#multidimensional fbi

[billciphersrpblog]

You are definitely insane because omfg THIS IS SO COOL AHSHDJKANSKQOJEDHJSKAHD

You made Ford journal entries??? You made Ford journal entries!!!! For everything!!!!! We are eating so good tonight boys!!!

I'll reblog the stuff with my Bill in it in a moment, but yall should absolutely check out everything here.

Expect me to be dead even more, I'll be busy fangirling over this for.... a normal amount of time I swear

AAAARG

And hidden stuff I made for it:

Carrie / Cipher / FBI / Pit / Mye / Edwin / Puppets / Witch / Mushroom / Lovebug / Possession / Stickers / Stan / Dissection / Becca / Nestlet / TT

(Higher-res pages compiled)

This took me so long. I am insane. But it’s also my mini time capsule of this blog and the cool people I talked to so yippeee

Blogs mentioned: @butterfly-eye @billciphersrpblog @thebookofanon @edwin-stanley-pines @trickstertriangle @fish-is-cool-real @wellcome-to-chaos @askdrunkbillcipher @the-multi-dimensional-fbi @not-stanley-pines @rebecca-pines @the-triangle-witch @thesparkingeyeofdawn

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: The Worst Timeline

Out of all the scenarios and alternate timelines / other AU's this one could cross over into or adopt elements from (You can see a Reverse Portal Scenario Here and Here), the worst and most destructive alternate timeline for Jerk Ford would be Drifting Stars.

If you don't know, Drifting Stars is a popular AU where during the events of Not What He Seems, Mabel goes through the portal instead of Ford coming out. And now Mabel and Ford are together in the multiverse.

Stanley never stopped being involved with family because he was never kicked out, so Mabel and Dipper have actually known their Grunkle Stan their whole lives, they've even visited him a fair few times and stayed over, the summer that the events of the show takes place in is just the first time they stayed for an entire summer.

Imagine if, about five years before the show starts, little 7-8 year old Mabel falls into the bottomless pit and somehow gets ejected to the only other thing out in the multiverse with the same dimensional signature as her; Jerk Ford, her great uncle who has been missing for twenty five years.

Jerk Ford sees this crying little kid and he takes pause because, for one thing what is a kid doing in Mystery Flesh Pit National Park in the Body Horror Dimension, and another thing why does she have an eerie resemblance to his nephew, who was only ten years old the last time that he saw him?

Jerk Ford at first was considering leaving her to the lost and found at the tourist outpost of the national park, but then she called him "Grunkle Stan." (Because she is mistaking him for Stanley, and Grunkle why did you cut your hair?) And it's all over.

Jerk Ford, a multidimensional space hobo vagabond who has been trying to get home for the past twenty five years at this point and has had absolutely no contact with his family for obvious reasons, he just goes YOINK THIS IS MINE NOW.

And why is this the worst timeline for the Jerk Ford AU?

You know that scene in the Lion King when Rafiki is holding up Simba to the valley? Well, imagine Jerk Ford doing the same thing with Mabel. Except she's like this:

Because Jerk Ford already has poor impulse control when it comes to pettiness without his brother to reign him in, and now he has Mabel who is a very similar brand of unhinged as he is, they're just subjecting the entire multiverse to a path of glittery destruction the likes have which have never been seen before and will hopefully never be repeated.

Jerk Ford was already wilding all on his own now he has Mabel who has so many ideas. And she has this pathetic, lonely man wrapped around her little finger.

Also, Jerk Ford is a known runner. He does not fight if he doesn't see himself winning, and he'll usually go out of his way to not kill people. He just lacks the trigger-happy 'shoot now journal about it later'-gene that most Fords have. (He has very specific exceptions)*

But in a scenario where he has Mabel? Where he isn't facing consequences all by himself? He isn't letting anything in the multiverse so much as breathe rudely in her direction. So now, he isn't just some jerk or mostly harmless nuisance, he is stacking bodies (not in Mabel's line of sight, obviously).

The (Jerk) Ford Hate Club is besides themselves. Now, stopping or killing Jerk Ford isn't their only prerogative, they also need to 'rescue' this small, innocent child from The Worst Ford and his influence. Unaware that the terrible-flavoured beanboozled jellybeans that keep making their way into their catering were all her idea.

When Jerk Ford and Mabel return in 2012, Dipper is besides himself because, sweet Moses his sister is alive! She's really alive!

But she's been with with The Author who he hates, and being raised by him for the past five years has had obvious effects on her development.

She's still happy go lucky and nice, she's not a jerk at all like her Grunkle Ford.

But she's basically a supervillain who is on the FBI's Most Wanted List in every dimension she's been to that has one, and some organizations both official and criminal consider her a bigger threat than Jerk Ford (relative to body size).

Her sunny disposition did not change at all; she's blowing up whole buildings with a damn smile on her face

It's terrifying. This is the worst Jerk Ford timeline.

*While he was in the multiverse, instead of celebrating Jewish holidays the traditional way there was no point without his family, he would travel to different parallel Earth dimensions to kill Nazi’s. He would try to be a little more traditional, and halt the killing spree while he had Mabel with him, she was too young for murder.

[drewstroia]

currently trying to write a fic where stephen and clea work for their world's magic fbi and vishanti partners them to dismantle a multidimensional criminal gang.

i am probably not going to post this because i'm using my obsession with a fictional couple to polish my writing skills in english

[ford-between-dimensions]

….I don’t want a beetle. What else do you have? Odd candies, perhaps? Of the cursed variety?

Knock, knock.

I would appreciate any strange candies you might have.

01000110/@ford-between-dimensions

*the door opens*

Huh….you look familiar….eh I’m probably just confused…

Anyway, Here kiddo, Take this beetle, I think it’s the freshest one I have, pretty lucky.

[rh35211]

(News from blog.yameestudio.com, Fake or real?)

“Aliens have been visiting our planet since 1947, ” FBI documents confirm

A few years ago, an FBI paper was released, revealing the presence of extraterrestrial entities (multidimensional), or beings from another world.

The FBI decided to use this declassified paper to indirectly alert us of alien presences that would be able to manifest themselves with their spaceships due to sophisticated technologies, such as the ability to open dimensional portals.’

The documentation released in 2015 is incredible and surprising in several respects. The FBI sends a letter to scientists and military officials in the form of a memorandum: this alien species that has visited our world since 1947 is a gigantic race from another space-time dimension!

For the record, the year corresponds to the famous events of Roswell, New Mexico, where a suspected spacecraft crashed in 1947.

Many UFO researchers and former US officers who saw the Roswell UFO Crash Case believe that extraterrestrial entities flying across worlds were attracted to the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bomb blasts. Other alien races from other planets have also been drawn to the atomic splits.

We now present to you in depth some key points from the FBI’s memorandum: The flying saucers could pose a danger to earthlings at any time, and if one of them were to attack us, we would almost certainly be wiped out. In Earthmen, this may trigger panic and foreign mistrust. We have a lot of information about these alien “boats,” and considering their incomprehensibility, they need to be made public.

1. A portion of the spacecraft seen had passengers inside, while another was operated remotely (remote controlled).

2. Since the project is peaceful, tourists are likely to choose to remain on the earth.

3. The breed in question, known as “visitors,” has enormous size but human characteristics.

4. They are extraterrestrials who have traveled from another planet.

5. They’re from a “Ethereal World” that we don’t know about, because they’re not from Earth.

6. Vibrations with the Earth’s thick matter cause visitors’ bodies and ships to manifest.

7. Their satellites have energy beams capable of disintegrating any aircraft and the ability to vanish without a trace from our view.

8. They do not originate in the astral plane that corresponds to Loka or Talas. These terms can be understood by the esoteric. In reality, the Loka-Talas are separate planes of consciousness, not physical or spiritual locations. A parallel dimensional plane is every plane of consciousness other than ours.

9. Visitors use a radar device to detect the location of openings (magnetic portals) that enable them to travel from one dimension to another. This material, given by the FBI, is excellent and, most importantly, it is official, indicating that we are not dealing with news obtained from who knows where. A move and perhaps a definitive opening to potentially uncover the extraterrestrial presence’s mystery.

These multidimensional beings have existed since antiquity, and their existence may be traced back thousands of years. Many people believe these beings are malicious. But for the time being, we only have human behavior to go on when it comes to hostility. Perhaps having a certain mental and spiritual independence to view truth beyond what we are used to seeing will suffice

[character-of-all-time]

Now that the submissions are closed, were there any funny submissions that topped the previously stated funny submissions?

I might end up publishing the full response list to browse through at your leisure and so that someone else can seek out the hee hoo funny ha has rather than making myself go through all 1522 again, but I would like to highlight a few submissions that stuck with me:

character: Sam Winchester

from: supernatural

why?: oh COME ON. ur gonna make me defend sam fucking winchester as the most character of all time?? he literally has bangs. he died at 23. he died at 26. he died a lot of other times too but those are the most important ones. he's jesus and he's the antichrist and he gets placed on a visual crucifix too many times to count. he's an addict and he's a christian and god is making his life miserable on a personal level. he is wholeheartedly convinced that there are other people who "have it worse" than him (he was tortured by satan for centuries). again he HAS bangs. he's been possessed too many times to ever feel like his body is his own. he's in a constant cycle of being beaten down and KNOWING he shouldn't get back up, and not wanting to get back up, and getting back up anyway like a kicked puppy who thinks maybe this time they won't get kicked. never ever gives up but in a sad and pathetic way that makes u feel vaguely nauseous. he's psychic. he bought a ring for his girlfriend while they were still in college. he went to stanford. he's unclean in the biblical sense but he prays every night. he had a queer allegory arc spanning multiple seasons that people ignore so they can claim he's cishet. he totally fucked a 300-year-old witch while studying under her to become a witch himself. everyone he has ever loved is dead and he knows it's his fault. he spends the first few decades of his life angry -- SO angry -- at everything he's been put through, full of rage at the things he's suffered and the people who caused them. he is punished for this fury, taught to never be angry again, and after a while he just lies down and takes it. he is a serial killer and on the fbi's most wanted list. he uses "low sodium" as an insult. he's a vegetarian. he never drives his father's car. he has demon blood flowing through his veins and his best friend is a literal biblical angel. he's an abomination. he thinks that hope is kind of the whole point. he has BANGS. he killed his brother several times over, and he destroyed the world to bring his brother back to life a few times too. he spent time in a psych ward. he thinks he is terribly hard to love. his mother destroyed his life before he was even born and he still calls her "mama." he died at 23. he was kicked out of the house when he was 18, and then was kicked out of basically everywhere else for the rest of his life. his only family locked him in a panic room and left him to die. he forgave them for that because he doesn't know how to do anything but forgive. he's got bangs. anyway

what do you want?: u KNOW what i want. if my best friend sam doesn't win this bracket i'm crashing my car into the world's tallest and thickest tree

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

character: jesse pinkman

from: breaking bad

why?: Well.Well. i. so. hes THE character okay he was created in gods eyes only to be sculpted and changed by the wrath of satan (or the other way around). Its jesse pinkman. have you ever watched 5 seasons of a grown man with cancer abusing another grown man in order to support his family who hate him because of the way hes trying to support them (drugdealing)?No? well i need you to and then come back to me. jesses relationship with the aforementioned Grown man with cancer (walter white) is so multidimensional you could refer to jesse as walters affair, student, victim, partner in crime, son figure etc and it would be RIGHT because they are all encompassing and fucked up. and jesse loses everything and he cries and hes so emotional but he PREVAILS. he prevails and he precedes walter and all the toxically masculine men who hated him, who convinced him was less than who he was. and the dog motif!!!!! hes a loyal dog but his owner has been slowly feeding him poison, to break him down slowly, and its killing him so he BITES because it hurts and they all talk about the rabid dog he is, how badly the owner needs to put him down. and then his owner gives him away to much worse men, owners who wont feed him the poison slowly, but will beat and use him relentlessly. and then his old owner is going to die and he knows it and he needs to secured his reputation and put everything in place. he saves the dog and kills the dogs new owners. he BEGS for his dog to kill him, to kill him like he had done to the dog. but this dog is not like any of his owners, hw will never be. so he barks and says that he should do it himself and he RUNS. hes crying and whimpering but hes not getting beaten or poisoned anymore, hes a free dog and its up to him to make his own future without the influence of evil owners. THAT'S jesse Pinkman. hes the bride of heisenburg hes the dog motif and he loves and loves and protects animals and kids because he couldn't protect himself and he wins with tears in his eyes. um also hes trans so ^ hasnt watched this show in like 7 months i have mo idea what im talking about

what do you want?: one billion dollars

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who: Victor frankenstein

from: Mary shelley frankenstein

why?: I don't remember anything about this book except for the incredible and relatable line of 'I raveged an oatcake' cos God man me too

what do you want?: An oatcake

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who: sphagnum moss

from: real life

why: Love that bitch. They are light and hold moisture well. and they also form peat bogs when they die which is swag

what do you want?: To be turned into a zebra mussel and sleep in a Marimo moss ball and not have to worry about relationships or taxes

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who: Guy Montag

from: Fahrenheit 451

why?: he kills his boss with fire which i think is pretty cool and something we can all aspire to. i also want him to be in an online popularity contest because i want ray bradburys head to explode from beyond the grave

what do you want?: prove life after death so i can destroy ray bradbury’s soul

[randomfoggytiger]

Gillian Anderson on Scully, a 1993 Retrospect

November 1998:

“It’s incredibly gratifying,” says Anderson of what it’s been like to play Dana Scully. “It would have been harder to stick with it were I not playing such an intelligent, such an interesting, and multidimensional character as Scully is. When I read the pilot, I was struck how unlike a TV script it was and, also, by how complicated and interesting the relationship was between Mulder and Scully. I think that more than anything,” she continues, “[it was] her intelligence and her strength in standing up to Mulder and feeling confident about expressing her beliefs in front of somebody who was touted as being near God in terms of his work at the FBI.”

(Thought it was interesting that GA approached her role through the lens of debunking the Golden Boy rather than being cast off to the unwanted Spooky basement.)

Gillian Anderson on Scully, 1993

September 5, 1993:

She finds the role of Scully a challenge to play. “She does everything she can to find a scientific answer to the mysteries, which becomes difficult after a while, because her constant exposure to the weirdest things imaginable eventually have an accumulative effect. Even so, that’s when she turns to her science and physics the most. In a way, she’s shielding herself from the unacceptable.”

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[mividanuncafue]

Canción para Valeria

Valeria eres una persona que hace bailar todas las cosas solo con mirarlas

mira porfavor estas palabras y haz que bailen entre sí

Tu corazón es una rockola de amaneceres caóticos

y mi corazón una botellita de agua cielo

no gasificada

donde antes había una pista de baile

ahora hay todo un sistema solar

todos los planetas giran a velocidades imperceptibles

todos los planetas apuntan sigilosamente desde sus campos magnéticos

todos los planetas buscan amor y el soundtrack del universo parece ser una bachata incendiaria que amenaza con derretir nuestras caderas y nuestras caderas se entremezclan y parecemos un jugo de auroras boreales con demasiada azúcar y demasiado ají y demasiados colores y cámaras luces tequila y acción

pero que garua más fina pero que muchacha más linda ♪

evaporas las miradas en una constelación de ron

y cocacola

Desembocas fenómenos atmosféricos

y un sexto sentido que acelera

Sobrecito de sabores comprimidos

Moda que me mueves categóricamente plus en mi interior

Rimo constantemente los flashbacks de aquella noche

Mis manos me recuerdan siempre aquel momento

8.9 en la escala de ritcher

999 vueltas envolventes

3.14159…. cervezas

Donde antes había un campo de concentración

ahora hay un museo de aerolitos y cohetes

espaciales

Valeria mira estas palabras e imagínate las vacas enamoradas de la luna

imaginate el carnaval de mariposas en sus estómagos

¿realmente podemos observar el mar como si fuese una gota

desde una distancia prudente?

Fijate en la constitución ósea de estas palabras

verás que no hay déficit de calcio en ellas

en la otra vida cuando sea una fiesta improvisada

me gustaría sonreír como tú

y un poco como yo

esa noche

Valeria mira estas palabras como si fuesen espejos infinitos y saca a bailar tu propia alma

sé que la vida está llena de cosas que se van a la nada

que a veces es difícil diferenciar entre el fin del mundo

y el origen de uno nuevo

que a veces tienes ganas de llorar

y te entiendo

yo también sembré una flor

bajo una cascada filosa

yo también me arrodillé ante una estrella fugaz

y  pedí el deseo equivocado

como un relámpago inmovil

en una acera ilusionada

todos los semáforos parecen estar en rosa

Todas las canciones parecen hablar de ti

no puedes simplemente detenerte

no puedes simplemente  rodar como esas naranjas plásticas

porque eres más que un cúmulo de formas sin sentido

eres por quien cuchichean los gatos del barrio

la manager del sol la que guarda sus recuerdos en una cajita musical

la que pinta sus tristezas de violeta

la que siempre llega tarde en las madrugadas

y evanesce

Valeria deberías afinar tu visión de rayos x  si quieres sobrevivir en esta selva de arenas movedizas

fijate en las abejas radiactivas de tu interior

si puedes domesticarlas los monjes budistas te dejaran vivir con ellos

si puedes domesticar al ornitorrinco de tu memoria

llévalo a lugares resilientes

que puedan soportar

el derrame nuclear de las pasiones

te conocí en un barcito multidimensional

no recuerdo bien si fue la conexión de tus instintos

o si estabas poseída por una doncella hawaiana

lo cierto es que todos los radares explotaron simultáneamente

y creo que fuiste una de las causas por la cual perdi mi celular

el hemisferio derecho de mi cerebro exige una explicación al respecto

Valeria haz una bola de nieve con este papel

y avientaselo a los aburridos

a los rotos de corazón

Si quieres

puedes usarlo como una venda  para tus caídas

aunque no te escribo para que sanes

sino para que bailes esa mezcla del dj italiano

sobre la mesa

conmigo

Valeria si el dólar baja a 3.6 es muy probable que nos veamos en el abuelo el sábado por la noche

si el dólar se duplica te invitaré un vino el viernes asi me cueste la vida

Tú no conocías a boy pablo hasta que te dedique hey girl y creo que sonreíste aunque no estuve ahi sé que sonreiste, no soy tan tonto como parece, sonreiste tanto tanto que

Valeria los astros se alinearon en forma de números que tienen que ver con nuestros cumpleaños

Valeria afuera llueve  y se avecinan los tiempos jurásicos

Valeria bajo tus ojos el sol quema y es 1969

Valeria si te digo que escribo para mantenerme ebrio

¿me creerías?

Valeria si me columpio en tu mirada

dejame arriba hasta que sea de día

y si me sacas a bailar con este clima me ruborizo eres la miel derramada en mi cajetilla de marlboro

¿quién podría aturrarte acaso

la vida de recuerdos?

¿un cocinero estoico parado sobre la copa de una hoja que al caer

se transforma en esquirlas?

pero que garua más linda pero que muchacha más fina ♪

Deseo que superes a tu futuro ex con solo parpadear tres veces

Deseo que ganes todos los certámenes de belleza

tanto en el cielo como en la tierra

Ojala que no te conviertas en aquello que juraste destruir

Ojala que me recuerdes como una prueba viviente de que la poesía es una conspiración del FBI y la KGB para poder controlar nuestro nivel de dopamina confirmo la segunda ley de la termodinámica confirmo el efecto mariposa en todos los mundos paralelos posibles confirmo la imposibilidad de la logica soy el teorema escondido entre las hojas

y entre nebulosas falanges

me sacudo

de los aburridos

Ellos nunca se darán cuenta de que en realidad trabajan para el FMI o Norteamerica o la Unión Soviética o su putamadre

pero tú sí

Valeria

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 4: Talk

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 3

“In twenty years of teaching. I’ve never received evaluation comments like these.” Larry complained as we followed my uncle on an afternoon hike. “Boring. Me? Intellectually inaccessible.” 

“I thought we came up on this hike to get your mind off of this ridiculous thing.” Charlie pointed out. 

“I mean, one student even said I’m out of touch with cutting-edge thinking in multidimensional theory. That one alone kept me up at night” Larry explained as we scaled a small incline. 

“The first two seem plausible but the third” I shrugged “don’t let it get under your skin” 

“Thank you young enigma for the jaded advice” Larry murmured. 

“Anytime” I replied with a smirk. 

“Everybody gets bad evaluations now and then. Come on!” Uncle C hurried us along. 

“Yeah, yeah says the professor who never received anything less than a rave” Larry replied sarcastically. 

I chuckled “rave? Really?” 

“Indeed student body favorite practically” Larry informed me. 

“As with any large group, there are responses that cover the entire spectrum. I once had a girl in my combinatorics seminar tell me that I was disorganized and I talked too fast.” Charlie explained as Larry leaned on a branch to catch his breath and I took a sip of my water bottle, wondering how I managed to get dragged out here with these two. 

“Well, that’s an accurate observation actually.” Larry admitted. Charlie gave a mildly bewildered look directed at me and I nodded my agreement “but, generally speaking, I mean, your students love you, whereas mine say my classes put them to sleep.” 

“You’re an exceptional professor.” Charlie reassured his friend. “I should know I took classes from you.” 

“Yeah but you were an exceptional young mind” Larry pointed out as a couple other hikers passed us “perhaps I’ve lost my ability to reach the more typical student”  

“Hey Professor Fleinhardt,” one of the passing boys nodded to Larry. 

“Hey” the physicist greeted happily “How’s it… how’s it… how you… how…” Each attempt made to continue conversation failed on the man’s part as the boys continued to walk either not registering or ignoring the professor's attempts. “See we’re not even in class,and still my students run away from me.” 

“Hiking away technically” I corrected casually. 

There was then the sound of a police siren in the distance “I don’t think that’s it” Charlie muttered from his higher vantage. He began to hurry off in the direction the students had gone. Me and Larry followed. “Right down this way. Hurry!” 

What greeted us was a full scale crime scene. With a coroner's truck, police officers, and others gathered masses of observation. As we got around the corner of a police car I felt my feet freeze to the ground. There was a body laying a couple yards away below the bridge overhead. 

I felt the ghost of rain drops on my skin and felt the family spiking headache rocket through my brain. They were in a red hoodie. It was a boy. But each time I blinked as I began to do so furiously I was switching between this reality and the one of the girl with bright red hair. The rain was picking up, the headache was pulsing. I couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Abby” I snapped my head around as a hand laid on my shoulder. Charlie was looking at me with concern evident in his features. “Are you alright?” 

I bounced my eyes around the scene. It wasn’t raining, it wasn’t at night, and we weren’t out on that street. I took a couple calming breaths before finally replying “yeah yeah fine” I muttered. 

“You sure?” Charlie asked again. 

“Fine” I reiterated. I caught Larry eyeing me worriedly as well. “Guys seriously I just- I didn’t expect that” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the body I did not need, or want, to look at again.

“Me neither” Charlie murmured in agreement, taking his hand off my shoulder and his features turning to one of contemplation as he looked at the bridge.

“Very well, you were just exhibiting the common signs of what one might call a panic attack” Larry voiced. 

“I’m fine, really just rattled” I tried to sound convincing. From the look on Larry’s face he wasn’t convinced but he dropped the issue and for that I was glad. 

_________________

3rd POV. 

Don sighed as he got out of his car and headed into the FBI building. His phone beeped as he made his way through the lobby and he looked to see it was Abby. “hey kid what’s up?” he answered trying to sound like he had some energy. 

“Am I going to the apartment or Grandpa’s house after school today?” she asked, sounding about as tired as he felt. 

Don thought about it for a minute “go on to your Grandpa’s alright I’ll call the school clear it up”

“So you are looking into the guy who jumped off the bridge?” Abby asked as Don clicked the elevator button. 

“Just a little for Charlie’s sake” Don muttered then a thought occurred to him. “Wait how do you know about this? Charlie talk to you?” 

“Uh… I was there when Larry and Charlie came upon the scene” Abby admitted. 

Don let off a breath. “You alright? I mean that can be some scary stuff.” he couldn’t help thinking about his first jumper case.

“Yeah I’m fine I just wish people would stop asking” Abby grumbled snappily that did not reassure Don at all of her being fine. 

“Abby, it's okay if some of this got to you” Don reassured as the elevator opened and he got on. 

He heard her sigh on the other line “I know it’s just… it’s not what people think it’s about and it’s hard to talk about” Don was confused at the answer but before he could probe more she was continuing “I have to get to class now. See you later” 

“Yeah okay, bye” Don muttered before she hung up. He let off a breath pocketing his phone. He was going to have to deal with that later, or maybe it would be better to let her work through it on her own? He was still contemplating these thoughts when the elevator opened and he was walking out. “Dad? What are you doing here?” he questioned seeing the man. 

“I called you; you hadn’t called me back” Alan explained. 

“Well, I would’ve eventually” Don assured “is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Alan muttered in reply “I need you to come to dinner at the house on Wednesday. Um, I have a date” 

“Oh yeah? A date” Don tried to sound encouraging. “Hey, well, that’s good. With who?” 

“Oh, someone Art knows from yoga” Alan explained. “Yeah, her name’s Jill. he says she’s smart, she’s funny, and, uh, quite flexible” Alan spoke the last compliment to the woman with a hinting look and slight chuckle “So I.. we’re having dinner at the house and I would like you to be there.” 

“Wow, hey, no.” Don began to quickly try and work his way out of the perceivably awkward dinner. “Just take her somewhere low-key. You’ll be fine” he suggested leading his dad back to the elevator. 

“Look, it’s my first date in over 35 years.” Alan grumbled “I would like ‘memorable’ instead of ‘low-key’” 

“‘Low-key’ and ‘memorable’ aren’t mutually exclusive.” Don objected “you know what my favorite date ever was? Pepperoni pizza in a laundromat.” 

“Yes, which explains the conspicuous absence of grandchildren.” Alan muttered then thought “well I guess planned grandchildren.” Don sighed and gave his father a look “So, Wednesday, 7:30. Bring a date?” 

Don shook his head “I can’t. Dad, I’m busy, and I don’t anticipate meeting anyone between now and then either. By the way your unplanned grandchild is heading to your house after school in” he glanced at his watch “40ish minutes so you should get going.” 

“Of course she is” Alan sighed “No, but anyway I just want to make it a couples thing, you know? Look like, seeming like…” 

“Well I don’t think-” Don cut off as the elevator opened with a ding revealing Terry standing there. 

“Hi” she greeted Don “hey Mr. Eppes” she also greeted Alan with a mild curiosity to his presence evident on her face. Her and Alan switched spots as she exited the elevator and he entered. “Good to see you” 

“You too” Alan agreed as she walked away then he turned to his son “you’ll think of something” he made a suggestive nod after Don’s partner. The FBI agent sighed as the doors slid shut and he walked away. 

________________

Abby POV. 

I headed into my grandfather’s house tiredly. I hadn’t slept last night after seeing that boy the other day. Images of him and another memory from months ago swapping places and intermingling in my mind. It was like my brain was caught in a cyclone. 

“Abby? You here?” Gramps called from his chair as I came in the door. 

“Yeah” I called back. 

He looked over at me, glasses perched on his nose. “You alright you look beat” 

“Just tired,” I admitted taking a seat next to him. Tossing my bag on the floor. 

“Rough day at school?” he quizzed. 

I shook my head “trouble sleeping. Charlie didn’t tell you? A CalSci student committed suicide yesterday. Larry, Uncle C, and I stumbled upon the crime scene while going for a hike” I explained. 

“Oh my word” Alan sighed “that’s horrible I mean I saw the news. That poor boy’s parents but you seeing that. I’m sorry” 

I shook my head “no I’m fine it’s not-” I swallowed my words. 

“Not what?” Alan prompted my abrupt stop. “Abby, listen if this is making it hard for you to sleep I don’t think it’s nothing. If you try talking about it maybe it’ll help” 

“It’s just- it’s hard to explain sometimes.” I voiced carefully. 

Alan put down the paper he was reading and removed his glasses shifting in his seat to face me. “It can’t hurt to try and explain it Abby” 

I bit my lip but let off a sigh collecting my thoughts for a moment “because of my AEM, my memory thing, I- I get these- these attacks. It’s my memory but it’s things I don’t want to remember don’t choose to remember. And- and these intrusive memories they just- sometimes in the moment I can’t keep them straight from reality it’s it’s-”

“It's scary,” Alan finished my sentence, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. I nodded “and these attacks they’re like panic attacks? Triggered by something?” 

“Yeah they’re a lot like that” I replied feeling oddly better now that someone knew about it. “My blinders and music help calm me down” I told him, finding it easier to continue now that I’d started. Alan nodded taking in the information easily. 

“So seeing that scene, this boy, it caused one of these attacks?” he deduced. I nodded “your mother?” 

“No” I objected quickly, opening my mouth to say more but feeling it cut off by visions of red hair and pools of water on the ground under street lights. I swallowed.

“It’s okay if you can’t talk about it yet” Alan reassured me and I looked up at him again “just know when you do I’m here for you so is Charlie and your father. Now you might get tired of me saying this but uh.. Abby you’re not alone and- and if these intrusive memories are a struggle for you you should tell Don about them” 

“I know” I smiled lightly “It’s just-” 

“Hard” Alan finished my thought again “some of the most important parts of life are” 

I sighed knowing he was right “thanks for listening” 

“Of course” he nodded and picked his glasses and paper, back up again. “Oh, uh by the way. You’re going to be hanging out with your Uncle Charlie Wednesday night or otherwise at Don’s” 

“Why?” I asked in confusion. 

“I have a, uh, a date and I’ve asked your father to be there hopefully with his own date.” Alan explained awkwardly. 

I scoffed “Don on a date?” 

“Yes, that’s not a problem for you is it?” the man asked.

“No” I objected but the slight curling in my stomach was telling me internally the opposite. “I’m going to go work on my homework upstairs,” I told Alan, grabbing my bag. 

“Alright” Alan nodded, perching his glasses back on his nose. I sighed getting to my feet and heading from the room. 

____________________

“Let’s see how it does in high winds.” Charlie stated, beginning to type the information into the computer. 

Larry made a humming noise and looked over at me “and what are you reading over there?” 

“Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” I replied. 

“Fascinating” Larry nodded “I have to say I wouldn’t have pegged you as one who read young adult fiction despite your age. I was informed you read quite a leap beyond your level” 

“I do” I answered easily “doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good story and relatable characters”

“Fair enough” Larry agreed then made another humming noise of thought “you know young adult literature much like it’s intended audience tends to be underestimated in the long run by people. Such as the young man whose work we are interpreting was ignored by his elders in his warnings” 

I scoffed turning the page of my book “preaching to choir here” 

“School still won’t let you in advanced classes?” Charlie asked. 

“No” I mumbled “I mean they do realize it’s not my fault I missed so much school” 

“Yes, well if you ask me the greatest failing for one who wants to be an educator is to grow up and forget what it means to be young” Larry mused.

“How profound” Charlie muttered sarcastically “now can we focus please?” 

“Why of course” Larry agreed, shooting me a look before I turned back to my story. 

__________________

“Hey Chuck what’d you find?” Don asked, coming into the office alongside Terry. 

“The problem is wind” Charlie explained, shuffling over to where Larry sat and I stood behind the computer. 

“Wouldn’t they have already tested for stability in winds?” Don questioned, dubious. 

“Engineers test structural response to gusts along two axis north to south and east to west.” Larry informed 

“And, in those cases, a single side supported by two corners bears the brunt of the wind load” Charlie carried on the explanation. 

“Think of a straight-on wind as two cars colliding” Charlie posed the analogy “in contrast-- excuse me--” he shuffled Larry out of his seat to take control of the computer “quartering winds hit a building at an angle, exerting pressure on two sides anchored by a single corner.” 

“It’s like one target, two bracing going to two targets one bracing” I voiced with a shrug. The non-mathematically inclined people still looked mildly confused. 

“Imagine a car getting hit from the back and the side simultaneously.” Charlie continued with the car analogy. 

“Can those winds cause structural issues?” Terry inquired. 

“Our tests showed that the Cole Center is sound for head-on winds of up to 90 miles an hour” Charlie showed them the simulation “but here’s what happens with quartering winds as low as 60 miles per hour” he plugged it into the simulation and began to narrate what we were showing them “first the steel frame bends beyond its limits and stays bent. Then this strained steel hardens and becomes brittle. Under continuing stress this steel will fracture, causing complete structural collapse.” the computer beeps rapidly as the simulation reached its third stage “Finn Montgomery found the problem in the building’s deflection. He suspected the effects would be serious.” Charlie stated as the digital building collapsed “he was right and he may have paid with his life” 

“Alright we’ll bring it up to Cole, get people out of the building to start then start looking to see who’s responsible” Don assured. 

“Thanks Don” Charlie nodded. 

“Yeah well we still gotta see what Cole says, alright” Don told his brother. 

“Sounds like an early day tomorrow” Terry voiced “I better get home then” 

“Yeah, thanks for coming tonight” He told her. Shuffling away from those of us still testing the math on the simulation by the computer. 

“You’re welcome and it was for the most part enjoyable” Terry told him. “See you tomorrow. Have a good night you three” she called to us with a wave. 

We called back fair wells in response as she headed from the office. “Alright kid we should get back too. Got school in the morning” 

I heaved a sigh “right coming. Night Uncle C, bye Larry” 

“Night,” Charlie called, not looking up from his computer and Larry offered a wave. 

I grabbed my bag and books and followed Don out of the office. “So you and Terry had fun?” 

“Uh yeah more than dad anyway. Bit of a train wreck for the poor guy” Don explained. I made a humming noise of acknowledgement wondering what had gone so wrong to qualify as a train wreck. “Listen, I know you said you were fine with this whole thing but- uh you know I’ve seen enough to be able to tell when someone’s not fine and it’s okay if you need space to deal with it or whatever but uh, I just I guess if you have to talk about it.” he kinda trailed off with gesturing hands as words failed him. 

“We really suck at this communications thing” I determined. 

Don scoffed as we exited the building “yeah well at least we’re trying” 

“True,” I murmured and took a deep breath. “there is something I need to tell you. There’s this thing I have. Gramps correlated it with panic attacks but it’s part of my memory they call it-” 

“Intrusive memory right?” Don interjected. 

I snapped my head up to look at him “you know about it?” 

The man nodded “yeah it was in your medical records. Social worker warned me about it. I am your legal guardian if you recall” 

“Oh” I murmured realizing I probably should have realized he knew about this sooner “so why didn’t you say anything about it?” 

“Well, I figured you’d talk to me about it when you were ready or at least not until you had an attack or something” Don explained awkwardly. 

A small smile came to my face “thanks” 

“Hey you’re my kid. As new as I am to this parent thing I can stand to get a couple things right” he told me. 

I laughed lightly “okay” 

“Okay” Don nodded “now let's get out of here it’s late” he pulled me into a small side hug arm around my shoulder as we headed toward the car and I couldn’t help but keep smiling. 

________________

“Yo!” Don called coming in through the back door. 

“We’re in here.” Alan called in reply. 

A moment later Don came in with a box setting it on the dining room table “Hey, All right, FBI accountants went over all of Nevelson’s financials, and these are all the documents that relate to the foundation. Our people could find nothing.” 

“So why didn’t you have Charlie look at the records in the first place?” Alan inquired as I continued to eat quietly. Saving my ‘I could help’ pleas for later. 

“The FBI has a team of excellent forensic accountants.” Charlie objected. 

“I know.” the elderly man clarified “but it wouldn’t be the first time you find something that they missed.” 

“You know, a lot of mathematicians do have eidetic numerical memory” Charlie explained “similar to Abby’s ability to remember everything she encounters visually only specifically geared toward numbers that are repeated and in patterns”

“So my memories better” I commented with a smirk. 

“Your visual memory yes” Charlie gave me a look as he got up and began looking through the papers. 

“So I could be able to help,” I pointed out. 

“Yes you-” Charlie cut off looking back at his brother “but you probably shouldn’t” 

“Yeah and I’m saying you’re not going to,” Don declared as Charlie took the box and headed into the foyer. 

I groaned rolling my eyes “you know once I turn eighteen I’m going to get my clearance and then you won’t be able to stop me”

“Yeah well right now you’re going to help me with dishes while he works on that” Don decided collecting plates “come on” he chided and I gathered my plate and cup as well as Alan’s.

“No here I got it uh…” Grandpa objected and glanced at my dad’s back who was walking into the kitchen as he stood up. “I want to talk to Don for a second alright?” 

“Alright but if I happen to stay out here and see Charlie’s stuff for the case..” I trailed with a pointed look. 

“Fine I’ll cover for you. Deal?” He replied. 

“Best grandpa ever” I smiled and he hummed with an amused smile on his face as I turned and headed after my uncle. 

_______________

3rd POV.

Don looked over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen and was surprised to see his father following him rather than his daughter. “What happened to Abby?” 

“She had homework I made her go work on it” Alan replied “you know she’s stubborn about that stuff puts it off” Don let off a humming noise his instincts of suspicion kicking in “mainly cuz I wanted to ask you about something.” 

“What?” Don gave his father a look as he put the dishes in the sink. This made more sense. 

“You’re best date ever was with your partner?” Alan inquired and immediately Don realized why Alan had pestered Abby away before asking. 

“Dad, please” 

“No, it’s just a simple observation.” Alan defended as they put away the food. “I mean if it was so great why did you split up?” 

“It was an academy thing” Don explained “we got posted to different places. We had our careers to concentrate on.” 

“So now you’re in the same city, same careers” 

“Same office” Don cut his father off “which, in our case, can be a dangerous thing.” 

“Your mother and I met at work.” Alan posed.

“In the lunch line.” Don pointed out “Look, Dad, Terry and I have to see each other every day. You know? We have to look out for each other.”

“So that means any trust issues are already behind you.” the father suggested. “Plus Abby seems to like her” 

“Look, just because you’re eager to start dating again-” 

“Eager? Are you kidding me?” Alan cut his son off exasperatedly “you saw me last night. I know, I know, I know I got to get back into it. Your mother said I should meet new people after she was gone.” 

“Well, that’s right. That sounds like her” Don agreed. 

“I know she made me promise.” Alan sighed “I mean, she knew that, without a push, that I might not do it. So she pushed” Don nodded considering his father’s words. “And remember Donnie you’ve got more to think about than just yourself now” 

Don sighed “yeah I know” he looked out the kitchen door toward the space in the house his daughter was somewhere. 

“Being a parent is never easy and it’s twice as hard to be a single parent doing the work for two” Alan voiced. Don let out a breath and the two men were silent for a moment. “Just consider this your push” 

A moment later Abby popped her head into the kitchen. “Me and Charlie found something in the records.” she announced.

“You and Charlie?” Don questioned giving her a stern look. “What happened to homework?” The teen grimaced slightly and shot a look to her Grandfather who held his hands up in surrender. Don sighed “show me what you found” 

Abby led him out to the table in the foyer where Charlie had the records spread out under a light. “You’re never going to believe this,” Abby murmured. 

“Believe what?” Don asked, confused. 

“Fake people” Abby stated as if that were clearer. 

Don looked to his brother “Now, here is a list of workers employed in building the foundation”

“And?” Don questioned. 

“And a lot of them don’t exist.” Charlie stated “yeah. There’s a preponderance of fours and sevens in the union ID numbers, which could be due to accounting codes, except they show up in the overtime hours like, 14s and 17s everywhere here, here, and here” Charlie showed Don the various documentation. “These numbers, they can’t be explained by random occurrence. Somebody made them up. They’ve been fabricated by someone who likes these numbers who left behind a pretty obvious pattern.” 

“Fake people” Abby reiterated. 

“Well obvious to you” Don grumbled looking the paper over. 

“People like us” Abby clarified “honestly your forensic accountants should have picked up on it” 

“Here’s a very interesting thing also.” Charlie hurried over to the other side of the table as Don shot his daughter a warning look at her disrespectful tone. “All the, ah, all the workers we’ve identified as fake are listed as welders. Except there aren’t any other welders on the payroll backup.”

“Well you can’t build a foundation without welders” Alan piped in from the tv room “sounds like Nevelson was using a shadow crew.” 

“So how would that work, Dad?” Don asked as Alan walked over. 

“Non-union laborers, usually illegal aliens. They pay them under the table.” the former city planner explained “see, the contractors would use them at night to avoid the unions.”

“So what? Like lower pay, no overtime, medical benefits?” Don questioned. 

“That’s right,” Alan nodded heading back to the kitchen. 

“But people still get hurt,” Don voiced thoughtfully. “And there’ll be hospital records” 

________________

Abby POV. 

“So I am getting right back on that horse” Alan declared as the four of us sat at a restaurant eating. “Not that this lady is anything like a horse.” he added “she’s really quite attractive.” 

“So it’s not a blind date?” Don clarified. 

“No, it’s the butcher that sold me the duck.” Alan explained. 

“No” Don chuckled. 

“Yes” Alan insisted “yeah, she’s very nice and she really knows her waterfowl.”

“Right” Don scoffed. 

“Good luck Gramps” I encouraged. 

“Why thank you Abby” Alan smiled then turned to his younger son “Charlie. Charlie” When the mathematician was only somewhat responsive the elderly man turned back to me and Don “this is not the brilliant thought brood. This is the other brood.” he informed. 

“You alright Charlie?” Don asked. 

“You knew it was a suicide.” Charlie stated 

“No look,” Don objected, shaking his head. “I said from the get-go I didn’t know, but I did suspect.” 

“Despite all the variables and the inconclusive autopsy, and the layers of crime that were uncovered?” Charlie pressed. 

“The fact that the kid exhibited suicidal behavior and then he did it.” Don explained. “It’s Occam's Razor, you know? I mean, the simplest answer is usually the right one.” 

“Occam’s Razor?” Alan questioned. 

“What?” Don gave us looks as we all began to chuckle slightly “I read a book every now and then. I mean I did help in the creation of the biggest book worm I know.” he ruffled my hair slightly. 

“Occam was a philosopher, he wasn’t a mathematician” Charlie pointed out “and what he actually said was that you shouldn’t make more assumptions than needed. It’s the basis of methodological reductionism. So, any given data set,...” 

“And I thought school was done for today” I muttered as Charlie began to scribble on a napkin. Don and Alan just scoffed and let the man go. He needed to talk right now.

Chapter 5 -> 

[ford-between-dimensions]

That’s what’s on your badge?!!

Stanford cipher! Did you just shoot 2 different children!?

-a multi dimensional fbi agent ( @the-multi-dimensional-fbi )

Give me a break—! You’re not allowed to leak confidential documents! Who’s the authority and who’s the criminal?!

[lemonykleonella]

Fool I can run from the law they cant catch me in my dimension

*calls interdimensional fbi*

*congrats you’re now a multidimensional war criminal*

[lesbianlaurapalmer]

us with david lynch giving us two seasons of soft gay tension building between an fbi agent and local sheriff and then the season 2 finale and season 3 bashing us over the head with multidimensional timeline destroying fuckery:

[dhgiangvyco-blog]

Moscow Times: Heated debate about drug smuggling

Đặng Phương Anh - 26 July 2019

In recent years, when the United States realized that illegal smugglers across the border have caused serious dangers against their entire national benefit, the convening of Security Council members is inevitably imperative. The country is in extreme urgent, considering the risk that this situation is booming like a plague that makes the government unable to keep up with. During the first conference, delegates have considered and supplemented the shortcomings of drug war issues. This is preferred to be “a scabby sheep is enough to spoil the whole flock” kind-of-situation makes the overall political picture of the United States falls into constant instability.

To begin with, illegal drug smuggling from Mexico into the United States has caused the US government in general and President Donald Trump in particular to feel insecure, and hard to control the desire of punishing Mexico by cruel policies. As a result of the fact that America is a gold store that supplies weapons to Mexico, it makes it easier than ever to transport prohibited drugs from all over the country to the United States. In other words, the current alarming situation of drug abuse among young Americans is in part due to the lack of recklessness of the US government. A saying that "good watch prevents misfortune" should be upheld more often.

Throughout the negotiations among delegates, we anticipate that this conference will not come to an agreement anytime soon since lots of conflicting comments continued to be highlighted. However, due to most presenting views from Director of FBI, Attorney General, and Director of National Intelligence, we see the three brightest points in the plan to reform-American-youth-from-drug-abuse sort-of-. First of all, the US government departments and health authorities should take primary care in research work for patients, such as the medical program that helps people with addiction. Secondly, the lack of propaganda for citizens about the harms of drugs is seriously hazardous, especially with light-minded teenagers who have a bug ug of their ass with these things. Last but not least, many leadership representatives also agreed with the idea of ​​taking a deep look at the field of illegal trading transactions. By asking for cooperation from teenagers who have experienced in buying and using drugs, the council then could exploit some useful information such as dealing location, exchanging time, and the description of consumers when consuming it. From multiple sources collected, all delegates will wait for the best possible outcome, which in this case would be some leads to the United States' largest supply of contraband drugs; therefore, the council of justice enforcement can carry out reasonable justice measures on them.

In a nutshell, the problem of drug trafficking between Mexico and the United States gives ways more anxiety than we all expected; however, the same situation is actually happening with our delegates at the conference room. No denying has been made towards the seriousness and multidimensionality of the problem; however,  JCC should figure a way out to achieve consistency from all voters and reach a contentment one way or another. Since the argument lasts longer than expected due to the abundance of debating energy and sharp political views keep coming out unstoppably.

[babylonsagent]

I'm not mad that Luke Cage got cancelled on Netflix, it was kinda garbage let's be honest. What I am mad about is how one dimensionally his character was written. When I look at all the other Marvel heroes on Netflix, the characters are written from so many angles. This is because you have a majority of white people in the writing process. People who understand what it means to be white and therefore make the character multidimensional.

Just look at the dimensions given to the different main characters in Daredevil. Everybody's origin story was explored so you had a connection with each character. We even got back stories for the FBI agents in season 3.

Cage was a black character written in a majority white writing room; as a result the show and character lacked the character complexity needed to keep viewers interested. Representation matters @brianmichaelbendis

[superseraphim7]

Cobra Situation Update Thursday, December 7, 2017 There is a full scale battle for planet Earth ongoing on the plasma plane in sublunar space right now. The light forces are focused on removing the wormlike plasmoid entity that has entered our Solar system from Orion in 1996 and is now wound up around planet Earth: http://2012portal.blogspot.com/2017/09/short-situation-update.html Reactions of this entity and all lesser plasmoid entities living inside its body with their exotic plasma weapons are creating brutal scalar attacks on Lightworkers and Lightwarriors recently. A multidimensional portal to the Galactic Center will open from December 17th to December 25th with the turning point on December 21st , that will drastically change the conditions of the plasma plane in most of the sublunar space. This portal is partially accurately described here: http://www.universallifetools.com/2017/11/galactic-alignment-supermoon-december-2017/ On the physical plane, the Light forces are purging all negative Secret Space Program factions in sublunar space. All members of those programs are given an option to unconditionally surrender and accept the Galactic Codex or be cleared out. This purge creates a lot of unusual activity in the Low Earth Orbit (LEO), as reported by Benjamin Fulford: http://www.stillnessinthestorm.com/2017/12/benjamin-fulford-december-4th-2017-us-military-to-declare-martial-law-as-doj-fbi-criminality-exposed.html http://www.ascensionwithearth.com/2017/12/bpearthwatch-something-massive-just.html The hammer of Thor will continue to hammer until February 2018: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpqPECXn3jM The Light forces are also purging all negative factions that were trying to hide in Antarctica and above the Arctic circle, especially on Baffin Island and on Novaya Zemlya: http://tarcotecacounterinfo.blogspot.com/2016/07/novaya-zemlya-natural-paradise.html http://nationalpost.com/news/canada/canadian-forces-to-expand-nunavut-training-centre-as-russias-plans-more-bases-in-the-arctic In a massive operation in late November, about 80% of the infrastructure and personnel of the dark forces has been removed from Antarctica. Underground cloning facility under Long Island has been cleared out. In March of this year, many members of the Cabal were taken underground into the Resistance for questioning and then released back to the surface with their memories erased. David Rockefeller could not handle the stress of that questioning and died of the heart attack a few days later. Now, some members of the Cabal are being taken to undisclosed locations on the surface of the planet for questioning as a part of massive investigation that will lead to mass arrests: http://nesaranews.blogspot.si/2017/12/david-de-rothschild-indictment.html They are later released with an ankle monitor: http://www.washingtonexaminer.com/john-mccains-walking-boot-mysteriously-appears-to-swap-feet-in-latest-photo/article/2641581 Mass arrests will NOT happen until the plasma plane is cleared of all scalar weapons and toplet bombs. Certain things did NOT go according to the plan and I can not release more intel about the Event although I would like to, the situation is simply too delicate for that. Despite all hardships we are experiencing, Light is making progress and our planet will be liberated. Victory of the Light!