gay man, Miss Major Griffin – Gracy, a Black Trans woman and Storm Delaverie, a Mixed Raced lesbian, fought during the Stonewall Riots on June 28th 1969. Which begs the question, why is it half a century later so many Black Lives are being taken mercilessly each day?

With June being the month of PRIDE and as I am hugely passionate about LGBTQ+ Rights, I feel it is important to note that the first riot protesting was led by Black Trans Women and Gay Men. I must mention that Black Trans Women have an average life span of 35 YEARS – just let that sink in for a moment.

We are all the same, we are all human, nobody is born racist. It is so wonderful to have so many colours and cultures within our world and yet a huge number of people are hurting this. Without variety we would not be able to educate one another and learn about each others history.

For the people that are posting about how, “All Lives Matter” I can’t emphasize enough how frustrating this is. No one is saying that white people don’t matter, the injustice is not harming white people, there is no racial prejudice and harm coming to myself because of the colour of my skin. Yes, every single person in the world suffers and has hard times, but BAME are the only ones being persecuted because of their skin. The “Black Lives Matter” movement is bringing awareness to the dangers so many people suffer every single day, living in fear doing the most mundane things that we so often take for granted. It is worth noting that white people will never understand this pain and fear, but we can understand the suffering so many people of colour go through and try and prevent it from continuing. I have started a thread on my Twitter, to share each petition I have signed, hoping that others will take a few minutes to do the same – it is the least we can do.

I’m also going to share each of the petitions in this post, with information about the victims who have suffered such pain. People may have seen the murder of George Floyd and think this is the first of it’s kind and tragically, it is not. Police brutality is extremely real and not only is it happening in the USA, it is happening in the UK too. Inquest, have stated there have been 1741 DEATHS in police custody or otherwise following contact with the police in England and Wales since 1990, with 14% and 183 of them being of BAME . In 2019, mappingpolicebrutality states there were only 27 DAYS IN 2019 where police did not kill someone, 24% of the victims were black, despite being 13% of the population and in 99% of the killings NO ONE HAS BEEN CHARGED.

I simply must take the time to thank the amazing Nico, who runs blacklivesmatters, because of you I have been able to educate myself and sign petitions on incredible people, that I admittedly had no idea existed. Thanks to thehindu website, I have learnt that between 2013 – 2019, 42 PER MILLION populations of African Americans were killed in police shootings – the highest among races, with statistics showing they are THREE TIMES more likely to be murdered than white people. Furthermore, over 17% of African American victims were UNARMED.

Here are a few of the many lives which have been lost and families which have been destroyed. It is important to remember these victims and share their stories. I’m ashamed to say that I had only heard about one of the stories that I am posting, which goes to show how many are ignored, and never spoken about. This is not acceptable, no one deserves such inhumanity and suffering. I am aware that these facts are hard to read and may be triggering to some, which I do apologize for, not because they have to be read, but because they ever happened in the first place. It is our responsibility to educate ourselves and not turn a blind eye to the injustices and tragedies which is happening daily in our world.

Marsha P. Johnson (left) and Sylvia Rivera (right) at the Christopher Street Liberation Day Gay Pride Parade photographed by Leonard Fink on June 24th 1973.

Black Trans American Gay Rights Activist, Marsha P. Johsnon.

Derek Charles Livingston walks in the Million Man March in Washington DC by Roderick Terry on October 16th 1995.

Black Lives Matter Artwork by @Beccallen_design

I can’t find any information on the people, protest or photographer, if anyone knows please contact me!

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SAY THEIR NAMES.

TRAYVON MARTIN:

A 17 year old African American teenager, who was fatally shot in Sanford, Florida by George Zimmerman, on February 26th 2012. Trayvon was walking alone to his father’s fiancée’s house from a store and Zimmerman, a member of the community watch, saw Trayvon and reported him to the Sanford Police as suspicious. Several minutes later, there was an altercation and Zimmerman fatally shot Trayvon in the chest. Zimmerman was NOT charged at the time and when he eventually was tried, he was ACQUITTED of second-degree murder and manslaughter.

SANDRA BLAND:

A 28 year old African American woman, who was found hanged in her jail cell in Waller County, Texas, on July 13th 2015. Sandra had been pulled over for a minor traffic violation, three days earlier by State Trooper Brian Encinia, who ended up arresting her with the charge of assaulting a police officer. Part of the exchange was recorded and after authorities reviewed the footage, Encinia was placed on administrative leave for failing to follow proper traffic stop procedures. However, in December 2015, a grand jury decided AGAINST indicting the country sheriff and jail staff for any misdemeanors regarding Sandra’s tragic death. Encinia was eventually indicted for making false statements about Sandra’s arrest and was fired. However, in June 2017 the perjury charges against him were DROPPED, with the confirmation he would end his law enforcement career.

KATHRYN JOHNSTON:

A 92 year old African American woman, who was killed by undercover police in her home on Neal Street in northwest Atlanta on November 21st 2006. They broke down her door and fired 39 SHOTS at her, with five or six hitting – she fired one, which didn’t harm anyone. The officers were found to have falsified evidence, stating drugs were present in her home, which was the original cause for the raid. Jason R. Smith, Gregg Junnier, and Arthur Tesler were tried for MANSLAUGHTER and sentenced to only 10, 6 and 5 YEARS.

SEAN BELL:

A 23 year old African American man, who was killed the morning before his Wedding, on November 25th 2006. Detective Paul Headley fired one shot, officer Michael Carey fired three times, officer Marc Cooper shot FOUR TIMES, and officer Gescard Isnora shot ELEVEN TIMES and officer Michael Oliver shot 31 TIMES, reloading his gun AT LEAST once. Two of Sean’s friends, JOSEPH GUZMAN and TRENT BENEFIELD were severely wounded but thankfully survived. Isnora and Oliver were charged with first and second degree MANSLAUGHTER, whilst Cooper was charged with RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT. All three were ACQUITTED, only being fired or forced to resign from the force.

ERIC GARNER:

A 43 year old African American man, who was killed by New York police officer Daniel Pantaleo, after he was placed in a chokehold whilst being arrested on July 17th 2004. The medical examiners actually RULED HIS DEATH AS A HOMICIDE however, Pantaleo was NOT charged with murder and was only fired on August 19th 2019, MORE THAN FIVE YEARS after Eric’s death.

REKIA BOYD:

A 22 year old African American woman, who was killed by an off-duty Chicago police detective, Dante Servin, on March 21st 2012. Rekia’s friend, ANTONIA CROSS was also shot in the hand. Over a year later, in November 2013, Servin was charged with INVOLUNTARY MANSLAUGHTER, but was CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES, by Judge Dennis J. Porter on April 20th 2015. Servin resigned two days before his departmental hearing on May 17th 2016, FOUR YEARS after Rekia’s murder.

AMADOU DIALLO:

A 23 year old Guinean immigrant, who was murdered by four New York City plain clothed police officers, Sean Carroll, Richard Murphy, Edward McMellon, and Kenneth Boss, on February 4th 1999. They fired 41 SHOTS, of which 19 HIT AMADOU and were charged only with SECOND DEGREE MURDER – all ended up being ACQUITTED. In 2015, Boss was PROMOTED to sergeant – he had already murdered PATRICK BAILEY, a 22 year old Jamaican born American Citizen on October 31st 1997.

MICHAEL BROWN JR.:

A 18 year old African American man, who was murdered by Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson, on August 9th 2014. Michael was UNARMED with his friend, DORIAN JOHNSON and his body was left in the street for FOUR HOURS before he was removed. On August 11th, a Civil Rights Investigation was opened, but on March 4th 2015, CLEARED Wilson of any civil rights violations. He was NOT charged. On November 29th, Wilson resigned from the force, citing security concerns.

KIMANI “KIKI” GRAY:

A 16 year old African American boy, who was murdered by two plain clothed New York City police officers, Mourad Mourad and Jovaniel Cordova, on March 9th 2013. He was shot at ELEVEN TIMES, and was hit by SEVEN of them. Mourad was nominated for, “Cop Of The Year” in 2014, despite being named in THREE FEDERAL LAWSUITS FOR VIOLATING CIVIL RIGHTS along with another shooting in 2011. Both have NOT been charged.

KENNETH CHAMBERLAIN SR.:

A 68 year old African American man, who was murdered by police officer, Anthony Carelli after inadvertently triggering his LifeAid medical alert necklace. The officers broke down his door, even after Kenneth stated he did not need assistance and had asked them to leave. They stayed for one hour trying to force the door open and an officer called Stephen Hart, swore at him and called him horrific racist words. Kenneth was UNARMED, which DNA evidence has proven and was TASERED and shot at TWICE. In 2012 the case was reviewed by a grand jury and the officers were NOT charged.

TRAVARES MCGILL:

A 16 year old African American boy, who was murdered by security guards, William Patrick Swofford and Bryan Ansley, in a parking lot on July 16th 2005. Originally, the two men were NOT charged, it wasn’t until FOUR MONTHS later in November, that Swofford was charged with MANSLAUGHTER and both with SHOOTING INTO AN OCCUPIED VEHICLE. The charges later ended up being DISMISSED.

TAMIR RICE:

A 12 year old African American boy, who was SHOT TWICE in Cleveland, Ohio by police officer Timothy Loehmann, on November 22nd 2014. He was simply playing with a TOY GUN and ended up dying in hospital the next day. Loehmann was NOT CHARGED and was only fired THREE YEARS LATER in 2017, after it was revealed that he had been labelled an EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE RECRUIT and UNFIT FOR DUTY in his previous job.

AIYANA STANLEY-JONES:

A 7 year old African American girl, who was murdered by police officer, Joseph Weekley, during a house raid, on May 16th 2010. In October 2011, Weekley was charged INVOLUNTARY MANSLAUGHTER and RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT WITH A GUN. Weekley ended up having two mistrials and the judge actually DISMISSED the involuntary manslaughter charge in the second one. Five years later, on January 28th 2015, Weekley was CLEARED of his reckless endangerment with a gun charge, meaning the third retrial would not happen.

FREDDIE GRAY:

A 25 year old African American man, who was arrested on April 12th 2015 by lieutenant Brian W. Rice, officer Edward Nero, and officer Garrett E. Miller, after running away from them, whilst they were patrolling. Freddie was subsequently charged with having a knife in his possession, although no harm was caused and the knife was not used. Freddie was then placed in a transport van within 11 minutes of his arrest and half an hour later he was IN A COMA. He died on April 19th, a week after his arrest, with his cause of death being stated as injuries to his spinal cord. The medical examiners ruled his death a HOMICIDE, saying that his injuries had been sustained whilst being transported and that the officers FAILED TO FOLLOW SAFETY PROCEDURES. Six officers were filed with various criminal charges, including MANSLAUGHTER, ILLEGAL ARREST, RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT and SECOND DEGREE “DEPRAVED-HEART” MURDER for officer Caesar R. Goodson Jr., who was driving the van. Each officer was granted a separate trial, Porters resulted in a MISTRIAL, whilst Nero, Rice and Goodson were all ACQUITTED. Any of the various other charges were subsequently DROPPED.

SEAN RIGG

A 40 year old black man, who died following a cardiac arrest whilst in police custody, in South London, England on August 28th 2008. Sean suffered with paranoid schizophrenia and was in a vulnerable mental state, resulting in the hostel staff he lived with calling 999 FIVE TIMES over a period of THREE HOURS. They were informed by operator, Maurice Glove that Sean was NOT A POLICE PRIORITY. Response was eventually made after members of the public had observed Sean acting strangely in the street. Four police officers chased him and he was handcuffed and restrained in a face down position, being LENT ON FOR 8 MINUTES. FOUR YEARS LATER in 2012, Southwalk Coroner’s Court concluded police had used, “UNSUITABLE AND UNNECESSARY FORCE” and their failings, “MORE THAN MINIMALLY” contributed to his death. In March 2013, sergeant Paul White and officer Mark Harratt were arrested on perverting the court of justice, regarding the evidence presented at Sean’s inquest. However, in October 2014, the CPS decided NOT to charge them. Sean’s family did request a Right To Review policy and White was charged with PERJURY – ultimately, he was ACQUITTED in November 2016.

______________________________________________________________________________

PETITIONS TO SIGN:

Here are some of the petitions I have came across to support, it simply takes a few seconds of your time and every signature helps. Please also take the time to read the victims stories and share, together our voices have power and can hopefully help in moving towards a happier and healthier society.

• MINNEAPOLIS DISTRICT ATTORNEY: RAISE THE DEGREE • JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD (1) • CHARGE MINNEAPOLIS POLICE OFFICERS FOR MURDER OF GEORGE FLOYD (2) • JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD (3) • GET THE OFFICERS CHARGED: JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLOYD (4) • SENATOR BLUMENTHAL: GEORGE FLOYD: WE NEED NATIONWIDE POLICE DE-ESCALATION (5) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (1) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (2) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (3) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (4) • JUSTICE FOR BREONNA TAYLOR (5) • DISBARMENT OF GEORGE E. BARNHILL • JUSTICE FOR AHMUAD ARBERY (1) • DISTRICT ATTORNEY TOM DURDEN: JUSTICE FOR AHMAUD ARBERY (2) • GOVERNOR BRIAN KEMP: JUSTICE FOR AHMAUD ARBERY (3) • DEFUND MPD • MANDATORY LIFE SENTENCE FOR POLICE BRUTALITY • JUSTICE FOR REGIS KORCHINSKI-PAQUET • JUSTICE FOR TONY MCDADE (1) • JUSTICE FOR TONY MCDADE (2) • JUSTICE FOR TONY MCDADE (3) • JUSTICE FOR JOAO PEDRO • SAVE INNOCENT JULIUS JONES FROM DEATH ROW • JUSTICE FOR BELLY MUJINGA • GOVERNOR KAY IVEY: FREE WILLIE SIMMONS • HANDS UP ACT • NATIONAL ACTION AGAINST POLICE BRUTALITY AND MURDER • ILLINOIS GOVERNOR: CORRECT WRONGFUL CONVICTION OF KYJUANZI HARRIS • JUSTICE FOR ALEJANDRO VARGAS MARTINEZ • CENSORSHIP OF POLICE BRUTALITY IN FRANCE • JUSTICE FOR SEAN REED • MAYOR JOE HOGSETT: JUSTICE FOR SEAN REED • JUSTICE FOR KENDRICK JOHNSON • JUSTICE FOR TAMIR RICE (1) • JUSTICE FOR TAMIR RICE (2) • FIRE RACIST CRIMINAL FROM THE NYPD • JUSTICE FOR JAMEE JOHNSON • JUSTICE FOR DARIUS STEWART (1) • JUSTICE FOR DARIUS STEWART (2) • ABOLISH PRISON LABOR • FREE SIYANDA MNGAZA • JUSTICE FOR CHRYSTUL KIZER (1) • JUSTICE FOR CHRYSTUL KIZER (2) • JUSTICE FOR ANDILE “BOBO” MCHUNU • FREE ERIC RIDDICK • JUSTICE FOR AMIYA BRAXTON • JUSTICE FOR EMERALD BLACK • JUSTICE FOR ELIJAH NICHOLS • JUSTICE FOR ZINEDINE KARABO GIOIA • RETRIAL FOR WRONGFUL CONVICTION OF ANGEL BUMPASS • SCOTLAND POLICE: INVESTIGATE THE DEATH OF SHEKU BAYOH IN POLICE CUSTODY • JUSTICE FOR JENNIFER JEFFLEY • FREE ALBERT WILSON • MADISON SOUTHERN HIGH SCHOOL: JUSTICE FOR MACIE • JUSTICE FOR AMARI BOONE • JUSTICE FOR CRYSTAL MASON • JUSTICE FOR RASHAD CUNNINGHAM • GOODWOOD MAGISTRATE COURT: JUSTICE FOR TAZNE VAN WYK • PORTLAND POLICE: JUSTICE FOR TETE GULLEY • DROP CHARGES ON MARSHAE JONES & CHARGE THE SHOOTER OF HER & HER UNBORN BABY • TEMPLE POLICE DEPARTMENT: JUSTICE FOR MICHAEL DEAN  • STAND WITH #BLM • MOVEMENT4BLACKLIVES • PHOENIX POLICE DEPARTMENT: JUSTICE FOR DION JOHNSON • FIRE RON FREEMAN • MANCHESTER POLICE: JUSTICE FOR SHUKRI ABDI • DISTRICT ATTORNEY JIM WARD: JAIL TIME FOR DYLAN MOTA AND JACOB ROBLES • NSW POLICE: MANDATE THE POLICE FORCE ACADEMIES TO TAKE RACIAL BIAS TEST • JUNK THE ANTI-TERRORISM BILL AND UPHOLD HUMAN RIGHTS • NIGERIA POLICE FORCE: JUSTICE FOR YOUNG UWA • SCHOOLS MUST SPEAK UP NOW • SEATTLE POLICE: ARREST JARED CAMPBELL (1) • TERMINATE JARED CAMPBELL (2) • POLICE DE-ESCALATION TRAINING • PARDON CRYSTAL MASON IMPRISONED FOR VOTING. • JUSTICE FOR CAMERON GREEN • UNITED NATIONS: BAN THE USE OF INHUMANE RUBBER BULLETS (1) • UN AND US GOVERNMENT: BAN THE USE OF RUBBER BULLETS (2) • STOP USING ICE TO POISON IMMIGRANTS • THE TRAYVON MARTIN LAW – STOP THIS FROM HAPPENING AGAIN • COOKS COUNTY ILLINOIS POLICE: FREE CHAFFIN DARNEL Y • SUPPORT FORMER BUFFALOE POLICE OFFICER CARIOL HORNE TO RECEIVE HER PENSION • IMPROVE WORKING CONDITIONS FOR BLACK PEOPLE IN ITALY • DEFUND DALLAS POLICE DEPARTMENT AND INVEST IN THE LARGER DALLAS COMMUNITY • JUSTICE FOR BRITTANY CHRISHAWN WILLIAMS • RICHMOND CITY COUNCIL & MAYOR STONEY: MARCUS ALERT & CIVILIAN OVERSIGHT OF RPD • JUSTICE FOR QUENTIN SUTTLES • SAVE INNOCENT KENNETH REAMS FROM DEATH ROW • KING COUNTY POLICE OFFICERS GUILD: REQUIRE DASH AND BODY CAMERAS • DEFUND THE POLICE • JUSTICE FOR JAMES SCURLOCK (1) • JUSTICE FOR JAMES SCURLOCK (2) • CLASSIFY WHITE SUPREMACISTS AS TERRORISTS • JUSTICE FOR DAVID MCATEE • NO POLICE PRESENCE AT TACOMA BLM PROTEST • DEFUND SDPD • FIRE LAPD CHIEF MICHAEL MOORE • MAKE WASHINGTON STATE POLICE ACCOUNTABLE FOR POLICE BRUTALITY • FIRE OFFICER CAMILLE STEPHENSON • STOP ILLEGAL EXPORT OF RIOTING EQUIPMENT • JUSTICE FOR SHELLEY FREY • JUSTICE FOR ASHTON DICKSON • BAN/RESTRICT TEARGAS • KNOCK DOWN SLAVE MARKET CENTER • FREE ANTHONY WITT • JUSTICE FOR SANDRA BLAND • PROTECT UK BLACK TRANS WOMEN • REJECT TRUMP’S VIOLENCE TOWARDS PROTESTORS • MAKE POLICE BRUTALITY ILLEGAL • FIRE AUSTIN CHIEF POLICE • JUSTICE FOR BRAD LEVI • JUSTICE FOR JONAS JOSEPH • JUSTICE FOR DOMINIQUE CLAYTON • JUSTICE FOR ANDERSON ARBOLEDA • FREE CURTIS PRICE ______________________________________________________________________________

DONATIONS:

From reading various sources of information, it is advised to not donate to change.org, as it is a private corporation and none of the funds go towards the organizations or people that have put the petitions together. Of course, continue to sign the petitions, but please take the time to read their FAQ regarding donations.

Here is a list of recommended websites via blacklivesmatters: ______________________________________________________________________________

VICTIMS:

• GEORGE FLOYD MEMORIAL FUND • GEORGE FLOYD’S SISTERS FUND • GEORGE FLOYD’S DAUGHTERS FUND • BREONNA TAYLOR FUND • AHMAUD ARBERY FUND • REGIS KORCHINSKI FUND • JAMEE JOHNSON FUND • DESTINY HARRISON FUNERAL FUND • ERIC ROSALIA FUND • BELLY MUJINGA FUND • DION JOHNSON FUND • AARON JAMES FUND • TONY MCDADE FUND • HEALING FOR DARNELLA • DESTINY’S DREAM SCHOLARSHIP • JAMES SCURLOCK FUND • SUPPORT FOR LESLIE FUND • TREVER BELLE FUND • TAMPA BAY COMMUNITY SUPPORT • BRAD LEVI AYALA FUND • ALAJUNAYE DAVIS FUND • SAID JOQUIN FUND • DAVID MCATEE FUND • ITALIA KELLEY FUND ______________________________________________________________________________

* PROTESTORS *

• BALI FUNDS BY STATE • TAMPA BAY COMMUNITY SUPPORT • SPLIT DONATION TO 37 BAIL FUNDS • NATIONAL BAIL FUND NETWORK • BAIL FUND GOOGLE DOC • BAIL FUND TWITTER THREAD • GAS MASK FUND • UNICORN RIOT FUND • MESSIAH YOUNG AND TANIYA PILGRIM • EZEQUIEL VALDERAS BAIL FUND • BLM FRONTLINE FUND • FUND PROTESTORS IN THE UK • SUPPLIES FOR DC PROTESTORS • VENMO: FEMME EMPOWERMENT PROJECT ______________________________________________________________________________

* BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES *

• BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES THREAD • BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES ATLANTA • BURGERIM DALLAS TEXAS • EMW WOMEN’S

* EMW is the ONLY abortion clinic in Kentucky and is 1 OF THE 6 black owned clinics in the country.

• REBUILD SCORES SPORTS BAR FUND • REBUILD SACDELUX CONSIGNMENT STORE FUND • HELP TRIO THRIVE • ATLANTA BLACK OWNED BUSINESS RELIEF • REBUILD GUNS & ROSES BOUTIQUE FUND • SOMALI OWNED BUSINESSES • REBUILD SHOE MOUNTAIN FUND • REBUILD THE BLOCK FUND • MINNEAPOLIS BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES • LONG BEACH BLACK OWNED BUSINESSES ______________________________________________________________________________

* ORGANIZATIONS *

• Reclaim The Block • North Star Health Collective • NAACP Legal Defense Fund • Black Visions Collective • Black Disability Coalition • The Marshall Project • ACLU • Campaign Zero • Advancement Project ______________________________________________________________________________ * OTHER IMPORTANT PLACES *

• SUPPORT SYBRINA FULTON, TRAYVON MARTIN’S MOTHER WHO IS RUNNING FOR OFFICE IN FLORIDA • SUPPORT LUCY MCBETH FOR RE-ELECTION HER SON JORDAN DAVIS WAS MURDERED AT 17 BY A RACIST • BLM FUND • BLM LA FUND • SMALL BUSINESSES REBUILD • BAY AREA BLACK BUSINESSES FUND • LOVELAND THERAPY FUND • BLACK TRANS WOMEN FUND • NATIONAL POLICE ACCOUNTABILITY PROJECT • CHANGE THE NYPD • LAKE STREET CLEANUP • UNTIL FREEDOM • REBUILD NATIVE AMERICAN YOUTH CENTER • REBUILD VIETNAMESE RESTAURANT FUND • CAMBODIA TOWN RELIEF FUND • REBUILD JOY’S BEAUTY SALON FUND • LOCAL RICHMOND BUSINESSES (VA) • FORDHAM CLEANUP FUND • REDISTRIBUTION TO BLACK CENTERED GROUPS • DONATE TO END PERIOD POVERTY ______________________________________________________________________________ * USEFUL RESOURCES * • BLACK LIVES MATTER • BLACK MENTAL HEALTH RESOURCES (1) • BLACK MENTAL HEALTH RESOURCES (2) • CAPTAINS FOR DEAF OR HOH ______________________________________________________________________________

“PLEASE, I CAN’T BREATHE. MY STOMACH HURTS. MY NECK HURTS. EVERYTHING HURTS. THEY’RE GOING TO KILL ME.”

– George Floyds last words.

BLACK LIVES MATTER. Firstly, I want to apologize in advance for any insensitivity or inaccuracies in this post. I cannot pretend I am as educated as I would like to be, but I am extremely passionate in learning about others and using my privilege for good.

#black lives matter #black trans lives matter #black trans women #blackout tuesday #BLM #equality for all #i stand with you #lgbt #LGBT rights #LGBTQ #say their name #say their names

[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Two

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Word Count: 2577

Primo Beta: @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic and beta’ing by: @thoughtslikeaminefield

Summary: A flashback and some case drama to iron out. There’s breakfast and a confession.

Warnings: Unconsciousness, a gun, man-handling, unresolved emotions

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

               “Nope.” She shook her head, hair mussed against the sheets as he leered over at her.

               “We need to leave. Move your ass.” Dean swatted the mattress, shaking her from her perch of stubbornness. 

                 She kicked away playfully, whining as she twisted to burrow into the pillows. He pounced before she was even situated, hands like magnets to her waist, pinching just so until she was shrieking. Bent in half in his arms, he had her pinned in place, her t-shirt bunched up with her belly spilling over the band of her simple gray sweats. He wasn’t sure when she’d stolen them, but they were unquestionably hers now; they looked too good on her to ever take them back.

               Before he realized it, he was giggling right along with her, out of breath and tangled together on the bed once more. She threw her thigh over his chest, straddling him and claiming temporary victory.

               “Two-point reversal,” she huffed, locking his wrists above his head.

               “You play dirty, anyone ever tell you that?” Dean teased, half-heartedly struggling against her weight.

               She made a thoughtful face. “Uh, only crybabies, why?”

               Dean slipped his right arm out under her calf and flipped her onto her side. “I’m sorry—what were you saying?”

               “We have until ten for check out?” She panted, smile dazzling as she feigned innocence.

               “Nice try.” Dean smacked her ass and held on. “Ten minutes and I’m leaving you here. Move it.”

               “You wouldn’t dare,” she mocked, pushing her thigh between his legs and grinding into him.

               “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. I mean it. I’ve got a case,” Dean warned down his nose, dimples of discontent in full effect. 

               She took full advantage, landing a sloppy kiss to his pursed lips before rolling off the bed and leaving him in the scratchy sheets alone.

^*^*^

               Dean fell asleep remembering the woman he used to know, the one who he had had to let go. A smile on his lips as he tried not to think about the reserved and shell shocked face she now wore. The one that looked at him like it was the first time. The one person he wanted back more than he’d ever admit.

^*^*^

               It was Saturday morning and after everything that happened during the week, you had allowed yourself to stay up way too late the night before. 

               Unfortunately, your internal clock decided you should still wake up at seven with little hope of returning to sleep. Begrudgingly you got dressed in warm comfort, just put together enough to not draw attention at your favorite café. 

              Outside your building a black muscle car was parked on the curb, the model name on the tip of your tongue when you spotted the guy asleep in the front seat. Embarrassed for him, you turned away only to realize who it was. Agent Berkman was camped outside in plain clothes, the implications that you were under surveillance made you start to panic. Terrified, you turned back around, scared that whoever, whatever, you saw murder your coworker was coming after you.

               Silently, you vowed to stop watching procedural cop shows.

               With only one goal on your mind, you whipped your door open and scrambled for Agent Colfax’s card on your kitchen counter. He answered on the second ring, but before you could get out why you had called everything went black; a heavy slam to your temple sending you to the abyss.

^*^*^

                “What?” Dean answered Sam’s call.

               “Dude, where are you?! She just called me freaking out and then the line went dead,” Sam snapped.

               “Sonovabitch! Fuckin’ fell asleep. I’m goin’ in. Get here when you can.” 

                 Dean didn’t wait for his brother to reply. He snatched his machete from the floor of the backseat and tucked it haphazardly in his jacket, hoping his layers would protect him from the freshly sharpened blade. 

                 Getting someone to buzz him into the building took an eternity. The little control he had left disappeared as he found her door swinging loosely from the landing. Every part of him thundered with alarm; everything he had given up to keep her safe meant nothing if something happened to her now. He pushed the guilt down and scanned the living room that ran into the kitchen.

               Her phone was on the floor beneath the island, but nothing else seemed out of place. Dean pocketed it and continued down the hall. Bathroom was empty, but as he toed the bedroom door open, he spotted her prone on the bed. Before Dean could make it the rest of the way to check her pulse, he heard a gun’s safety unhitch at his temple.

               “Where did you come from?” a condescending female voice asked.

               Dean huffed in exasperation, ducking his head before he snatched the handgun out of the woman’s hand. It wasn’t even loaded. Confused and unamused, Dean grabbed her wrist and bent it behind her back.

               “Lady, if you point a gun at me, you better know how to use it,” Dean growled. “Now what do you want with her?!”

               This woman was no vamp. Her high-end yoga pants and running top were her pathetic attempt at ninja black. She struggled against him futilely.

               Frustrated, Dean pushed her against the closet doors.

               “Why are you here, huh?” Dean’s voice dripped malice.

               “To finish the job! Little Miss Snitch over there was supposed to go down with Chase. Instead she caused a panic and the whole place was crawling with cops,” Katelyn snarled.

               “So what? The vamps were there on your dime?” Dean demanded.

               “Not exactly. Why? What’s it to you?”

               “I’m just a naturally curious guy,” Dean taunted. “Poor girl watches her coworker become someone’s lunch and suddenly her--- what? Boss? Supervisor? What are you to her, hmmm? Holds her hostage. Waiting for somebody else to do the dirty work?”

               “Well, I wasn’t gonna move her, hard enough getting her ass in here,” Katelyn spat. 

                Dean twisted her arm higher, causing her to squeal in pain.

               “Might wanna watch how you talk about her in my presence, Sweetheart.” Dean hummed in satisfaction.

               “Dean!” Sam’s voice broke through their grunting match.

               In less than twenty minutes, the local cops were walking Katelyn out of the building in cuffs. Sam, as Agent Colfax, was giving a statement to the lead detective, leaning in on their lack of professionalism with the initial investigation. Dean sat by while the paramedics looked the victim over.

               “I hate to be that guy, but do you think you could just use the salts, we’re kind of on a timeline and she hates hospitals,” he murmured.

               “And your relationship to the patient--- Agent?”

               “Well, um, you see,” Dean fumbled.

               “Old friends,” Sam broke in, pulling out his phone. 

                Dean had no idea where Sam had pulled the picture from, but it softened the look on the first responder’s face. Luckily, she seemed to be coming to all on her own.

*^*^*^

                Waking to Agent Berkman’s blurry smile seemed more a memory than a dream until you realized it was reality. 

                The paramedic descended on you briefly until the detectives stepped in for follow up questions. Through it all you felt the FBI agent watching you, hovering unlike anyone else in the room. You were grateful to be saved from an ambulance ride, not wanting to add a traumatic hospital stay to an already horrid week.

               “You should have a follow up appointment with your primary care physician. Head injuries can be serious,” the paramedic warned, the first of the swarms of people to vacate your home.

               “The crime scene people are going to be awhile, breakfast?” Agent Colfax whispered to Agent Berkman, nodding in your direction.

               The scruffy man squatted down to look you in the eyes, your attention had returned to the patch of the floor where Katelyn’s gun sat.

                “Y/N? Honey, why don’t you let us take you out for some pancakes, hmmm?”

               It was such a casual intimacy that you almost didn’t register it. Looking from him to the other agent made you pause, a growing hunch of a secret lying between them and yourself. A hidden path that you instinctively needed to see through. It made you bolder than you had felt in days. 

              With a quick glance at all the other strangers in your apartment, you whispered conspiratorially, “what’s your name?”

               “Dean.” He gave you a sad smile. “And that’s my brother, Sam.”

               You nodded, unsurprised and relieved with his honesty. You gave Sam a simple wave, earning you a sly dimple as you stood up. 

              “Okay, but when we get there--- I have some questions.”

               Dean sent Sam a look, but he only shrugged in response. You giggled at his dismay and carefully stepped around the evidence collectors in your way.

               Without batting an eye you slipped into the backseat of the massive black Chevy as the men had yet another silent conversation over the hood of the car while you settled into the dead center of the bench seat. 

               Your greasy spoon of choice was only a few blocks down and was considerably less congested than the foodie brunch place across the street. Once breakfast was served, with only the unexplained trust and slight annoyance you had found in the scruffy agent you knew now as Dean, you broached the subject of that little slip up he made back in your apartment.

              “So--- why’d you call me ‘honey’, Dean?” You watched him gape as you carefully chewed a fluffy buttery mouthful. 

               Sam chuckled over his coffee.

               “I--- didn’t mean to?” Dean tried to play it smooth.

               “And you’re not FBI,” you weren’t asking. “So, considering you saved my life, but only because you were practically stalking me...” You smirked at Sam as Dean tried to cut you off. “I need to know what’s going on. Because I don’t know you. Either of you. But, somehow, I trust you. So, don’t lie. Not anymore. Not to me.”

               Dean’s head fell back, and he muttered to the ceiling, “Cas, I swear to god...”

               Sam cleared his throat. “Those were vampires your boss hired. That’s what brought us to town. We hunt monsters.”

               “But?” you pushed.

               “But,” Dean pinched his brow. “When we realized you were the witness---.”

               Dean looked at you like he had kicked your proverbial puppy, apologetic eyes sparkling in the slanted light. For some reason you felt the shift, he was a breath away from crumbling. 

               You reached across the table and took his hand in both of yours, brushing the cheap vase and assortment of sugars with your elbow.

               “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna freak out. Well, I might, but I’ll try to reign it in,” you tried to encourage him.

               Dean’s smile was more of a grimace, and Sam spoke up, “We used to be your friends. A long time ago and the reason you don’t remember us---”

               “Is because I had an angel take your memories. Of me. Of us. To protect you from this life,” Dean rushed. “I am so sorry that you got dragged back in. If I’d known---”

               You pulled back, a single hand tented on the tabletop as you processed what they were telling you. You watched Sam adjust, avoiding eye contact with Dean who had practically jumped back from the edge now that you were no longer touching him. 

              “We weren’t friends, were we?”

               You stared at Dean, waiting for him to lie. There was no life in his gaze, but his jaw was tight. 

“No.”

               You exhaled, wiping away a tear you hadn’t meant to shed. “How long---uh, how long were we together?”

               Sam made an excuse to use the bathroom or pay the bill or invade Mars, leaving you alone with Dean and your barely touched meals.

               Internally, you dove into the past to find the holes, knowing there were gaps in your memory that you attributed to stress or depression. Dean sat up, straightened his jacket and leaned against his forearms on the edge of the table.

               “A year and some change, we lived in that shitty upper with all the plants,” Dean conceded. “Look, there were demons who would’ve done anything to get to me and the easiest way for them to do that was with you.”

               “I’m sorry, what?!” you balked. “You decided that leaving me behind, without my memories, would be the best way to save your own ass?!”

               “It wasn’t like that. They could’ve had me. They just wanted to hurt me deeper than any knife could reach. And that’s you, it’s always been you. Seeing them use you----” 

Dean ground his teeth. “You were possessed. You told me I was a terrible lay with daddy issues. You nearly gutted Sam.”

               “I? Me? As in?” You sputtered, making the Psycho knife gesture. 

Dean laughed out loud at your disbelief or the action, probably both. It was a nice sound, but that didn’t stop the tears, from either of you.

               “I did it to protect you. And I’d do it again,” Dean sighed.

               “But you’re not going to. Right? This isn’t some ruse to lure me in and fuck with my mind again?” You challenged, sitting up straighter to clock both Sam and the exit.

               “No. Even if Cas were here, I won’t do that to you now. You need to be able to protect yourself, not that there should be any more vampire hitmen in your future, but just in case,” Dean’s eyes pleaded with you. 

                You wanted to believe him, you also never felt more helpless in your entire life. You had a past you didn’t remember, monsters really do exist, and two random guys can pose as FBI agents to get whatever information or infiltration they’d like. What could you even do with all that?

               “What am I supposed to say here? Are you looking for a thank you? Or some twisted sort of forgiveness because I can’t give you that. Not when I don’t know what I lost. It wouldn’t be real.” You dropped your head into your hands which were propped on the table. “I don’t even know what real means anymore.”

               It felt like the silence would never break when Dean’s low voice cut through your paralyzing anxiety. “Look… is there somewhere you can stay tonight? Someone you trust?”

              Dean beckoned Sam back to the table, trying to come up with some sort of plan. No one wanted to send you back to the apartment where you were attacked.

              You listened to them talk about you like you weren’t there, dull-eyed and growing increasingly numb. Because partially, it was easier than continuing to argue and unearth more emotions that you couldn’t handle. But also because you felt like your choices had never amounted to anything anyway; might as well let someone else call the shots. Nothing made sense, but the probability that it would change again at any moment only added to your shaken nerves.

            Everything around you felt like it was made of sand. Dumbfounded, you waited for the next stiff breeze. 

            You didn’t speak up to ask to go home and pack a bag while you watched them clear out their motel room with practiced speed.

            The backseat of their car rocked with the calloused roads that led to your cousin’s house the next county over. You arrived at the old farmhouse just after sundown, letting Sam do all the talking before you excused yourself to the guest room for the night.

^*^*^

Series Tags: @tiggytaylor  @vicmc624 

General SPN Tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs  @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988@mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja​

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Three

#what lingers within #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean angst #amnesia #case fic #dean x reader

[abassi-okoro]

ACCOUNTABILITY IS NOT JUSTICE! We Have Confused The Two

- Abassi Okoro

As much as it may please us to celebrate the guilty verdict of Derik Chauvin, a 15 year old black girl called the police today because she was being assaulted by a group girls. The police showed up and immediately shot her four times and killed her.

TODAY!

Rev. Kaloma Smith who is the pastor of University AME Zion Church in Palo Alto, CA said in response to the Derik Chauvin guilty verdict, "Tonight we celebrate justice." Please forgive me if I do not join any of you in celebratory practices and excitement. I'm not feeling very, "Excited" or "Relieved" these days. A black man in Alameda died yesterday while in police custody. It barely made headlines because we were distracted with Derik Chauvin. Police officers killed Duante Wright last week. Duante Wright's murder did not garner the same outrage because it happened in the shadows of the Chauvin trail. An unarmed black father suffering from a mental health crises was shot in the chest and killed by police back in January. It's just now coming to light.

Today however, it was a 15 year old black girl brutally shot and killed by another trigger happy white cop. MY daughter is 15 years old! It's hard enough to lose a child to a terminal illness or an automobile accident but to be MURDERED, shot four times in the torso by someone who she thought she could trust to at least help the situation is a horrible reality for black people in America. And while I understand that despite how much they might say they support us or how much of an ally they say they are, a white parent has absolutely no idea what it might even feel like for their child to be shot and killed by a police officer. That thought doesn't even register, not even in their wildest dreams. That thought is something that white parents will never have to entertain because in this reality, the reality that we all share, police officers simply do not jump out of their vehicles in white neighborhoods and gun down 15 year old white children.

I hate being the bearer of bad news and giving heart-breaking perspectives, I really do but Derik Chauvin being found guilty is NOT a victory. Not when he's only the 7th cop to be found guilty of murder out of the 15,000 Americans killed by police in the last six years. This is still victory for white America and white America has already recovered. The Chauvin guilty verdict had barely touched the hands of the judge before the police killed another one of our children. Obviously the verdict changed nothing before, during nor after it was read. Do you know how much audacity a police officer must have to shoot and kill an innocent, unarmed, 15 year black girl on the day of the most anticipated police shooting verdict in American history? Think about that! And here we are, most of us are gleaming with joy, smiling, honking our horns, talking about, "It's a victory!" That's funny because it doesn't feel like my favorite team won the Super Bowl or that I hit the lottery. I don't feel any safer at this moment than I did yesterday. No one should be feeling victorious. You think George Floyd's 6-year old daughter Gigi is feeling "Victorious?" Or do you think she rather have her dad?

So PLEASE, let's stop with the ”Racism is Over, We Won, We Did It” crap while patting ourselves on the back and congratulating one another. George Floyd is not the symbol of black change for this country. Accountability is not the same as justice and we have now confused the two.

The verdict was nothing more than symbolism and we fall for this this each and every time. This glimmer of hope, the tiny sweet taste of justice barely touching our lips and we try to hold on to that little morsel of flavor while convincing ourselves that it's a somehow a victory. It changes nothing and I know that's not what most of you want to hear but we're grown ass adults here and it's time we stop sugar coating reality and accept the bitter truth. THIS WILL NOT END! Not if we're expecting it to end one guilty verdict at a time. If Chauvin's guilty verdict is a small victory and it took THIS long and THIS many years and THIS many people and THIS many video recordings to gain this "little” sense of victory, then at this rate, more black men - black women and black children will die quicker than the rate at which cops are prosecuted. If one cop is prosecuted for every 300 black people killed then we will all be dead by the time real justice is served.

That's what you're calling a victory? There is absolutely no reason to believe that this verdict represents progress and I'm smart enough and old enough to not let white media and elected officials like Nancy Pelosi and Joe Biden talk that slick talk and gas me up - having me believe that I should celebrate my unnecessary slow crawl to a symbolic finish line.

Derik Chavin's verdict doesn't represent the whole of American Law Enforcement and we should be careful not to make Chauvin the face of police reform. I'm not trying to shame anyone who might have posted celebratory comments on social media. I understand the need to feel vindicated, the need to have some sense of justice. I am however saying for us to stop, take a deep breath and think critically. Not to let our emotions override logic and I know that's asking a lot because the George Floyd murder was so emotional for us all. To watch a man's life get sucked out of his body while his killer casually stared into the camera with his hands in his pockets was simply evil. We have to turn the emotions off for a minute and deal with the police in a way that's going to protect our people, our sons and our daughters, our wives, our husbands, our mothers, our fathers, our aunts, uncles and cousins.

Do not preach progress or victory to me if you're not willing to preach independence and sovereignty. Don't talk to me about a "Step in the right direction" and yet you're not willing to invest in black people and black communities (I'm talking to you white folks as well). The bottom line is that this 15 year old black girl killed today is the 218th person shot and killed by the police this year - barely four months into the year. And it will only escalate by the summer. There's no time to celebrate and no reason to celebrate. It's time to build strategies, procedures, protocols and defenses. Because according to this murder algorithm (law of averages), two more unarmed black people are scheduled to be shot and killed by the police by the end of this week.