#its not that deep and its not that serious i just wanted to infodump | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eustasskidagenda · 2 years ago

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omg hi hi! i adore your writing so much :3! if its alright with you, could i get headcanons for how crocodile, law, kid, and ace would be with an autistic s/o who loves to infodump, but is nervous to do so. theres always this odd bit of shame that accompanies infodumping for me because i get so excited i cant properly articulate myself *lays down* its just a mess of stimming, stuttering, and laughing at my own jokes. i feel embarrassed after, even if its totally an illogical response. im unsure if you write for autistic y/n so feel free to ignore this if you dont. thank you so much <33

☆Crocodile, Law, Kid & Ace with an autistic s/o who loves to info dump

Hello, dear anon! I'm not used to write autistic y/n, because I don't know enough about this and I wouldn't like to be harmful. However, the situation you're describing is something close to ADHD, which I know well. So I've made some additional researches to be sure and come up with something, I hope you will like it. Thank you for your request, it was a sweet one ♡

CW : g/n reader, slight curses for Kid, fluff

WC : Around 1,500 words

Crocodile

Crocodile doesn't talk much, he's always serious and quiet. It's just that he's often thinking about his business and plans. But he's a good observer and would immediately notice if you want to say something but are too nervous to do it. He knows you perfectly, so he would recognize the way you're fidgeting.

He's a man with good manners, so his first reflex would be to lock the door and make sure no one can enter and destabilize you. When it's done, he will point his chair towards you.

"Sit. I'm listening, y/n."

Actually, he likes hearing you speak during hours. He knows it's a way to express your love and feelings. He's flattered that you want to share your world with him. Go ahead and speak, he will listen. Even if he's just nodding or commenting short sentences in response, he has a good memory and will remember everything you said to him.

If you're talking too fast and start to get really flustered, he will let you know that you're speaking too fast, like 'y/n, what did you just say?'

Your hyper-focus and info-dumping are appreciated by Crocodile because he enjoys learning new things and you're a source of knowledge. Maybe he's impassive and struggles to express his feelings, but sometimes you will hear him talk about what he learned with you, so clearly he listened to every single word.

"Don't be ashamed, it was interesting. Can we talk more about this specific point?"

If you say something that he is really curious about, he has no shame asking for more. It's a way for him to express his genuine care for you. For him, it's a way to prove to you that even though he's always quiet, he cares.

Law

Law is similar to Crocodile in his lack of emotional expression and limited speech. He is always busy, struggling with his parasitic thoughts and taking care of his patients. Finding some private time with you is a challenge for him.

If you run into Law with excitement about your passion or new hyper-focus, he may feel embarrassed because it's not the perfect time for him. Autism is something he knows about, and he is an intelligent and educated man. And, he wants to make you feel safe and comfortable.

"I'll be yours in a moment, y/n-ya."

He has a complete understanding of you and is an excellent observer. The way you're already blushing, fidgeting, and swallowing nervously. He can even hear your heart racing. So first thing first, he will tell you to take a deep breath. After all, he’s a doctor.

"What do you wanna talk about?"

As Crocodile, he's a great listener. When you're full of passion and excitement, he thinks you're cute. He likes the sound of your voice. He loves when you want to find him and talk about your passion, because you're offering him a break from his work. If you weren't there, he would be stuck either in work or in his own head. When he's with you, he can forget about his dream of avenging. You're his safe place, truly.

He doesn't speak a lot. But he is listening.M and asks questions from time to time.

"Yn-ya, there's been no urge. Take your time." And if you're stuttering a lot, he would just say nothing because it's pointless to make a remark, as long as he can understand what you're saying, he will never say something about your elocution.

"That's interesting, where did you learn that much?"

Law is a curious and intelligent man, so he likes to learn more about almost everything. If it can help him with his plans or maybe his patients, it might even be beneficial for him.

During your bedtime together, he would ask you to talk about your passions. The way you talk and laugh is like his own lullaby. When you speak, he can find inner peace because it shuts down all the voices in his head. He might fall asleep sometimes when he feels tired. It's just that you're providing him with some relief. When he wakes up, he would be deeply sorry. "So, yesterday, you stopped at this precise point… what were you trying to say after?"

Kid

Kid is so goddamn loud. And really passionate. He's focused on his goal of becoming the next PK and has loved mechanics and robotics since childhood. He would be aggressively sweet, like frowning when he notices how stressed and nervous you act towards him. "Hey, Y/N, why are you so fucking nervous? Just speak"

He thinks you're cute with your cheeks all red. On the flip side, he's a bit confused. Why are you nervous? Is it his fault? He knows he's loud, hard to love and rough, but he cares about people he likes. Have you seen how he acts with Killer and his crew? He loves his people.

And, as a punk, Kid is marginalized. He knows a lot about being different, and if you feel ashamed about it, he can understand. "Come on y/n, let's find a private place"

Grab your wrist in an aggressive yet sweet way and lead you to his workshop or bedroom. He sits you on the bed with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Now we're alone."

So, you start talking nervously. It doesn't matter if the topic is interesting to him or not, he will listen. Because as I said, Kid is a passionate. Everything can be made interesting by passionate people. So, yeah, talk about birds, cakes, plushies, or anything stuck in your head. He will like it. And he enjoys the sound of your voice. He’s even flattered to be your special someone, the one you’re looking for when you need to talk. It fuels his ego and pride.

He will deal with your stuttering as he deals with Killer's laugh. He'll shut up and smash all the people making fun of you if there's something you hate about yourself. You're his s/o, no one can laugh at you and continue to live without facing his rage.

"Goddamn, slow down" yes, not the best with kindness, but at least he's paying attention.

He wouldn't help but think you're really cute, with your eyes shining as you finally manage to relax and express how passionate you are. He understands your excitement because when he talks about robots, music, punk or weapons, he's exactly the same.

Kid is not the most culturally advanced, it depends on the topic. He enjoys learning new things thanks to you or Killer, it's important for him to be credible, and he hates looking inferior in front of others.

"See, there was no reason to be that nervous" When you finished speaking.

Just poke your cheek, grin and leave a mark of lipstick on your front-head before returning to his activities and yelling proudly to everyone he knows everything about the subject you just info-dump about.

Ace

The sweetest. Ace's personality is both compassionate and protective. He grew up with Luffy, so passionate and talkative people are something he knows a lot about. As he's proud of his brother, he's proud of you and can listen to everything you say for hours.

"Y/N, is there something wrong?"

Yeah, he would immediately notice that you're starting to get nervous. His first reflex is to find a more private place, if that's not already the case. He wants to do everything to make you feel safe and loved. If it's winter or just cold, he would even use his DF to warm the room. As soon as you're all comfortable, he'll run his fingers through your hair. "You know I will always listen."

Ace doesn't speak a lot about what's on his mind. He's way too stubborn and always struggles with guilt due to the blood running through his veins. So he enjoys having someone like you. Your voice is soothing him, and he loves how passionate and honest you are always.

For him, it's even amazing and unreal to have someone talk to him. You're treating him like a normal human and not a failure, because he feels like it often: unloved, unwanted and unworthy.

"Sweetie, you don't have to rush, we have the time, I'll always listen" if you start to speak too fast.

Would entwine his fingers with yours when you're stuttering and laugh heartily at your jokes. You remind him of his dear little brother. He feels lucky to have you by his side.

"I could listen for hours." And he's totally honest.

If someone makes fun of you, he's truly mad. You are as significant to him as his brother or Whitebeard. And if someone makes fun of his loved-one, Ace is merciless and really impulsive.

"Please, say more about this specific point!", "Oh, really, that's so funny?" He wants to make you talk even more. Until you're finally relaxed and able to speak without stuttering, blushing, or anything else. He doesn't mind it, even if it lasts for hours. Once you're done, he has his usual sweet smile on his face. "That was so interesting, why are you so embarrassed?"

So you explain to him that you feel embarrassed about your info dump because you're afraid to annoy people or talk too fast etc." It's alright, you won't bother me."

You're his sunshine. He feels loved with you. He feels more than just the son of someone; he's just Ace, and that's the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

Such a sweet boy. ♡

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woollenpharaohs · 2 years ago

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omg you're correct, this IS the website for infodumping. Ya'll asked for it, here it is, the Millau Viaduct, the tallest bridge in the world:

The above image is from when it was still in construction. The red posts have since been removed. I chose this photo because it gives a pretty good indication of why it is so tall.

Most tall bridges gain height in their cable-stay spans above deck, but this bad boy? It knocks the golden gate bridge right out of the park! At 336.4m in height (1,104 ft), its support pylons are greater in height than the cable-stay spans and that's because the bridge spans over a deep valley. Absolute mad lads... and the story behind why and how they even did this is such a trip.

I'm just paraphrasing Wikipedia's article but in the 1980s the traffic near a French town called Millau was getting super congested especially from people travelling through it from Paris to Spain in summer. The locals and government wanted to build a bypass which is all well and good when you're dealing with flat land but Millau is in the Tarn valley which is a mountainous area and densely forested. The Tarn is so significant it actually forms part of a UNESCO world heritage site. So building a bypass through the 'untouched' forest was not going to be an option.

In total four serious options were considered. Utimately the final route was chosen because it would have minimal impact on the environment (debatable), would not impact on existing or planned structures and was supported by the locals. Of the option chosen, the route could either take a low solution that descended into the valley, crossed the river with a bridge, then another viaduct and then a tunnel, or they could just straight up build a tall ass viaduct from two valley peaks above the river. The latter was more cost efficient and wouldn't interfere with the water table and so in 1991 the french government was like ok we've decided on how we want it done, now go forth, engineers, and bring our mad idea to life!

The government proceeded to run a design competition to select a team of architects and researchers to work on a technical solution for the route that the government had decided on. Due to the sheer insanity of their proposal, they got only 17 structural engineer offers and 38 architects. The government had to form an internal school of experts to help them decide which of the offers were suitable. The experts chose five basic proposals and the competition was re-launched to have the five chosen provide in-depth studies. The solution of a multi-span viaduct cable-stayed bridge was declared the best and so in 1998 tests commenced based on the winning design. The whole design process took about 7 years.

Obtaining a tender for the contractors was actually fairly easy despite the complexity of the design. That's because the government took the design stage to such a detailed level removing the onus on the contractor to nut out the fine details. This reportedly made the construction phase cheaper, though the whole construction cost up to 394 million euros.

I won't go into detail about how it was constructed, here's a short 3 min video explaining it and a 15 min video that more hilariously explains the whole insane concept. One thing that really stuck out to me was that nobody had ever constructed a bridge the way the Millau Viaduct had been designed so everything they did was run through mathematical algorithms multiple times. When they were to attach a span of the bridge deck to a pylon, they basically had to swing the enormous stretch of deck piece and hope that their mathematical calculations were correct for it to lodge into place first go because if it missed, the deck piece could slam against the pylon and could possibly fall into the river below. By sheer mathematical luck, the deck piece lodged exactly in place!

The engineering feat of this bridge is just astounding and it's so wild that the government were like ok we need to do this route this way now who wants to make it happen?? And like so few firms were willing to take it up, but by god did they make it work in the end.

Anyway, here are some extra fun facts. It is so tall that it required millions of surveillance devices to be installed all over the bridge to monitor even the slightest movement. This baby is more surveilled than the entire UK (an exaggeration, an joke). The above deck elements are reinforced and coated in weather-protected material to reduce impacts of being so high above natural ground level, and the aforementioned sensors also monitor the bridge's reactions to extreme weather. The initial speed limit over the bridge was 130km but they had to reduce it to 110km. I can't find anywhere that definitively says how long it takes to drive over it but it seems like 2-3 min? At which point you'd be above the height of the eiffel tower!

Lastly here is a comparative image of the height of the bridge in green to other notable bridges:

she tall.

@aromanticduck thank you for reblogging my initial post and letting me indulge in the wonder of the millau viaduct once again.

I was trying to tell two (2) seperate friends about the tallest bridge in the world and why I thought it was so cool but both times neither friend seemed particularly interested and I think that's just super funny for me personally because yeah why am I do fascinated by it sjjfjsjs

#fun fact the engineering firm involved in the bridge also constructed the eiffel tower #i think the same steel was used as well?#the last image really does me in like i'm looking at the dark blue sydney opera house elevation #one that i saw in person just a few days ago #and the millau viaduct is three times its height #it's just unfathomably tall

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rebloggingdangarompaowo · 4 years ago

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Ok so I love the Togami memes and jokes as much as the next person but I really wish more serious analysis of his character were out there. Because he's one of my favorites just by how damn complicated he is. Plus how so much of his character isn't stated directly. Obviously what I talk about below doesn't dismiss any shitty behavior I just want to infodump and see if anyone agrees or disagrees. I'm happy to hear people who disagree because I may have forgotten things.

So, I saw a theory that led me to go watch his free time events again. Togami mentions working hard, or fighting to be the heir. We can presume due to his misunderstanding of his peers and deep knowledge of buisness and the stock market that his life generally was luxurious and laid back and he had time to gain this knowledge (not to push aside any implied trauma, I more mean he didn't literally work for the title at a job or by working under a family member). Anyway that leads me to the conclusion, even though I'm pretty sure its stated explicitly but maybe it's more muddy, that he quite literally is fighting his siblings to death or injury to gain this title of heir. In sdr2 someone mentions the togami family is rich enough to pull a killing game off. I'm sure Togami thought that as well. I genuinely believe he only acted as he did because he thought it was another test. He had to prove he was strong and going to win because he thought his family was watching him. It makes me so sad because he couldn't connect or relay on the others. Which is why I think in the end it hit so hard for him. Not just that his family was gone, but that all of horrible things he did were for nothing. Because really if you think about it he is so different then Kokichi and Nagito. They all wanted to end the killing game, they wanted to win, they wanted to be a winner. But Togami, never really stepped up to the level of Nagito or Kokichi. I can't even remember why he's an antag aside from just generally being a shitty person. Kokichi faked being the Mastermind for fucks sake. Both nagito and Kokichi set up impossible deaths and orchestrated events that lead to deaths. Togami was never like that. What he did to chihiro and Toko were definitely bad don't get me wrong. But that was more a target at the students, he wasn't trying to trick monokuma. He didn't do anything extreme to the Mastermind. Makoto didn't more than he did if you think about it. I think he didn't want any of the death or murder to happen.

Honestly a theory just popped into my head. What if he knew/thought he had to target someone, to make his family proud. To win or whatever. But he felt guilty about just picking someone innocent. So he choose Jack who is a serial killer already. It definitely isnt an excuse but it's an explanation.

Togami is a character that I can see so much potential for growth. Hes not really a good person but I think there are plenty of ways to handle a good redemption arc where both he is held accountable and understood (Plus having Tokos side held accountable too). That's why I love the way he is handled when people write hope AUs or future explorations. Hes generally seen in a better light because hes grown. I just wish that was shown on screen more.

#danganronpa #byakuya togami #danganronpa togami #togamibyakuya

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ladyseaheart1668 · 4 years ago

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Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 56)

Description: The Catalysts attempt to return to their lives as River Skye finally comes home. tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Chapter 56: Not Over

Alodia

I almost can’t believe how quickly I start to feel better once the fever breaks. The pain, which had felt like some hellish demon with teeth made of red-hot iron gnawing at my lower back, begins to recede within hours.

“That’s how it tends to go with an infection like this once we find the right antibiotic,” the doctor tells me. “You are fortunate, though. These days, a lot of bacteria have developed resistance to antibiotics. But the infection is responding well to treatment, and all your vitals and your blood work look good. And your daughter appears as healthy as a baby horse. ...I would just like to take a quick look at how you’re healing from the birth if that’s okay.”

I nod, turning onto my back with Jake’s help as the doctor draws the curtain around the bed. Improved as I am, I know I’m not at full strength yet, because moving still hurts. I guess I must have winced, because the doctor raises an eyebrow in concern as she pulls on a pair of gloves.

“You okay there?”

“I think so. Guess I’m still pretty sore.”

“That’s to be expected. You probably won’t feel one-hundred percent for another week or two at least.”

I draw my knees up and part my thighs while the doctor pulls up a stool at the foot of the bed and lifts the blanket. I keep my attention focused on Jake’s face above me and the pressure of his hand on mine as the doctor carries out her checks. Occasionally, I let my eyes wander around to the multiple bouquets and mylar balloons that have built up over the past couple days, gifts from the Catalysts, Tahira’s team, my aunt and uncle, and Jake and Diego’s parents.

“Everything is healing beautifully. Stitches should be dissolved by next week. You’re probably going to be feeling pretty tender for a while though.”

“Yeah, we had the whole tearing conversation with my OB in California some time ago.”

“Good. If you have any pressing questions regarding the birth and recovery, you can of course ask me, or one of the maternity staff. We can also forward your hospital records to your regular OBGYN.”

“How long do you think it will be before we can go home?” Jake asks.

She pulls the blanket back down and stands, peeling off her gloves. “Well, the fact is, we want to get her and your baby out of here ASAP to lower the chances of either of them picking up a secondary infection.” She smiles at me. “Now that the fever’s gone, we’re gonna get you off the drip and onto some oral antibiotics, and we can pretty much start the discharge process immediately.”

“So soon?” My own question surprises me, but it’s out of my mouth before I realize it’s on the end of my tongue.

“Believe me, it’s better we get you both out of here.”

“I know. It’s not that I want to stay here. It’s just...thinking about how we’re going to get home...how soon we can get home…”

“That’s all taken care of, Princess. Aleister is having Castor and Pollux deep cleaned, and he and Grace are gonna put us up for a few days until Mike gets up here from Santo Domingo. Diego and Varyyn are with Estela and Quinn, and your aunt and uncle basically paid for hotel rooms for everyone else.”

His infodump has my head reeling a little, but there was one particular tidbit I find myself fixing on.

“Why is Mike…?” I trail off as realization crashes down on me in an icy wave. A bit of information I had nearly forgotten in my struggle to bring my baby safely into the world while fighting a fever. Jake wasn’t worrying about me for all that time from the safety of our home in California. I don’t know the details, but I have a sinking feeling that has something to do with the reason that Mike isn’t here with us now.

Jake folds my hand between his palms, glancing at the doctor. “Hey...do you have everything you need? I’d like a few minutes alone with my wife, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll get the ball rolling on your discharge.”

I wait until I’m sure she’s well clear of the room before I reach to stroke Jake’s cheek. “...I know Lundgren got his filthy hands on you. ...Fiddler told me. ...I’m guessing he got a hold of Mike, too.”

He leans into my touch. “...And Sean and Michelle. Nabbed us all as I was bringing ‘em back from the island.”

“I don’t know if she told me that. That conversation got swallowed up in worrying about you, and then I got sick and River started coming, and…” I swallow, running my thumb along the fuzzy ridge of his cheekbone. “...Did they hurt you? Any of you?”

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Knocked us all around a little. Michelle’s the smart one, of course, so she escaped the worst. ...Mike’s in Santo Domingo having his prosthetics repaired. Lundgren ripped them out ot torture him.”

I shudder. “Oh, god...Oh, Jake, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…”

I’m crying before I realize it. And as soon as I do realize, it turns into sobbing. Jake reaches down to gather me in his arms and cradle my head against his shoulder, rocking me tenderly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. In a few days, we’ll be home with our baby.”

“I w-wanna be home,” I hiccup. “I wanna be home with River, but I’m scared of leaving everyone again. I just wanna bring them all home with us…”

“Well, it’s a very big house. ...On the other hand, you cram us all into the same house long term, it might start to feel less big. Plus, it would mean a brutal cross-country commute for some of them.”

I can’t help chuckling a little bit, which makes the sobs start to die down. Jake gives me a moment to get myself under control before he speaks again.

“...How are you feeling, Princess? Really?”

“Physically?” I pull back gently to lie down on the pillow again. “Definitely better. My head is clearer, and I don’t hurt as much. But I’m still worn out. And by the way, you’re gonna have to make due with blow jobs for awhile, because it’s gonna be a long time before you stick that thing in me again, if ever.”

It’s his turn to laugh, and he bends to kiss me. “Princess, I will tug it for the rest of my life as long as you’re still a part of that life.”

“I will be a part of your life as long as the universe allows,” I promise. “...But Jake, we both know this isn’t over.”

He sighs, and I see his forehead crease before he presses it to mine. “I know. I know you’re right. But for River’s sake--and mine--will you let the others take care of that for now? I ain’t saying don’t worry, because I know that’s impossible. But River and I need you healthy. Can you stand to let yourself be looked after for a while?”

I feel a rueful smile tug at one corner of my mouth. “Am I to assume that arguing is pointless?”

A tapping at the open door to the birthing suite distracts Jake from answering. We both look up to find Raj and Diego hovering in the doorway, Raj with a paper bag in his hand, and Diego with his right arm in a soft blue sling. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since River was born, and I sit up a little straighter as he hesitantly steps over the threshold.

“...Are we interrupting?”

The baby has started fussing, and Jake eases off the edge of the bed to go pick her up. I open my arms to Diego. Just before he rushes into them, I see his face twist with anguish. And as he falls against me, his one-armed grip is surprisingly strong.

“Goddammit, Allie,” he whispers quiveringly. “Goddammit…”

“...Did I scare you?”

He pulls back sharply, enough so he can look me in the face, but he keeps a grip on my shoulder. “Did you scare me?! You had me on my knees saying the Ave Maria! Do you know how long it’s been since I said the Ave Maria?!”

There isn’t really a lot I can say to that, but I smile ruefully. “...Thanks for staying with me.”

“What, you thought I’d bail?”

I snort. “God, no. But I can still be grateful.”

“...You’re really okay?”

I nod. “I’m fine. The fever is gone, and the wound doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m still pretty sore down there, though.”

A smile finally starts to play cautiously around his mouth. “...Well, that part’s Jake’s problem.”

“How about you?” I ask, gingerly touching the strap of his navy blue sling.

“That’s nothing serious. It was dislocated, but they popped it back in. Just got to wear this for a few more days, and take it easy once we get back home. ...Raj brought food, by the way.”

“Oh!” I pull back a little to smile at Raj. “Sorry, big guy. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Raj chuckles. “We’ll blame it on the new mommy brain and leave it at that. Speaking of which…” He shoos Diego back enough that he can drag my bed table over across my lap, and sets an insulated lunch box on top. “I figured you could do with something better than hospital fruit cups and oatmeal, so I brought you a special Raj lunch. Michelle supervised its creation, and it’s full of stuff that’s supposed to be good for new moms.”

“What is it?”

“So glad you asked!” With a flourish, he opens the bag, and pulls out each item in turn, presenting them like a game show prize lady. “A sandwich of salmon, spinach, and poached egg on whole wheat bread with a garlic white bean spread; in case you are extra hungry, a side of gourmet trail mix made from an assortment of nuts and dried fruit; and to drink, a pineapple-orange-banana smoothie with extra protein powder, and just a few extra leaves of spinach!”

I can’t help but be uplifted by his enthusiasm, and hold out my arms for a hug. “I must be the most spoiled new mother in the world.”

Raj embraces me lightly over the table. “As you should be. You know in some Asian cultures, a new mother spends a whole month resting while her mother-in-law takes care of her and the baby.”

“Oh yeah?” I look at Jake. “Think your mother would spend a month taking care of me?”

“Honestly, I bet she would. The problem would be getting her to ease up and let you start taking care of things after the month was up.”

“Hmm...probably best not to give her ideas then.”

“Probably. We’ll have my folks over in few more months, when we’ve had a chance to get settled.”

“...But…” Raj says, “in the meantime, do you think you guys will be needing any extra help? I know it’s going to be a pretty full house as it is, but Diego’s going to want to take it easy with lifting and stuff for a while, and Michelle says Mike will probably need time to recover, too. If you need a couple extra pairs of hands and someone to do the cooking, I have some downtime, and I know Lila would be happy to come along.”

I look questioningly at Jake, who shrugs. “I don’t have anything against that. It’s a big enough house. And if Varyyn and I are gonna be the only ones at full strength for the time being, I wouldn’t say no to a couple extra pairs of hands.”

“And probably better those hands be Raj and Lila than anyone’s parents,” Diego adds. “I bet Varyyn would prefer not having to wear his disguise twenty-four-seven.”

“Yeah. And,” Jake adds with a sigh, shifting River to rest against his shoulder, “it’s probably preferable not to involve anyone who ain’t already involved in the bigger picture. ...Like you said before, Princess, this ain’t over.”

“But for now, we’re all safe and sound, and Allie has a lunch to eat.” Diego smiles encouragingly as he pushes the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich toward me. “Go on. Dig in.”

Jake

I gotta admit, it does my heart good to see my wife savoring the meal Raj brought her and enjoying our friends’ company. She seems almost back to her old self as she talks and tells jokes and teases with them. Although, as I put River in her arms, I can’t help but be reminded that she’ll never be exactly like her old self again. Not now that she’s a mama. Not like I’m ever gonna be exactly like my old self again either. I’m a daddy now. That’s gonna change me forever. The thought scares me, like it has a lot over the past nine months. But just a look at that precious little face is enough to reassure me that I am never gonna regret it.

Diego and Raj eventually leave us on our own again. After nursing and burping, River sleeps just long enough that we can fill out her birth certificate, nestled side-by-side on the bed. From there, it’s not more than an hour or two before they’re wheeling Alodia toward the hospital exit with River in her arms again while I walk at her shoulder, a baby carrier in the crook of my elbow and my arms laden with flowers and mini mylar balloons. Any staff we happen to pass on the way out smile and wave or give us their congratulations. I have a feeling that in a hospital, any chance to see a patient off happy and healthy is a cause for celebration, and that probably goes double for a new mama leaving with a baby.

Grace is waiting in a car for us at the curb outside the hospital. One of Reggie’s old carseats is in the backseat. Grace settles the baby in the carseat while I help Alodia into the seat beside her.

“There’s a surprise for you guys when we get to our place,” Grace informs us as I circle around the car to get in on the other side of River.

“Nothing too strenuous, I hope,” Alodia quips. “I am not up for a party yet.”

Grace chuckles as she starts up the car. “Oh, believe me, I realize that. No, everyone is pretty sure parties are off the table for you for the time being. ...But you do know that everyone is going to want to see you before you leave, right? You gave us a scare, and no one wants you to go before we all know you’re okay. ...Plus, everyone wants to see River.”

“I am not opposed to visitors,” Alodia assures her. “Just...only a few at a time.”

“Absolutely. We won’t let you get overwhelmed.”

“River, either,” Alodia adds, stroking our sleeping daughter’s downy hair. “Poor thing is probably overwhelmed as it is, suddenly coming into all this noise and color and light.”

“Birth is the craziest thing that ever happens to us, and none of us remember it,” I remark, letting the blade of my forefinger run gently back and forth across the soft back of River’s tiny hand. Her little fingers twitch just slightly, and the base of her pacifier rocks back and forth across her lips, but she doesn’t wake up. I don’t expect the quiet will last.

River does sleep throughout the half hour or so it takes to drive to Aleister and Grace’s luxury Northbridge apartment. As we pull up to the curb, I realize what our surprise is.

“Mike!”

I must have been a little louder than I thought, because River wakes up with a cry that can only be described as irritated, but it doesn’t fully register until I have already launched myself out of the car towards Mike. He’s balancing on a walker, so I at least have the good sense not to jostle him, but I can’t hold myself back from grasping him firmly by the shoulders. He grins, carefully removing his hands from the walker one at a time to grasp me back.

“Good to see ya, Grandpa.”

“Shit, you too! We weren’t expecting you for another couple days! How are you feeling?”

“Well, as you can tell,” he says, nodding at the walker, “I’m not quite ready to run a marathon yet. But my new legs are healing up nice. ...Good to see you, Goldilocks.”

His gaze shifts over my shoulder, and I turn to look back at my wife supporting herself on Aleister’s arm while Grace bounces River in her arms. Alodia smirks at me, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I feel like I should make a joke about you abandoning your wife and child in the car to go hang out with your buddy,” she drawls.

I grin sheepishly as Mike carefully returns his grip to the walker. “Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.”

I lunge and sweep her up bridal style, and I have the pleasure of feeling her arms twine around my neck.

“Mmm, much better. However, unlike your daughter, I am actually capable of walking.”

“But you don’t have to. Not right now, anyway.” But I do return her to her feet after capturing her mouth in a kiss. I don’t entirely take my hands off her yet, though. After her ordeal, I don’t think she’s really that much steadier than Mike right now. Her grip as she slips her arm through mine confirms my concerns.

I’m standing between my wife and my best friend, and neither of them are fully able to stand under their own power. I’m starting to feel that much more grateful to Raj for volunteering to help us out for a while.

I think Mike notices Alodia’s weakness, too, because his forehead creases just a little. “You all right, Goldilocks? From what I hear, you gave everyone a real scare.”

“It was pretty scary on my end, too. But I’m fine now. How about you?”

Mike shrugs. “Ahh, you know. A few weeks of rehab, I’ll be a six-million dollar man again. In the meantime,” he adds wryly, stroking the frame of his walker, “it’ll be hard to call Jake ‘Grandpa’ when I’m dottering around on this thing.”

“You just called me ‘Grandpa’ two minutes ago.”

“And I cannot tell you how hard I internally cringed. Seriously, if you could have seen my internal expression, you’d have thought I was sucking lemons.”

I am morally obligated to reach out and swat him for that, but before I can, Alodia abruptly steps forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It’s an awkward embrace, encumbered by the walker and both of them still being weak, but it’s a sincere one, and Mike leans into it gratefully.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Alodia murmurs.

“You too,” Mike says softly, reaching up to pat her shoulder with one hand. “But can we go inside? I wanna properly meet that baby you’ve been carrying around for the past nine months!”

***

The Catalysts come by in shifts throughout the afternoon and evening, apparently having planned it all out beforehand. No one stays more than an hour at a time, which proves to be a good thing, since Alodia is clearly worn out by about eight in the evening. We’re set up in the guest room of the Rourke apartment, with River in a bassinet beside us, and Mike on the foldaway bed in the living room.

Alodia nurses River and rocks her to sleep before lying down herself. At first, I curl up beside Alodia in bed. She’s asleep within minutes, but I’m not as quick. And after an hour, it’s pretty clear that I’m not on my way to dreamland any time soon. I don’t want to leave Alodia or River. I never want to leave Alodia’s side again. But I’m restless. Anxious. And eventually, the desire not to disturb what precious little sleep my wife might have before our daughter wakes her up again wins out over my irrational need to pace back and forth between them. I check the windows, making sure they’re locked, then I slip out of the room as quietly as I can, heading back out into the living room.

I find Mike, Aleister, and Grace all seated in the living room. On the coffee table are four short, round glasses and a bottle of golden red liquid that I’m guessing is some kind of whiskey.

“We were starting to wonder if you had also fallen asleep,” Aleister says. He gestures to the glasses. “We thought you might like to wet your baby’s head.”

“Kind of a weird expression,” I remark. Nonetheless, I pick up the bottle and take a seat in an armchair to read the label. “Ooh, Irish Mist. Fancy.”

“It is not every day that one becomes a father. The night Reginald was born, Diego, Varyyn, and I toasted his birth with Irish Mist.”

I crack open the bottle, and lean forward to fill each of the four glasses about halfway. I set down the bottle and raise my glass, the others following suit.

“To River Skye McKenzie, my beautiful angel. And to her mother, my better half, who is truly the best and bravest of us.”

“Here, here!” Grace says. We clink glasses, and I take a long, deep drink, savoring the sweet notes of honey and spices riding atop the alcoholic burn of whiskey. I return my glass to the table empty and lean back in my chair.

“When my sister and I both were born, my grandpa had my dad and the men of the neighborhood over to smoke cigars on the porch.” I chuckle a little. “Rebecca remembers helping our grandma in the kitchen, and seeing all the men outside smoking. She says what she remembers most about the day I was born was our dad coming in from outside to give her a hug, but she pushed him away and said, ‘No, Daddy! You stink!’”

My story prompts the expected laughter.

“I am afraid Irish Mist will have to do tonight,” Aleister says. “I did not think to buy cigars. Nor would I know enough to ensure I was purchasing a quality product. As I understand it, Cuban cigars are the best, but those are illegal.”

Mike shudders. “Honestly, I think the smell of a Cuban would be enough to give me flashbacks. Lundgren used to smoke contraband Cubans.”

“Same here,” I agree. “I mean...there was that one time…”

“...That one time what?”

I chuckle a little, rubbing the back of my head. “Okay, no one currently in this room was there when Zahra blew up MASADA…”

“What’s that got to do with Cuban cigars?”

I sigh, but in spite of myself, in spite of how literally everyone else in the room with me was in some kind of bad situation at the time, I feel a smile playing around my mouth at the memory.

“Okay, so it’s me, Alodia, Sean, Quinn, Estela, Craig, and Zahra trying to find another way out of the complex after the gondola gets severed, and when we go through a control room, Zahra gets the idea to blow the whole thing up. We figure it’s worth the couple extra minutes, so we let her do it. And while she’s rigging the system, I find one of Lundgren’s Cubans somewhere on the floor. ...And I light it up. But only to spite the bastard.”

“But did you enjoy it?” Mike asks.

“Hell, yeah! The hype ain’t a lie, buddy. Not saying I’d do it again unless it were one of his personal stash, but that was a real good smoke. ...Still...it wouldn’t be right to celebrate River with Cuban cigars. Lundgren and Rourke did enough to taint her birth.”

“Nothing has been tainted,” Grace says firmly. “She and Alodia both came through it well and healthy.”

“I ain’t losing sight of what’s important,” I assure her. “But I can’t let my guard down, either. ...We all know this ain’t over.”

Grace sighs. “...No, you’re right. It isn’t over. ...Which means...I should probably tell you what I learned in Ireland.”

Diego

I knew that the Catalysts wouldn’t have sat on their hands while any of their own were in danger, but I am surprised to learn just how busy they were during the time that Allie and I were in Arachnid’s claws. I’m even more surprised--and frankly unsettled--by some of the things they learned. Yvonne might be alive. Lundgren flew the same plane that killed Allie’s parents, even though the twisted wreckage of that plane is the property of the NTSB. The whole mess with Allie’s mom, that weird AI message from a program made by Allie’s mom. It all leaves us with a lot more questions than answers.

I told the police everything I felt like I could safely tell them. I went so far as to tell them that I think Everett Rourke might be alive because that’s who our kidnappers claimed they were taking us to. I don’t know if they believed me. I don’t know if the future of the Vaanti is safe. A part of me hopes that they lose interest in the case since everyone who was abducted has been recovered safely. But I also know that none of us are really safe until Rourke is either back behind bars or dead.

Aleister and Estela make all the travel arrangements for those of us going back to California, including my folks and Allie’s. Castor carries me, Allie, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, Raj, Lila, Rebecca, and River. For once, Jake and Mike aren’t going to be flying. Pollux is taking our families. A third plane, smaller but no less luxurious, takes Jake’s parents back to Louisiana. They’re reluctant to leave him. They don’t want to be apart from their son, or their daughter, or their granddaughter. He assures them they can come visit soon, but that their daughter-in-law needs some time to recover first.

At the airport, Allie’s aunt and uncle hesitate to part from her on the tarmac. Allie stands with River in her arms, patiently enduring as Molly smoothes her hair and kisses her forehead, asking if she’s sure Allie doesn’t want her and Rob to wait at the airport in California to drive her home. When Allie insists she’s sure; that Molly and Rob should go ahead and get home so they can rest. Rob says they’ll make sure there are cars waiting for us to take us all back to the house in Laguna.

My parents board the plane before I arrive at the airport. On board the plane, I nestle up with Varyyn on one of the double-width leather seats. I wind my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He kisses the top of my head.

“Are you alright, my love?” he murmurs.

“...I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m just...disappointed. I knew my parents weren’t ready to meet you. But I had hoped...I don’t know. I had hoped it wouldn’t be like this. Even if I knew it probably would be.”

Varyyn sighs, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. “They may yet come around. Or they may not. In the end, it is up to them. All I can promise is that I will love you regardless of their decision.”

“...I love you, too.”

“You guys all set?” Raj’s voice makes me look up. The others are boarding behind us and finding their seats. Jake helps Allie settle in and get her seatbelt on, River still cradled in her arms.

“Are you sure a plane is really the best way to travel with a newborn?” Lila asks.

“When the choices are between a rental car, a train, or a private plane for a cross-country trip, a private plane is hands down the best option,” Rebecca declares. “I mean, if we were on a commercial plane, I’d think twice, since those things are basically flying petri dishes. But this plane has been deep-cleaned, unlike the train. It’s more comfortable than a car, and faster than both the car or the train.”

“Yeah, but what about her little ears? All the pressure?”

“The doctor says that if I nurse her during take-off and landing, that should keep her comfortable. Besides...I just want to be home.”

Home. The word washes through me in a way that comforts me even as it makes me want to cry. Images flash through my mind of the house I share with my husband, my best friend, her husband, and his best friend--and now, my little niece and goddaughter. Watching movies in the living room with Allie. Sharing dinner around the table or out on the balcony. Cuddling with Varyyn in the hot tub in the evening, letting the warm, swirling water sap the energy from my body, and then sliding into bed beside him and drifting off to sleep in his arms. At home, I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about losing anyone’s love. At home, I’m safe and free. I meet my best friend’s eyes, offering her a tired smile.

“I’m with you, Allie. Let’s get home.”

Raj

Nothing but the best for my friends, that’s my motto. I came to the house in Laguna Beach to make sure that my friends would have the best care while they needed it, and I waste no time in getting down to business. Alodia, Diego, and Mike need space to convalesce. But with a new baby in a huge house like this, there is a lot to be done. Jake and Varyyn can’t be expected to do everything, and that’s where I and Lila come in.

River is constantly monitored. Whenever she cries, someone is ready to come running to change her diaper, or to bring her to Alodia for feeding. I prepare meals ahead of time that can be easily heated and served, so no one goes hungry. Lila helps me cook and keep the house clean. Alodia’s aunt and uncle attempt to send cleaning and catering services to her at one point, but they end up being politely refused. Lila and I have everything under control, and none of us want strangers poking around here.

Alodia is occasionally moody, snapping at everyone to stop fussing over her, and she can’t wait to be free of this gilded cage and go back out into the world. This is usually followed by tearful apologies, with all of us assuring her that we don’t take it personally. She just had a baby, she’s allowed to be moody. Besides, the moment someone places River in her arms, it seems like everything is right in her world, and everything is right in our world, too.

...Except it’s not. Not entirely.

River is happy and healthy. Alodia is getting her strength back. Diego gets rid of the sling, and Mike starts to get around without the walker again. But underneath the surface, there is still trauma. There’s still fear.

“They’re having nightmares,” I tell Lila one morning as we’re preparing breakfast. She pauses for a moment with a knife poised above an orange before swiftly slicing it in half.

“Is that so surprising?” she asks. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but concentrates on making sure the thick, white heart of the orange half in her hand is positioned properly on the cone of the juicer before she presses down and begins to twist. Bright yellow juice splashes down into the container below.

“Well, no. But it is sad. Jake and Alodia especially should be concentrating on enjoying their new baby, not having nightmares and worrying about whether Rourke’s coming back for them.”

Lila pulls the now-deflated orange rind off the cone of the juicer and tosses it on the countertop. Ribbons of tattered orange flesh cling to the inside of the rind. She picks up the other half.

“...Do you ever have nightmares from Mr. Rourke?” she asks softly.

“Of course,” I reply. “Not as much as before, but I think we all have them sometimes. After what we all went through, I think I’d be more surprised if any of us didn’t.”

The twisting of the orange on the juicer slows just slightly. The toaster pops behind me, and I pluck four pieces of perfectly browned bread from the slots to toss onto a plate.

“...I have nightmares, too.”

The butter has been softening on the counter, and my knife slides easily through it. The heat from the toast softens it further, and it spreads cleanly.

“...You want to talk about it?”

Lila shakes her head, picking up her knife and another orange. “No. Not now. They don’t really matter anyway. They’re about things that happened in the past. I’m less scared of them than I am of what happens in the future.”

“Do you mean Rourke’s next move?”

“Of course that scares me. ...But more than that, I’m scared of him trying to use me against all of you again.”

“We won’t let that happen, Lila. You’re safe with us.”

“...But are you safe with me?”

I pause a moment before putting down my knife. I turn to Lila, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and turn her toward me.

“Lila...look at me. ...Has Rourke approached you at all since you’ve been with us again?”

Her eyes widen in what looks like genuine surprise. “What? No, I...that isn’t what I meant!”

I relax just a little. “...Okay.” I slowly take my hands away from her shoulders. “...You’d tell me if he had, wouldn’t you?”

She nods. “Of course.”

“Good. ...Because if he approaches you again, we can help you. We can help keep you out from under his thumb. ...We’re not gonna let him just have you back.”

A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I believe you.” She hastily turns back to the oranges in front of her. “You should...um...finish buttering before the toast gets cold.”

Overhead, the sharp, piercing cry of an infant rings through the air. I smile. Another morning blending into another day. It’s not perfect. We’ve got reason to worry. But for now, all is well.

Diego

I keep my head down as I move through the halls of my high school, clutching the straps of my worn-out backpack. It’s the same shabby gray one I’ve been carrying since freshman year. I’m a junior now, and the corners near the bottom are starting to fray where the sharp corners of paper-bag covered textbooks have dug into them.

My stomach growls. I skipped lunch again today. My parents were gone to work early again, and I didn’t leave myself enough time to make myself anything this morning. I barely had time to scarf down a banana for breakfast. I didn’t have enough cash for a cafeteria lunch, either, and besides, I preferred spending my lunch period playing on the computer in the library to sitting by myself at the end of a table filled with noisy strangers anyway.

If I can scrape together enough change from the bottom of my pencil case, I might have enough to get a bag of chips from the vending machine before I have to go to my after school job. But for now, my hunger isn’t all that sharp, and I am heading towards English Lit, the only class I currently look forward to.

The class is taught by Mr. Hunter. He also teaches the film-making class I want to sign up for next semester. He’s in his early fifties, and not handsome. He is tall and lanky, with gray-green eyes and a dark helmet of slicked back hair that sits atop a rectangular face. He has one of those mustaches that seemed to be popular in the 1970’s that always make a man look a little sketchy. He wears paisley shirts and slacks, and his voice reminds me of Bert from Sesame Street.

Mr. Hunter is the best teacher I’ve ever had at this school. When we studied Romeo and Juliet, he started off by giving us all a printed-off list of Shakespearean insults. When one girl tried to mumble her way through a line-reading, he shouted, “Put some feeling into it, you saucy wench!”

Mr. Hunter is also gay, and he does not attempt to hide this. When my parents ask about my teachers and which ones I like best, I leave this fact out. If they knew, they would make me switch to another class. Mr. Hunter has a picture of himself with his boyfriend on his desk. I’ve seen it when I’ve gone up to hand in assignments. His partner is bald and ruddy-skinned. He’s not handsome, either, but he has an open, friendly smile. Sometimes, I imagine them kissing. I worry that I have a crush on Mr. Hunter.

On the post of every classroom door is a laminated pink triangle, with a message proclaiming that this is a safe space for LGBTQ students. These triangles are mandated by the school district. Not every teacher honors them. One teacher actually tore hers down and refused to put it back up. She was fired. Last year, two girls were voted “Cutest Couple” in their senior class. I look at the triangles, prominently displayed as I walk into each classroom, and I don’t feel particularly safe. I feel safe in Mr. Hunter’s classroom.

Inside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, two boys from the football team act out a love poem with one of them in a curly blond wig and the bottom of his shirt tucked into his collar to create a crop top. They end with a flourish, with the boy in the wig jumping into the other boy’s arms and goosing him. Everyone applauds their performance, including Mr. Hunter.

Outside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, guys of all stripes growl “faggot” in my direction, and even the girls who are nice to me seem pitying more than anything. There’s a Pride club that meets after school two days a week, but I don’t dare join. I’m slowly realizing I can’t deny the truth anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can just announce it to the world.

I have just enough change to buy a bag of chips after school. I put it in my backpack as I make my way toward the library where I work for a few hours each day. I see Sam Dzugan eyeing me as I pass through the main doors to the school, and feel dread so familiar that it’s almost dull. Of all the bullies at this school, Sam is the worst. He also knows where I work. If he’s bored and hungry for a power fix tonight, I’m in for a rough walk home.

But he doesn’t follow me to work. At the library, I set to work filing back the books from the return cart. As I do, my mind wanders to the same place it always does: Alodia.

Alodia. My ideal friend. I conjure up an image of her beside me. She would be pretty, like all the most popular girls at school. I summon a small, pale figure with blonde hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. I talk with her in my head as I wander the aisles of the library with the return cart. I can picture her cheeky smile as clearly as if she were really beside me. I have spent many years getting the details of her perfect. Early incarnations of her were dark-haired. Green-eyed. Taller. I drew pictures of her. I wrote down her description in a private notebook that I kept under my mattress. But she never felt as real as when I wrote her with golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes.

She laughs at all my jokes as I work the rest of my shift. I forgot to eat the chips I bought, and I’m hungry enough now to start feeling dizzy. ...Alodia would invite me to dinner at her house. A huge, fancy house with a pool, where a chef would have prepared a gourmet meal.

“Don’t worry about Sam,” she would say. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll fight him off.” ...Because Alodia would be fierce. A fighter. Alodia was a hero. A hero who loved me unconditionally.

Alodia was never meant to be my lover. I wasn’t looking for a lover when I first dreamed Alodia into existence, which is probably why I always imagined her as a girl. I could scarcely imagine having a lover before I had a friend. That was what Alodia was to me. A friend. A friend who would always love me. A friend who I could tell my secrets to without judgment. A friend to fight for me and protect me, who saw value in me, and needed me back.

But my friend is a fantasy. And when I leave work and Sam corners me in the encroaching darkness, Alodia vanishes…

...I wake up with a gasp, bolting upright in the darkness of my room. Beside me, Varyyn grunts in his sleep and rolls over, the moonlight reflecting off his blue skin. I stare at his sleeping form for a moment, trying to take stock of myself. I’m shaking. My pajamas are damp with sweat. I feel cold. I feel sick and empty with fear. I don’t exactly remember what I was dreaming about, but one thought keeps echoing in my mind: Allie. I have to find Allie.

I slip out of bed as gently as I can while I’m still trembling. I don’t want to wake Varyyn. As I slip into the hall, motion-sensitive lights plugged into the sockets near the floor illuminate my path. My dream is still hazy, but bits and pieces trickle back as I shuffle down the hall with my hand on the wall. I was alone. Allie didn’t exist. It was a timeline that I have all but forgotten, and it felt entirely too real.

I need to find her. Or at least evidence that she still exists. The door to the nursery is slightly ajar, enough that I can see the soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table. I peek through the crack in the door and relief floods through me. Allie, bundled up in her robe and slippers, sits in the rocking chair with River in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. I exhale slowly. I should go back to bed, but I am not ready to let her out of my sight yet. I start to push open the door. She gasps a little, looking up sharply.

“Oh, Diego!” She smiles at me, settling back into her chair. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” I whisper back. “...Did I wake up River?”

“No. I just fed her, so she’ll probably be out for an hour or two.” She looks up at me as I come to settle into the armchair across from her. “...What are you doing up?”

“...Bad dream,” I admit. “...About...about you. I had to come check on you or I was never going to get back to sleep.”

I half-expect her to joke about me being a creeper watching her while she sleeps, but instead she sighs. “...I kinda know the feeling.”

“Yeah. I bet you do.”

“You wanna stay up with me for awhile?”

“Yeah. But I feel like I should be telling you to get some sleep while you can.”

“I probably should be sleeping,” she admits. “...But I don’t really want to let her go.”

There’s not really much I feel like I need to say to that. I understand. I don’t think there’s anyone in this house who doesn’t empathize with that feeling in one way or another. Especially now.

“...Diego…?”

“Yeah, Allie?”

For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, though her mouth opens and closes a couple times. Then, she swallows and takes a deep breath.

“...I love you. I love you, and I love Jake, and Raj, and all the Catalysts…”

“We love you, too, Allie.”

“...When you imagined me. In that other timeline. When I didn’t come to be until the Island...did you ever imagine my future?”

I can’t help flinching. Her words feel like a cold pinprick at the top of my spine. “...Allie...I...I don’t really remember that timeline…”

“I know. I know. But...it happened. It existed. I was once born to be what you needed. What all the Catalysts needed. ...But now...now I have River. Someone new who needs me. She needs me more than any of my Catalysts.”

“I...I think that’s true,” I say slowly. “...We all love you, and we want you with us. But River is your child. She’s helpless and new. She needs your love and your care and your guidance to survive.”

“...I’m scared, Diego. I’m scared by how much I love her. I’m scared by how much she needs me.”

My earlier fear is being replaced with concern that is entirely for my friend. “...Allie...are you okay? Is this some kind of postpartum depression?”

“I don’t know what this is, Diego. I know that I love River more than I ever thought I could love anyone alive. I would have torn myself apart for my Catalysts without hesitation. I gave up my existence to give my Catalysts the world. ...But I can’t consider that anymore. Because River needs her mother.”

“Oh, Allie. That’s not a bad thing. None of us want you to tear yourself apart.”

“I know. ...But I am afraid of what happens if the world asks for it. ...If I end up at the Threshold again, or a new Raan’losti…” She looks up at me. “...Diego...I think I have to face what’s in the pool shed.”

I feel my blood run cold. I know what’s in the pool shed. The collection of objects that were left for us in the Crystal dimension when we went to rescue Tahira. Including…

“...Are you sure?”

She nods. “...It was left for me to find for a reason. I have to touch the Andromeda idol again.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #pixelberry choices #Endless Summer #hero

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sleepdeprivedsurgeon · 4 years ago

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Please expand on the takes you have on WTNV you went into on that uquiz, I loved all of them and want to hear more of your thoughts about WTNV and surrealism and the recursion of radio's rise against authoritarianism and so on

ohhhhh boy thank you for the infodump opportunity my good sir (below the cut bc this is gonna get long i think)

okay so for the surrealism thing, i just think a lot about how, in mainstream media, “surrealist” has been re-interpreted to mean “deeply offputting and also weird to the point that the audience can’t actually understand all of it.” which i blame david lynch for and i’ll never forgive him for it. but that’s not what it’s supposed to be! surrealism as a concept was created around the same time that freud was developing his theories on dream interpretation, and is heavily based off of that. basically, the goal of surrealism is to get people to treat the world the same way they treat their dreams-- just kind of a blanket acceptance of anything weird or uncanny they might see. the best way to explain it is that the ideal attitude toward surrealism/surrealist art is john mulaney’s “well, this might as well happen.” yes, it’s offputting and hard to decipher sometimes, but that’s because it’s trying to push the audience’s boundary of what they consider normal in the conscious world. which is why it’s so important for surrealism to have a degree of comfort or familiar in it, too. surrealist memes are a really good example of this; they use old meme formats or preconceived ideas about media/life, and they make them deeply Weird, but because they’re based in familiarity you end up accepting them as humor even though logically, they shouldn’t be.

and WTNV (and most of fink/cranor’s work tbh) does such a good job with this!!!! i personally believe that in most cases, the only difference between horror and comedy is how the characters react to the situations they’re in. if a character is in a fucked-up situation and they’re scared, you’re going to be scared too. if they’re in the same situation but they react like it’s the best day of their life, or (in Cecil’s case) just another day at the office, it subverts your expectations, and that’s one of the base forms of comedy babey!! obviously there’s room to change tone-- Night Vale absolutely has its serious moments-- but the fact that Cecil treats all the events of the show like they’re just the daily news not only makes it funny as hell, it also adds the level of familiarity/comfort necessary for good surrealism!!!!! that’s why i said the format of the podcast is so important; it lowers your defenses against the truly weird elements of the show, because it’s presented with such a deep sense of normalcy.

this is also why i think that children’s/YA literature does surrealism better than anything written for an adult audience. the creators aren’t actively trying to get you to buy into the world they’ve created by justifying/explaining anything; they just present you with a reality and assume that you’re going to accept it, because the audience they’re writing for generally will. on god the Phantom Tollbooth ran at a full sprint so that Twin Peaks could crawl.

the radio/authoritarianism thing i have fewer coherent thoughts about, just because i haven’t done that much research into the history of radio. i think the radio show/podcast booms both happening at times where there was a very clear argument between individualism and collectivism is interesting. (in the 20s/30s, there was a push away from the collectivism of military life & fascism, right now there’s a push away from capitalist individualism) the conversational aspect of radio/podcasting fits into that idea; the whole point of MBMBAM is to make a huge audience of people feel like they’re having an intimate conversation with the hosts, which is the exact same goal as, like, Roosevelt’s fireside chats. the only major difference in the radio boom and the podcast boom is who’s making the content. in the 30s radio (in America, at least) was completely controlled by a combination of corporations and the US government/military, so all of the programming had to fall in line with those ideologies. now, the podcast industry is built on crowdfunding and independent networks, so the content we get from them is very different and conveys a very different message. i’m def not the person to fully analyze this, but i rly wish someone would because it’s so interesting.

anyway, sorry if that was more than you thought you were getting into, im just incapable of shutting up about surrealism it’s genuinely one of the best art movements/philosophies & i wish there was more of it made of older audiences that wasn’t so self-important and, like, actually understood the point of it lmao

#wtnv #welcome to night vale

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jrwiyuri · 4 years ago

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hello i saw your tags on my post and i'm new to jrwi as a whole, i'm only on ep 16 for riptide but i am begging you to infodump to me about riptide tell me everything you've got ping me talk to me who's your favorite character

aHSKjd Okay so honestly I don’t even have a favorite?!!

Like I’ve tried to think about one but I love them all so much equally and they’re so great!!

Chip is such a god damn bastard but I love him so god damn much (he is trans. I know this for sure 100% it’s real Bizly literally told me <3)

He’s so loyal and kind and loving and omg;; his relationship with Ollie?? Fucking lvoe rhat holt shit catch me crying I love the fact he loves kids man ajfkajfksbf

I just rlly like his personality and I also think his morals are a bit interesting. From what I can tell he is very loyal to friends, strangers are a no go and he’s willing to put them in danger over his fitness & himself, and he has a strict no kill rule even with villains (for the most part anyway,)

Plus his entire thing with Arlin? Love that- <3

Gillion is very interesting and I’m so invested into him! Like besides his whole being clueless about the over seas, his entire moral guidelines are very strict and can put the crew into a lot of situations. (But he’s also very self sacrificing so like aha holy shit don’t die 👉👈)

I want to see what happens if a situation presents him with two choices that both seem morally wrong to him and whats he do. I’m just intrigued on his moral guidelines in general

I’m ALSO intrigued on his prophecy and in general culture and I wonder if that’s going to also cause conflict and if he maybe eventually with defy his people / prophecy? Perhaps he feels / realizes that maybe the prophecy is actually shading his moral beliefs or maybe it’s something else Idk!! I have no damn clue but it’s exiting!!!

Also his entire deal with the Dream guy? So god damn scared!!!! (If I had a nickel for every time a dnd character played by Charlie slimecicle made a possibly reckless and not well thought out deal with a more powerful entity & gained a symbol on their body I’d have TWO nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happens twice and based upon the first nickel I’m very scared <3)

But like I do also really like goofy Gill. No serious moral dilemmas, no trying to kill ur friends for honor, just him being him- even if he’s fuckin clueless ^^; (also he’s pangender and Pansexual. It’s real I swear charlie slimecicle sent me a dm I have proof )

And jay!!! The one brain cell (and cannon bisexual?? Fucking hell yea! Also she uses she/he/they pronouns because I condi literally told me on a phone call I had with him it’s totally real I swear)

I feel like I don’t have much to say about jay and I feel very bad but like I’m super interested into her backstory and overall goals more!!!

Her past with with navy is very interesting with the navy and shit?? Like that’s so cool and please tell me more Jay!! You want to open up to ur possible probably trauma and dealings so bad ooOk

She’s is very much a middle child out of the group both literally and physically.

Her dynamic with chip is fantastic and I hope one day she bears the shit out of him just for fun (I mean, Gill already got to- its jays turn now! /hj)

Some other people I’m very excited for are the Lizzie girl who is like the biggest pirate?? I find it very funny that chip is jealous of her but I also just would really like to know more about her 👀👀

And like I already said I want to go more into each of their backstories (well I guess not chips since we know his backstory) & also just to see what the future holds!! Especially with jay since out of the three we know the least about her and what her biggest goal would be (chips is obviously to find the black rose & we can assume gillions is for him to fufill his prophecy)

I think I just- I am excited for the world building snd what other cool secret shit is to come from all of this! I want to know how deep this shit goes and if things like the navy, the thing with the black rose, and gills prophecy could be connected OR clashing in some way?!! (And maybe Lizzie? OH and of course mr Dream daddy- I’m so damn afraid for him)

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notquiteaghost · 5 years ago

Text

shoulder to shoulder

the magnus archives, jonmartin, 1k, post-168, also they’re both autistic

AO3 link in reblogs

After Jon’s explained he is not, no matter how Martin asks, killing Oliver Banks unprovoked, and Martin’s gotten his sulk out his system, and they’re almost out the other side of the Corpse Routes, Jon asks, careful to keep the compulsion out his voice, “You do know why Oliver woke me up and you didn’t, right?”

Martin raises his eyebrows. “Uh, no? You’re the one who knows things.”

Which is what Jon thought, and for a moment he’s caught up in the idea of not knowing something, of having a gap in his knowledge, of— But he shakes it off. This is about Martin’s feelings, not his.

“Well,” He starts, “He… I don’t know how—” The Eye chimes in, ‘helpfully’. He wrinkles his nose, “—I didn’t, until just now, know how true it is that people in comas can hear you, that talking to them helps, but. I wasn’t in a coma. I was… You know the dreams?”

“The ones people have after giving you a statement?”

Jon nods. “I was there. The whole time, I was…” He’s not tried to describe this to anyone before. It’s difficult. There’s an echo, of a ‘statement’ Elias gave, that he pushes away. “They were all connected, all blurred into each other, and I walked through them, over and over.” There’s another echo, of the feeling, the timelessness and the wandering and the watching, seeing— He pushes that away, too. “I didn’t know if I was— asleep, and the dreams were just particularly bad, or if I was dead, and my connection to the Eye was too strong for death to free me entirely, or if it was something else. I couldn’t remember how I got there, I couldn’t remember the Unknowing — In that place, the statements were all I knew. It…”

The Eye, sensing he doesn’t want to relive being trapped in one of its domains, tries to draw his attention to Oliver Bank’s roots, instead. The closest one, if he were to follow it, would lead to—

He rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, until the Eye gets the hint.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Martin says, gently.

Jon shakes his head, takes a deep breath. “No, we do, you need to know.” He takes another breath, then says, as sincere as he can, “I couldn’t hear you, Martin. I couldn’t even remember your name. I only knew you visited me at all when you told me. I, ah, kind of assumed you hadn’t, actually—”

“What,” Martin exclaims, incredulous. “Why wouldn’t I have visited you!”

“You went out your way to avoid me, once I got back.”

“…Okay, yes, I did do that. But, uh, the first week I sort of… slept in your hospital room. Only stopped after the attack, actually, because Peter— You know.”

A moment of silence to give their hatred of Peter its due.

“Yes,” Jon says. “I do appreciate it, anyway.”

“Even though I stopped months before you woke up?”

“I’m reasonably certain you no longer visiting was a rather key step in everyone’s various plans, so yes, even though you stopped.”

Martin blinks at him. “You think you were trapped that long on purpose?”

“Oliver Banks explicitly told me Annabelle asked him to talk to me. He didn’t know it would wake me, but I’m sure she did. And would you have gone along with Peter, if I’d been around?”

“N—” Martin cuts himself off, furrows his brow. “Maybe? But I would have talked to you about it.”

Jon nods. “Things might have still played out the same, but keeping me out the picture until the Lonely had a decent hold on you made Peter’s plan far more of a sure thing.”

Unsurprisingly, Martin doesn’t look pleased about that. “Mmmm…”

“Anyway, that isn’t my point,” Jon says, and reaches out to take Martin’s hand and lace their fingers together. “I heard Oliver because he made a statement — And a statement about his own moment of… rebirth, no less. He told me I had a choice — I could renounce the eye, and die, or I could embrace it, and… continue.”

Martin huffs, but fondly. “I knew it wasn’t true love’s kiss that woke you, Jon.”

“No,” Jon agrees, “because you didn’t kiss me.”

That makes Martin grin, even as he says, “That is— so cheesy, oh my God!”

“You wanted me to murder the man who robbed you of your chance to try,” Jon points out, trying to suppress his own grin. “You write me poems—”

“That you do not know about!”

“—The substance of which I am entirely clueless of, but still. Poems.”

Martin’s smile is one of the best things Jon has ever seen. “Aren’t you meant to be reassuring me?”

Right, yes.

“I will not leave you for Oliver Banks, Martin,” Jon says, his tone shifting back to serious, “Because he woke me up unintentionally on the whim of someone else, and you sat at my bedside and read me Terry Prachett’s Feet of Clay, because it’s your favourite Discworld book and you think it’s a crime I’ve never read them.”

Martin’s grip on Jon’s hand tightens, but his tone stays closer to teasing. “Thought you didn’t hear me.”

“The… The Eye is very forthcoming, about you,” Jon admits.

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I try not to think about it. The time for musing on if the entities themselves can feel emotion in any way we would recognise has passed, I think.”

“Yeah.” They’re quiet for a beat, still walking between the dark, twisting things Jon is not thinking about the path of. “Still haven’t read any Discworld, then?”

“No, Martin, I didn’t make time during my final transformation to read fiction novels.”

“Well,” Martin says, as always far better at sidestepping tension before it has a chance to bloom, “I have read them a lot.”

“And now you’re going to explain the plot of the entire series, in great detail?”

“And you’re going to listen attentively, because that’s what love is.”

Jon could spend every moment until all moments cease telling Martin he loves him, and he still wouldn’t have said it enough. God, he loves him.

“I do love to hear you infodump, yes,” he says, and God, Martin’s smile.

“Good,” Martin says, and lifts Jon’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles, before his gaze drifts to the middle distance as he organizes his thoughts. “Okay, so, Feet of Clay is one of the Watch books, but it’s not the first Watch book, and also the Watch books aren’t the first books, though you shouldn’t really…”

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma spoilers #yelling at clouds #fic tag #infodumping is a love language thank you

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astyle-alex · 4 years ago

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[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim]

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

It could save lives.

So… fiddling.

Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

And then… it wasn’t.

One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

A big flash of blinding light.

Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_ _ _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

It found an Angel.

Sorta.

It found a something.

And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

Yeah. BIG Weird.

Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

HELLA Big Weird.

So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

Personally.

And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

Charlie’s met Castiel.

Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

But, like, a cool alien.

Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

Not really.

For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

He is looking for something, though.

Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

So, she makes the call.

Sam picks up on the third ring.

“So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, they do.”

“Okay. And?”

“They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

“Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

“Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

“Trench coat?”

“I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

“Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

“Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

“What if he really wants to head out?”

“Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

Only to find him looking back.

For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

But he seems kinda zonked.

And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

He’s not really expressing anything.

He’s just looking.

It’s weird.

Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

It makes her shiver.

But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

He blinks, real slow like.

Then he nods.

Relief floods Charlie.

Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

“So, kid, what’s your name?”

“Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

“My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

The kid simply frowns.

“So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

“My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

“Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

“One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

“You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

“Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

The kid rolls his eyes.

It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

“Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

“But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

“Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

Immediately, he softens.

“Hey, what happened? You okay?”

Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

“Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

“Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

“Like apocalypses?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

“Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

“Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

“Yeah,” she tells him.

“So where are you now?”

“Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

“Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

“That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

“So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

“Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

“And..?”

Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

Sounds totally doable, right?

In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_ _ _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

#fanfiction #fanfic #batman #batman & robin #BatFam #DCU #dcu fanfic #SPN #spn fanfic #supernatural #destiel #jay x tim #jason todd x tim drake #dean x castiel #multiverse #crossover #charlie bradbury

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